The night grew colder as Dr. Elias Verin continued his quiet work, murmuring phrases in an ancient language that seemed to resonate in the stillness. With each whispered word, a soft light flickered around his hands, casting brief shadows across the walls of the clinic. Clara sat silently by her son’s side, her eyes fixed on Lucas, daring not to look away as a faint glimmer of hope sparked within her heart.
After what felt like hours, Lucas’s breathing began to steady, his face gradually regaining color. Dr. Verin took a damp cloth, infused with an iridescent liquid from one of his vials, and gently wiped the boy’s forehead. Lucas stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open, though his gaze was distant, as if peering into realms unknown.
“Will he be all right?” Clara’s voice was barely a whisper, her hands clenched tightly in her lap.
Dr. Verin’s expression remained calm, though fatigue shadowed his eyes. “He is out of immediate danger, but his spirit… it has been strained. Whatever illness took hold of him, it is no ordinary affliction.”
Clara’s face tightened with worry. “He was fine just days ago. Running, laughing. Then he suddenly fell ill, and nothing the village healer tried seemed to help.” She hesitated, her voice trembling. “Some say… it might be a curse.”
Dr. Verin nodded thoughtfully, his gaze steady. “There are forces in this world many do not see, and those who would use them for harm. Your son may indeed have been touched by such a force.” He paused, watching Lucas carefully. “Healing him will require more than restoring his body. There is a deeper battle yet to be fought.”
He reached into his leather bag, pulling out a small, worn book with intricate symbols covering its cover. The pages were filled with strange diagrams and ancient text, which he carefully studied. “I’ll need time to prepare the right remedy. This will not be a simple cure.”
Clara’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Will… will he recover fully?” Her voice trembled as she reached out to touch her son’s forehead, feeling the warmth returning to his skin.
Dr. Verin met her gaze, his expression both compassionate and grave. “Yes. But it will take more than a single night. For now, keep him warm and give him only water that has been blessed.” He produced a small vial from his bag, filled with a faintly glowing liquid. “Add one drop of this to his water each night before he sleeps. It will protect him while I prepare what is needed.”
She took the vial as though it were the most precious thing in the world, her hands trembling with gratitude and hope. “Thank you. I don’t have anything to give you, but… thank you.”
Dr. Verin offered a gentle, understanding smile. “I ask for nothing in return. I am here to help those who need me.”
As he rose to leave, his cloak flowing softly behind him, he cast one last look at Lucas, who was now resting peacefully. Just as he reached the door, he turned back to Clara. “If anything unusual happens, come to the edge of the forest at dusk. I will be nearby.”
Clara nodded, her heart full of gratitude and a growing sense of awe. She watched as he disappeared into the night, the shadows enveloping him as silently as he had arrived. When the door clicked shut, she held Lucas close, whispering words of comfort, praying that this mysterious doctor truly held the power to save her son.