7 Sickness (2/2)

Somehow, I had to force this stuff down. But vomit rushed back up as if to stop me. Father felt me convulse and shouted again.

”Stephanie!”

He made another swallowing gesture to me, but I was choking on my own vomit. I couldn't breathe. My throat was blocked. I started to panic, and saw father panic too.

With a crash, mother swept into the study. She shoved father out the way and poured something cold in my mouth.

Somehow, I managed to swallow, but my throat was raw, and my breath was ragged. Mother shouted something, and father responded solemnly.

Mother looked at me with a pained face. She stroked my head and spoke softly, repeating my name over, and over again.

I felt sick and weak. I retched again, but mother clamped her hand over my mouth. Through my bleary eyes I could see tears running down her face. She shouted again at father, who shouted back defensively.

I lay there, stuck in a cycle of retching and choking back vomit. Eventually the sickness left, replaced with numb relief. Finally at peace, I passed out.

I woke up in an unfamiliar room. I was in mother's arms, with father by my side. A man stood behind a counter, grinding something in a mortar and pestle.

The room was strange, lit by an unearthly glow. The walls were lined with rows of shelves and cupboards. On the shelves were countless books, plants, tools and vials.

Mother jumped when she felt me wake and alerted the stranger. He wore a robe similar to father's, weighed down by many dull chains.

He walked up to me and pried open my eyes with two fingers. He seemed quite old and had a burning strength behind his mahogany eyes.

There was not an ounce of fat on his face. The muscles in his jaw rippled as he ground his teeth in concentration. With a sigh, he took away his hand and faced my parents.

He began to lecture them, and they nodded along. While he talked, he emptied the mortar into a small cloth and tied it tightly.

He passed it to father and gave a few last words. My parents bowed deeply in response. The man motioned toward a large iron bound wooden door, and father pulled it open.

My parents talked as they walked, and father was clearly exasperated. I took the chance to look at my surroundings. It was a cavernous hall hewn from rock, with a glowing pool in the middle.

We circled the hall, passing many eclectic doors, before walking through a corridor. Glaring sunlight flooded my eyes when we reached the end.

When my eyes adjusted, I saw two lines of men standing along a cobble path. They wore green cuirasses and held tall spears.

”Probably guards,” I thought. I must have been taken to someone important, for him to be guarded like this.

Waiting at the end of the path was a plain looking, horse-drawn carriage. Father opened the door for mother, and we stepped in.

The carriage began to move, but I couldn't see out of it. Mother and father were silent, and there was a tense air. I was left to my thoughts.

I must have done something horrible to my body when I exhausted my qi. Father seemed to have supressed it, but he needed this important man's help.

I went to my soul to see what had happened to it. What met me send a chill down my spine. My soul had shattered.