Teerom knew only one reliable exit: the south-western gate, through the shadier, less-patrolled parts of the city. It was a place of low-level gangs and whispered rumors of vampires, born from a horrifying attack in an alleyway there some years ago. The gate was rarely used, which was perfect for an escape; Teerom knew the guards would be on low alert.

  "I've been through worse," he muttered, trying to coax courage from the pit of his stomach. "I hope I remember how to do this." With Paley's dead weight on his back, the rooftops were the only way to avoid recognition. He ran down the length of the alley, used a discarded crate for a boost, and leaped, his fingers finding a hold on a stone window-sill.

  "Sorry, buddy," he grunted as Paley groaned at the jerky movement. With muscles straining, he pulled himself up to the next windowsill, then grabbed the roof's ledge and hauled himself over, panting. "Still got it." He allowed himself a small smile of victory before taking in the breathtaking view. Even a city as backward as Gouon was a tapestry of flickering lights at night. His awe quickly faded as he looked toward his destination. The south-western side wasn't completely lawless, but it was unpredictable. He was more worried for Paley. Could he truly keep him safe?

  He decided the only way to do that was to move. He began an old, desperate dance across the rooftops, his movements honed by a childhood of similar escapes. Below, more officers had gathered, their lanterns creating shifting pools of light on the cobblestones, but they didn't think to look up. Lusitra rarely produced powerful mages; they had no experience chasing someone who could wield two magic types.

  "Lucky us, Paley," Teerom whispered, his breath pluming in the cold air. He reached the final rooftop before one of the bridges that spanned the great river. It was then that he saw it: a small barge with a single lit lantern, preparing to cast off, heading south. Changing plans in an instant, he scrambled down to the ground and hurried to the boat slip.

  "Hey! Can you do me a favor?" he called out, his voice laced with urgency. "I'll pay you. Just get me past the gate."

  The boat owner, a grizzled man with wary eyes, looked him up and down. "Someone chasing you?" he grunted.

  "Y-Yes." It was a risk; the man could just as easily turn them in.

  "How much you willing to pay?" The words sparked a flicker of hope in Teerom's chest.

  "Ten copper."

  "Too low." The man gestured with his chin as the voices of guards echoed from a nearby street. "That won't cover my trouble if we get caught. Time's ticking, kid."

  "Alright, fine." Defeated, Teerom handed him the small pouch of money he had been saving for half a year,: the bag that was meant to buy materials to reinforce the cottage and improve everyone's lives. "This should cover your bail, plus a bonus."

  The man took his time counting. "Ten silver, twenty-two copper. Good enough. Get under that." He pointed to a grimy tarp covering goods in the back. Teerom scrambled aboard, settling Paley as comfortably as he could in the cramped, dark space. The boat lurched into motion. He listened intently, his heart pounding, until he heard the groan and splash of the wooden water gates opening. Once they slid shut behind them, he peeked out. The city walls were receding, and no officers were in sight. They were in the clear. He took Paley and slipped over the side into the shocking cold of the river, swimming for the familiar shore. Turning back, he saw the boatman give him a lazy salute. Teerom returned it before hauling Paley onto his back and hurrying toward the warm, distant light of the orphanage.

  While they were gone, the cottage had become a sickroom, thick with a blanket of fear. Madella and the orphans tended to Bacha, wiping the sweat from her brow with cool, damp rags. Sickly green, gem-like dots had begun to appear on her neck.

  Madella’s breath hitched in panic. "I know this illness. Smerold. How long are those two going to take!?" She clasped her hands, ready to pray to the moons, but abandoned the thought and made for the door. Just as she reached it, Teerom burst in, Paley unconscious on his back. He set the boy down gently and tried to slap him awake. Paley stirred, but his mana exhaustion was too severe. His stomach rumbled, a hollow, desperate sound.

  Madella quickly found a piece of dried fruit and fed it to him without much gentleness. Paley wolfed it down, some strength returning, but the hunger remained. "Animal... meat," he rasped, his voice guttural. They had none. Fighting his body's desperate craving, he forced himself to the steps where Bacha lay. "Teerom. The book."

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  Teerom opened the first grimoire. "The illness is Smerold, if that helps," Madella said, her voice tight. He scanned the contents. Nothing.

  "Maybe this one," Rauba offered, presenting a different book they had stolen, titled 'Common Illnesses and Their Cures'.

  "Good eye, Rauba!" Teerom found the entry. "Paley, can you read?"

  Paley squinted, his vision blurry, and read about the Emerald Plague. It began with a high fever, followed by emerald growths that started painlessly on the skin before growing inward, causing excruciating pain as they permeated muscles and blood vessels. They had caught it just in time.

  "Open the introduction to Healing Magic in the first book," Paley requested. Rauba did. He absorbed the information, synthesizing it with the instructions to cure Smerold.

  "Diagnosis first," he whispered, a mantra to keep himself on track as he visualized his mana flowing into Bacha. For magic as complex as Healing, a mage had to impart the very concept of mending into their mana. A beautiful green glow moved through Bacha's body, finally settling on her stomach. "Found it." He moved to the next step. "Isolate." His own hands began to shake as his magic wrapped around the source of the Smerold, a growth in her gut. "Needle." He lanced the growth with focused mana, letting it bleed and shrink. "Clean." This was the hardest part; he guided the toxic bleed-off down her intestine so she could excrete it later. "Kill." He cut off all blood supply to the growth. He held it for a full minute, fighting the encroaching darkness at the edge of his vision. "Double-check." A final, quick scan confirmed the growth was dead. "That's good."

  He heaved a huge sigh of relief before collapsing to his side. Madella caught him, crying tears of joy as Bacha's temperature began to fall - faster than usual due to the residual Healing Magic within her boosting her recovery. The sick little girl's eyes fluttered open to see the orphans gathered around her, their faces streaked with tears.

  "I feel horrible," she said, her voice raspy. They hugged her, a tangle of relieved limbs. When they let go, she saw Madella still crying as she held Paley. "Paley!? Is okay!?" Bacha asked.

  "He's still got a pulse, right, Mother?" Teerom asked, Bacha's anxiety infecting him.

  "Y-Yeah..." Madella laughed through her tears. "He went this far for you, Bacha."

  "He was the one who healed me..." Bacha whispered. She had felt his will, his desperate desire to save her, as his magic moved through her. It was the warmest, safest feeling she had ever known. Tears welled in her own eyes. "Why isn't he waking up?"

  "A mana debt," Teerom began, then cried out, clutching his left hand as a jolt of white-hot pain shot up his arm. His face flooded with a primal terror. "Mother... I think... I-"

  "You've done it again," a voice whispered in the darkness. It was his own, but stripped of all warmth, flat and dead as stone. "A human dies when they go as far as you did. You've broken the rules again."

  "I know what you're going to ask," Paley said, facing the other him - a creature with his face but with dead, hollow eyes full of agony.

  "Yes, you do. It's the only way. You've gotten out of this before. It's just a matter of remembering."

  Survival. Paley thought of the orphans, of the warmth in their chaotic home. He wanted that.

  "A tragedy," the other him smiled sadly. "As soon as he finds a family, he dies. Fitting. The final piece of our story."

  "Whatever you are," Paley said, his voice firm, "I would rather die than become you."

  "I would too. But you already are me. You're just asleep. It's only a matter of time before this world wakes you up. Maybe then... you'll have the strength to actually die for good."

  "I'll die today. For my sister."

  "A good death, then. But they will see you for what you are."

  Paley woke up with the gamey taste of cooked rabbit in his mouth. Half a rabbit. He had already devoured the other half.

  "Paley!!!" Bacha was the first to embrace him, followed by everyone else. Their faces were smudged with dirt and etched with exhaustion.

  "What happened to you guys?"

  "Stop worrying about us! How are you?" Madella reprimanded, smiling through her own tears of relief.

  "I'm..." He looked at their faces, one by one. "I'm happy I got to see you all again." His words brought them all to tears, and finally, his own eyes let go, shedding a waterfall of emotion. They hugged him once more, a tight circle of warmth and life.

  It turned out they had all gone hunting for his sake after he'd begun muttering in his sleep. "Meat... flesh... meat..."

  "You're either a vampire or a mimic, 'cause that was really creepy," Adimia teased.

  "I'm not burning up in the sun, am I?" Paley countered weakly. "And you know I'm not a mimic."

  "You're really incredible," Reben added quietly. "I wish I could've been more help."

  "You brought me this rabbit," Paley said, attempting a laugh. It came out as an odd, unused sound. "Maybe it was magical. It brought me back to life."

  "We're just glad you're okay," Madella said, caressing his cheek. As the others began to chatter excitedly, she mumbled quietly, a prayer of thanks to the moons though they had done nothing to aid her, "My little angel..."