[Cass]
The cavern smelled of damp moss and boiled herbs. Cass walked past steaming bowls of paste, past strips of cloth drying on a rope, past a line of patients waiting in silence.
The healer's chamber was never quiet. Every cough echoed. Every sigh of relief sounded fragile.
Eshna knelt beside the guard who had taken the eel's strike. His breathing was steady now, though fever still glazed his skin. The silverroot paste glowed faintly in the glowshroom light, its strands clinging like cobwebs.
Cass waited by the doorway. He would not interrupt.
At last, Eshna rose, wiping her hands on a rag dark with stains. She met his eyes, exhaustion heavy under hers.
"You saved him," she said.
Cass shook his head. "You did."
"You brought the root," she replied. "Without it he'd be ash by morning."
Praise weighed heavier than blame. Blame could be deflected. Praise stuck.
Cass crossed the chamber, voice low. "How long can you keep this up? With what's left?"
Her gaze moved to the shelves - half jars, thin bandages, too few herbs. "Days. Maybe weeks if wounds stay clean. But if infection spreads…" She let the silence finish.
Cass exhaled. "Then we push deeper. We find more."
Eshna's eyes narrowed. "Rootwater? That place is darker than you know. The eel wasn't the only thing in there. I've heard whispers of worse."
"I've been there," Cass said. "I saw enough to know we can't avoid it. That cavern has what we need. If we wait, we starve."
She straightened, chin lifted. "Then take me. I'll know what's useful. You'll bring me roots I can't use if I'm not there."
Cass studied her. The healer who held half the hamlet alive in her hands. If she fell, it would not be one loss. It would be many.
"No," he said.
Her jaw tightened. "Cass..."
"I need you here. If I fall, the hamlet lives. If you fall, the hamlet rots." His voice came sharper than intended.
Her eyes flashed hurt and anger both. "You think I don't know my worth? You think I'm fragile?"
"I think you're the only one who keeps our children breathing," he said. Softer now. "I won't risk you. Not yet."
Silence. Only the guard's shallow breaths filled the space.
At last, Eshna turned away. "Then wait until tomorrow. Let me prepare you."
Cass hesitated. Then nodded. "Tomorrow."
[Forum – Global Noise]
[HerbHunter]: "Anyone else seeing shortages? Marsh drops nerfed?"
[SkyCrafter]: "Ashenfolk glass runs are price-gouged. Joke economy."
[Skeptik]: "You can't farm underground. Rumors are fake."
[Nocti]: "Saw someone claim early healer saves. Probably RNG luck."
[BloodPrinceFan]: "Arena highlight: triple backflip killshot. Pog."
[GhostLordThread]: "Ghost Lord heals now? Next rumor he rides a mole dragon."
[Lumen]: "Auction board listing 'rootwater herbs'. Scam bait if you ask me."
Cass closed the feed. The noise roared on. None of it filled bowls.
[Cass]
By evening, he walked the tunnels with a lantern. Even stale air was better than the healer's silence.
He stopped at the sound of voices. Warble children sat cross-legged, whispering.
"Why does the elder call him Propervy's child?" one asked.
"Because he made the light hole," another said.
"But the world hasn't changed," a third muttered.
Cass stepped back before they saw him. His throat was dry. He hadn't asked for prophecy. Words clung anyway, like burrs on cloth.
He pressed his palm to the stone wall. "Not prophecy," he whispered. "Survival."
The rock gave no answer.
[Media – World's Dawn Chronicles]
"Rivermere famine deepens. Caravans raided, trade skirmishes rise.
Greenward accused of hoarding herbs, tensions escalate.
Ashenfolk boast record exports, but critics allege forced labor.
And in rumors: auction chatter of rare healing plants surfacing underground. Analysts warn most such claims are fabricated to spike bids. Treat them as speculation only."
The anchor smiled and shifted to arena highlights. Chat overlays scrolled with laughter and insults. Underground remained a joke.
[Cass]
That night, Cass sat at the Dawn Hole. The sliver of air brushed his cheek. He turned a shard of stone in his palm. Not rare. Not special. Just stone.
But stone meant foundation.
He closed his eyes and saw his mother's face. Fragile, alive. He remembered her last words in another timeline.
"Don't give up, Cass."
He whispered to the shard, "Not this time."
[System]
[Quest: The Healer's Plea]
Objective: Secure sustainable herbs from Rootwater before current stores are gone.
Secondary: Prevent healer collapse from overwork.
Reward: Stability ↑ (Hygiene). New citizen paths may emerge.
Failure: Infection outbreak - high casualties.