Terror Thirty-Four - Tears

The priest leads us past the columns at the front and into the rearmost part of the building. The back wall is covered in bas-reliefs, images of forests and people gardening and playing. It looks very peaceful, if bland. Mom has better taste in interior decor, I think, though maybe she can be convinced to try some imagery that isn’t so dark and broody.

Mom is big into the whole gothic style.

The temple very much isn’t. It’s all wide corridors and white tiles, perfectly clean and sparkling.

The place is beautiful, and I really don’t like it.

I don’t know what it is, but there’s... something in the air that’s heavy. It reminds me of a hospital, maybe. No matter how pretty the waiting room is, it’s still a waiting room. But this place is worse than that, somehow. Grief, I think. Sadness pushed even further, until it becomes painful.

There’s a lot of powerful magic going on here.

One of the doors in the corridor we’re walking down opens, and I hear someone wailing, as if they’re in horrible pain.

“Don't pay it any mind,” the priest says.

Felix squeezes my hand a bit harder, and I think she’s paying it a lot of mind. I sure am.

“Right here,” our guide says as he gestures us into a small room. It reminds me a bit of a doctor’s office. There’s a small cot at the back, soft cloth on a bed a little higher than usual. A stool rests next to it, and there are shelves around the room with all sorts of mysterious things within.

Felix pauses, then points to the cot. “There?” she asks.

“Indeed,” the priest says. “I am not the one who will do any necessary healing today. It is my griefless day. But I will be inspecting any wounds you may wish cured. Which means I will have to see them. Are you comfortable with that?”

“I can stay with her, right?” I ask.

He nods. “Certainly. If she wishes. You have your guardian’s permission to be here? It is uncommon to have a child come without a parent.”

“We’re plenty old enough,” I say while suppressing a pout. I don’t think he’d enjoy it if Mom showed up to watch him work.

“Of course. In that case, miss: you mentioned the issue was with your sight?”

Felix nods, then reaches up. Slowly, carefully, she unwinds the cloth wrapped around her head. Her hair shifts as she undoes the blindfold. She’s clearly never had her hair cared for by anyone, and it’s been cut by a knife whenever it gets too long, if I had to guess.

She lowers her hands, band in hand, and opens her eyes.

Only there’s no eyes there, just two ugly pits, with roughened skin on the edges and an ugly pinkish red tinge to the back. “Tilt your head up,” the priest asks. He lays a gentle hand on Felix’s chin and moves her head back while his other hand pries her eyes open a little wider. “When did you lose your eyes, and how?”

“Um, a while ago. I was young. And I don’t know how. They started to hurt, and then I lost them. There were maggots, and they ate my eyes away. It hurt a lot.”

“I can imagine,” the priest says. “So long without... you’re a Joy mage? It’s radiating off of you.”

“I am,” Felix says. “It’s hard to see here.”

His eyebrows rise up. “See? Ah, you use wind to feel around you?”

Felix nods.

“Interesting. Grief can rebuild your eyes, I think, but there are a few things you may wish to consider. First, it will be a rapid but delicate operation. I don’t think some fledgling Grief mage will be able to do much to help you. It will also be costly. I’m afraid that an experienced mage will be required, and one in the throes of Grief at that.”

“How much?” I ask.

The priest looks to both of us, sadness tinging his expression. “A couple of gold, at the very least.”

That’s not bad! I have a few gold, and some silver besides. It might use up some of what I have left, but it’s worth it for this, I figure. “I can pay that,” I say.

“It’s a lot,” Felix whispers. “Like, a lot a lot. A few gold can buy so much.”

“And a few gold can buy you some eyes,” I say. “That’s worth a lot too.” I try to make it clear that it’s the end of that discussion. I don’t need her being reluctant to accept what’s basically a gift. I’m sure Felix would do a bunch to help me too.

Felix smiles. It’s a big, wobbly smile, and it pinches the corners of her eyes in a strange way, but it’s a smile. I sit next to her and rub her back before the priest speaks again. “Our accounts manager will be with you shortly, then. I will be back soon, to clean the wound, then the mage will come and try to fix things. Ah, but I was interrupted. There may be one complication.”

“A complication?” I ask.

“Yes. It has been a long time since she’s lost her sight. Her soul might have imprinted itself upon the idea that she is sightless. I doubt it will reject the new eyes, but it is possible that even with new eyes, her sight will be less effective. It may also be impacted by the magic she has been cultivating. The meridians that control sight might be infused with wind chakras.”

I blink. I’ve heard of those things, but they always sounded very... esoteric and rather mystical to me. Mom is more down-to-earth about the mystical side of magic and cultivation, but she did tell me there was some power in that stuff. “Is that bad?”

“Not necessarily. It might mean a vision well attuned to her emotion of choice, though what that would mean is something we will need to observe after the procedure is completed.”

I nod, and soon enough the priest heads out of the room. “Are you okay?” I ask.

Felix nods quickly. “Yeah, it’s... thank you.” her voice is low, a whisper, almost. “I’ve been dreaming of this for a long time.”

I grab her in a side hug.

The priest returns, and with him is a weedy looking man with a lot of missing hair and a pin on his lapel. A worshipper of Mortimer. Mom always told me to trust them when it comes to money. I step to the side with him, and he hands me a sheet of paper with a small ledger on it. The price and everything is noted down in neat, careful print.

I barely register it as I fish around for three gold and hand it over. He nods, and soon I’m given the very exact change before the Accountant of Mortimer leaves.

Felix is being treated by the priest, who is carefully cleaning her face with a cloth and some sort of liquid that smells like alcohol. I guess it hurts, from the way Felix hisses and her feet twitch at every touch, but she doesn’t fight it off. She’s braver than I’d be in her position.

I feel a chill run down my spine, and the door opens to admit three people. All women, with two of them tending to the third. She’s older, with long white robes that hug her close and carefully braided hair.

The air around her sings with grief, and I can’t help but stare at the tears pouring down her cheeks. She bends over, almost in double, and wails while hugging her chest.

Her companions shush and rub at her back, both of them younger, in similar but less elaborate robes. They wear veils that cover the lower part of their faces, but I can still tell that they’re sad too.

“Oh, oh no,” the woman says. She stumbles towards Felix who scoots back, but not before the woman grabs her by the shoulders, then places her hands over the sides of Felix’s head.

“Don’t move, and don’t worry,” one of the veiled women says. “Let the priestess do her work.”

I fidget on the edge of the room, watching as Felix squirms. The woman starts to cry even harder, and I feel a wall of sadness pushing out of her. The others don’t seem surprised or affected at all, but I... I don’t know if I can handle it.

Warm tears are pouring out of my eyes, and I feel my arms grabbing around me, but they’re not enough.

I want Mom.

Felix screams and I can’t do anything for her. I just cry more.

“Take her out of the room,” someone mutters.

“Come, come, child. It wasn’t wise to leave you so close.”

I don’t even know who it is that helps me out of the room. But when they hug me, I hug back. It’s not a lot, but it helps.

I can see why so many of my books warned against Grief magic. It’s awful.

***