Thud-thud! Thud-thud!
As the villagers waited anxiously, the distant sound of a galloping horse finally reached their ears. Hope lit up their faces. An old man was the first to speak.
"Quick! Go inside and inform Mark—the priest is here!"
A younger man beside him gave a sharp nod and rushed toward the house, while the rest of the villagers moved forward to welcome the approaching priest.
Moments later, the horse came into view, slowing as it reached the edge of the village.
Dismounting was a man dressed in flowing white priestly robes.
He held a thick tome in one hand and a shoulder bag in the other.
His posture was composed, but his eyes carried a hint of arrogance—subtle, yet not invisible to the more perceptive villagers.
"I came upon hearing someone was bitten by a venomous snake," he said, his tone trying to sound gracious but laced with pride.
"The God of Light guided me here to purge the venom and restore prosperity. Be sure to offer your gratitude to the church."
The villagers bowed slightly and brought their hands together, replying in practiced unison:
"To the God of Light, bringer of joy and guardian of life—we offer our sincere gratitude."
The priest nodded, satisfied. Even though the villagers could tell his words hinted at a future demand for donation, no one protested.
In this world, nothing was truly free—least of all divine healing.
The church held a monopoly on such blessings, especially in places like this, where magical healers were deliberately kept away to maintain control.
"I see your faith is strong," the priest said smoothly. "Let's tend to the patient first—I have others waiting."
"Please, this way," an elder gestured politely, leading him toward the house.
The man who had fetched the priest remained outside, waiting to escort him back to town as soon as he was done.
Meanwhile, the priest followed the elder into the modest home, inwardly scoffing at the place's simplicity.
The smell of livestock and the humble structure offended his refined nose.
The faster he finished, the better.
Stepping into the room, he found five people already inside—but ignored all of them.
His eyes locked immediately onto Meg, the woman writhing softly on the hay mattress, her breathing still faint but visible.
"You there," the priest said, glancing at Mark, who was kneeling beside her. "Step back. I will now invoke the Divine Art of the God of Light."
Mark met the priest's gaze, nodding silently as he moved aside.
He had seen men like this in his previous life—overconfident, full of pride, hiding behind titles and authority.
College. Office. And now, even in this world.
Same shit, different skin.
Still, he kept quiet and watched.
The priest stepped forward, lifted his book reverently with both hands as he opened it, and began to chant:
"O Solmarael, Radiant Flame,
Bearer of the Morning's First Light,
Cleanse this flesh of shadow's stain,
And mend the vessel of Your child.
By Your sacred breath, drive out the venom.
By Your golden touch, restore the flesh.
Let no corruption hide from Your gaze.
Let no wound endure in Your warmth.
In Your name, let poison be purged.
In Your light, let life rise anew."
As his voice rose in crescendo, a pure white glow began to gather around the book. Gradually, it intensified until it shone like a holy beacon.
The light flowed from the book and enveloped Meg's body.
Mark watched with a mix of awe and skepticism as a faint, dark mist rose from Meg's form—then dissipated into the air.
Her squirming eased.
Her breathing slowed.
Bit by bit, she calmed, until finally, she seemed to fall into a peaceful sleep.
The priest exhaled slowly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His expression revealed fatigue, but also pride in a job well done.
"She'll be fine now," he said flatly. "Just exhausted from the ordeal. Nothing to worry about."
Then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, "Be sure to visit the Church of Light and give proper thanks."
Mark, Selina, and the others clasped their hands together once more.
"We are grateful to the God of Light. We offer our prayers to the divine."
The priest gave a tight smile, turned, and exited without another word.
In moments, he was back on horseback, already eager to leave the stink of this backwater behind.
As he rode off, he reminded them to visit the church—his final words trailing behind with the dust as the horse kicked up.
The villagers watched him go with mixed feelings. Then, someone asked, "How is she? Is everything truly okay?"
The old man who had gone inside replied, "She's fine. Just resting now. Mark and Selina are with her—no need for the rest of us to crowd in."
At last, the collective anxiety faded.
Smiles returned. One by one, the villagers dispersed, returning to their daily chores with lighter hearts.
This event would be the talk of the village for days—but thankfully, it was a story with a happy ending.
Inside the small house, only three figures remained: Mark, Selina, and the little child named Mia.
The child had finally stopped sobbing, thanks to Selina gently calming her.
Mark turned to Selina and spoke in a soft tone, "Sister-in-law, why don't you go back and prepare breakfast for everyone? It's already morning… and also check what Bro is up to as well."
Selina paused, considering the idea, then nodded. "Alright. I'll take Mia with me—she'll cry if left alone anyway. You stay with Meg. I'll be back once the food is ready."
Mark nodded, watching as Selina gave Meg one last glance.
Seeing the woman sleeping deeply, her expression relaxed, Selina let out a breath of relief.
She then picked Mia up into her arms.
"Let's go, Mia. Mommy's sleeping right now, okay? We can't disturb her."
Selina spoke with the gentle firmness of a caring older sister.
Mia, with her twin ponytails and pale cheeks tinged red from all the crying, looked even more fragile now.
Her puffy eyes made her seem both heartbreakingly adorable and in desperate need of protection.
"Mommy… okay?" she asked in a tiny voice.
Selina smiled and nodded, hugging her close. "Yes, my little cutie pie. Mommy is fine. The priest came and prayed to the God of Light—he made her all better."
Mia's brows furrowed slightly as if recalling something. "That light… okay Mommy?"
"Yes," Selina said, brushing a strand of hair behind Mia's ear. "That light helped Mommy. Now, let's go and eat something, alright?"
At the mention of food, Mia's small stomach gave a gurgle.
She glanced at Meg again and hesitated before speaking, "Take food… for Mommy too?"
Mark, who had been silently watching the exchange, couldn't help but smile faintly at the interaction.
Despite everything that had happened, this little girl's concern for her mother warmed his heart.
He had seen this kind of bond before… in other lives, in other places.
There was a familiarity to it that tugged at something deep in him.
"Of course," Selina said with a kiss on Mia's cheek. "We'll take food for Mommy too."
After a bit more back-and-forth between Selina and the child, Mia finally agreed to go. Just before leaving, she turned to Mark and said seriously, "Uncle, take care of Mommy."
Mark gave her a reassuring smile. "I will."