Children of the Fire
By Melissa Mead

efore the temple of Solis stands a tree, gnarled, black and leafless. It looks dead, but its roots are still strong. It has stood for generations. Beneath the tree is an altar of volcanic stone, its hollowed center black as the tree. Here the villagers bring the treasures of their hearts: their prayers, their hopes, and their children.

Every family has brought at least one child to the tree, swaddled in ash-gray blankets. Midwives soon learn to recognize the Children of the Fire; born bright-eyed and feverish, red-faced and wailing. The grieving parents carry the child to the tree, tie a white prayer-ribbon to its branches, and lay the child in the smooth bowl of the altar. A high fire basket stands beside it. As the sun sets, the parents cast a small bundle of rosemary and rue into the basket, and set the fuel alight. Dropping one last kiss on the tiny, burning forehead, they turn away and journey home alone. Those few who have dared to look back have seen the Servants of Solis, in scarlet robes and golden veils, come silently down the mountain and carry the child away.

There was a woman in the village, a Captain's young widow, who bore twins. They came early, as twins may, and she bore them alone. One was a boy, healthy and strong. She named him Justin, for his father. His sister was born to the fire. The widow knew as soon as she saw the tiny flushed face and felt the hot grip of the baby's little hand, but her heart refused to believe it.

"All babies get a fever now and again," the widow murmured. She was more than a little feverish herself, with weariness and grief and the fear she worked to deny. She dipped a cloth in cool water, and gently bathed the baby's forehead. The child screamed.

"It's just a fever, just a touch of fever." She nursed both babies with anxious tenderness, all the while searching for ways to cool her daughter's burning skin. She closed the shutters against the sunlight and sat in the dimness, fingering a necklace of cool green stone—her husband's last gift to her.

"Jade. Yes, I'll call you Jade," she murmured, while the baby grew more withered and cried all the louder, and her brother wailed in sympathy.

That was how the midwife found them the next morning. The widow looked haggard and crazed, the girl was shriveled and crimson from internal fire, and the boy still howled vigorously.

With tender hands and firm words, the midwife coaxed the distracted woman to her feet, murmuring reassurance while swaddling the girl-child gently in a gray blanket.

"Come now, you can't go on like this. The child will die if you keep her much longer, and it will be a slow, painful death. I know you don't want that. And you'll have Justin here—such a fine, brave boy! That's right. Breathe easy now. Come on, I'll walk with you."

The mother tottered from her house with Justin at her breast, leaning on the midwife's arm. As they walked, more women fell into step behind them. Mothers who had already given a child to Solis followed them to the tree; a silent honor guard of sympathy. The widow's faltering steps were slow, and the sun was sinking by the time they reached the tree. Here the widow began to sob again, and the midwife had to pry the baby gently from her grasp. The village women lit the signal fire, but the widow tied the white prayer ribbon herself, with shaking hands.

Halfway to the village, the widow broke away and ran back to the altar. The midwife sprinted after her, fearing she might snatch the girl and dash into the wilderness, but the widow only took the jade beads from her neck and laid them atop the gray blanket. For the space of a breath, she stood looking down at her daughter. Then she raised her head, held Justin a little tighter, and returned home.

*     *     *     *     *

Justin grew into a fine strong youth, with his father's boldness and ready smile, his mother's tender heart, and a burning curiosity. Every time his mother called him "Jade" instead of Justin, he wondered about the Children of Solis and his mysterious sister. He'd never seen her, yet she was always there, reflected in his mother's eyes every time she looked at him.

"What a pair you would have made, you and Jade," she would say. "I can picture you both standing there, smiling. Jade had dark, curly hair, just like your father. I'd have done it up in ribbons…"

Justin loved his mother dearly, and it hurt him to see her go off into these fits of melancholia. Sometimes she would close the shutters and sit in the dimness for hours, rocking gently in the chair Justin's father had made for her and cradling a tiny rag doll with long dark curls.

"They killed her, Justin," she would whimper. Justin was never sure, at these times, whether his mother was speaking to him or his father. "The Servants of Solis. They murdered my beautiful baby, and fed her blood to their god."

Justin would stay with her for as long as he could bear, then run as hard as he could to the Tree, stare up the mountainside, and ask himself questions that no one could answer. The other villagers shook their heads and left him alone.

Justin might have grown up echoing his mother's bitterness. The other villagers whispered legends of the Servants' wisdom and secret knowledge and the miraculous cures they had performed, but never where Justin or his mother could hear. One day, though, Justin looked up from his musings to see little Nanny Cooper watching him.

"Are you sick, Justin?" she asked.

Justin forced himself to smile at the girl.  The same children who called Justin the Madwoman's Boy called Nanny Simple Sissy, or Ninny. Justin never teased her, and she adored him.

"I'm all right, Nan." He pointed to the basket on the child's arm. "Are you having a picnic?"

"No!" Nanny's childish face was so serious, so indignant, that Justin’s smile turned to true amusement. "This is an Offering! Grandpa was really sick. Ma tied a green ribbon to the tree." Nanny piled hot loaves of bread on the altar as she talked. The scent made Justin's stomach growl. "Next day there was a packet of funny-smelling powder on the altar stone, and directions for making it into tea. Grandpa drank it, and he got better right off."

"Mother would've figured they were trying to poison her, and thrown it on the dung heap," Justin murmured. Just that morning the widow had had one of her fits again, thrown breakfast on the floor and burst into sobs.

"Why?"

Justin knelt to the child's level and said "They took my sister away when she was a baby. It made my mother very sad."

Nanny frowned, thinking this over. "Was she a Firebaby?"

"Yes."

"Then that was a good thing. Mama says the Firebabies are very sick, and the Servants have to take them or they suffer. Maybe the Servants make them better, like Grandpa."

That caught Justin off guard. "Then why don't they bring them back?"

Nanny shrugged and picked up her empty basket. "Maybe you have to ask them. Bye, Justin!"

Justin stared after her. "Ask?" He stared at the bread-laden altar, the ribbons fluttering on the crooked branches of the tree. After a moment's hesitation, he slipped a loaf of bread under his jacket.

"Mother needs this more than you," he muttered, and headed back to the village.

The Headman's wife had carefully gathered and stored all the ribbons the Servants left on the tree. When Justin asked to read them, she was shocked.

"The writings of the Servants are sacred mysteries," she said, her square-jawed face flushed with indignation. "We don't read them for mere amusement."

"This isn't for amusement. I just want to know what happened to my sister. I’d ask them myself if I could. Please."

"No one speaks to the Servants, save the Children of the Fire and Exiles," the Headwoman intoned.

"I’m not trying to speak to them, just read!" Justin took a deep breath to steady his voice.  "What are Exiles?"

"Banished criminals, given to Solis." The Headwoman looked at Justin, who glared back, and the corner of her mouth quirked slightly. "You're fortunate that stubborn curiosity isn't a banishing offense, young man. And that we haven't exiled anyone for a generation."

“But…”

“We could change that rule.” The Headwoman spoke without anger, but her tone warned Justin not to press. He bowed, and went home to learn everything he could about Exiles.

Justin's father had left behind a few books. None of them said why the Servants of Solis took children, or what became of them, but he found enough to make a plan.

His mother was aghast, and their argument was long and bitter. "I've lost my husband and my daughter both," she cried at last, "and now you want to leave me and go to the child-stealers? Disguised as a condemned criminal? At least your father died a hero."

"I need to know what happened to Jade. I won't leave you alone. Please, Mother." Now that he'd made his decision, Justin ached to climb the mountain and learn what had torn his family apart.

The widow was older now, ashen-haired. She was tired of fighting, especially with her only remaining child.

“Jade. My little girl…” She sat, swaying, seeing something behind her own eyes. Justin held his breath until his mother focused on him again.

"At least let me walk you to the tree, Justin."

No procession went with them this time. The widow threw wormwood and bitter herbs onto the signal fire, then bound Justin's hands around the Tree with red cloth and tied a black scarf over his eyes.

"Tie it tightly, Mother, or they'll never believe I'm a true Exile." Justin urged.

"It's hard enough to do it at all. I saw your look. Your father looked like that, just before he went to sea. You're treating this like a grand adventure. I'm losing my son to the baby-killers."

"You're not losing me, and soon we'll have Jade back. And maybe…maybe they aren't killers."

"How can you say that?" A little spark blazed in the tired voice. "If those demons were anything but heartless they'd have brought Jade back." The weariness returned. "I just hope they don't sacrifice you too."

Justin felt her tears on his cheek as she kissed him farewell, then heard the rustle of her retreating footsteps. He opened his mouth to call after her, and shut it again. The acrid smoke from the signal fire left a foul taste in his mouth and stung his eyes, even beneath the blindfold. He wished he could raise his bound hands to rub them. How long had he been here? It was growing cold, and his legs ached.

Suddenly, though he hadn't heard footsteps, Justin felt gentle hands untying his bonds. A light touch, hot to his chilled arm, bid him rise and follow. Justin let the unseen hand guide him forward and up the forested hillside. It felt like a human hand. A hundred questions buzzed in his mind. Were the Servants really killers? Would they kill him just for speaking? Justin coughed slightly, and his guide paused, waiting.

"Um…could I take off the blindfold? I'm not really a criminal, you know."

"I know." The voice was low and rough, but it didn't seem angry. "I read the ribbon." Was the Servant male, female, or perhaps neither? Justin couldn't tell.

"So, could I see you? Please?" Emboldened by the calm voice, Justin moved to untie his blindfold. His guide gently but firmly pushed his hand down.

"Not yet. When we get to the settlement, the others will decide what to do."

"What others?" Justin's voice cracked; from sudden hope or sudden fear, he couldn't tell.

"The Children of Solis."

"Children like my sister? Like Jade? But Mother says you sacrifice them…" Justin bit his tongue, but his guide didn't answer. The touch on his arm never changed. A fresh green scent drifted from the crushed plants beneath his feet. They kept climbing upward. Once or twice, the Servant stumbled. Justin found himself offering his arm, as though his guide were a village elder. To his surprise, the Servant accepted. Not a spirit, that was certain. No spirit leaned so heavily on a helping arm. Could a god's servants get tired, he wondered?

They stopped. "All right," the voice said finally. Gentle hands removed the cloth from his eyes, and Justin stood blinking while his eyes adjusted to the moonlight.

He had expected, possibly, a supernatural figure twice the height of a man and cloaked in flame. Instead, the Servant stood barely to his shoulder. It was draped head to heels in a scarlet robe, and veiled in gold, but both robe and veil had been carefully mended. The figure beneath the robe looked slender, almost frail. A girl, Justin thought, although he couldn't be sure.

They had come to a pocket valley in the hillside. Neat stone houses, with windows of real glass, ringed a steaming pool in the center. Swirling eddies of mist poured from the pool, filling the valley right to their feet. There was an earthy scent to the air, like new-ploughed fields. Justin thought he glimpsed people lying in the shallow water at the edge, but it was difficult to see clearly through the steam. A man, bent and wrinkled, hobbled toward them. Justin's guide held up a hand.

"This is Justin, Micah." The rough voice held a hint of caution. "He's come to find his sister, Jade."

The man looked Justin over, his eyes grave. Justin stiffened, ready for any threats.

"How quickly the time goes! You're sixteen already?" Micah smiled. "You're a brave young man, Justin. I've been here for thirty-five years, and you're the first person I've ever known to come here of his own accord."

"But…wait…how do you know how old I am?"

"Because Jade's sixteen too, of course." Micah looked at Justin's guide, frowned slightly, and raised an eyebrow.

Justin looked bewildered. "Jade? You're my sister?" The veiled figure nodded, slowly. "Please, let me see you!"

"I'm afraid you'll be…upset, Justin." Her voice wavered.

"I came here just to find out what happened to you. Please, take off the veil."

The guide…Jade…uncovered her face. Justin bit down on his shock. This was not the sister he had imagined, with laughing dark eyes and long black curls. She looked as old as Micah. Her skin was ashen and wrinkled, even on her bald head. Her eyes were deep-set, feverish, and shadowed with pain. Justin dropped his gaze and swallowed hard. As he did, he saw the necklace of green beads around his sister's neck.

"You still have Mother's beads," he murmured. "She told me about them."

"I was afraid of this." Jade turned her face away. "My own brother can't bear the sight of me."

"No!" Justin stepped forward, hugged his sister as firmly as he dared, and kissed her hot cheek. "I've wondered about you for years, Jade. You're not like I imagined, but you're my sister, and you're alive!"

Before Jade could reply, a horn blew. Micah looked up.

"A new arrival! Come with us, Justin."

Another red-and gold messenger struggled up the hill, with a baby howling in his arms. Micah looked alarmed.

"Something's wrong," he muttered. They could hear the messenger now, shouting as loud as his wheezing breath permitted.

"They waited too long! The pool! Hurry!"

Jade hurried to take the baby from the exhausted man. Shedding her outer robe and veil, she waded into the shallow water. Micah followed. Other Children of Solis came from all directions, stripping to their white inner tunics and splashing into the pool, where they knelt in a circle around Jade and the baby. Justin ran to help.

"Justin! Don't touch the water!" Micah cried, but he'd already thrust a hand into the pool. Pain flared up his arm. He yanked it back and clamped his teeth down hard to keep from screaming. Cradling his injured hand, he backed away.

Justin watched helplessly as his sister crouched in the scalding water that he couldn’t touch. The baby in her arms thrashed and convulsed, alternately gasping and shrieking heart-tearing screams. Jade slowly lowered the infant into the steaming water. Justin winced in sympathy, but the baby relaxed, its cries not so wrenching. The Children of Solis reached wrinkled, ashen hands to touch the baby's crimson skin, and the painful redness faded to pink. The baby began to coo and gurgle. Jade smiled faintly, passed the baby to someone else, and sloshed over to Justin. Micah followed. Neither got out of the pool, but lay on the edge, breathing hard. If possible, they both looked worse than before. The other villagers looked almost as bad. Though several stared at Justin, no one came closer or spoke to him. All he heard was coughing and harsh, rattling breaths.

"What did you just do?" Justin looked toward the baby and back again.

"Give us a moment, Justin," Micah panted. "We'll go to the infirmary and I'll try to explain."

The infirmary, like all the other houses, was built of whitish stone and stood near enough to the Pool that occasional vapors wafted through the open window. The furniture was sturdy wood, like Justin was used to, but shelves of books lined the far wall. Basins, flasks, and strange metal instruments lay on side tables. Justin marveled at them while Jade bandaged his burned hand. Micah excused himself to see to some of the other helpers from the Pool.

"Why did you touch the Pool, Justin?" Jade chided. "If you'd actually gotten in, it might have killed you."

"I didn't know that. I wanted to help."

"That was very brave of you." Jade smiled at him. For just a moment, she looked closer to sixteen than sixty.

"Not really, Little Sister. I thought it was some kind of bathtub. Now, whatever you did, that was brave. What did you do?"

The smile vanished. Jade ducked her head. "Ask Micah when he comes in," she said. "He's tried to show me his formulas, but I don't have his obsession for technical detail."

Justin was puzzled, but decided not to press. "Mmm, that ointment really helps. Smells nice, too. What do you put in it?"

"Whiteroot, neva berries…keeps wounds from festering…the formula's in that book over there, on the third shelf. With the russet binding-no, don't get it now. Hold still. There. All done."

"I've never seen so many books in my life! The headman of the village has three, and that's counting the tithe registry. Father left four, mostly sea charts." Justin jumped up and ran to the shelves. "Everything there is to know must be in these books!"

"We've written most of them ourselves, actually. Micah says this whole settlement is the result of trial and error. Lots of trial and one genetic error, he says."

“Genetic error?”

“It’s sort of like there’s a mistake in how we’re made. A piece missing.”

“You don’t look like you’re missing anything,” said Justin. Jade’s hand went automatically to her hairless scalp, and he winced. “I mean, you’ve got the usual number of arms and legs and all that.”

“It’s something invisible, inside.”

“In the blood, you mean?”

 Jade shrugged. “Maybe. It’s still a mystery. Micah spends hours every day poring over books and samples, trying to find out just what it is. We all take turns helping.”

“Wait—he likes you to poke into mysteries?” Justin laughed, remembering the Headwoman’s shock at his curiosity. “I'd love to live here."

"You’d leave the village?" Jade toyed with the green necklace. "I've always wanted to come down there to see you and Mother. Up here it's all research and studying. I'd love to dance in the Spring Festival, even help with the chores!"

"Come home with me, Little Sister, and you can do all my chores if you'd like."

Jade frowned. "No one's ever gone home. We get worse away from the Pool, very quickly.”

“It looked like that pool made you worse.”

Jade shook her head. “It gave us the strength to help that baby. The helping’s what’s draining, not the Pool. Every day we have to drink medicine made from the water…I think even breathing the steam helps keep us alive. But the medicine doesn’t keep. The history says that the first person struck tried to go home to the valley, and died within three days. They buried him by the altar tree. That's why it looks burned." She smiled a painful half-smile. “His name was Solis.”

“I thought Solis…” Justin shook his head. "But…someone must be able to help! Why don't you send a message?"

"Micah and the other Scholars do what they can. Messages…" Jade looked amused. "The last time we asked someone to come up here, they left a sacrificial goat, a stick of incense and a prayer for forgiveness. We'd have preferred fresh bread, at least."

Justin wondered how many ribbons, locked in the Headman's house to be pored over, pondered and debated, held messages for loved ones. "Maybe you could visit. For a day, maybe."

"They let me go down to the tree often, to gather the ribbons. That way I can see the roofs of the village. We save the ribbons, you know, and share them with each other. There were many from Mother, at first. But the climb gets me so tired, I can only manage it every month or so. And it’s harder on the others."

Justin's expression sobered. "It's not fair! I thought the Servants of Solis were magicians, who had power over the weather, and the crops, and, well, life and death."

"If we were, we'd come home. We're always trying. Micah knows the most. He's been studying for his whole life."

"But he must have learned something in…fifty years?" Secretly, Justin thought that Micah looked older than a century, but he wanted to be kind.

"He's thirty-five, Justin."

Justin felt his ears burning. The door opened, and Micah entered with a tray of seeded cakes and three cups. Two were steaming and smelled herbal. The other held cool goat's milk for Justin.

"Time for the old folks to take their medicine. Have some milk, youngster." He grinned. Justin squirmed. "Are you all right, Justin? How's the hand?"

"Better! Much better. Thank you." Justin took a long drink of milk and waited for his embarrassment to subside. "Are you…will you and Jade be all right?"

"Nothing a little rest won't help. Although Jade shouldn't Transfer so often. But there's no arguing with her." Jade frowned, chin raised in defiance. The expression looked oddly familiar.

"Transfer what? I've never seen anything like that!"

"Health, in a sense. You don't really want my lecture on metagenetic transfer right now. Sometimes the parents delay sending the baby to us…who can blame them? But if they wait too long, it does too much damage," Micah said. "So we all come together and…take a little of the curse to ourselves.”

“It really is a curse?”

“Don't look so alarmed! It’s just an expression. Unscientific, but everything we do here’s more than half superstition. None of us will be very lively company for a day or so, but we'll be all right."

"Are you saying that baby's cured?" Justin looked dazed.

"No." Jade frowned. "That was only the first stage. Next the poor baby will have to have special treatments-injections of medicine distilled from the Pool." Jade absently rubbed her own thin arm. "It's painful, but when she’s older she’ll be able to drink it instead. And at least she'll be as healthy as the rest of us."

"The water does that?" Justin looked skeptical.

"Something in it does, when it's fresh from the pool. It's almost like blood, in a way." Jade swirled the liquid in her cup and made a face as she swallowed the dregs. "Mother waited too long to send me. I almost died. The Scholars say it was the most miraculous healing they've ever seen."

"Mother wouldn't have waited if she'd known it would hurt you. She misses you so much! And she's probably frantic. I promised I wouldn't leave her alone."

"Maybe…maybe she could come to the tree." Hope sparkled in Jade's eyes.

Justin looked at his twin, ashen and aged. He remembered his mother braiding ribbons in an imaginary young girl's flowing dark hair. Their mother, who flew into rages when reality pulled her out of her dreams. Justin turned away from Jade’s hopeful face.

"It might be too much for you. The trip tires you anyway, even without so much excitement."

“I brought you here! I could do it!”

"We could Transfer…" Micah began. But he recognized the hesitation in Justin's eyes, and stopped. "It might be better if Justin came to visit us now and then. Until we can find a complete cure, it's too dangerous."

The hope faded out of Jade's expression. Justin could almost feel her trying to swallow her disappointment.

"I know…" he began.

“What, Justin?” Jade snapped. “What do you know? Nothing! I’ll bet until today you thought the Children of Solis were some kind of bogeymen.”

For an instant, Justin looked away. Then he met his sister’s eyes.

“And I’ll bet you thought we just forgot about you. I came here to understand. Give me a chance.”  

Jade sighed.

Micah coughed. “You should get home, Justin, and let your mother know Jade's all right. We'll welcome you back any time."

"Bring paper." Jade added. "We're always short." She didn’t quite look him in the eye.

Justin looked at his sister, already given up for dead once, waiting to be abandoned again.

"Micah, could you make medicine out of my blood, like you do out of the water? Stronger medicine?”

He looked startled. “In theory, yes. But it would take a dangerous quantity, and we’d have to replace it.” Micah’s glance strayed to Justin’s twin. “With the only blood your body would accept.”

"You can't think we'd let you try such a thing!" Jade exclaimed.  

"I'm an Exile, remember?" Justin grinned a desperate, manic grin as his idea took hold. "If I go back to the village now I'll be exiled for real. If I'm lucky."

"Stay here with us, then." Micah said.

"I promised Mother she wouldn’t be alone. I’m keeping my promise, one way or another." Justin gave him a grim smile. “Teach me. Let’s solve a mystery.”

*     *     *     *     *

Many nights later, for the first time in memory, a Servant of Solis brought someone back to the tree. The widow was there. Exhausted from grief, she'd fallen asleep with her head on the altar. She woke to see a figure in red robes emerge from the forest. It raised a hand to hold her back, and motioned to the person behind it.

"Justin?" the widow whispered as the figure stepped into the moonlight. "Thank God." She started forward, and then froze.

It was not Justin. It was a girl of Justin's age, with the beginnings of dark curls shadowing her head. She wore a necklace of green beads, and tears stood in her dark eyes, though she smiled.

"Jade?" The widow tottered forward a few steps and sank to her knees. Jade ran the rest of the way to her mother's side, and both were crying and laughing at the same time.

"Justin did it, Mother!" Jade bounced on her heels with newfound vitality. “And he’s been all right so far. I think his experiment worked! He was so brave—but we'd better get home first. This way?"

She ran off down the path. Justin started to follow. His mother stood frozen, staring at the red-robed figure. She bowed.

"Servant of Solis. My daughter…you brought her back. Thank you. But Justin… ?"

He laughed. "It's me, mother! The cure worked." He reached toward her. She scrambled backward, hands raised to ward him off. Justin pushed the hood back from his face. A black curl tumbled to the ground. The widow's eyes widened in shock and horror.

“I guess it didn’t work as well as we thought,” said Justin in a near whisper.

The widow turned pale. "Servant, ghost…whatever you are! It wasn't Justin's fault. Don't mock his memory. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.  I only wanted my daughter back. I never meant to sacrifice my son."

"You didn’t, Mother! It’s me. I’m real. I’m alive.” He held out a shaking hand and forced a smile. “Just changed.”

The widow shook her head, her hands still raised in a warding gesture. “I never meant this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Mother, I tried an experiment. It wasn’t perfect. Let me come home, just for a little while, and I’ll explain.”

“How could you punish Justin? I only wanted my children back. My son and my daughter. Is that really so unfair?” She fled, leaving Justin standing in the middle of the path with his back to the tree. A breeze stirred the ribbons, brushed his burning skin.

"But..." Justin started to follow, and realized what his mother would see-a ghoulish spirit hounding her steps. He shuddered, and kicked at the dirt, turning up a bit of ribbon. Faded letters showed in the moonlight: Solis.

"He was human! He only wanted to go home!" Justin snarled at the impassive tree. "All of them—that's all they want. Not incense. Not sacrifices. They—we only want to go home!"

He leapt at the tree, snatching handfuls of ribbon. They all started the same way: Servants of Solis . . . Mighty Solis . . .

With nails and teeth, Justin tore at the ribbons. When he finished, he had a pile of scraps, the name Solis, many times over, and a few random words. Breathing heavily, he laid a circle of names on the ground below the tree. Inside, he arranged the words:

His name . . . was . . . Solis . . . he tried.

Justin slumped against the altar, sobbing and coughing. Sparks flashed before his eyes. Was this what Solis had felt like? Had he died alone here, realizing that he was wrong, that there was no way home?

Except that this time, there was. Jade had come home. His idea had almost worked. Over the sound of his own labored breaths, Justin imagined he heard his sister laugh. He smiled. Gripping the cold stone of the altar, Justin pulled himself to his feet.

"I told you I wouldn't leave you alone, Mother. Listen to Jade. She'll help you understand. And next time we'll all come home."

Hitching up a corner of the red robes in his withering hand, Justin started the long climb back up the mountain to search for a cure.

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