The Orbs from the Dark Side

⚜ The Cear

⚜ The Cear

NADYA

One amidst the others. A face among strangers. Another soul in sight, one more person to behold the show that would change their lives.

The full moon shone on her, casting shadows underneath her feet. She was a lass in her early twenties, who was dressed in a fitted tunic and two layered skirts of different length. Loops of gold were placed in her ears and a beaded necklace around her neck. A scarf colored in different hues of crimson was tied around her head, holding most of her dark flowing hair back in place.

Her feet lightly touched the ground, as her voice quietly echoed across the stillness of the night. She picked up the rhythm. Together with every movement of her hands, white strings of light wove into the darkness of the night. As her bare feet toiled on the rough ground, her spectators watched her in awe.

And in the final moment of this resplendent show, little spheres of light escaped her hands. When the tiny orbs found their way to where they belonged, a life went on.

It was done.

The orbs miraculously closed up the cut on the woman's arm, healing the infected wound anew. The old woman gushed in amazement, holding her hands and profusely thanking her. She immediately closed the portal of light that she had created, taken aback when she felt the immense flow of energy jolting in her veins.

"It's alright," she hastily replied, cautiously taking a few steps back.

"You have saved me!" the old lady went on with her praises. Even if she had already closed the light portal, she cautiously avoided any physical contact with her clients. It was a mistake. This conversation shouldn't have carried on.

She let her gaze drop to the ground, not wanting to remember any details of the woman's face. It was more convenient to pretend that this had never happened. If she couldn't remember, she believed that she would eventually forget.

She never did.

"No healer has ever found a cure for my wound. They said I was cursed by a dark spirit. But you—with your magical orbs, you have cured me. I have no words to express my gratitude," the old lady went on.

"I only did what you've asked of me," she answered.

"But you have saved me!" she earnestly told her.

"For now," Nadya whispered, before turning around.

"Twenty-five gold coins," Marko, the collector of their troupe, said. He moved the small wooden box closer to the old lady and her son who had accompanied her. The old lady opened her small purse, hesitating. Marko was getting pissed. They'd already agreed about this. "Come on, pay up."

"Should it really be twenty-five?" the old lady asked.

"As we've agreed," Marko answered, impatiently. "And if the rumors spread around, you know what will happen."

Nadya put on her sandals and left. What would happen? It was an empty threat. She was trying out her luck with every healing. The worst thing that could happen because of this was always on her end.

Even from afar, she heard the coins as they'd been dropped one by one inside the box. It was the price they had to pay. Nadya knew that she had taken more than their coins—something far more valuable. She could feel a string of that woman's lifeline now flowing in her veins.

She let out a sigh, closing her eyes. As much as she could help it, she never wanted to look at her clients. She glanced at them when she performed, but she didn't see them. But this was different. She saw her face. She remembered what she looked like. The old woman had pulsating blue eyes, still as the sea on a fine day.