“Probably. Apparently, they can remember some things, but it’s like it’s wrapped in a fog, so they can’t recall things clearly. For example, they’ll remember someone’s name, but not be able to put a face to it. If I had come across Leyas in town, she probably wouldn’t have recognized me if I didn’t call out to her first.” Miranda’s voice held a hint of sadness.
“Then why did she still recognize my uncle?” Misha asked, thinking back to Ryne’s regular visits. He had come by every few years since she was old enough to remember.
“If you call out to them and tell them your name, they can recognize you. It isn’t like the hypnosis erases their memories or anything. But once you leave them, they’ll probably have forgotten your face within an hour. Ryne kept visiting her over and over, even when she kept forgetting him. He would stay overnight, and when Leyas woke up in the morning and saw him, she’d have to ask who he was. Over and over, he explained he was her older brother.”
Miranda could only imagine how difficult a time that must have been for him. Even if he’d known it was caused by drugs, it had to hurt for your own family to see you as a stranger.
I certainly couldn’t have taken it, she thought.
But Ryne had. Over and over and over. Even if she forgot him after an hour, he’d come back to reintroduce himself.
“He said that when he introduced himself, she’d always laugh, saying something like, ‘Oh right, that is what you looked like!’ At the start, she was nearly reduced to tears, but after going through the same thing countless times, she started laughing instead. She would just joke, ‘Our people make really strong drugs, huh?’”
Miranda could only guess at how Ryne had felt during the arduous process of reintroducing himself to his own sister. Maybe it had been a harrowing time for him. Or maybe it had been all fun and games as he tried to figure out with what frequency he’d need to visit to break the effects of the drug.
In the end, his persistence had paid off, and she’d become able to remember him properly. It had worked to such a degree that Misha had never even known it had been a struggle for her.
“So that’s what they meant by ‘giving up everything’?”
It was much worse than Misha had first thought. She had assumed leaving meant they couldn’t go home or remain friends with any of the people from the village. The truth was that Leyas had actually given up her memories so that she could stay with Deenoark.
“This song has been passed down among the People of the Forest for a long time. It’s often used just to kill time while making medicine. It’s in the language of the People of the Forest, and it talks about the way we live, so it must have fallen under the scope of the hypnosis. Ryne’s repeated visits must have weakened the hypnosis to the point she started to hum it again without realizing it. Even though you heard her humming, she probably didn’t even realize she was doing it.”
Misha suddenly remembered something from her trip to Redford. “So, back in Dola, you said something about a kind of incense that could be used to hypnotize someone...”
Miranda’s eyes widened slightly in surprise before she broke into a smile. “I’m impressed you remember. Yes, it is said this drug was made by improving that incense.”
Misha didn’t understand the words they sang in their quiet, almost whispering tune. But if Leyas had hummed it whenever she made medicine, it must have been something important to her—so important that she’d hummed it unconsciously. It made Misha want to learn it herself.
“Could you teach me that song someday?”
Miranda hesitated for a moment. “Sure. Someday,” she said with a small smile, stroking Misha’s long hair.
Miranda thought back to when she and Leyas would sing the song together as they worked. When she was young, she’d assumed the two of them would always be together. Now she knew that future was impossible, but she could try and create a new future to take its place.
“Then we can sing it together,” Miranda added.
“Yeah!”
Misha got back to work, listening to the mysterious song. The sound of herbs being ground into medicine matched perfectly with the rhythm of the song, making it a song that saved lives.
However, for as many people as they were able to save, inevitably there were some they couldn’t. No matter how potent the medicine they crafted, it meant nothing if they couldn’t administer it. Because of the unique nature of the medicine, those who couldn’t breathe it in themselves—those who were comatose from the disease—couldn’t take it.
Similarly, there was no saving those in whom the parasite had reached the brain. Once the damage was done, there was nothing they could do to reverse it. The best the doctors and apothecaries could accomplish was giving them painkillers and sedatives to make their final moments more bearable. Many of the most sick quietly breathed their last, watched over by their families.
Misha watched from a short distance away as a coffin was lowered into the ground to the sound of funeral bells. Among all those gathered to mourn, the familiar sight of the youngest ones among them hurt Misha the most. They still cried, repeatedly calling the name of their deceased grandmother. It was heartbreaking to see—especially since Misha had been in that same position not long ago. She knew well how much it hurt to lose someone you love.
Clenching her hands tight, Misha stared at a small child, burning the image into her memory. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered how hard she tried, but maybe, just maybe, if she had gone off to try and find the People of the Forest as soon as the Red Eye plague had resurfaced, if she hadn’t given up, this old woman could have been saved.
Only the gods knew the answer to that. Regardless, Misha vowed never to forget this sight. She knew it would hurt every time she remembered it. She knew it would serve as a reminder of her own inexperience, her own immaturity, and that the regret would torment her. But she also knew that if she were going to be an apothecary, this was a pain she couldn’t afford to forget. Even if it just looked like something she did just to satisfy her own conscience to everyone else.
The sound of the bells echoed up into a clear blue sky, free from clouds for the first time in a long time. The rainy season had finally come to an end, bringing the true heat of summer down on them.
This wasn’t the only person who had passed away. The priests were running nonstop dealing with all of the funerals, working hard to ensure those who had passed away would find their way to the next life without incident. Additionally, they wished to offer what small consolation they could to those that were left behind.
Misha closed her eyes, offering a small prayer of her own while the bells continued their endless ringing.