“Can you not heal him? Has the boy not been through enough?” A deep, gravely man’s voice echoed through what sounded like an infinite space. Why couldn’t he see? Aidric attempted to open his eyes, yet it felt as if an invisible force was holding them shut, making it impossible to see. There was only darkness. His body felt detached from his mind, leaving him with a sensation of weightlessness. Panic washed over him as he struggled to breathe. His chest was unwilling to rise or fall, remaining unnaturally still as he continued to listen to the two beings.

“Dear friend,” said a woman’s voice, its gentle tone reminiscent of a grandmother, yet still carrying a youthful undertone. “You asked for a worthy successor to take your place.” The woman’s words caused purple flashes to dance behind Aidric’s closed eyelids. Despite his best attempts, his lips remained stubbornly still, refusing to utter a single word. He couldn’t scream, cry out, ask what was happening, nothing. A helpless bystander in a world he didn’t belong in. Was he dreaming?

“Torturing my children is not what I had in mind.” With a grumble, the man’s frustration seemed to darken the atmosphere once again. Agitation permeated the very space they resided. 

“Calm, beloved. You know as well as I that his hardship must be brutal.” Purple light returned, brighter this time. “For one to be a fair and just ruler, one must know what it is to suffer.”

“If his morals and will are corrupted like those before, what then?” A brief pause settled between the two. Then... a giggle.

“Then we will simply start again. This one, however…” The purple light was a constant shine now. Terror flooded Aidric’s senses with the feeling of being caught stealing from the grain shed again. Being caught in a place he wasn’t meant to be. Whoever the light belonged to was staring at him. “I believe he is more like you than you realize.”

Aidric’s body jolted violently, a scream escaping his lips before he crashed onto the hardwood floor of his room, startled from his nightmare. The pain that erupted from his back was more excruciating than the lash of the whip. Choked breaths and sobs were all that he could muster while the familiar, bright light flickered in his peripherals. As he moved, he could sense a damp heat spreading across his back. With a grunting realization, he’d figured the little tumble and twist had reopened old wounds, the sting of torn scabs and stitches now fresh. Hardly able to hear them over his own ragged breathing, a chorus of footsteps scrambled up the stairs to his room.

“Oh, Ady.” Ada kneeled beside him, stroking his hair in the dim candle-lit room. The smell of a freshly made stew wafted through the open door, causing Aidric’s stomach to growl. Three more forms entered the room behind her. Priscilla, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Dr. Tillmane, whose expression was a mix of concern and irritation. Lastly, was...

“Mr. Patel?” Why was he there? It took a day to travel between Vale and Inrora. The trip to and from the market usually took him four days before he got back from the capital. Three if he sold everything on the first day, but that’s only if everyone else had a poor harvest. “How’re you back early?”

“I’m not.” His deep brown eyes scanned the room, briefly landing on each person’s face. With a look of discomfort, he crossed his arms, the umber hue of his skin contrasting against his dark clothing, and leaned his shoulder against the doorway. “I just got back this afternoon.” Bathed in the flickering candle light, his hair, an inky black, framed his face and concealed his features, save for the frown etched at the edge of his lips. Priscilla cleared her throat and attempted to look Aidric in the eyes, but couldn’t tear her gaze from his bleeding back.

“You’ve been out for three days.” Priscilla’s speech was slow, tired. No way... he’d only fallen asleep for a minute. He’d had that weird dream, but that lasted no more than two minutes, surely. “Trust me, I’ve been up the whole time.” Aidric’s cheeks had tinged a light pink as he’d apparently worn his disbelief on his face.

“Just when I get those wounds to start closing, you decide you want to try to walk, is that it?” Dr. Tillmane shook his head, unimpressed, and rooted through his basket of medical supplies. Bottles clinked together as he searched for items Aidric couldn’t see. “You’re lucky Ira bought more thread, or I’d be sewing you back up with your own shirt.” Aidric couldn’t help but grin, but he was confident Jacque had only been partly joking.

As gently as she could, Ada slid her hands under her son’s side and carried him back to the bed like he was a pile of kindling. She delicately lowered him onto his stomach, mindful of the pain his open wounds would inevitably cause. Aidric couldn’t help but grimace as Dr. Tillmane pulled out a set of clean bandages, scissors, needle, and thread from his basket and approached the boy. Glancing around the room, there seemed to be one person missing.

“Where’s Dad?” At Aidric’s question, a palpable and uncomfortable silence filled the room. Ada shifted her weight on her feet, her shoe slightly scuffing the hardwood floor, and nodded her head towards the back of the house.

“He’s at the willow.” Ada said. Scissors snipped away the crimson-soaked wraps on Aidric’s torso, the only sounds in the house coming from cut fabric. He should have guessed. The willow had always been where his father went when he was conflicted. If only they could go together, maybe they would’ve been able to talk this out.

Thinking of the willow dredged up memories in Aidric’s mind that felt as if they’d happened months ago. Should he ask them? Mentioning what he saw at the willow or in the dream may make them think he’d lost his mind, but he couldn’t bear the thought of living out his remaining days without finding the truth.

“Has he... has he said anything about seeing Madison?” All parties tossed confused glances around the room. Downstairs, the stew on the stove produced a soft bubbling noise from the stove, filling the house with the scent of boiled vegetables and seared beef. Ada was the only one that spoke up again.

“Ady, that’s the reason he goes up there is to see her.” Well, that went well. At least she hadn’t assumed her son was delusional straight out of the gate. So much for being subtle.

“No.” Aidric winced as the ointment was applied to his wounds, feeling a sharp sting as he sucked in air through his teeth. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for what lied ahead. “I meant actually seen her.” The rhythmic movement of Dr. Tillmane’s hands ceased abruptly, leaving the room in an eerie silence. Aidric wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but silence and bewildered stares weren’t it. He’d already said this much, in for a copper, in for a gold. “The morning I took the grain, I saw Madison. She spoke to me.” Priscilla made a swift dash towards the door, her agile movements catching everyone by surprise.

“I’m not hearing this right now.” A shaky voice escaped her lips, accompanied by a noticeable lack of color from her features. Ira narrowly sidestepped her one-track path. Priscilla’s hulking frame stopped and turned just outside the doorway, and raised her arm to point a trembling finger to point at Aidric. “I’ll pretend you didn’t just say that, and in return, you stay the hell away from my daughter.” Aidric didn’t understand. Her gaze bore into him, a silent warning that brooked no disagreement. Her arm fell to her side, followed by the solid, rhythmic thuds of her receding footsteps. 

Glancing around the room, Aidric noticed that everyone else’s faces were equally pale. “Is someone going to explain what just happened or am I going to be the only one not in the loop?” Aidric winced as Jacque Tillmane’s efficient hand guided the needle through his skin, causing a grumble to escape his lips. 

“It’s just some superstition.” Ira Patel said, reclaiming his spot against the doorway. That explained why Aidric didn’t understand what Priscilla had said. He’d never paid attention to superstitions. “Supposedly, only Marked and the dying can see visions of dead friends and relatives. You’ve been sick with Ether poisoning for two years, so I’m guessing Priscilla is betting her house on the first.” As Ada and Jacque scoffed in unison, it was Jacque who found his voice first, expressing his disapproval.

“Please, Ira. Marked don’t even manifest until they turn twenty, and there hasn’t been one in five-hundred years. If the records are true, we’d be waiting for another ten.” With a snip of the scissors, the thread attached to the needle was cut, and the loose end was expertly tied in a tight knot. Ira Patel raised his hands nonchalantly, exuding a sense of ease.

“Hey, I didn’t say I believe it. The kid asked, so I told him.” Aidric whimpered again, feeling another line of thread slithering through another tender part of his skin. Ada took a few steps closer to her son, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion. 

“What...” As Ada looked down at the floor, she let out a small chuckle of disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m asking this but… how did Madison look?” Aidric’s initial surprise quickly transformed into a warm smile, lighting up his face.

“She looked happy.” Aidric said. Despite Ada’s best efforts, her lips trembled. With a subtle nod of her head, she turned away, and her footsteps echoed softly as she made her way towards the empty corner of the room. Ira shot her a sympathetic look before tousling the hair on the back of his head. The sound of another snip of scissors and a pull of thread filled the room as Aidric’s caretaker worked. When he finally finished, he stood and stretched his back, letting out a groan of satisfaction. 

“Alright, everyone out, please. I need to have a conversation with my patient.” Ira nodded and offered a quick wave before exiting through the door. Ada, however, remained rooted in the same spot, her form completely still. “Yes, that includes you, Ada.” Slowly, she made her way towards the door, her eyes darting back and forth between the two-remaining people in the dimly lit room.

“I’ll be fine, mom, I promise.” Ada’s smile was tinged with sadness as she raised her arm, extending her thumb, index, and pinky finger towards her son, her palm open and facing him, conveying a heartfelt message without words. Ignoring the throbbing in his right shoulder, Aidric returned the same gesture to her. ‘I love you.’. She swung the door closed behind her, its hinges creaking, and the two listened to her footsteps receding down the hallway. 

“Give me your hand and lock your shoulder.” Following the instructions, Aidric obliged and Jacque carefully lifted him into a seated position. “Let’s get you wrapped up.” Jacque’s hands moved with practiced ease as he picked up the bandages, the sound of their rustling filling the room, and started wrapping them tightly around Aidric’s torso to keep the wounds sterile. “Well, on the bright side, despite your little stunt, your wounds appear to be healing nicely.” His words came out loud and forced. The darkness seemed to play tricks on Aidric’s mind, as he couldn’t escape the unsettling sensation of being watched by unseen eyes in the far corner of the room, their presence accentuated by the flickering candlelight.

Jacque’s voice, barely audible, hovered just above a whisper as he leaned in uncomfortably close, wrapping the bandages higher up Aidric’s torso to his shoulder blades. “Son, there’s no easy way to say this. Either the disease is coming to an end, or your life is about to turn upside down. Have you noticed anything else unusual lately? Voices, lights?” 

 “Both. I see light on the outside of my vision when I get angry or when I wake up, and the voices when I’m asleep.” Dr. Tillmane paused his wrapping for a long moment. Aidric winced and groaned in response to the noticeably tighter pull of the wrap. “It’s just symptoms of Ether poisoning, right?” 

Jacque’s tone shifted from panicked to commanding. “Arcturus above, Aidric, listen to me. You can’t tell anyone about this. Not even your parents, and especially not your father. Has anyone been around when you’ve seen this light?” Aidric’s head bobbed in agreement, as his palms slicked with nervous sweat. 

“Mom saw it the other morning when I was supposed to help Mr. Patel.”

“Okay.... okay, I can figure something out.” Jacque’s voice smoothed out, taking on a more relaxed tone. Aidric’s, however, was anything but. His eyes welled up with tears, ready to spill over at any moment. For the past two years, he had been coming to terms with the fact that he was dying, and now... a mix of fear and bewilderment consumed him as he struggled to understand the situation.

“What’s happening to me?” Aidric’s voice cracked and his lip trembled. Of all the cruel tricks life could play on him, being told he was to be hunted for sport until the day he died was at the top of the list... yet Jacque Tillmane sounded as giddy as one could while whispering. 

“Ether has chosen, my boy! You’re the first Marked in five-hundred years!” Aidric allowed himself a moment to ponder on the thought, feeling its impact slowly seep into his consciousness.

"I'm gonna throw up."