“So what happened?”
Fenzaar was pulled out of a beautiful sleep by Eko.
He sulked, leaned lazily on the counter, and winced as his ear caught the shrill cry of a woman.
The kind of scream that rattles glass—and nerves.
Madam Ellaire’s newborn had stopped eating, barely opened his eyes, and lay unresponsive.
No doctor. No medicine. Nothing had helped.
In despair, she wailed that her baby had been cursed.
She’d already been to every clinic in town.
So she came to Fenzaar—at midnight.
He didn’t chant spells. Didn’t light candles.
Didn’t roll his eyes either—barely.
He checked: a faint, slow pulse.
Pinpoint pupils.
Mild pink sclera.
Then stared into the void for a moment—
as if recalling something.
And asked, softly,
“How long has he been like this?”
Madam and her servant looked at each other—panicked, unsure.
“Just today,” they said. “He won’t wake up. No crying. No sounds.”
“But he’s always been such a good, silent child,” they added.
“Sleeps well. Very quiet. Very mature for his age.”
Known for never making a fuss.
“He never made a sound unless spoken to—very obedient.”
Fenzaar rolled his stick slowly between two fingers.
Resisted the urge to hit someone on the head.
He’d seen this before. Many times.
Cases where doctors could do nothing—
Because it wasn’t a disease.
Then said, flatly,
“Not sure. I think it’s Whispering Dream.
I can make an antidote.
No guarantee it’ll work.
Want to try?”
Madam sobbed and nodded like a broken doll.
Fenzaar made the antidote.
The baby opened his eyes within hours.
Everyone cheered.
And the whispers began:
“He banished the curse in one night.”
“He murmured a dark incantation… Whispering Dream.”
“He tamed a monster in a walking silver doll. It even spoke!”
But the truth?
No curse.
No spell.
Just a slow, subtle substance—
Often used to soften the edges of stressful adult lives.
Reduce stress.
Makes you calm.
Sleep more and more—
until one day, you don’t wake up.
Cheap.
Faint sweet taste.
Easy to slip into a child’s daily feed.
By someone jealous.
Someone bitter.
A secret mistress?
A resentful servant?
Big houses can hide big messes.
Fenzaar just said, rolling his metal stick between his fingers:
“Check who’s feeding your baby, Madam.
That might be the one who cursed him.”
And added, with a yawn,
“Feed him yourself.
Watch the food.
If we’re lucky—
he’ll be loud again by next week.”
He let Eko check the coin.
Then went back to sleep.
⸻
≡ Next Case : Whispering Dream — Overdose Report
Journal of slow drowning.
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