A Place To Call Home

Dusk had fallen over the town after what seemed like a whirlwind of a day. The trio had managed to exit campus without issue—even the rain had remained intermittent which only irked Lacia considering she’d been caught in the morning deluge.

Unfortunately, the school day seemed to have one more surprise; Mana had forgotten her bag in the Nurse’s Office. The school gates squealed to close just as she realized, but with a little luck, she was able to run back in to retrieve her bag.

“See? The teachers aren’t all bad, Lacia,” Mana said triumphantly.

Lacia sighed, throwing her hands up. While she appreciated something other than doom and gloom for the first time all day, she remained unsettled. What would happen now that classes were effectively paused for the foreseeable future? A week of relative peace had been a blessing—no more nightmares, or night-sweats, but another, less frequent, dream she’d had bothered her. What did she mean by “final performance” and why did every dream or nightmare involve water in some way?

“So, uhh, priorities. We could use shelter from the weather and someplace to use as a hub,” Brendan said, snapping Lacia out of her daze. “We definitely can’t stand here and wait to get soaked.”

“Oh,” Lacia piped, “Mana doesn’t have anyone in her apartment right now, so why don’t we use that as a meeting hub? I mean, we can use my house, too, but her apartment is closer.” She looked to the sky as fresh, dark clouds swirled overhead. “I don’t care where we go, but I’m tired of being rained on.” A stark wind caused her to shiver.

Mana nodded. “Let’s use my apartment for the night and, in the morning, we can head over to Lacia’s house. Sound good?”

“Yeah, that works for me. I have spare bedrooms and bathrooms, too,” she noted. She turned to Brendan and smiled. “There’s no time like the present,” she thought.

“Brendan,” Mana said, “I think maybe you should pack the stuff you need and bunk with us. There’s no telling what’s going to happen from here. Besides, there’s safety in numbers, after all.”

She expected at least some level of opposition but, to her surprise, he was more open to the idea than she thought. “Alright. I don’t have much to grab, anyways.” He rummaged through his pants pockets, pulling a crumpled piece of paper covered in pocket lint from the fabric. “This is my address and phone number. Think of it as a sort of emergency contact type thing. Also, it’s probably not a bad idea to have at least a general idea of where we all live, in relation to each other.”

Mana frowned. “I have another idea.” She pulled her phone out, made a few swipes, and held it out. “Here’s my contact card. Just take a picture and then text me. I’m not real confident I’d be able to find a small piece of paper in this bottomless thing,” she said, referring to the absurd amount of junk contained within.

“I keep telling you to clean that out,” Lacia said, frustrated. “Why do you have old movie tickets in here?” Lacia swiped her bag. “Candy wrappers, socks, hand sanitizers— What is this?” she questioned, holding up a suspicious foil wrapper.

Mana swiped her bag back, subsequently unwrapping the foil. “It’s a gummy candy,” she said, popping it in her mouth. “Now, how about we give Brendan your contact card?” A devilish smile crept across her face.

Lacia’s face reddened. “I— I’ll give it to him myself, thank you very much!”

Mana’s smile grew. “Ohh, I get it. This is about that little incident earlier, in the Nurse’s Office. It’s ok to be a little flustered. In fact, flustered is a good look on you!” she teased.

“Wh— what are you talking about? I thought you were asleep,” she said accusingly.

Brendan laughed. “You two tease each other and bicker like old women.”

“We do not!” the girls exclaimed in unison.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say,” he teased. He waved a hand over his shoulder, already several paces down the sidewalk.

“Wait,” Mana shouted. “You still don’t have Lacia’s phone number!”

“Mana! I said I’d do it!”

She winked. “Better hurry, then,” she said, chasing after Brendan.

Having successfully given Lacia’s contact card away, the girls parted ways with Brendan once they reached the center of town, waving bye as they promised to meet up with him later. Despite the ominous swirl of clouds overhead, precipitation remained light, a foggy drizzle incomparable to the earlier torrents.

The streets were wet as tire tracks demarcated the divide between wet and dry pavement. Earlier rainfall trickled into the sewers beneath their feet, the gurgling sound reminiscent of a bathtub drain. Foot traffic was limited due to the uncertainty of rain, but street shops remained well lit, ready to welcome any customers daring enough to brave the weather.

Captions rolled across the screens of infotainment centers and televisions placed in the windows—business as usual, it seemed. Headlines ranged from political discussions to stock markets, but one headline in particular struck Lacia as odd.

“Extreme Heatwaves Grip Southern Hemisphere.”

“Now that’s odd. Shouldn’t it be winter down there, right now?” she wondered.

“Everything okay?” Mana asked, noticing the distant look on Lacia’s face.

“Huh? Oh. No, no. It’s just… It’s winter in the southern hemisphere right now, right?”

“I think so, yeah. Why?”

Lacia grabbed Mana’s wrist, dragging her over to a live newscast. “Then, why doesn’t this make any sense? I mean, with all of the crazy weather here recently, do you think it’s just a coincidence?”

“This is a record-breaking heatwave,” the broadcast started. “Temperatures have easily exceeded record highs today. The highest recorded temperature for this day in any part of the southern hemisphere is a whopping thirty degrees cooler…”

Lacia remained glued to the screen, unaware of Mana’s efforts to drag her away. “Look, Lacia. You and I both know something feels off—we agree on that. What I don’t get is,” she rubbed the foundation from a small spot under her eye, “this.”

A small, pointed star appeared where Mana rubbed the makeup away; it resembled a middle school child’s attempt at face paint, but it was so symmetrical and looked completely natural. It was barely noticeable if someone wasn’t paying attention. However, upon further inspection, a faint orange tint could be made out.

“It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I just noticed it a few days ago,” Lacia said, trying to deflect the questions she knew Mana would ask. “It kind of throbs a teeny bit every once in a while, but don’t worry! It only seems to react to certain things.”

“How long have you known that was there, and why did you glob foundation all over it? I literally wouldn’t have noticed except that your makeup wasn’t as well blended as it usually is.”

“In my defense, I got rained on this morning, okay?” she pouted. “It appeared a month or two ago, I think? I don’t really remember exactly when, though.” She seemed just as puzzled as Mana.

Something didn’t add up about the mark, despite Lacia’s explanation. There was no doubt she was being honest, but that only confused her further. Why did its orange tint seem to pulsate like it was twinkling?

“Look in the window,” Mana instructed. “Is this the first time it’s done that?”

Lacia examined her reflection in the window, paying special attention to the mark under her eye. Panicked, she took a quick step back before, slowly, reexamining her reflection once more.

“This is crazy,” she said. “It’s kind of pretty though.”

“And that answers my question, Mana said. Craning her head out from under the awning, she gazed up at the clouds, their gray hues like that of a monochrome painter’s canvas. “Hey, maybe we should head over to Brendan’s early. It would be rude of us to keep him waiting.” Truthfully, she just didn’t want to get rained on, like Lacia.

“I,” Lacia said, turning to face Mana, “am a lady of class, and I will not tarnish my reputation by being late.” She placed a hand on her chest, imitating a dainty princess.

Mana stifled a laugh. “Only you would talk like that. When you find the card that says you’re related to a 12th century noble family, do let me know. Until then, let’s hurry,” she said, dragging Lacia along.

The walk wasn’t far. They passed a familiar toy shop along the way. They would secretly buy Christmas gifts for each other when they were little girls, though neither of them knew. A sign posted on the inside of the door read:

“Temporarily closed. Sorry for any inconvenience.”

“That’s too bad,” Mana thought.

It was her favorite toy store. Every year, it was her go-to place for a Christmas gift for Lacia—seeing it closed was painful. It was the last tiny semblance of a childhood she had left. The realization that those days were long-gone was a subtle reminder that, while still a child at heart, she would be turning twenty at the end of the year; she had to act like an adult now, not just for her sake, but for Lacia’s.

“I know what you’re thinking, and I’m just as upset. This place means a lot to me, too. I mean, it’s the last little bit of joy Azalea has right now,” Lacia said. “In a way, I guess its closure is kind of a reflection of our—” She stopped. “Of my life, lately. I go from perfectly healthy to nearly bed-ridden and, honestly, I just miss when life was easier.”

Like Mana, Lacia resented the idea of adulthood. Her final year before her twenties and she was spending it toiling in the depths of an unknown darkness she couldn’t escape.

“What a pitiful reality,” she muttered, turning away. “Sorry to hold us up. I didn’t mean to turn this into some kind of therapy session.”

Mana looked confused. “You’re fine, but what do you mean ‘therapy session’?” She narrowed her gaze. “Lacia—"

“Let’s get going,” Lacia said, grabbing Mana’s hand. “Besides, it looks like it’s about to rain again. Also, it’s fine. I’m just a little freaked out that we’ll be twenty next year, and all. The toy shop just, kind of, hit different.”

“No, I get it. It seems like nineteen has been two totally different worlds, hasn’t it?” Mana held her hands behind her back and smiled at Lacia. “It’s going to get better. Trust me.”

Raindrops sprinkled the girls as they looked to the sky. Clutching their school bags, they sprinted the rest of the way to Mana’s apartment. Hopefully Brendan wasn’t waiting in the rain. Since Mana had the only key, he would be forced to wait at the gate as his things got wet; she’d feel terrible if her and Lacia’s dawdling caused him any trouble.

Arriving at the front gate of the apartment complex, Brendan was nowhere to be seen. Mana heaved a sigh of relief. She held the keycard up to the scanner as the gate creaked open.

“After you, milady,” Mana teased.

Lacia gave her a sideways look. “I’m not living that down, am I?”

“Nope.”

The apartment was fully furnished, yet, for some reason, it felt empty. In the center room, a large couch lay opposite an LED television, placed atop a dark, oak entertainment center where a handheld video game console and games sat. Canvas print photos hung on the opposite wall. Some depicted aerial views of the town, likely taken from a drone. Other prints highlighted the beauty of winter: snow-covered trees, frozen lakes, and even miniature snowmen with tiny hairclips—Mana’s pride and joy photography.

“All of this rain has my bladder swollen like a balloon,” Mana said, closing the door behind her, “so I’m going to use the bathroom really quick. Make yourself at home!” She disappeared down the hall, humming all the way to the bathroom.

“This is such a cute little place,” Lacia thought, “but it feels so… lonely.”

The apartment was bathed in shallow daylight, but with the thick clouds, it felt cold and lonely. Searching for the overhead light switch, a sudden buzz on the intercom startled Lacia: it was Brendan. She’d completely forgotten about him once she entered the apartment.

“Hey,” she said, answering the call. “Mana’s in the restroom, but I’m sure she won’t mind if I let you in. Haha. Take a step back when the gate opens.” She ended the call, rushing to open the door for Brendan. “Is that all you brought?” she asked, staring at the two boxes next to him.

“Yeahhh… I don’t really have a whole lot of stuff, but I’m pretty happy with what I have, honestly,” he replied. “Besides, there’s no telling what we’re getting into, so the less stuff the better. Mana’s apartment seems to understand that fairly well.”

“Oh! Uh, let me help you!”

Brendan pulled back. “I’ve got it. Don’t worry. Besides, I can’t let a girl lift these heavy boxes. That would seem kind of insensitive.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

He shook his head. “No arguments,” he smiled.

“What a gentleman!” she thought. “Though, I just wanted to be helpful…”

Finally, after what seemed like an hour-long bathroom break, Mana reappeared. “Oh? The two love-birds are back at it again, are they?” she teased, grinning.

“We are NOT lovers!” Lacia and Brendan shouted in unison.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Mana smiled. Growl. “I swear that was NOT my stomach,” she exclaimed.

“Um, it’s getting kinda late and I know I’m hungry, too, so why don’t we get started on dinner?” Lacia asked. “Any ideas?”

“Curry?” Mana suggested.

“I actually have a pretty good curry recipe if you two want to try that,” Brendan offered.

“Curry it is then,” Lacia said.

Three days had passed since the school sent everyone home, though the weather hadn’t improved much since. The only notable changes were Lacia's dreams. Now, instead of standing on an empty beach, she stood in the center of a crowded room, full of people she didn’t know.

There was a party-like atmosphere to the place, but something felt... off. No one seemed to notice, or acknowledge, her, for starters. With such a striking, red dress, surely, she’d draw at least a little attention, yet everyone continued on. Some people stood around a table lined with champagne glasses—lost in discussion—others hastily signed cards, attaching them to gifts before placing them on a table.

She leaned over the shoulder of one of the guests, catching a glimpse of the card in their hand: “Happy 19th Birthday, Lacia!”

Several thoughts crossed her mind: the birthday, the oversized celebration, and the lucidity of the dream. Her nineteenth birthday had already passed, so why it was being celebrated again puzzled her. Not only that, she didn’t know enough people to fill an auditorium-sized room. There had to be more than a hundred people in the room alone, not to mention the small group that was huddled outside. What baffled her most, however, was the lucidity of the dream: she could feel the soft leather of her flats, the way her garters pinned her stockings to her thighs, and she could smell the helium used to air the balloons. Why?

Exiting the party room, she ventured towards a wall of windows, away from the crowd. Gazing across the snowy landscape, a chill ran through her body. She crossed her arms across her chest for warmth as she continued to gaze into the dimly lit night.

A mangled sign at the edge of the road caught her attention, illuminated by a flickering streetlight. She mouthed the letters plastered to the face of the sign like a haphazard art project: “A Z A L E A.”

Her confusion quickly devolved into panic. She inhaled sharply. The letters began to melt, contorting into an unreadable sentence as the streetlight erupted into a flurry of smoke. She spun on her heels, hoping to relay what she’d just seen, but everyone had vanished—gifts and birthday cards included. She closed her eyes and pinched herself, trying to end the dream. Slowly opening her eyes, she found herself standing in the center of a snowy crater, confused and unable to speak.

Panic turned to terror as shadows danced before her, creeping ever closer. She bit her lip, trying to scream, shout—anything—but all she could do was stand there and cry. There was no logical explanation for the crater, or why she stood in the center of it. Her heart hammered against her ribs; her legs were stiffer than boards; her knees gave out as she collapsed, crashing into the snow as she shook with fear.

She attempted to stand, trembling as a violent wave of pain struck her. Not that she’d ever wanted to know, but she assumed this is what it felt like to be run through with a sword: her mouth filled with the bitter taste of blood, each breath took more effort than the last, and her stomach felt like it had been torn open.

Blood poured from her mouth as she clutched her abdomen. Unable to even sit up, she curled into a ball. Crimson puddles stained the white canvas of snow as she continued to bleed; nausea swept through her like waves on the ocean, unrelenting. She could feel her consciousness slipping, but what would happen if she blacked out? Would she die? Was she dying? With what little strength she could muster, she looked up, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever lay beyond the shadows, an answer to her plight, only to be greeted by nothingness.

Maybe it was from the extensive loss of blood, but her head buzzed as if anesthesia had flooded her veins, forcing her into a slumber she didn’t know if she’d wake from. Moments later, she blacked out, snow slowly turning her red dress white.

“Lacia…”

Someone was calling her name, but they sounded hollow and distant. She felt caught between a dream and reality, opening her eyes only for her vision to swim as she fought back the grogginess of sleep.

“Lacia,” the voice came, louder.

She squeezed her eyes tight, trying to rid her body of sleep’s slumbering hold. Her eyes shot open as she squinted from the glow of the bedside lamp light. She looked around, recognizing the familiar layout of her bedroom: plushies lined the top of a bookshelf, nestled against the back wall, a television sat atop a dresser at the foot of her bed, and her desk was pushed against the window, curtains drawn.

“Lacia~ Heyy.” It was Brendan, but why was he in her bedroom? She took a deep breath, shifting beneath her sheets, trying to sit up. She was in her bedroom—not Mana’s apartment, which explained why they were both there., but the last thing she could recall was dinner—everything after that was blank.

“What are you doing in here?” she said hoarsely.

Brendan shushed her. “You have no idea what’s going on, do you?” The panic on his face didn't help her confusion. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down the hallway.

A small thud and scurrying feet later, Mana appeared in the doorway, a mixture of relief and worry on her face, but she looked as if she might be sick.

“Lacia… How— What happened in here?” Mana looked to Brendan for an answer, but he shook his head.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Brendan said, re-addressing Lacia. “Try not to move around too much or speak. Your body will need the energy so it can heal—trust me.” He turned to Mana. “Can you see if there’s any handheld mirrors in the bathroom we can use?”

Without hesitation, she stumbled back through the doorway and into the bathroom; the sound of drawers opening and closing carried up the hall and into the bedroom. Brendan remained by Lacia’s bedside, gently grasping her hand, cold and clammy. She looked like death, but he would leave the final decision on that to her.

Moments later, Mana returned with a small, round portable mirror, placing it in Brendan’s hand. “Ok. So, this might shock you a bit, but take it easy. Alright? Just nod your head your head if you understand," he eased.

She nodded.

“Good. Then, I’m going to hand this to you. Again, you might not want to hold the mirror out too far right away,” he said, handing it to Lacia.

She held the mirror several inches from her face, off to the side—just enough to see her reflection from the corner of her eye; what she saw terrified her. Dried blood crusted the sides of her mouth where it had dripped down her chin and splattered onto her neck; her eyes had gone from sapphire-blue to a hazy grey-blue, mired by purple under-eye bruises; matted hair stuck to her forehead from dried sweat, blonde waves now tangled and knotted from relentless tossing and turning.

As she began to understand the extent of Brendan and Mana’s own shock, her heart began to race, pounding against her chest, screaming for someone to put it out of its misery. Filled with anxiety, she attempted to steady her heart, but it was no use. She lifted a hand to remove the hair from her face; the sight of her vein-riddled hand and pale skin prompted a wave of terror-induced nausea. She placed her hand back at her side before realizing things were far more serious than she thought.

Fresh crimson stains soaked into the bedsheets, unabated as blood began to drip from the sides of the bed. If she didn’t know better, she would have believed the sheets came such a vibrant red, but she did; internally, she knew something was amiss. There was no reason for such an onslaught of blood, yet there remained no semblance of why she was even bleeding in the first place.

Without thinking, Brendan pulled the blood-soaked bedding back to reveal an unusual wound in her side and torn pajamas. Her bruises were gone; in their place was an open gash that spanned several inches in length, starting parallel to her belly button. What had been a cottony-white pair of pajamas were now a strange reddish pink. The color reminded him of red food dye—never truly red but somewhere in between.

It took Lacia several minutes to fully process what was happening; she looked as if someone had dumped a bucket of red paint across her body. A new, dry cough only seemed to aggravate her precarious condition, red bubbles forming at her lips as she sputtered fresh blood. She moved a hand to her mouth just to find it painted red like her bloody sheets.

Mana promptly tore the tattered pajama top from Lacia’s body for easier access to the wound, but it was almost impossible to find; the entirety of her abdomen was a sticky, slimy mixture of sweat of blood. She swallowed her stomach.

As embarrassed as she was to be left only a bra and pajama bottoms, Lacia quickly forgot her shame. Mana’s face was startling, filling her with a new kind of fear: the eventual beratement from her best friend, seeking answers to why this was happening. She knew and hated that face, but she hated it even more, now, knowing she didn’t have an answer for her.

“Wait,” she thought. “The dream I just had… Did it—?” She leaned over the edge of the bed and became ill. “At this rate,” she huffed, “I’m going to die from blood loss, but my stomach—” A furious stomach cramp interrupted her.

“I’m no doctor, but you have lost a lot of blood,” Brendan said. “Stop moving around for a while so the bleeding will slow.”

“Brendan,” Mana said. “Rather than have an active conversation, I think it would be better if we just had her text us. But we can’t wait for the bleeding to ‘slow’. Use the bedsheets and make a torniquet.”

“Right,” he said. “You’ve lost too much as is, and if we take you to the hospital, you could bleed out.” He pulled the sheets from the bed, wringing them out before tightly wrapping them around Lacia’s body.

She screamed in agony as he tied the knot, squeezing the open wound. Beads of sweat formed across her forehead; her breathing became ragged. Her head felt like someone had taken an electric massager and placed it on her scalp; she was beginning to lose consciousness.

“Fu— Ok, new plan,” Mana said. “Your blood type is A. Since I’m O negative, I’m a universal donor. Brendan,” she said firmly, “this is going to be super unorthodox, but find some rubbing alcohol, two butterfly needles, and rubber tubing. I don’t care if you have to run to the nearest drugstore for some. Just— Please.”

“Mana,” he started, “a blood transfusion could put both of your lives at risk. Are you absolutely certain about this?”

She nodded. “We have no other choice, Brendan.”

“Alright.” He ran out of the room, scurrying around the house for several minutes before returning to Lacia’s bedroom. “This is as good as it gets, ok?” He placed a half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol and clear, rubber tubing next to her before disinfecting a pair of butterfly needles.

“Puncture a hole on either end of the tubing so the blood can move freely, then stick us.” She gestured towards Lacia then herself. “Lacia, if you can hear me, I need you to stay still so we can do a blood transfusion on you.” She looked at Brendan and nodded.

Carefully, he inserted the needles into Lacia and Mana’s arms. “You must know an awful lot about her if you even know her blood type,” he said. “By the way, how did you know she even had this stuff laying around?”

Mana’s gaze was transfixed on the exchange of blood from her arm to Lacia’s. “Let’s just say that, based upon what she’s told me, her parents prepared for anything. It was pure luck you were able to find it all.”

“That's fair, I suppose, but I’m pulling the needles as soon as she gets a little color back, ok? I don’t need two people bleeding out on me at the same time,” he said. “We’ll get her side of the story after she wakes up."

Mana and Brendan took turns watching Lacia for the next several hours, though Mana was a little woozy, having given more blood than she expected. Still, Lacia seemed to be resting—peacefully. The earlier commotion seemed like a world away now; Brendan had taken the blood-soaked bedding and tossed it into a trash bag, Mana had scrounged Lacia’s room for a blanket—to keep her warm—and, finally, had dinner. The silence was bliss: no screaming, no crying, no shouting—just silence.

Unfortunately, as nice as the stillness was, there remained a glaring problem: neither Mana nor Brendan knew why she’d started gushing blood, or where the gaping gash on her side came from. What’s more, her bruises had seemingly been replaced by the new wound.

“Hey,” Mana whispered. “Are you just as lost as I am right now? Like, things like that don’t just happen for no reason. Actually, they don’t happen at all!” She fanned herself with her hands.

“Don’t overdo it. You gave a lot of blood, you know.” Brendan sat against the wall. “That torniquet… Under normal circumstances, that would never have been enough to stop the bleeding, but minutes after we walked in, it stopped. Is that not weird? It worries me.”

“Worried?”

Brendan nodded. “Look, if all goes well, I should be able to close the wound with my magic. I can at least shrink it. If I can’t, well, then we have a bigger problem on our hands.” He fixed his gaze on the ceiling. “Are you familiar with cytokine storms? Where the body’s own immune system produces an excessive, pro-inflammatory response to pathogens? It’s only a theory and doesn’t explain many of her other symptoms, but perhaps this is an extreme example of that.”

“I don’t know, Brendan. Maybe, but you said we’d have a bigger problem if you couldn’t shrink or close the wound. What did you mean by that?”

He scratched his nose. “I have two leading theories. That was the first one and, arguably, the best-case scenario. The other theory is hella complex, but I’ll give you the short version. Basically, her body could be rejecting a gift of sorts, something much bigger than me or you.”

Mana stared at him, eager for him to explain further. Brendan lifted himself off the floor, taking a seat in the chair he’d placed by Lacia’s bed. “You see, my family has passed down an old folk tale that bears hallmarks to just what is happening now,” he said, attempting to close Lacia’s wound.

A faint, green light emanated from his hands as he held them inches from the open wound. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, but the gash had started to shrink. He continued his explanation, still focused on healing.

“The tale says something about a tremendous power that will be bestowed upon a young maiden, something the likes of which the world has never seen. If she’s deemed worthy, she will be granted vast troves of knowledge and exceptional knowledge,” he said. “However, if she is deemed unworthy, there is the chance her body rejects the gift, resulting in, uhh… death.”

Mana was poker-faced. “Maybe it is a tale, and maybe it’s not. Either way, I feel like there’s a part of me that’s not all here,” she said, staring at the floor, "and that part of me feels useless. Either way, that all sounds eerily similar to a story I was told as a child, but it’s it been so long, so the details aren’t all there at the moment.”

“Two different families and one, similar, story. Now that’s interesting,” Brendan said. “Ok. Good news: I was able to close the wound completely. With some rest, she’ll be fine, but there’s more we need to discuss, too.”

“Actually, I need to come clean about something to you. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but my family has a long history of indentured servitude to families that were more magically gifted than us. At some point, however, one of our members, the Lhumin family, married into one of those families,” she explained. “Unfortunately, that’s all I can offer you—my head is splitting.”

She leaned against the side of Lacia’s bed, pushing her hair up with her hand. The combined effects of exhaustion, worry, and blood transfusion had taken their toll on her body; her face had drained of color.

Brendan walked over, placing his own hand to her forehead. “You’re running a fever. It’s low-grade, but you definitely need to get some rest, so let’s wrap this up. Do you recall ever hearing about an event known as the ‘Searing Wounds’ at all?”

“Maybe super vaguely. I mean, it sounds familiar, but I can’t really offer any specific details right now,” she said, shaking her head. “Let me take a rain check and get back to you in the morning. My head is trying to make me commit not-alive.”

“No worries. Go get some sleep. I’ll watch Lacia for the night, and if she wakes up, I’ll be sure to come and get you,” he said. “Besides, I’ve got some stuff to think about, so this works out perfectly.”

“Sounds good. I really appreciate you taking the lead on this tonight. Seriously.”

“No problem. You’ve been super helpful, though I realize that might sound odd coming from a near-stranger like me,” he laughed awkwardly.

Mana giggled. “I have a feeling we’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other, but later. Still, I should thank you for all of your help, too,” she said. “Anyways, I’m off. Thanks again for this.” She stumbled out of the bedroom, hand on her head. A soft ploof and rustling of bed sheets later, she was fast asleep.