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It seems like nonsense to me, but I smile at him as I flip through a book that at first seemed promising, but I now realize is a romantic novel about two star-crossed lovers.
I don’t want to tell him that I’ve given up.
I don’t want to tell him that I’d rather spend my time with him doing something stupid and trivial than continuing a pointless quest to prolong my life.
I cough and cover my mouth with my hand, wiping away the blood before he can see it.
As a demon, Rukh has some powers which somewhat approximate magic that he’s tried to use on me. Most of it just involves interacting with my soul, trying to rearrange and stabilize parts of it. And it helps.
Sometimes, it returns my skin to a healthier tone for a moment. Sometimes, it reduces my fever, or lowers my urge to cough.
But ultimately and inevitably, the conditions return, seemingly stronger and angrier than before. It hurts me to see Rukh struggle so much, even if it makes me proud how tenacious he is, even in the face of inevitable and overwhelming odds.
For my part, I’ve offered every suggestion I can think of, guiding him away from the common remedies and toward rarer and less conventional treatments. Now that I know he’s comfortable going into Mellara, it briefly emboldens me.
At times, he makes longer treks into even more distant elven cities… into Vhoig, or Pyrthos, or Orthani. There, we seek out less common remedies, in the hopes of finding anything to help me.
He comes home one day, after a long trek, and makes me a potion he swears will work, based on a text that lists all of my symptoms. I scarf it down, and immediately feel sick.
“There,” Rukh says, getting up from administering the remedy. “That should feel better.”
It doesn’t help me in the slightest.
I smile. The very act of smiling hurts my face. Most of my muscles are strained or paralyzed by this point.
“What do you think?” Rukh asks, mostly seeing if the remedy has helped me at all.
He traveled across the continent to get it. I know that for a being like him, travel is not so difficult, but it’s no small feat nonetheless.
“I think,” I start to say, trying to be honest but also supportive and grateful.
But I can’t find the words.
“I think maybe we just need to accept this,” I say. “I see how much this hurts you, and I don’t want that. But we’ve run out of options.”
His hopeful smile becomes a scowl. “After everything we’ve been through, how can you give up?”
“If these are my final days, I want to spend them with you, Rukh! I don’t want to spend them fighting something we both know is coming.”
“Don’t you know who I am?”
Rukh is yelling at this point, but I know that it’s not directed at me. He shakes the cabinets and the doors with his booming voice.
“I used to talk to the gods! I devour souls! Why do you think curing you is beyond my power?”
“Rukh,” I start to say. I feel my vision start to cloud over. My head collides with my pillow.
I can still see his outline working over me, through my barely closed eyelids. He tries to shake me awake, desperate to resuscitate me. I wish he’d see that I’m not dead. I’m only dreaming.
I’m suddenly inside a display case, watching the cabin from inside its confines. At first, the cabin is empty and quiet. I can hear the calm rush of the wind outside the window.
Then the door opens, and I see Rukh accompanied by a woman. She looks like me, and she acts like me, but she’s not me.
Thinking for a second, I realize that it must be the witch! She’s taken over my body and is now assuming my life, as if I never existed.
Meanwhile, she trapped me inside of this cabinet of curiosities. I watch as Rukh kisses her, and I begin to pound on the glass. But rather than shattering, or even reverberating against the impact, the glass reflects the energy back, and I feel my own force filtering back into me.
In the cabinet’s reflection, I see my face distorted more from every impact. My cheeks and lips peel back, and I suddenly realize that with every pound, my face is changing, becoming another face entirely.
