Chapter 42 - Babbling Brook

His question, spoken with such gentle, dying curiosity, saps me of any posture I had. I take a step back, in an attempt to ready myself for the revelation we share. 

But I am unsuccessful. I fall to his side as a part of me knew this was coming. 

Of course he would connect the two. It’s only logical to link my own unnatural affliction to the unnatural plague that has consumed his home.

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. “I… I think they could be related.” I admit, the words feeling fragile and dangerous as they leave my lips. 

The idea has been a half-formed shadow in the back of my mind, too terrifying to give attention to. But now, in the face of his quiet, analytical gaze, I have to. 

“It would make sense, wouldn’t it? If the blight affecting them… is the same as what’s affecting me? Maybe it’s some sort of… mana-related sickness?”

‘Mana Sickness’ It’s a term I’ve regurgitated on the spot from my passing interest in anime and video games. My honest attempt to bridge the gap between my world and the one I’m in now.

Orville is silent for a long, contemplative moment. His laboured breathing is the only sound in the room. He seems to be turning the idea over in his mind, examining its facets in the dim light of his vast experience. 

Finally, he speaks, his voice thin but clear. “Mana is a poorly understood concept. I have read what few scrolls and books have passed through this village… But I’ve never heard of such a thing as ‘Mana Sickness’.” His eyes are still sharp despite his failing body.

“I think it’s an interesting idea, but it doesn’t explain how it’s only affecting you and not the guards who patrol those woods every day?” Orville takes a long breath after tearing down my theory. 

“Yeah you’re right, sorry it was a stupid id-.” I say before Orville cuts me off. 

“No. It’s not a stupid idea, Shikara. We need someone like you who is not constrained by our way of thinking.

Now I feel even more stupid for degrading myself so quickly. 

This mystery is so important to me.  I just need more information about this world, about magic. 

There has to be a reason it feels so right. I look at him, at the quiet wisdom etched into his face.

“What’s the difference between an animal and a monster in this world?” I ask, as my knees start to ache from sitting on the floor.

He takes a moment to answer, the question seeming to cost him another piece of his dwindling energy. A dry, rattling cough shakes his frame. 

He presses a hand to his chest, waiting for it to pass. When he speaks, his response is short, clipped. “Animals don’t have mana stones.”

The answer turns a key in a lock I didn’t know I had as a new theory quickly finds a foundation in the crevices of my mind. 

“Ok and how are those mana stones formed? Is there such a thing as ambient mana?” I press, my voice gaining a sliver of conviction, the excitement of discovery momentarily eclipsing my sorrow. 

“Like I said, mana is not well understood. I don’t believe mana is all around us, it comes from within.” Orville replies surprisingly sternly despite his tiredness.

“Well if ambient mana did exist it might coalesce in a way that could re-write a monster's mana stone? I guess the only flaw in my theory is that it wouldn’t explain the relation to me, but maybe they’re not related afterall?”

My idea feels loose as I watch Orville’s face, searching for a reaction but he just stares at me.

It seems the effort of our conversation has drained him completely. The light in his eyes dims. The chief is gone, only a worn out old man remains.

“I… I need to rest now.” he murmurs as his eyelids flutter closed. The hand I’m holding goes limp in my grasp. “Tell them…” he breathes, his voice barely audible. “Tell everyone who can… to come. Hopefully, I can hold out for a little while longer...”

I squeeze his hand gently, a silent promise. “I will.”

I carefully place his hand back on the blanket and try to stand up. It’s an ordeal that takes me far too long, my legs both dead from exhaustion and from sitting. 

I exit the room, closing the door softly behind me, leaving him to what little peace he has left. Riel is still in the main hall, standing like a sentinel. He looks at me as I approach, his eyes asking the question he doesn’t dare to speak.

“Chief Orville has requested everyone who can, to gather.” I tell him, my voice stripped of my momentary enthusiasm. “He wants to say goodbye.”

Riel’s stoic composure finally cracks. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, a single, silent tear tracing a path through the grime on his cheek. He doesn’t say anything, just nods curtly before pushing himself off the wall and heading out the door.

I retreat to the silence of my room. The promise I made to Orville, to guide Riel, to help this village survive, suddenly feels like a fool’s bargain. 

It was a vow made in a moment of grief-fueled conviction, but now, in the cold light of reality, it feels like an insurmountable mountain.

Who am I to do any of this? I’m a stranger. A performer who has spent her life hiding behind masks and memorized lines. 

I look down at my hands, at the faint tremor that has taken hold. This isn’t a stage, and there is no script. The pain in my arm has not dissolved, my new found stress seems to be agitating it further. 

Orville seems to have found something in me, something I don’t know if I truly possess. 

What if he was wrong?