It had been three days since Doctor William Witherbark last visited Erica Rivers’ home, and he knew he would need to return soon. It wasn’t a prospect he relished, but none of the other doctors had the patience or resolve to deal with Erica, especially as her agitation and hostility had grown in recent years. The weekly meeting of Willowcreek’s four doctors was fast approaching, and they would discuss how to proceed with Molly’s treatment. Normally, there were multiple patients to plan for, but the medical center had been unusually empty in recent weeks—a trend likely to reverse as winter drew near.

  Of course, that wasn’t what William had told Erica. These days, he told her whatever would keep her from exploding in anger. The truth was that the doctors were afraid of treating Molly. They had never seen anything like her condition, and their research had yielded no solutions. Telling Erica this would destroy her hope, and without hope, the fight for Molly’s life would be over, rendering all their efforts futile.

  “Morning,” came a tired voice as Lore’leia, an elven doctor, entered the staff-only section of the clinic. She wore the same blue robes as William, which complemented her piercing blue eyes. Her long, blonde hair was tied neatly into a bun, emphasizing the elegant curve of her ears that extended almost to the top of her head. Though many would consider her beautiful, William found her insufferable. The saying "beauty is on the inside" seemed especially apt—and by that measure, Lore’leia was far from attractive. Her abrasive personality didn’t help, and her name’s similarity to the goddess of death didn’t improve matters.

  “Good morning,” William replied curtly, mentally scrambling for a way to end the conversation before she inevitably said something insensitive. He didn’t have the energy for her antics today. “The others are already here. We can start the meeting early.”

  “Good. I’ve got news about young Molly—or rather, the institute does,” Lore’leia said in her usual monotone voice. In her hand she held an open letter with a broken wax seal on it, pressed close to her body as if to make sure no one could take it from her.

  “Oh?” William asked, his curiosity piqued.

  “They’ve identified her illness, and it’s not good. There are a small handful of other cases in the kingdom, but they’re all adults, so symptoms took longer to appear.”

  “Wait, are you serious?” William asked, for once actually interested in what Lore’leia had to say.

  “Yes. They’re calling it Night Pox. Apparently, it’s an ancient plague from before recorded history. The documents on it are in terrible condition and written in dead languages. It took them this long to identify it because the relevant materials were buried in the restricted section of the Endron Library. They didn’t take the search seriously until some famous archaeologist began showing symptoms.”

  “Is there a cure?” William asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice. Perhaps Molly could have a future free of pain.

  “Quite the opposite, actually,” Lore’leia replied grimly. “From what they’ve translated, everyone who contracted it died—quite brutally I might add while in immense pain. The disease prolonged suffering for years before death. The institute suspects the archaeologists dug up something that should have stayed in the ground. How Molly contracted it though is a mystery, given the dig site is far from here, and none of the excavation team has been within 200 miles of Willowcreek.”

  William let out a heavy sigh and fell silent for a moment. With such a mystery at hand, it wouldn’t be long before the institute sent people to investigate. On the bright side, this likely meant he wouldn’t have to deal with Erica Rivers much longer, though he wasn’t sure which would be more exasperating: Erica or the institute. He resisted the urge to take out his pipe, knowing he couldn’t smoke here. “I assume they’re working on a cure? With their resources, it shouldn’t be too difficult to make progress, right?” he asked after collecting himself.

  “I’m not so sure. I’ll explain during the meeting. Go fetch the others,” Lore’leia said, waving him off dismissively.

  “Alright,” William muttered, relieved to escape her presence. He headed deeper into the building to find the other two doctors, who were thankfully far more tolerable.

  The first was easy to locate—Riley was in his usual spot at the back of the break room, engrossed in a book. His black curls were tucked behind his ears, and his brown eyes sparkled with interest as he read. Riley regarded himself as a romantic and had a penchant for dramatic novels filled with heroines and forbidden love.

  William couldn’t make out the title from where he stood, but the colorful cover suggested something his wife might enjoy reading.

  “We need you in the meeting room, Riley,” William said loudly, breaking the man’s focus.

  “Already?” Riley asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  “Yes. News from the institute. Lore’leia wants to start the meeting early,” William explained. Normally, he would be annoyed by anyone slacking off, but Riley’s easygoing nature made him difficult to stay mad at.

  “Alright, can’t be helped,” Riley said with a shrug, slipping a floral bookmark into his book before closing it.

  “Have you seen Penelope? I need to fetch her too.”

  “She’s in the garden. She yelled at me earlier for napping there,” Riley said with a chuckle as he stood.

  “Thanks. See you in the meeting room,” William replied before heading off.

  The building’s maze of hallways was familiar to William, and he quickly found his way to the central herbal garden. Here, Penelope tended to an array of medicinal plants. Short for a human, Penelope often blamed her height on her ancestry. Despite her petite stature and childlike sweetness, she was the sharpest and most fiery of the group. Her hazelnut brown hair was braided over her shoulder, and her round glasses perched on her nose, partially obscuring her bright brown eyes. She was carefully uprooting a red flower when William approached.

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  “Penelope, Lore’leia wants us in the meeting room. The institute sent a letter,” he announced.

  “Oh? What could they want with Willowcreek?” she asked without looking up, her attention on the delicate flower.

  “They’ve identified Molly’s condition. It doesn’t sound good,” William replied with a sigh.

  “Please don’t tell me the institute is coming here,” Penelope said, finally turning to face him with a frown.

  “I’m not sure. That’s probably what Lore’leia wants to discuss. Let’s get going—it sounds urgent.”

  “Alright. Let’s hope there’s some good news in that letter. No child deserves what Molly is going through,” Penelope said, placing the flower into a clay pot before hurrying after William with small, quick steps.

  When they reached the meeting room, Riley and Lore’leia were already seated on opposite sides of the table, an awkward silence between them. William took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever news awaited.

  “Finally, let’s get this over with,” Lore’leia said, tossing the open letter onto the center of the table. “You’re not going to like this, but it seems unavoidable—the institute will be coming here.”

  William picked up the letter, skimming its contents with a deepening frown. “What does it say?” Penelope asked, though Lore’leia spoke over her, ignoring the question.

  “They also sent this,” Lore’leia said, pulling a stack of papers from her bag. “It’s everything they’ve managed to translate about Night Pox from the old documents. The symptoms match Molly’s condition almost perfectly. And based on this,” she tapped the papers, “it’s only going to get worse. There’s no way they’ll let her stay in Willowcreek.”

  “Can I see those?” William asked, handing the letter to Riley and gesturing for him to pass it to Penelope when he was finished.

  “Of course,” Lore’leia replied, sliding the documents across the table. William flipped through them, his heart sinking as the grim details unfolded. Lore’leia was right—Night Pox was a ticking time bomb, with Molly serving as its host. Once the incubation period ended, the disease would become highly contagious, threatening to spread through the entire town within days.

  The symptoms detailed were harrowing: blisters filled with thick black liquid, abdominal pain, muscle weakness, migraines, vivid nightmares that worsened into hallucinations, overwhelming fatigue, nausea, and eventual organ failure. Autopsy reports described the organs of Night Pox victims turning pitch black, like the night sky—a detail that inspired the illness’s name. Most chillingly, there had never been a recorded recovery.

  With a heavy sigh, William slid the papers to Riley, who had already passed the letter to Penelope. Her expression crumpled as she read, her sadness clear.

  “Honestly,” Lore’leia said flatly, breaking the tense silence, “no matter what happens, Molly’s going to die. Either the institute turns her into their lab rat and she suffers for months in some dark basement, or we do her a favor and… end her suffering before they get here.”

  “Do you have to talk about her like she’s some kind of animal?” Penelope snapped, setting the letter down with an annoyed glare.

  “How I refer to her doesn’t change the situation,” Lore’leia replied with a shrug, leaning back in her chair.

  “Shouldn’t we leave that decision to her mother?” Riley asked, his voice uneasy.

  “Oh, come on,” Lore’leia interrupted sharply. “Do you honestly think that woman is capable of making a rational decision? If we tell her, she’ll grab Molly and run. And then what? The stress will accelerate the incubation period, and if they manage to evade the military, we’ll have an epidemic on a much larger scale. Of course, that won’t happen because the institute will pay good money to hire wizards to track her down. Molly becomes the institute’s rat, and Erica spends the rest of her life in a prison cell. The least we can do is offer them the least awful of a mountain of awful choices.”

  Silence settled over the room. Lore’leia’s bluntness was infuriating, but her reasoning was impossible to deny. Minutes ticked by before Penelope, clutching the stack of reports, finally spoke. “Is there really nothing we can do?”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Lore’leia said dismissively. “Just know you’ll likely be the first to catch it when the incubation period ends.”

  “So, what do we do?” William asked, trying to shift attention away from Penelope, who looked as though she might cry. “Are we really considering… killing a child?”

  “Killing a child, killing an adult—there’s not much difference. At least not for you humans. Your lifespans are so insignificantly short anyway. People die every day. This one death won’t change anything,” Lore’leia said coldly.

  “All life has value and meaning,” William replied, his voice heavy with guilt. “And I promised Erica we would do everything in our power to help Molly.”

  “And we have done everything,” Lore’leia shot back. “But clearly only the gods could do something about this—and they haven’t. We’ve worked for years to save this child. Sometimes, nature just wins.”

  “How did a Night Pox case even show up here?” Riley interjected, his face pale.

  “No one knows. That’s why the institute is coming. That, and to take Molly,” Lore’leia answered briskly.

  “So there’s no escaping them,” Penelope said with a defeated sigh.

  “Back to the matter at hand,” Lore’leia said, her tone arrogant. “I suggest poisoning her. We can make it relatively painless, and depending on the method, we might buy her a few more days. We could even frame it as an experimental treatment and have Erica sign off on it. Convenient for us.”

  Another heavy silence fell over the room. No one wanted to agree with Lore’leia, yet no one could disagree with her logic. The suffering Molly faced was unimaginable, and the alternatives were far worse.

  “Okay,” Penelope said at last, her voice trembling. Everyone turned to her, surprised. “As much as I hate to admit it… putting Molly out of her misery might be the least terrible option. Letting her fall into the institute’s hands is unthinkable, and letting Erica run risks countless lives—not just in Willowcreek, but across the entire continent.” She paused several times, as if searching for less brutal words. “If we have to do this… what’s the most painless way? For Molly’s sake.”

  “And who’s going to do it?” Penelope asked hesitantly, her hands trembling.

  “William, of course,” Lore’leia said casually.

  “And why is that?” William demanded, his frustration mounting.

  “Because Erica trusts you more than the rest of us. Riley can’t keep a straight face, Penelope can’t lie to save her life, and Erica won’t let me near her front door. You’re the only choice,” Lore’leia said, her tone unbothered.

  “And what if I refuse? What if I think Erica deserves to know?” William countered, though he already knew the answer.

  “Then enjoy the fallout,” Lore’leia replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Once Molly becomes contagious, the institute might involve the crown. You’ll go down as the man who endangered the nation. I’ll enjoy reading about you in the papers.”

  “Fine,” William said and stood up. “Prepare something I can inject her with. It has to be painless. I’ll… get it done tomorrow.” His own words made his stomach churn. He needed air, a smoke, anything to dull the nauseating weight of what he’d just agreed to.

  “I’ll make it as painless as possible,” Lore’leia said, standing as well. “And let’s all agree: no one outside this room hears a word of this. We’re doing this not just for Molly but for the safety of the kingdom.”