The duo made record ti, the forest practically parting for them under Maddy’s silent command. Soon, the towering stone walls of Protha lood ahead. They bypassed the crowds at the main gate, Johnn’s pace quickening with every step until they reached the familiar, weathered wood of the client’s inn.
Johnn kicked the door open with a grin that could light up the room.
"We got it! We actually—"
"Did you get it?!"
The innkeeper didn’t even let him finish. He scrambled over the serving counter, nearly tripping over a stool in his desperation. His eyes were bloodshot, his clothes wrinkled as if he hadn’t slept since they left.
He grabbed Johnn by the shoulders, shaking him slightly.
"The Bloom! Is it real? Is it true? Please, tell you aren’t joking! Please, tell the legends were right!"
"Whoa, hey! Actually, that’s what I was about to say, but—" Johnn started, trying to pry the man’s iron grip off his armor.
"She’s getting pale!" the innkeeper shrieked, cutting him off again, his voice cracking with pure terror. "Her breath is shallow, the herbalist says she won’t last the hour! If you don’t have it, I—I don’t know what I’ll—"
"Enough."
Maddy’s voice was like a bucket of ice water. She stepped between the two n, her golden eyes sharp and commanding. She didn’t wait for permission or another frantic outburst.
"Stop wasting breath," she said coldly, already moving toward the stairs. "Lead the way. Now."
The innkeeper blinked, startled by her sudden authority, and imdiately scrambled to follow her. Johnn, clutching the satchel, hurried after them, the celebratory mood from the forest replaced by the grim reality of the ticking clock. They burst into the small upstairs room, where the air was thick with the scent of bitter dicinal tea.
There, on the bed, lay a young girl, her skin so translucent she looked like she was carved from wax.
"I’ve tried everything!" the father sobbed, his knees hitting the floor by the bedside. "The city’s best herbalist was just here... he used every poultice, every rare root in his bag. But he just looked at and said... he said my daughter is already gone."
He buried his face in his hands, his voice muffled by grief and growing rage.
"It’s that cursed monster! Ever since that mana distortion began in the south, the air has turned to poison for the weak. It’s the sa thing that happened to my... wife when the Demon Lord arrived... the sa tragedy, the sa sickness."
Maddy froze for a split second, her hand hovering over the bedsheets. The father’s words hit her with the cold precision of a blade.
"The mana distortion in the south"
That wasn’t a monster or a natural disaster—it was a byproduct of her own awakening, a ripple effect of her presence that she hadn’t bothered to suppress until it was too late. She hadn’t just "found" the cure; she might have been the reason the girl needed one in the first place.
The realization flickered in her eyes before settling into a sharp, urgent focus. She didn’t have ti for guilt, only for the "miracle."
"Johnn! The Bloom! Give it to . Now!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the father’s weeping like a clarion call.
Johnn didn’t hesitate. He reached into the satchel and pulled out the flower. As his fingers released it into Maddy’s outstretched hand, the dim, cramped room was suddenly flooded with a rhythmic, pulsing white light.
The father gasped, his sobbing cutting off mid-breath. He looked up, his eyes widening as the radiance reflected in his tears. The translucent petals, the scent of ozone and wild nectar, the way the mana in the room seed to suddenly stabilize and hum—it was exactly as the legends described.
"The Light Bloom..." the father whispered, his voice trembling with a new, fragile hope. "The white light... the scent of the forbidden forest... it’s real. You actually found it."
Maddy held the pulsing flower, its glow casting long, flickering shadows against the wooden walls. She looked at the frantic man.
"We have it. Now what? Do I grind the petals? Does she eat it? Boil it into a potion?"
The father froze, his face contorting into a mask of pure panic.
"I... I don’t know! I just spent every coin I had to find soone brave enough to get it! The stories never said how to use it, they just said it was a miracle!" He started to pace, pulling at his hair. "What if we do it wrong? What if we ruin it?"
"Hey, calm down!" Johnn interrupted, stepping forward to steady the man. "Think. I’ve heard the tavern tales too. The rumors say that the Bloom doesn’t need a pot or a mortar. They say that whenever a dead person holds it... they may return to life."
The father’s eyes went wide, his breath hitching.
"A dead person? But my daughter isn’t dead! She’s just... she’s sleeping! She’s fighting! She isn’t dead!"
He turned toward the bed, reaching out a shaking hand toward the girl.
"Tell him, woman! Tell him she’s still here!"
Maddy didn’t answer imdiately. She leaned over the bed, her golden eyes scanning the girl with a cold, analytical precision. The girl’s chest wasn’t moving. Not even a flutter. Her lips had turned a faint, bruised blue, and her skin felt like cooling clay. The herbalist hadn’t been exaggerating—to any dical observer, the spark was gone.
"The thod doesn’t matter if the result is the sa," Maddy said, her voice unusually grave. She looked at the father, then at Johnn. "If the rumor says she needs to hold it, then she’ll hold it."
Gently, Maddy took the girl’s limp, cold hands and folded them together over her chest. She tucked the stem of the glowing Bloom between the girl’s fingers, centering the white light right over her heart.
The mont the flower touched the girl’s skin, the room went silent. The father held his breath, his eyes fixed on his daughter’s pale face, waiting for the "dead" to prove the legend true.
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