Chapter 6 Part 3: Illness and Miracles

Jun woke Mei early, and they climbed to the deck, shivering against the morning mist. Mei leaned against him, seeking warmth and he let his shoulder cloak drape over her.

The creaking of the boards alerted them to Amalie, before Mei could see her in the cold air.

“Good morning,” she greeted. Jun and Mei responded in kind. “Follow me. I’m sure you’ve noticed that some of the other kids have gotten sick.”

Jun nodded before realizing she wasn’t looking and couldn’t see his silent answer.

“That’s right.”

“Then, how well can you heal others?” she asked. Jun grumbled.

“It’s-“

“That’s right, you called it assisting. Well, you should get used to others calling it healing. After this, you’re going to be known for it. Best let them imagine what they want. It’ll be better for your reputation for now.”

Jun groaned. He wasn’t even sure he could help those kids. After circulating the prayer so much, he had learned that there were a few other organs in these new bodies. He wasn’t even sure how to approach what was considered healthy other than what he noticed in him and Mei.

Amalie brought them to a room that was far more crowded with hanging cots. Stacked three high, they were practically inches from one another. The coughing was more pronounced.

Jun’s soft footfalls attracted attention—Mei stayed behind him, her soulless eyes searching. They were led to the far end, where the stench grew. His nose wrinkled, recalling when his own kids threw up—the cries still rang in his ear. He paused as some looked ready to retch. Amalie waited patiently till he moved on. At the end were children with pale faces, lying in their hammocks. Some staff bowed to Amalie as they approached—their eyes fatigued. How long had it taken for it to get this bad? From their symptoms, it looked like norovirus, or something similar.

Amalie had him approach, dismissing the doctor. He placed his hand on the boy’s forehead; it was lightly hot—a fever. He circulated the prayer within him and placed his damaged right hand on the boy's wrist. Eyes closed, he reached out and sensed through the boy’s body, finding his stomach to be overwhelmed. He motioned to Mei and she placed her hand on his. Using her as a guide, he tried to replicate her condition onto the boy.

The cells were protected from the virus, allowing them to regrow and fight back. Jun felt the virus try to come after him, and he battered it away with the prayer. Then he came to the new organs. He wasn’t sure what to do, and copied as best as he could, but the boy began to cough and then convulsed. Jun backed off as the boy convulsed and retched. Mei ducked away, pulling at her mask.

People scrambled back. When a few nearby students began scolding the child for making a mess, Jun didn't spare them a glance. He moved his shoulder cloak to clean the boy, his movements deft and practiced. His stomach formed knots as he recalled the misery of being violently ill. His silent treatment stopped the chaos simply by drawing all attention to his competent calm.

After calling for water, he made sure the kid drank some liquids and forced the cells to absorb it. After the boy thanked him in relief, he let him rest and moved to the next. Methodically, he found the ones with the worst cases, dizzy, delirious, dehydrated. He tackled them till he couldn’t continue. Mei sat by him while he rested against the hull. Amalie brought them water, her silent presence keeping others from approaching. With a weary shove, he rose and continued to treat the kids. The few that broke his heart were the young ones, miserable, almost inconsolable. These he rocked in his arms as he treated them, offering what comfort he could. They were put to sleep and cleaned up by the staff.

He threw caution to the wind, relieved he could sense the virus and keep it back from his own body.

After taking care of the worst cases, he gave instructions to the doctors and then talked with the chefs. Mei stayed nearby. Her eyes seemed to stall on some people. He knew better than ask her with so much attention on them.

Amalie had someone wash his cloak while he worked. After receiving some clean food, Jun and Mei returned to their quarters where he waited outside so she could change. Christopher welcomed them, but stayed back, his nose wrinkled.

“Good afternoon. Been quiet without you two nearby.” Christopher huffed.

“You say that like we’re your only friends.” Jun folded his arms, relaxing against the door.

“Hardly, but you are the most entertaining. I did hear you were in the sick bay. Are you able to heal others?”

Jun let the words hang, allowing him to interpret as Amalie had instructed.

“That’s incredible. You could make a fortune with a talent like that. The silver flame favors you indeed.”

Mei interrupted the conversation and Jun went inside, pulling out some new clothes of blue and white. His eye caught something in the small circular mirror. He moved closer, eyes freezing as his shirt slipped from his left hand. The faint burn marks on his arm and neck had morphed into silvery flame patterns, but his bangs drew his focus: they were changing to a stark, unnatural blue. As he watched, a streak of white raced up the hair at the base of his neck, extending through his ponytail, though the tip remained stubbornly brown.

Jun circulated prayer, making sure he hadn’t caught something. Just what was going on? As he circulated the prayer, the bangs deepened their blue and the white extended to the ends of his hairs. He frowned and quit the prayer, the colors fading.

A knock forced him to finish dressing, washing his skin off with a wet towel.

Amalie waited for him—inviting herself in when he opened the door. Christopher was gone and Mei only shrugged when he looked to her.