The sea roared like an angry beast.
Waves slammed against the wooden boat, and the wind howled, tearing at Leena's veil.
She clutched the railing with numb fingers.
Behind her, Maya retched again, her thin body trembling like a leaf.
"Madam…" Her maid's voice was barely a whisper, lips dry, skin blazing with fever.
Leena's heart sank.
She knew these symptoms—fever, vomiting, weakness.
Typhoid.
If the illness spread… the entire ship could become a floating grave.
"Stay here, Maya," Leena ordered, forcing her voice to be steady.
She turned to the deck, where merchants clung to crates and rigging.
Chinese, Persian, Indian, Arab… all stared at that young woman suddenly taking charge.
"There is sickness aboard!" Leena shouted over the storm.
"I need a separate space for the patients. Now!"
As if summoned by her words, a Chinese noblewoman collapsed into her servant's arms.
"Miss! Miss!" The maid panicked. "No one touches my lady!"
The noblewoman's trembling hand lifted weakly.
"…Let her… help…"
Leena didn't waste a second.
She dragged the sick into a small storage cabin, the air thick with damp wood and salt.
From her wooden medicine box, vials and herbs glinted like fragile treasure.
She crushed bitter leaves, mixed powders, and boiled them over the tiny ship's fire.
The smell of sharp herbs and smoke filled the cabin.
"Drink," she urged Maya first, tilting the steaming mixture to her lips.
"Cool the fever. Fight the poison."
Hours bled into the night.
The boat groaned under the storm.
Water leaked through the planks.
Leena wiped sweat from Maya's brow again and again, whispering prayers in the darkness.
Then—finally—Maya's breathing eased.
The noblewoman's crimson face faded to pale.
By dawn, both could speak.
The passengers surrounded Leena in awe.
"You saved them!" a merchant exclaimed.
"Are you… a saint?" another whispered.
The noblewoman, still weak, clutched her hand.
"You saved my life. If fate allows us to meet again… I will repay any debt."
Leena allowed herself the smallest smile. For a moment, hope returned.
That night, the deck came alive with food and music to celebrate the miracle.
But in the shadows, three Indian men did not join.
Their cold eyes followed the healer.
One leaned toward the other, voice low in Hindi:
"Ram Sharan will not be pleased to hear this…
…She will not escape him for long."