Golden

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Six

The boy’s face is ghostly pale, a stark contrast from the black of his pillows. He lays immobile in his bed, his small body still but tense. His eyes are shut tightly, a crease between his eyebrows as if his dreams are dark. Dry blood stains his cheeks and his upper lip, and there is a strange dark line that runs underneath his forehead, as if the vein there is entirely black.

Julen sits on the edge of the bed and brushes a few strands of black hair away from his son’s face. His eyes are drenched, and his body is hunched over his son as if the air alone is a danger. “Please heal him,” he whispers, his voice strained.

I sit on the other side of the bed and examine the boy once more. “It seems that this—” I point at the black vein “—is the root of his illness.”

I bite down on my lip; up until now I have only healed myself. I am entirely unsure of how to heal another being. I must try though; otherwise I will never forgive myself.

Inhaling slowly, I rest my hand on the boy’s forehead and allow my gilded blood to flow through. It pools at the edge of hand, slamming against the skin until it finally manages to seep through the flesh and pour onto his forehead.

Julen inhales a sharp breath at the sight, but I keep my concentration on the gold liquid as it pulses warmly under my palm. His face turns a shade of red as his blood warms. The liquid twirls around my hand, forming into thin ribbons that imbed themselves deeply into his forehead, the circular rings pulsing around him. The liquid glows from underneath his skin and I can see it as it travels down his cheek and neck before disappearing underneath the blanket that covers him.

Julen pulls the sheet away, his eyes hungrily soaking in the sight of the gold running down to his chest. It pools heavily there, settling in his heart and wrapping it in a golden case.

Suddenly, the boy takes in a sharp breath, his eyes flashing open. Both Julen and I flinch back from surprise. I glance at the blood to find that it is returning to my body, invigorating me with each golden ribbon that weaves back into my skin.

The boy blinks up at Julen with a smile, “hi dad,” he says steadily.

Julen chokes back a sob before gathering the boy into his arms, “do my eyes deceive me?” he whispers before pulling away. “Are you feeling okay?” he asks, brushing back his son’s hair with his hand.

The boy smiles and nods, “I feel really good. Am I not sick anymore?”

Julen’s eyes are filled with tears, “yes, Daneth; you are not sick anymore.” He breathes heavily. His gaze lands on me, “I cannot thank you enough.”

I wave his words away, returning his brilliant smile. “You can thank me later. For now, spend this moment with your son. I will be in the other room,” I say, standing and making my way out of the bedroom.

I take a seat on the soft couch in what the procratans call the “sitting room”. Leaning against the cushions, I heave a relaxed sigh and close my eyes. This very moment is a true gift – a break from the intensity and terseness of what has been happening.

I soak in the peace and silence for a while, hearing the laughter and joyful sobs and sniffles that come from the bedroom. A smile tugs at my lips as satisfaction pools in my stomach; in this one moment, despite everything that is crashing down around me, I have saved a life.

Right now, this feeling is exactly what I need.

Suddenly, the moment is cut short by a loud, erratic knock on the wooden door. I stand and draw both swords, casting a quick glance towards the bedroom door. Another loud knock, and then the person starts to bang against the door.