Sarah's chest heaved as she was dragged onto solid ground, her body convulsing with coughs that wracked through her lungs. Water gushed from her mouth and nostrils, burning her throat raw. Her trembling hands clawed at the ground, desperate for something stable as her vision blurred.
Air..... She sucked it in greedily, each breath sharp and painful, as though her body had forgotten how to breathe.
But when her eyes finally focused—she screamed.
Dozens of figures loomed over her, their faces shadowed by the flickering firelight. At first glance, they looked human, but the sight that made her heart stop cold were the thin, twitching antennae sprouting from their foreheads. Some short and stubby, some long and delicate, moving restlessly as though alive on their own.
"No… no, no, no—this isn't real!" She had just seen a goddess towering like a building, and now this? Her mind spun, her body refusing to keep up with what her eyes were showing her.
One of the men stepped forward, draping a damp piece of animal hide around her shoulders. His voice was deep but surprisingly gentle. Are you all right? Try to breathe slowly."
Sarah shivered uncontrollably, her wet hair sticking to her cheeks, water dripping from every strand. Her lips trembled too hard to form a reply.
Behind the man, whispers broke out among the others.
"Is she mad? Did falling in the water break her mind? She's already so small and weak—what sort of fool jumps into the river herself? "Are the rumors true? that she's cursed…"
Their antennae quivered as they whispered, some glancing at her with pity, others with thinly veiled disdain. Sarah hugged the hide tighter to herself, but it couldn't stop the cold seeping into her bones—or the sting of their words.
The crowd stirred suddenly when a sharp voice cut through the murmurs. "Make way! The Divine Doctor Khusoo is here!"
Instantly, the people parted, lowering their heads with respect.
Sarah forced her eyes open, her lashes heavy with water, and saw him. A frail old man shuffled forward, leaning heavily on a crooked wooden cane. His back was bent with age, yet there was something commanding about the way he carried himself. He wore animal hides stitched crudely together, and over his shoulder hung a small cloth satchel that rattled faintly with the sound of dried herbs.
Khusoo knelt beside her, his movements slow but precise. His withered fingers reached for her wrist. He pressed lightly against her skin, and check for her pulse.
After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and grave. "Her pulse is weak. She won't last long at this state. We must take her to the caves immediately—I need to prepare the herbs to stabilize her.
Shakha, the man who had first covered her with the hide, bent down and scooped Sarah into his arms with surprising gentleness.
Her body felt impossibly heavy. The world around her blurred, her lashes fluttered, and before she could stop it, the darkness claimed her again.
When Sarah opened her eyes, she was lying on a rough bedding of woven grass inside a cave. The air was damp, but it carried a herbal fragrance. She inhaled slowly, her senses prickling. It reminded her of ginger—strong, spicy, grounding.
Blinking against the dim sunlight coming from slight cracks in cave, she turned her head weakly. A little distance away, Shakha stood with the Divine Doctor Khusoo, their voices low and hushed. She couldn't make out what they were saying, only the solemn expressions that flickered across their faces.
Khusoo was the first to notice her stirring. His tired eyes brightened."Oh—you are awake. Good, good." He shuffled closer, pulling a small clay bowl from his satchel. "Now, child, try to sit up and drink this concoction. It will warm your body and steady your pulse."
Sarah pushed her palms against the bedding, trying to lift herself. But her arms wobbled uselessly beneath her, her strength failing instantly. Her chest tightened with frustration.
Seeing her struggle, Shakha hurried over and knelt at her side. His large hands slid behind her back, lifting her carefully. His voice was low, reassuring. "There, there, little girl. Don't force yourself. I'll help you."
Sarah froze. Her tired eyes flickered toward him.
"L–little girl? Who are you calling that?"
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of her own hand.
She lifted it slowly, trembling, into the dim light.
Her breath caught. Her fingers—her hand—were tiny. Small, delicate, fragile, like that of a child.
"No…" Sarah whispered, her pulse racing. Panic clawed up her throat. "No, no, no—why are my hands… so small?!"
Khusoo and Shakha exchanged a grave look.
The old doctor's lips pressed into a thin line. "..... this isn't good."
Shakha's antennae twitched uneasily. "Could her condition… be worse than we thought?"
Sarah, heart pounding wildly in her chest, stared at her trembling hands, She wasn't just in another world. Not in just another body but also that of the child's.