As Mobius crushed the thirty-seventh withered branch, the forest began to speak to him. The brown earth churned beneath Mobius's soft long boots, and moss climbed the bark of the beech trees, forming glowing cuneiform.
His fingers trembled slightly, and the dark green patterns immediately dissolved into an oracle—"Scars are the signature of the gods."
"Interesting, is this a provocation to me or..."
Fireflies gathered into a vortex in the birch forest fifteen paces away. He followed the direction of the flowing phosphorescence, and with the flow of healing power, the oracle pointed to the boy by the stream.
The boy was kneeling in the moonlight-woven ripples. His linen robe was soaked through with stream water, revealing a vermilion chariot totem drawn between his shoulder blades.
Because Mobius had not yet chosen a totem for himself, the followers of healing and purification used the chariot of war as their totem.
When he dipped the acorn pendant into the water, the suspended fish eggs suddenly burst forth with a pearlescent glow, and tiny embryos danced a sacrificial dance within their transparent sacs.
"Isis's Tears must be paired with the first blooming elderflower buds." The boy suddenly turned his head, his pupils holding the emerald glow found only during firefly season. His fingertips were still stained with the crystallizing stream water.
Mobius raised an eyebrow. Was the daemon before him his follower? He actually knew about Isis's Tears.
This was the name he had given to the dew carried on the third petal of a white lotus growing on a high mountain; combined with elderflower buds about to bloom, it could heal physical wounds.
"Who are you?" The boy's eyes were filled with vigilance. The being before him should be a god, but he was already a follower of the God of Healing and didn't need another god to worship.
"Aren't you doing what I've always been doing? Yet you ask who I am..." From Mobius's right hand flowed drops of holy water that could cure all diseases, dripping into the humus and causing new shoots to sprout.
The tree canopy suddenly spilled emerald stardust.
"I am Mobius, the God of Healing." A spring-like voice drifted from the mist, stepping over the mossy carpet. Silver chains draped from his hair, adorned with twelve new leaves. With each step, lily-of-the-valley-shaped light spots bloomed on the lichen.
This silver chain, called the "Twelve-Leaf Silver Chain," was a divine artifact Mobius possessed after gaining healing power. He could use the moonlight to promote plant growth or transform moonlight into healing power.
The boy's breath caught in his throat. Mobius was more human-like than he had imagined—if one ignored the healing aura flowing around him and the forest projection that constantly reconfigured with his gaze.
When he stopped five paces away, the vines entwining the trees suddenly came alive, slithering like a swarm of snakes between them and snatching the acorn pendant from the boy's hand.
"The coughing blood of plague, the skin ulcers of black spot disease, and..." The god's fingertips brushed over the suspended acorn pendant. With each touch, the vines wove a memory illusion.
The boy saw the fawn he had saved last month convulsing again in the illusion, and his illusory self still futilely held out the healing medicine.
"Since you can make rotten wood bloom..." The boy suddenly ripped open his sleeve, and emerald pus seeped from the festering scars. "Why do you allow this suffering to gnaw at life?"
Mobius gently stroked the boy's hair. "Look at that cluster of silver ferns." He pointed into the depths of the mist, where withered ferns were unfurling their scorched leaves in a halo of light. "Healing is not about covering up, but about letting life find its own path. All you can do is soothe their souls."
The halo detached from the god's body, hovering between the two.
"Healing is merely soil." Mobius pressed the acorn pendant into his festering wound, and leaf-vein-shaped golden patterns appeared beneath the newly formed skin. "It bears death, nurtures new life, and grasps the pulse of the cycle within decay."
"And you will become my messenger for soothing emotional pain. Are you willing?" Mobius gently stroked the boy's dull long hair.
"In return, your divine power will become my subordinate." Mobius was quite surprised by this follower, as his power could record what he saw and heard, possessing the power of memory.
Regarding the plague and black spot disease the boy mentioned, Mobius was powerless, or rather, dared not intervene, because the latter was the divine responsibility of the radiant Apollo, and the former was the power of Hades, the King of the Underworld.
His healing divine power could eliminate the effects of plague and black spot disease, but this would greatly threaten the powers of the two future main gods. This was something he was unwilling to do, which is why Mobius said all he could do was soothe.
Because gods are not omnipotent; they also have their constraints and weaknesses.
Perhaps Apollo and Hades would, for the sake of the God of War Ares, not pursue his impoliteness, but this would undoubtedly put his main god, the one who led him into the world of gods, in a difficult position.
He could only choose to ignore these two diseases, or wait until he became stronger, strong enough to disregard Apollo and Hades, before he would cure these two ailments.
Until then, he could only remain silent.
"I am not willing." The boy said dejectedly, "I once thought the power of healing could cure all pain, so I brought the plague and black spot disease into my own body."
"The divine office of healing can cure all the world's ailments, but the God of Healing does not have the ability to cure all the world's ailments," Mobius said bluntly.
"Because this world has more than just pain; it also has power and authority. The power of war is not enough to withstand the wrath of other gods, so the God of Healing lacks the ability to cure certain ailments." Mobius sat down.
The glowing emerald moss automatically wove itself into the shape of a throne, and lichen spores blossomed into star-shaped cushions beneath his elbows. The Twelve-Leaf Silver Chain draped over the mossy surface, radiating a soft glow.
The boy's gaze gradually firmed, and he said, "I am willing to become Your Highness's God of Solace. Since the God of Healing cannot withstand the mockery of other gods, then the Sovereign of Solace will stand in for Healing to ward off unknown risks!"
Mobius gently asked, "Then what is your name, my lovely daemon?"
"I have no name. I am merely a daemon born from the sorrowful tears of Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory, falling onto a leaf." The boy stroked his delicate skin. "That's why I believe in healing; I want to give myself a sense of purpose, to see smiles on my friends' faces, to free them from suffering."
"You will. Then I shall give you a name..." Mobius said with a smile. "Let's call you Elisairion, the priest of soothing souls."
Elisairion's Adam's apple bobbed, and he swallowed, saying, "Good, I will be called Elisairion."
"I want to be by Your Highness Mobius's side forever, to shield Your Highness from threats beyond pain. I will be your last shield, and I will give my life for you," Elisairion said with determination.