To ensure that he was right on point, he tried to do a test with the woman. First, he made her stand in front of him, face to face and asked her a few questions. “Don’t say anything other than the answer.”
“Name?”
“Ginna, priest.”
“No need to address me, only answer the question. Tell me the name of your children.”
She replied, her brows furrowed for a split second there. “Ben, Renis, and Grant.”
Sylvester continued. “Where do you live?”
“In Sphinx Town.” .
“What is the name of the faith we all follow?”
Woosh!
As soon as Sylvester asked this question, the husband of Ginna and Sir Holand emitted such rage and hate that Sylvester felt they would attack at any moment. In an instant, Sylvester felt hair on the back of his neck standing as one perilous possibility came to his mind. ‘A-Are they followers of Anti-Light Sect?’
This was certainly a scary thing to imagine because that would mean he was against the entire village.
“Let me ask you something else then. Can you tell me what you ate for lunch or breakfast today?”
“Today? I ate something… I can’t remember… who are you?”
Sylvester didn’t react much. “I am Priest from the monastery. Now, I need you to do something. Priest Felix.”
Felix came quickly and put a small bottle made of glass on the floor in front of Ginna. The peculiar thing about the bottle was that its mouth was tiny, less than an inch in diameter. Then, Felix took out small marbles made of stone and put them near the bottle.
“I need you to put these marbles into the bottle one by one,” Sylvester instructed her.
Ginna was confused about why she was being asked to do all this, having forgotten everything that happened recently for some reason. But seeing her husband nod in approval, she did it.
However, everyone sighed as they saw Ginna slowly picking up a marble with her shaking hands. Then she tried to put it in the bottle, but her hands would shake every time, and she would miss it.
“Ugh… why can’t I do something so simple?” She started to get agitated.
Sylvester was watching her intently the whole time. A theory was slowly forming in his mind that could be true, as absurd as it may seem.
“I think that’s enough. You should go and have some rest.” He took away the bottle and the marbles before her frustration triggered another event.
He got up and headed out. “Your wife is not possessed. She is—unwell—in mind. But before I try to heal her, I will need to do the same tests on some other people. I advise that you let your wife have as much rest as possible and do not let her go through any stress.”
Sir Holand followed Sylvester out, but he had felt the tension in the air differently. “Is there any cure to what you are calling a disease?”
Sylvester nodded and then shook his head. “First of all, light magic has no effect on her. This means they are not possessed. And as for treatment, I will have to try a few things, and hopefully, it will work out. Now, I need you to take me to the other sick ones you mentioned, no matter what stage they are at.”
“Why did Ginna mention a third child? There is no one named Grant.” Sir Holand questioned him while Sir Dolorem, Gabriel, and Felix listened as they knew Sylvester was better in such situations than any.
Sylvester shrugged. “How would I know that, Sir? But, something may answer us, did she ever suffer from some sort of pregnancy-related trauma? In the past fifteen years or so?”
Sir Holand didn’t make any strange faces, yet the scent of anxiety was unmistakable, even more so when he spoke. “That… maybe it has something to do with the Sacking of Sphinx 15 years ago.”
Sylvester stopped and looked back. “Can you elaborate?”
“Desert Cannibals attacked, we lost in a prolonged battle, they looted everything, r*ped, ate babies, and killed to their heart’s content until liberation by the arrival of King Highland himself—three days later. I don’t know much about Ginna, but maybe she was one of the unfortunate ones and… likely had unsuccessful childbirth.”
“I understand. No need to say more.” Sylvester silently followed the man to the next person’s house.
Though his mind could not stop thinking about the mention of the sacking, and in the end, he could not bring himself to connect everything to what happened years ago. Still, he kept his findings to himself as there was much to see first.
They spent the whole night going to a few other houses and checking the patients. Sylvester told Gabriel to start registering each name, age, and symptoms. At the same time, he would try to subtly ask them if they had suffered anything vile during the sacking.
Then, when the first ray of the morning sun started to fall, they headed out of the town to see the small sheds littered around Desert Road. For the most part, a majority of the people were already half dead from the inhuman conditions. A few were barely surviving and were able to move. Only a minority could still talk.
“I’m afraid you have done more harm to these people than good by keeping them here.” He muttered and walked around to see if anyone could be saved.
“Priest… here! My mum!”
Just then, they found Shane once again, probably having snuck out following Sylvester. The boy, after all, was waiting for Sylvester to go in that direction desperately.
Showing some humane pity, he agreed to go and check her condition. Shane’s mother’s shed was near the town’s gates, as she used to be a woman of good standing before, and they pitied her son.
Sylvester walked closer to her to look closely. Her skin had dried from dehydration, she was also untidy, and her hair was patched from a few places, likely in self-harm. Her face had marks of tears sliding down, while her eyes appeared reddened. From a glance, it could be noticed how Shane was a good-looking young fella.
“Wraaa!”
“Mum! He’s here to help!” Shane cried while rubbing his hands nervously from a distance.
She growled at him suddenly. But Sylvester, without fear, held her face with his right palm and let the warmth of the light and solarium flow through her body. “Fear me not—no more shall you rot… here.”
“K-Kill me…” She, shocking everyone, uttered a few words in a low, hoarse voice.
Sylvester looked at her face and saw great mental pain and hate, likely for herself. The emotions were not of someone insane, and he gathered she was faking her rage.
“I… I d-don’t want to hu-hurt my baby… anymore.”
Sylvester looked back at Shane and called the boy close. “Shane, did she hurt you?”
Shane tried to steal their gaze and looked down nervously. “S-She… Mum didn’t want to hurt me… I made a mistake, so she got angry… I won’t break anything, mum! Please come home.”
,m Sir Holand coughed and added his side of the story. “We arrested her for trying to kill Shane… she would have if we had not arrived in time.”
“No! She would not have! Mum loves me a lot… she even made me coco milk!” Shane argued.
Sylvester raised his hand and signaled for everyone to shut up. He addressed the woman directly. “Clarify this misunderstanding then. Tell me, what’s the matter? Why do you wish to die?”
She cried in response. “I’m going insane, Priest! There is bloodlust on my mind! I would have truly killed Shane that night… Something is happening to me. I don’t know… I’m often not in control, and when I return to my senses, I remember not what I did before. I love Shane… please save him from my hands.”
“Did you suffer any trauma during the sacking of Sphinx?” Sylvester questioned directly.
She glared back into Sylvester’s golden eyes and nearly cursed in rage. “You mongrels… imposters! Ran away when we suffered… for three days they had me… for three days they-”
“Enough! Don’t sully the name of the town anymore. Priests, what do you wish to do now?” Sir Holand erupted.
Sylvester already knew what was wrong with these people, but he had no idea how he could heal them as the disease was incurable for the most part, even in his old world. But he could try because if he does not, then one day, the whole adult population of the town might die out.
“How many rooms do we have in the monastery?” Sylvester questioned.
To that, the Archpriest standing at the back silently spoke. “Eight rooms, Priest.”
“Good—Gabriel, give them the list of names. I want all these people shifted into the monastery so they can still be cured. As for the others, you all have left nothing to be healed. Give them an easy death by giving them a sleeping poison.”
Sir Holand stopped them, however. “Without the chief’s permission, nothing will move into the town.”
Sylvester glared at the man, nearly as tall as him, and looked down into his eyes. “Look around—there are hundreds of sheds… a majority occupied by dead or nearly dead. You did that, Sir Holand. You killed them… and now you want to let these die too?”
Scoffing, Sir Holand folded his arms and glared back. “Why do you care so much what happens here?”
Without a second of waste, Sylvester answered. “Nothing—but I am not an incompetent man, so I take my work seriously. I was sent here to fix this mess, and that is what I am doing.”
There was a non-verbal standoff of sorts. Sir Dolorem even placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, as did Felix, in preparation for any hostility.
But, Sir Holand merely sighed and moved back. “Care to explain what disease the people of this town have?”
Sylvester noticed all eyes on him, even Shane’s mother. So he didn’t keep the matter a secret. “I have named this disease schizophrenia, which means split minds. It is a mental illness that is caused due to chemical imbalance in one’s brain. Severely stressful life events, trauma, abuse, or neglect may also trigger it. As far as I have noticed, this madness is only consuming those who suffered extremely during the sacking.”
“Then why has it increased so much now? What happened?” Archpriest Oliver questioned.
Sylvester didn’t know that, sadly. “Is the town facing too much hardship nowadays? Is there something sad or stressful happening around? Because this condition to develop so extreme so fast is indeed a worrying sign.”
“We have not faced any food shortage, and for ages, we have created a self-sufficient internal market and industry. Could it be the air? The dry mountains south of the town have been filled with strange toxic misty miasma for the past five years—so this Schizo… thing you say may be due to it?” Sir Holand inquired.
Sylvester silently tried to remember the geography of the area on the maps he had seen. ‘Hmm, isn’t there another little village south of those mountains?’
“Did anything happen in those mountains in the past? Some mining or battle?” He questioned.
Instantly, with pride, Sir Holand replied. “There… Fifteen years ago, when King Highland liberated the town, he pushed the Desert cannibals into the mountains—same mountains the mighty king turned into a graveyard of those sickly animals.”
Sylvester, as if annoyed and tired, rubbed his face with both hands and shared a glance with Sir Dolorem. “Same guess?”
Sir Dolorem nodded. “It makes sense.”
“I hope it’s not a cave this time—Bloody Bloodlings!”
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