BLADE

Milani jolted awake as her forehead struck the edge of the table with a sharp crack. The pain was instant, a throbbing pulse that chased away the remnants of sleep. She winced, rubbing the sore spot, her eyes adjusting to the dim surroundings.

Her gaze darted toward Lenora, still fast asleep. A quiet breath of relief left her lips. Moving with care, she adjusted the fabric covering the little girl, shielding her delicate skin from the relentless bite of mosquitoes.

Satisfied, she eased herself back onto the wooden platform, mindful of every movement so as not to disturb the others. Blade lay beside her, his face serene in sleep. At least, that’s what she thought—until her fingers brushed against his hand.

Heat. A scalding, unnatural heat.

Milani’s breath hitched. His hand trembled slightly in hers, the fine tremors betraying the fever raging beneath his skin.

"Calm down, Milani. You can’t see your reflection in troubled waters." She forced herself to breathe, to think.

Silently, she reached for one of the empty bowls the doctors had used earlier and slipped outside the tent in search of water.

A few feet away, a man and woman sat close, their hushed voices laced with emotion. When Milani approached, they turned, their expressions shifting from surprise to warmth.

“Is there anything you need, young lady?” the woman asked kindly.

Milani hesitated only for a moment before offering a polite smile. “I’m sorry to bother you. My husband is burning with fever, and my brother, who’s been working all day, is fast asleep. I just need some water to help bring the fever down.”

The woman’s smile deepened with understanding. She patted Milani’s shoulder gently before taking the bowl from her hands. “You’re no bother, dear. I’ll be right back.”

Within minutes, she returned, pressing the filled bowl into Milani’s hands.

“I hope your husband recovers quickly.”

Milani dipped her head in gratitude. “Thank you. Truly.”

She was only steps away from the tent when a sound sent ice crawling up her spine—Blade’s ragged, pained coughing. It was deep, guttural, and as she hurried inside, the sight before her made her blood run cold.

Blade was curled in on himself, his entire body wracked with tremors. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his breaths sharp and shallow. A violent wheeze tore through his throat, his hand clutching his chest. And then—the unmistakable glint of crimson. Blood trickled from the corner of his lips.

The bowl clattered to the ground as Milani spun on her heel, racing outside.

She barely registered the woman’s concerned voice calling after her as she dashed toward Conir. He lay sprawled beside the camel, his back against its side, lost in the deep slumber of exhaustion.

Milani didn’t hesitate. With two sharp shakes, Conir’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t need to ask what was wrong—the sound of Blade’s worsening wheezes told him everything.

Springing to his feet, he rushed into the tent. Milani followed closely behind, only to find Lenora awake, her wide, frightened eyes locked onto Blade’s trembling form.

“Take the child out,” Conir ordered, his voice firm but calm. “She shouldn’t see this.”

Milani hesitated only a second before obeying. She reached for Lenora’s hand and guided her outside, her own heart hammering against her ribs.

“How is your husband?” The woman’s voice was laced with concern as she and her husband approached.

“My brother is a doctor,” Milani assured them with a forced smile. “He’s handling it.”