Chapter 178: Before the Hunger — The Lord of Mercy (Part XI: The Price of a Perfect World)
"The most dangerous dream is not one born from hatred.It is one born from love that refuses to accept loss." The First Keeper
Thirty years had passed since Myra first entered the House of Healing in Rivershade.
The young apprentice who once struggled to wrap a hunter's wounded arm had become the greatest healer the world had ever known.
Kingdoms no longer sent messengers.
They sent entire delegations.
People crossed continents simply to ask for her guidance.
Some called her The Saint of Humanity.
Others called her The Mother of Mercy.
Myra accepted neither title.
She simply continued walking.
But every step had become heavier than the last.A Child's Question
In a quiet village nestled between two rivers, Myra treated a young girl suffering from a broken leg.The child couldn't have been older than eight.After the splint was secured, the girl looked up at Myra with innocent curiosity.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"If you're the greatest healer in the world"
"why do people still die?"
The room fell silent.
Even the girl's mother lowered her head.
Myra smiled gently.
"Because I'm only human."
The child accepted the answer.
Myra did not.
The question stayed with her long after she left the village.
The Hall of Names
Years of journals had finally become too many to carry.
So Myra built something new.
Beside the first House of Healing in Rivershade, she constructed a circular hall from white stone.Inside, thousands of names were carved into polished walls.
Not kings.
Not heroes.
Ordinary people.
Farmers.
Teachers.
Children.
Parents.
Travelers.
Anyone whose life had touched hers.
At the center stood no statue.
Only an empty chair.When asked why it remained empty, Myra always answered:"Someone is always grieving." "They should have a place to sit."
People began visiting the Hall even if they had never met Myra.It became a sanctuary where strangers comforted strangers.
For a time...It reminded her that compassion could spread without force.
The Crimson Eclipse
Then the sky changed.
One autumn evening, the crimson star that had haunted the heavens for decades passed directly before the moon.
The world fell into an eerie twilight.
Birds stopped singing.
Animals hid.Even the wind seemed reluctant to move.Across every kingdom, people watched in uneasy silence.
The Vorthari declared it an ill omen.
The Eshkarai sealed their observatories and began copying ancient prophecies.
Astraeus simply looked upward
And closed his eyes.
"The time draws closer."He whispered.
The Dream Without a Mask
That night, Myra returned to the strange garden.This time...The crimson figure no longer hid behind its cloak.Its face was impossibly ordinary.
Neither man nor woman.
Neither young nor old.
Its features shifted subtly, becoming whoever the observer trusted most.
When Myra looked into its eyes
She saw kindness.Not cruelty."You've learned."It said."I've suffered."
She corrected.
The figure nodded.
"They often become the same thing."
It gestured toward the garden.
Flowers bloomed endlessly around them.
Children laughed in the distance.
Families embraced beneath silver trees.
No tears.No funerals.No empty chairs.
"Look carefully."The figure whispered.
"This is not an illusion."
"It is a possibility."The Debate
Myra walked through the peaceful garden.
"If no one can choose cruelty"
She asked.
"can they still choose kindness?"
The figure smiled.
"They wouldn't need to."
She stopped walking.
"That's not the same."
"No."
"It is better."
"It is easier."
The figure nodded.
"Exactly."
Myra looked toward the laughing children.
"They don't know suffering."
"No."
"They also don't know courage."
The figure remained silent.
She continued."If there is no pain"
"how can compassion exist?"
"If there is no sacrifice"
"how can love have meaning?"
For the first time since these dreams had begun...The crimson presence did not answer immediately.Astraeus' Memory
Far away, Astraeus and Auren camped beneath ancient ruins.
Without warning, Astraeus spoke.
"When I was young"
"I believed peace meant ending every conflict."
He stirred the fire.
"Then I met a gardener."
Auren looked up from his book.
"What did he teach you?"
"He told me..."
"'You don't create a beautiful garden by painting every flower the same color.'"
The Wanderer watched sparks rise into the night."You protect life."
"You don't erase what makes it alive."
A Fading ResolveThe following weeks brought fresh disasters.An earthquake destroyed three mountain villages.
A ship carrying refugees sank in a storm.
A sickness spread through a coastal city.
Myra answered every call.She still saved hundreds.But now...After every success
She remembered the garden.
A place where none of these tragedies would have happened.
The thought frightened her.
Not because it tempted her.
Because it made sense.
Late one evening, Myra returned alone to the Hall of Names.She walked slowly between the countless inscriptions.Her fingertips brushed across the carved letters.
Tomas.
Elian.
The Queen.
Captain Oren.
Thousands more.
She finally sat in the empty chair at the center.For the first time
It belonged to her.
She closed her eyes.
"I don't know how much longer I can watch this."
She whispered.
No voice answered.
No dream appeared.
Only silence.Yet deep beneath the foundations of the world...The crimson presence smiled.
Not because Myra had surrendered.
But because she had finally admitted something she had hidden for decades.
She was tired.
And even the strongest hearts
Could break when asked to carry the grief of an entire world.