Chapter 517: The Slumber

Vividly colored pieces of papers spiraled in the air, a merry dance that took them over the high rooftops of the academy, swirling around the exterior walls of the so-called “tower”, and reaching as far as the crowning observation deck. In a spectacle of what seemed to be magic, they reformed into the figure of a woman named Lucretia, perched on the edge of the deck.

The expansive observation deck was disconcertingly quiet, a ghost town devoid of its typical scholarly inhabitants.

Lucretia, her eyebrows knitted together in a show of concentration, studied the situation atop the tower.

Numerous intricate instruments, specifically engineered to record various aspects of celestial data, hummed quietly, continuing their function in the absence of human hands. A prominent lens assembly, supported by a web of sophisticated mechanical arms, pointed its watchful eye towards the heavens. Three groups of lenses, each with a complex filtering structure, had been temporarily detached. Their removal seemed to be the result of manual tampering.

The platform was eerily empty — perhaps the original staff had evacuated when the sun mysteriously dimmed. Yet, the ongoing operation of the lens device suggested that someone had been present during the sun’s disappearance, using the observatory’s equipment to scrutinize the sun.

“Staring at the sun under such conditions... hardly the wisest course of action...” Lucretia muttered to herself, the words barely a whisper.

Her eyes scanned the platform for the figure of the renowned Master Taran El, near the complex lens device. Suddenly, her gaze was drawn to a mundane object — a simple pencil fallen onto the ground.

Her heart thudding, she quickly moved towards it and discovered the figure of the renowned Elven scholar — Taran El — lying inert amidst a maze of steam pressure pipes. His eyes were firmly shut, his body still as though gripped in a profound slumber.

Without wasting a moment, Lucretia hurried to assess the scholar’s condition. His breathing was steady, suggesting that he was not in immediate danger, but for some reason, he was unconscious. She gestured into the air, summoning a multitude of toy soldiers from the shadows beneath her. In response, they quickly formed an orderly line and scurried towards the motionless scholar.

The toy soldiers swarmed around Taran El in an instant, meticulously inspecting his body as if they were medics on a battlefield, their tiny voices ringing out with rapid-fire reports. As they worked, Lucretia’s face shifted from worry to confusion.

There were no visible wounds, no signs of physical assault, and no evidence of poison or magic curses.

The woman known as the “Sea Witch” bent down and gently lifted the scholar’s eyelids. She then extended her hand and lightly slapped his face, trying to rouse Taran El, but her efforts were in vain.

“It seems as if he’s fallen into some unexplained deep sleep... what could have caused this?” Lucretia wondered aloud, her voice laced with perplexity.

As she pondered the mystery, she saw two toy soldiers prying open the hand Taran El had clutched close to his chest. In his grip was a piece of draft paper, nearly torn apart by the strength of his hold.

“And what could this be...”

Intrigued, Lucretia reached for the piece of paper. As she unfolded it with a casual grace, she found it covered in a rough sketch of a circular object. Inside the circle were numerous intricate, frenzied lines that seemed to weave their own chaotic narrative. She attempted to decode the markings for a time but found no discernible pattern within the sprawling branches or tightly packed lines, whichever they were meant to be.

It was clear that the artist behind these intricate markings had been in a state of haste, possibly even panic. The hesitant smudges scattered throughout the sketch suggested that the creator was either unsure of what they had observed or struggled to accurately replicate the truth they had “witnessed”.

...

Meanwhile, at a medical facility managed by the administrative office in the city-state of Pland,

Heidi stood in the corridor, her gaze drifting through the glass window to the patient lying quietly inside the room. She turned to address the office worker who had escorted her there, “What is the patient’s current condition?”

“In a deep coma, showing no signs of physical injury or poisoning,” the worker in a dark blue uniform responded promptly. “The patient doesn’t have any known underlying conditions, and there hasn’t been exposure to any magic potions or heretical substances known to cause such comas.”

“Quite the comprehensive investigation, I see,” Heidi commented, almost instinctively. She then shook her head, adding, “But, I must remind you, I’m a psychiatrist, not an internist. I specialize in treating mental and psychological issues, not comas. A patient in a deep sleep isn’t exactly suitable for psychotherapy. Perhaps you should be seeking the assistance of a medical doctor?”

“We’ve exhausted that option, Miss Heidi. The doctors concluded that the patient’s coma doesn’t stem from a physical ailment,” the worker countered, shaking his head. “After extensive examinations, we’ve begun to suspect...”

“I see,” Heidi cut him off before he could finish, nodding slightly. “You suspect it may be due to mental contamination or a psychological abnormality. However, you just mentioned that the patient hasn’t been exposed to any known sources of such contamination.”

“That was merely the initial conclusion from our investigation. Mental contamination can occur in various ways, it doesn’t necessarily require active exposure. The patient could have inadvertently ‘understood’ some information or perhaps...”

The worker halted at this point, gesturing upwards with a grave expression on his face.

“Or perhaps it’s related to the recent solar extinguishing event. At the moment, there’s no evidence that the twelve-hour period of solar extinguishment has any effects on ordinary individuals. However, the ‘evidence’ could very well be standing right before us.”

“I see. This falls within my area of expertise,” Heidi breathed in gently, picked up her medical kit, and made her way towards the ward door. Just as she was about to open the door, she turned back and advised, “During the treatment, I’d prefer if no one approaches this ward. If there are any supernatural occurrences in this vicinity, please alert the local priests and guardians immediately.”

“Understood, Miss Heidi.”

Heidi nodded in response, then opened the door and stepped into the ward.

The distinct scent of disinfectant intermingled with holy oil and incense tickled her nostrils. In the spacious ward, brightly illuminated by overhead lights, there was just a single bed with a solitary patient.

Silently invoking the name of Lahem, the god of wisdom, Heidi also checked the colored bead charm on her wrist before cautiously approaching the bed.

A girl lay there, her eyes sealed tightly shut as if trapped in a tumultuous dream, motionless as if... the connection between her body and soul had been completely severed.

Before opening her medical kit, Heidi took a moment to study the patient’s face.

“An elf?” she queried.