“God-touched?” Ryock repeated.

“Do gods exist in your world, Ryock?”

He paused. “As far as I know, yes.”

“My magical capabilities are not what I was born with. Ten years ago, my magic was enhanced by the gods.”

It was Ryock’s turn to choose his questions carefully. “How?”

“Now that we’re on speaking terms allow me to explain.” Orlando reappeared behind Lynx without warning.

Ryock bolted upright, raising his arms and knocking the tray forward. “What the hell are you?”

Lynx steadied the clattering tea set with practiced hands and sighed.

“An aforementioned god.” He patted Lynx on the head. “See? God-touched.”

“Orlando,” Lynx murmured.

“You enhanced her powers?” Ryock spat.

“Me? No. If it were up to me, I’d have ferried her along the Last River a long time ago.”

“Orlando,” Lynx repeated. “I sincerely apologize, Ryock. He is not a threat.”

Orlando swung a leg over the stone bench and refilled Lynx’s cup with what was remaining in the teapot before adding three cubes of sugar. Lynx couldn’t stop the heat of embarrassment from consuming her cheeks. It was taxing enough to have Orlando appear at his leisure, but this was so much worse. She curled her fingers in the soft fabric of her dress and chewed her bottom lip.

Ryock cautiously retook his seat. “You can understand me, too?”

“I could understand you the moment I saw you, Ryock. It would be the same for Lynx if she met your Lyra. Or her ‘Master.’ But, let’s be honest, no one likes that guy. Not even Lyra.”

A tense silence followed, broken only by Orlando slurping his over-sweetened tea.

“There are many gods throughout the different worlds. Sometimes we see each other in passing. But that’s not important right now. You see, Lynx already saved Analyn once by making a pact with this world’s two gods of restoration. She keeps people alive. That’s her thing.” Orlando exhaled dramatically. “No matter how desperately I want them dead.”

“You’re a death god?” Ryock asked.

“Perceptive, aren’t you?” Orlando popped another cube of sugar into his mouth, speaking as he chewed it into dust. “What a glorious day of work it would be if the entire planet were to go in one fell swoop.”

“You’d be out of a job,” Ryock replied flatly. “There would be no one left.”

“Huh, I didn’t think of it that way.” He shrugged. “Anyway, Lynx is too busy for your little quest.”

“Saara…” Lynx whispered. “I can’t leave Saara here alone. Ryock, I… I do not think I can help you.”

“Why not?”

“I’m looking after a young girl who is very sick. She has endured more pain in two weeks than most adults will face in their lifetime.”

“You’re weighing the fate of one girl against your entire planet?” Ryock asked, his tone incredulous.

“That is cruel of you to say. No matter how many days she has left in this life, she deserves to live them in comfort and happiness,” Lynx replied.

“See what I mean?” Orlando cut in.

“Leave us,” Lynx and Ryock snapped simultaneously.

“Seven hells. Alright. I can take a hint.” Orlando snatched another sugar cube and vanished.

“I am sure you mean well. And if this Drive is as dangerous as you say, I agree it must be stopped,” Lynx spoke slowly, organizing her thoughts as she did. “I will help you find it. However, you must help me find a way to keep Saara’s pain at bay while we are gone. If we cannot do that, I have an obligation to remain by her side.”

Uneasy silence stretched between them for a long time. Birds chirped high up in the surrounding branches while a cool breeze wafted through the trees. Lynx forced herself to stay quiet; the decision was his now.

“Alright. I have an idea,” Ryock relented. “But I need you to show me everything you’ve tried. Every ingredient, every recipe, all of it.”

Immense relief eased the tension in Lynx’s shoulders. She nodded. “Of course.”

She focused her attentions on retracing her steps back to the church, counting the twelve from the table to the door, then the nine from the door to the storeroom where they kept collected medicinal herbs and powders.

“You have the whole place memorized?” Ryock marveled.

“Yes. It comes naturally when I spend enough time somewhere. And this church is more my home than my place of residence.”

“What do you mean?”

Lynx took three steps left, then opened the cabinet she knew awaited her. “Well, oftentimes I sleep here should my patients require it. Like Saara.” She pushed her hair behind her ear. “It is a small price to pay for the comfort of another.”

“I see.”

Suddenly feeling as if she were under intense scrutiny, she changed the subject. “This cabinet should hold our most potent tonics and tinctures, as well as loose ingredients for potions. At least, it did this afternoon.” Her attempt at a joke fell flat. “A-anyway, I had Isla record the combinations and measurements of each of my attempts on Saara on a series of scrolls for me. They should be around here somewhere…”

Ryock moved to her side and looked at the myriad jars and bottles from the highest shelf. A warm, fluffy material brushed against Lynx’s cheek. Her eyebrows raised, and she giggled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Are you wearing fur?”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so.”

Lynx walked her fingers up his arm until her hand alighted on a trimming of downy fur on Ryock’s shoulder. “It’s so soft!”

Ryock paused.

“S-sorry,” Lynx stammered and quickly dropped her hand. She’d grown so accustomed to others accepting her touch that she hardly thought twice about it.

Ryock cleared his throat. “I can’t read the labels on these bottles. The characters your language uses are so vastly different from mine that I couldn’t even guess.”

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” How did she keep forgetting about their language barrier? She felt like a fool.

“You don’t have to apologize for everything, you know.”

“Yes! Of course. I’m so—” Lynx paused and chewed her thumbnail. “Let me fetch Isla.”

She didn’t have to go far; Isla was hovering around the storeroom and answered Lynx’s call immediately. Lynx understood that Isla’s protective nature held no ill intention toward Ryock, and she was grateful for the assistance.

Over the next hour, Isla named the ingredients aloud, and Lynx translated for Ryock, who in turn scribbled the names in his own tongue on a blank sheet of parchment. Afterward, they moved on to the concoctions attempted, their effects on Saara, and the outcome the following day. It was slow, tedious work, and Lynx took a handful of breaks to check in on Saara. Her parents remained by her side in her absence, worried that Lynx’s distractions were signs of her losing hope for the girl. Lynx did her best to quell their concerns and continued her work with Ryock and Isla.

By the time Isla and Ryock had translated the concoctions, the sun had set, and the church staff was reduced to just two people—Lynx and Isla.

“Isla, what is the hour?” Lynx asked. The weariness of the day compounded on lack of sleep and her concern for Saara.

“It is late, my lady. After the third bell,” Isla admitted. “Saara’s parents are asking if they can go home to attend to their other children.”

Lynx nodded fervently. “Yes, of course. Oh, my goodness.” She wiped her face with her hands, pushing the hair that had collected around her shoulders back. Switching to Ryock’s language, she added, “And Ryock, you must be famished. Forgive me. I forget myself.”

Ryock stretched. “I could definitely eat.”

“Lady Anjali, allow me to watch Saara. Please. You and Master Vermat should have a moment’s respite and have supper at the inn,” Isla suggested.

“Isla, I couldn’t—”

“No. Please. I insist. You haven’t left these halls in a fortnight. You deserve an evening out.”

 “Are you certain?”

“Completely. I will be here when you return.”

Isla excused herself, leaving Ryock and Lynx alone.

“What’s the plan?” Ryock asked.

“There’s an inn down the road where we can dine. Afterward, I’ll show you to my home, and you are free to sleep there for the duration of your stay. I’ll return here, and we’ll begin anew in the morning.”

“You’re sleeping here?”

“Yes. I must stay by Saara’s side.”

“Little Lynx hasn’t left this place for two weeks,” Orlando interjected, taking a seat next to Lynx and patting her on the head. “This girl barely sleeps.”

Lynx caught Orlando’s wrist and replaced it in his lap.

“Two weeks?” Ryock repeated.

“She’s pumped enough magic into Saara to revive an army,” Orlando continued. “Isla brings her food and helps her mix tonics.”

“Do you not have other matters to attend to, Orlando?” Lynx asked.

Orlando shrugged. “Not as interesting as this situation, no.”

Lynx was too exhausted to think of a kind reason to ask him to leave. Even snapping at him earlier in the day had felt harsh and out of place.

“Do gods of death need food?” Ryock asked.

“No. Why would gods need food?” Orlando laughed arrogantly.

“So, we can have our dinner in peace, then?”

 Orlando’s laugh cut short, and he glared at Ryock. “Oh, we think we’re clever?”

“Orlando. Please. Not now,” Lynx begged.

Orlando sighed. “Fine, fine. Since you asked so nicely.” He stood and glanced between the two. “Behave yourselves, children.” Without another word, he vanished.

Lynx cupped her face in her hands.

“Has he always been like this?” Ryock stood and blew out the candles Isla had lit for him.

Lynx nodded into her palms. Her answer was muffled by her wrists, “For ten years, at least.”

“Hmm.”

“Let us head to the inn?” Lynx lifted her chin and smiled. Ryock had managed to push Orlando away for the time being, and she had at least two hours to recuperate from her efforts of the prior two weeks. The evening was looking up.

“How do you keep doing that?” He asked.

“Doing what?”

“Smiling. Despite all of this?”

Lynx’s smile widened, and she blushed. “I’ve made a new friend, and you’ve renewed my hope to help Saara. I am truly grateful.”

Ryock gently took her hand and helped her to her feet. “To the inn, then?”

She nodded. “To the inn.”

---

Thank you for reading! For early access to posted chapters, blogs, and more, check out my Patreon: www.patreon.com/whispersfromcat