Location: Temple, Recovery Wing → Children's Annex
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After their minor punishment, Jinn and Sister Melca were reassigned to the recovery wing. The work was lighter—organizing herbs, folding linens, and refilling trays of ointments. Jinn kept her head low, staying deep in her borrowed nun identity, "Vierra."
She noticed the patients, silent soldiers, elderly priests, and sick children resting in sunlit corners of the annex. One nun tried teaching the children a memorized chant, but they just squirmed or stared out the window.
Jinn, watching quietly, thought: They're bored, not dumb. You can't teach a child with drone-like monotony. They'll grow up obedient but hollow.
One small boy followed her the next day as she carried folded linens. He tugged her sleeve. She didn't smile—but she didn't push him away either.
"Are you a real nun?" he asked.
She crouched, folding a towel. "Let's pretend I am. It'll be our secret."
Others joined. She didn't dote or entertain she gave them small tasks, let them sort dried beans, count prayer stones, or copy her posture.
"Stand up straight. Breathe from here."
They listened.
By the third morning, no noble visitors arrived. No tea. No polite traps in lace.
Jinn still went.
Not because anyone told her to. Not because she had to.
But because the children were waiting.
That was enough.
The sisters quietly reassigned her.
"She's free. Let her handle them," Melca told one nun.
Jinn began leading light stretches, object matching, and basic number practice using whatever was on hand. But she grew irritated at the lack of tools.
"Paper's too precious. No slates. No chalk. No board."
Then, while cleaning near the herb grinding room, her eyes landed on a pile of black dust—veilroot ash.
Wait. That's carbon…
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That evening, she tested an idea. She took an old flat wooden cutting board from the kitchen waste pile and scrubbed it smooth. Then she mixed veilroot ash with a drop of oil and some crushed salve paste until it turned into a thick black paste.
She rubbed it across the board, let it dry by incense heat, then tapped the surface with her finger. It held.
It's crude. Needs testing. Maybe tomorrow… after the noble tutorial.
Next, she rolled veilroot ash and dried herb powder with a little oil to make stubby sticks. She pressed them into short pieces and left them to dry near the brazier.
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Later the next day, once her noble duties had ended, Jinn returned to the children's annex with the board and one stick in hand.
"Draw a circle," she said, placing the chalk in one girl's hand.
A dusty white line appeared on the blackened board.
The children stared. Then erupted.
"I want to try!"
"Me too!"
They took turns drawing, wiping, and trying again. Jinn showed them how to trace letters and count marks.
Melca passed by and watched for a moment. Then she handed Jinn a small linen pouch.
"Better-cleaned ash," she said. "Use it. You're full of surprises, Vierra."
Jinn muttered while fixing the second board, "...It's just soot and scrap wood. But if it works, who cares?"
That afternoon, the children lined up with chalk nubs, copying symbols and giggling over mistakes.
No noble daughters. No fake tea. No judgment.
Jinn leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
"...It's still work," she muttered, "but I don't hate this one."