David ran down the dirt path, ears ringing in rhythm with the clinking jars, the crate of healing ointments bumping against his ribs. Even with a dry throat and his forehead burning up, he didn't dare slow down. Mom needed him.

  He barreled through the open doorway. “I'm here!” Then he rushed past the empty beds near the door, past old man Raf twisting in his sheets, and slammed the crate down on the floor next to her.

  His mom, Aura, was kneeling beside a young woman lying on a bed covered in bloody sheets, chest sliced open in three places. “What took you?” Mom asked. She grabbed a jar and smeared the translucent paste across the gushing wounds.

  David was panting, the tang of blood and herbs mixing with the metallic taste on his tongue. His head throbbed like he’d been hit with a hammer. “Sorry, Mom.” He didn’t have to explain. She knew it was the fever.

  “Take care of Raf for me,” she said, leaning over the groaning woman.

  David grabbed a jar from the crate and scrambled over to the old man. He had a deep cut on his upper arm.

  “Forget about me,” the old man grumbled. “Save Lillie—she’ll live longer.”

  “Mom knows best,” David told him. He dug into the cold, slimy ointment. His skin prickled like tiny needles as it always did when handling the medicine, but he clenched his teeth and slathered some on the man’s slack flesh, swirling it in with the blood. He shivered. It was just like in his nightmares.

  Raf inhaled sharply. “Damn that hurts.”

  “What happened?” David asked, trying to distract him. Or both of them. “Were you in the forest?”

  “Blasted boarlets, that's what!” Raf's heavy breathing whistled through his teeth. “I told them we went too far, but younglings never listen!”

  David’s mom shouted, “David, bandage here, quick!”

  David winced. He hadn’t even bandaged it yet, but left Raf behind and hurried over. One of Lillie's cuts was spurting out blood, and another was quickly blackening. He grabbed a bandage and applied pressure to the bleeding wound. Lillie screamed and pounded the bed with clenched fists.

  “I covered Raf's wounds,” David said, ignoring the streams of blood running down his arms. ”What's happening to Lillie?”

  “Mana overload!” Mom rifled through her satchel. The blackening wound began to melt and rot, spewing puss all over Lillie’s chest. Mom grabbed a light-blue potion and poured it on the wound, slowing the decay, but only a little. Lillie screamed again, piercing through David’s headache.

  David applied pressure with his full body weight, but it wasn't enough. Visions flitted in his mind. Just like in his dreams—pooling blood, a pale corpse. He shook his head, grabbed more bandages, and kept up the pressure. The bleeding subsided but so did Lillie's screams. And then they stopped.

  “No, no, no!” Mom added more potion, but Lillie's head flopped sideways and her mouth fell open.

  In his head David saw gray walls splattered with blood, cruel faces laughing. His breath hitched and tears began to stream down his cheeks. His head rang with a sound like scratching glass.

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  Lillie's face was pale, her eyes wide open, staring at nothing. His mom kneeled next to her and clutched Lillie’s hand. Then she got up and walked slowly to old man Raf.

  Golden strands of light flowed up from Lillie’s eyes. David blinked and wiped his eyes with his sticky sleeve, but they were still there, pouring up from her mouth and ears as well. The scratching in his head grew louder and louder, drowning every other sound in the clinic room.

  “What… what is happening?” He asked.

  The golden strands converged in a swirling ball above Lillie in the bed and twisted slowly around themselves.

  “David, she’s dead,” his mom said without turning to look.

  The ball of light strands flew toward him and crashed into his chest. His headache split and multiplied, and the ball bounced away, slightly dimmer. Then it raced back and forth, pounding at his chest like a hammer, but slowly fading out each time. David wanted to pull away, but he couldn’t move, powerless to escape the suffering. His vision fogged like there was a sheet of cracked glass between him and the world.

  The ball of golden strands slowed, then disappeared, and the world from his dreams overlapped the interior of the hut. Monotone grey walls, shrouded in mist. The woman in the bed was no longer Lillie. She was pale, bruised all over, and covered in crusty dry blood. His hands reached out to her, as if he were a passenger in his own body. Marie...

  The name repeated in his head, with a voice not of his own. Pain pierced his chest unlike any he had ever felt. David screamed and slammed his fist on the floor. Mom turned toward him, and her eyes went wide. She walked over, tore him away from the bed, and hugged him.

  The warmth of her embrace filled his body and the visions faded. Pain faded. He realized he was clutching his throat so hard he was choking himself.

  “It's okay David.” His mom cradled him, “Let's take you home.” She pulled him to his feet and led him to the door. A small crowd had gathered near there, but they made way.

  Outside, the blinding sunlight hit him square in the eyes. “What happened, Mom?” he asked, wincing. “What was that golden light?”

  His mom tilted her head and pressed her fingers to his forehead. “I don't know sweetie, but your fever is flaring up.”

  “I saw things, a face, like from my dreams.” David’s vision cleared. They were walking down the road through a crowd of people.

  “It's always a shock when we try so hard and still can't save someone.” She rustled his hair. “Can you make it home from here? I still need to bandage Raf. If I don't get back quickly, he might try to do it himself and we both know how that would end.”

  “I'll be fine, Mom.” David sniffled, wiped his eyes, and forced a chuckle. “It's just a fever.”

  She slid her thumb across his cheek. She looked worried, like when he woke her up in the middle of the night screaming or crying. “I'll come home as soon as I can.” She jogged back toward the clinic, her blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders.

  David stood there, watching the crowd of people stream past him carrying long branches, spears, and sacks from the harvest. The Long Night was only a day away. They were preparing for the monster attack, but he wasn’t even well enough to help them. Other thirteen-year-olds were pulling their weight, but David’s fever would only make him a burden.

  By the time he got home, he was drenched in cold sweat. Metal was clanging in his father’s smithy next door. Dad was hard at work as always, but David couldn't help him either. Not that day, at least.

  Home was a small hut, about five meters long and five wide, with a fireplace, an iron grate for cooking, an old table, a few worn chairs, a faded cupboard, and a shelf of brass instruments polished to such a shine they made the rest of the stuff look even duller. There were two shuttered windows, and the wooden walls were patched with clay-and-straw.

  Nevertheless, home was home, and it usually felt cozy, but as David stood there in the middle of the main room, the house felt… weird. A new voice in his head, cold and tired, seemed to suggest the room wasn’t his.

  He rubbed his head, climbed into his itchy straw bed, and covered himself with fur. He dozed but didn't look forward to sleeping. It was always like that. He’d get a fever, a few nightmares, then spend hours disoriented. He just had to get a good nights’ sleep and it would go away… He never saw things out there in the open, though. The golden light was a first.

  From most of the nightmares, he could rarely remember the details, but the pale corpse was familiar. There was no one named Marie in the village, and yet the name felt like something he'd said a milion times.