All is normal again.
She did her daily deeds under the watching eyes of the temple.
At night, she became a shadow among shadows, slipping through alleys, healing with gentle hands and quiet steps.
Tonight was no different... until it was.
She had just rounded a familiar bend when people blocked her path. Three men stepped from the shadows, brutes from the slums. Their shoulders broad, eyes wary, and hands twitching at their sides.
Selene froze. Her breath caught, but she didn’t show it. Not yet.
The man in the center—the older looking one with a scar across his cheek—took a step forward.
“You the healer of the night, right?” he asked, voice low but steady. “The one who helped the sick on Birch Street?”
She shook her head, too quickly.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to us.”
He lifted a calloused hand and raised three fingers. “Four people saw you. Cloaked in black. Moving like a ghost. Healing like… like something holy.”
Silence followed. A thick, heavy silence that weighed more than the men themselves.
The leader opened his mouth again but he did not speak. Or more like he couldn’t speak. His jaw trembled.
Before he could try again, the brute beside him stepped forward and dropped to his knees.
“Please,” the man whispered, loud as a thunderclap in the quiet.
“Our sister. She’s only ten. Been sick a week, and she’s fading fast.”
Selene didn’t move. Not yet.
“We’ve tried the temple. Called in every favor we had. Paid what we could. But even their blessed couldn’t fix it. They told us… they told us to pray.”
He looked up, eyes wide and wet.
“We did.”
He swallowed, voice cracking like old stone.
“And now I’m praying to you.”
Selene’s gaze dropped to the wet cobblestone beneath his knees, the dark streaks tracing from where his tears had fallen.
She looked at the leader again and saw the same streaks on his cheeks. His eyes screams of a silent sesperation. An unspoken grief.
And so, Selene nodded once. “Take me to her.”
---
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Selene woke up normally. The sun greeted her gently, spilling its golden warmth across her modest room. The wind hummed its usual soft tune through the shutters. The world was quiet. But there was a change.
Not in the air, not in her body but in her thoughts. A thought. Or more precisely, a memory.
It clung on to her mind. Not just because it was fresh, but because it had carved itself into her chest.
She remembered it all. The three brutes, their silent steps through moonlit streets. Their quiet desperation leading her to a crooked door and inside, to a home filled with a silence too heavy for any child to endure.
There, on a bed far too large for her frail body, lays a girl, Kia. Her skin pulled tight to her bones, limbs like twigs, and her eyes half-sunken in their sockets.
The eldest brother—the one with the scar—spoke softly, almost like he feared his voice would break the girl.
“She was fine,” he said, voice cracking, “Running around just days ago... and then she started vomiting. Every night. She couldn’t keep anything down. Then she started shrinking… and…”
His fist tightened, trembling. “When the temple came, they gave us prayers. Nothing else. They just told us to wait. Told us to have faith.”
He looked away, voice low with restrained fury. “She doesn’t need faith. She needs help.”
Selene had said nothing.
Instead, she stepped forward.
As she approached, Kia stirred, just slightly. Her eyes fluttered opened. They locked eyes.
Selene and Kia.
The girl tried to speak but only a wet gargle came out before she coughed and coughed. A few more coughs and blood stained the cloth beside her. Her body arched faintly then slumped.
Selene, afraid of losing her, did the only thing she could. She prayed. Not to the God of the temple. Not to the god whose name she used in repetition and ceremony. But to whoever it was that gave her this power. This quiet, radiant thing that bloomed in the dark and healed wounds no one else could.
"Please, " she whispered inside. "Just this once more."
And the warmth came. From deep within. And the light followed. Selene didn’t know how long she stayed there.
She only knew that when she left, Kia was sleeping peacefully. There were no more blood. No pain nor suffering.
Now, in the morning light, Selene paused mid-step. Her hands resting on a folded cloth, her mind far from her room.
She stayed still for a heartbeat more.
Then, she continued.
She cleaned her room. She prayed. She had breakfast. She thanked the God. She served the temple. She prayed once more. And she then did good acts in the town.
As if everything was normal. She continued. The day waited for no one. And her routine would not break, even if her heart did.
---
Selene did all things normally. She woke up. Cleaned her room. She prayed. Had breakfast. Thanked the God. Served the temple. Then prayed again.
When the time came for her usual good deeds in the town. Helping an elderly woman carry firewood, checking in on a blind man near the edge of the district, and handing out clean water at the corner square. She noticed something new.
Some townsfolk began to step back as she approached. Not far nor dramatically. Just enough. Enough to feel it.
They cast glances that lingered longer than necessary. Not curious nor hostile, just… odd. Some whispers behind their lips. Some smiled too quickly and looked away too soon. Selene ignored it. Or tried to.
She finished her tasks, logging them in her small booklet before returning to the temple to report to a higher sister. The report was received without warmth, as always.
Nothing seemed out of place, yet something in the air felt like dust settling after movement. She bowed before she retreated.
And when night fell, she donned her black cloth. A shroud that draped over her like a promise. Like a purpose.
Out into the alleys she went. Step by step. Shadow by shadow. Word must’ve traveled quietly, because more people were waiting now.
Not openly nor in groups but tucked behind doors that creaked open when she passed, or in windows where a single candle flickered, the light snuffed quickly as she entered.
There were more sick, more suffering,
But more were healed. Always in silence. Always without trace.
Info Dump #14:
- The temple is a powerful holy organization that spans 3 states. It has been that way for a century.