Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75457 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Looking left, then right—noting the overworked nurses aren’t paying me any attention—I move to her bedside.
Her hand is dry and cracked as I take it in my own. She speaks in a language I wouldn’t have known when I was human but now understand clearly.
“Please… end it for me. I can’t take it anymore.”
I squeeze her hand gently, using my other palm to caress her forehead. I speak back to her in her own language. “Would you be healed if you could?”
She shakes her head weakly. “I have nothing left. My family has already died.”
Of course they have. There have been thousands of deaths in a very short time. Doctors and nurses can only treat symptoms, and people either survive or they don’t.
Most don’t.
The overwhelming sickness called to me as the god of Life. To bear witness to the extreme amount of death.
I bend over the woman and press my lips to her forehead. It’s not a move a god would make, and I’d probably be mocked if the others saw me. “Rest well, Mother,” I whisper to the woman.
When I pull back, she’s dead, and I feel peace with that decision.
I place her hand over her chest and look around. This tent alone has over fifty cots. The landscape outside is dotted with dozens more units just like this.
But there’s one that calls to me the most.
The children.
When I enter their tent, the crushing weight of their misery hits me ten times harder. I don’t have a lot of experience with young ones. When I lived in the Underworld, there weren’t a lot of offspring since procreation is very rare within the same race of fae.
Regardless, the empathy I’ve developed despite the horror of my upbringing is increased to a painful level as I look around. Helpless babies screaming, children moaning for relief and nurses sobbing over cots where death occurs.
It’s the natural order of things, for populations to be culled and cleaned this way. A man named Darwin explained it all.
I should let it be but the one small perk of my new life as a god is that I have power. Just as I gave death to the old woman, I’m going to give life to these kids.
Some of them, anyway.
The ones who can realistically recover so what I do here today doesn’t hit the news as some sort of religious miracle.
Moving up and down the rows, I lay my hands on certain kids with quick efficiency. I’m glamoured to look like a nurse, wearing the same drab dress, filthy with tears, snot, and vomit. No one pays me any mind but every child I touch will get better.
It’s not much, but when I’m done it’s the most accomplished I’ve ever felt in my new role.
I step out of the tent, inhaling the hot, arid air, and stretch my back. Despite being immortal and impossible to kill, my neck and back ache.
Remnants of my human self?
Perhaps.
More likely I’m projecting human traits onto myself and the stress of this day is cramping me up.
“Those were some snazzy miracles you were handing out.”
I whirl around to find Veda standing there. She’s dressed in a simple white linen maxi dress, her feet bare and unbothered by the blazing desert heat.
No one can see her. Though she’s in ordinary human dress, no human could look upon her without being dazzled by her omnipotence. She’s invisible to them, but not to me.
I drop my human glamour, returning to my natural appearance and hide myself from human eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Veda as I turn to walk among the tents. I’m not done yet and will continue my work when she’s gone.
She falls into step beside me. “Bored. Thought I’d come see you.”
I don’t believe that for a minute. “I could think of a million more interesting places to be.”
Veda is silent as we walk among the makeshift hospital although I can feel sadness pouring off her in powerful waves. She’s the god of Humanity, so mortals suffering for any reason affects her. However, she’s very good at hiding it and that’s never truer than right now when she points out, “What you’re doing is futile. You’re saving children who have no homes to go to because their parents are already dead. They’ll die of homelessness or malnourishment. They might make it into shelters where they’ll be mistreated and possibly adopted out to abusers.”
I stop and turn to Veda who looks at me expectantly. “Or, they could return to homes with healthy parents, flourish, and thrive. They deserve the chance.”
Veda shrugs. “It’s not of any importance one way or the other.”
“It’s important to me. It makes me feel good.”
“Did it make you feel good to send that old woman to her death?” Veda inquires.
“I sent her to peace,” I counter. “So, yes, it felt good.”