Arvid #2
Calix studied her with those penetrating green eyes, and she had the unsettling sensation that he was seeing something in her expression that she hadn't intended to reveal.
"That makes sense. We'll discuss it with Dorn."
The medical facilities appeared ahead—one massive central building flanked by two smaller structures that radiated the kind of organized chaos Arvid associated with field hospitals.
They approached the front entrance of the main building and Calix held the door open for her again.
When she stepped inside, the main building's interior struck her immediately as both familiar and alien.
The basic layout resembled every medical facility she'd worked in, but the technology hummed with subtle differences and there was an underlying warmth that spoke of the geothermal energy powering everything.
Calix guided her through corridors that bustled with purposeful activity, healers moving between rooms with focused efficiency that spoke of people pushed to their limits but refusing to break.
"Dorn." Calix's voice carried easily across the laboratory when they entered the space, drawing the attention of a broad-shouldered man whose gray-touched hair and permanently tired eyes marked him as someone who'd been fighting this battle far too long.
Healer Dorn approached with steady hands despite the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, and when Calix introduced her, Arvid caught the flicker of desperate hope that crossed the older man's expression.
"Arvid is here to assist with the Ash Fever investigation," Calix explained, his tone carrying the weight of royal expectation. "She has extensive experience and unique expertise."
Dorn's handshake was firm but carried the kind of relief that made Arvid's chest tighten with the pressure of expectations.
"We've been working around the clock for four months," he said, and the weariness in his voice spoke of sleepless nights and mounting casualties. "We've managed to slow the progression of the disease in patients, but we haven't identified the source or developed an effective cure."
"I need to see everything." Arvid's mind was already shifting into analytical mode. "Your notes, treatment protocols, statistical analysis, patient progression data—all of it."
"I can compile a comprehensive briefing by tomorrow morning," Dorn replied. "And I'll have a datapad prepared for your exclusive use. For now, let me show you the facilities and introduce you to the team."
Frustration spiked through her chest. Every hour they delayed meant potential deterioration in existing patients, possible new infections, and data points lost to time. But she recognized the necessity—Dorn needed time to organize months of research into something coherent and useful.
Patience. You can't solve everything on the first day.
The laboratory tour revealed a team of dedicated healers who greeted her with the kind of cautious optimism that spoke of people who'd weathered too many disappointments to fully embrace hope.
But their professionalism impressed her, and the easy camaraderie suggested she'd be able to integrate into their established workflows without major disruption.
Good. I can work with this.
The patient wing occupied the smaller of the two secondary buildings, and Dorn's assurance that Ash Fever showed no airborne transmission patterns aligned with her preliminary analysis of the symptoms Calix had described.
Not respiratory. Not contact-based. Water? Food? Environmental exposure?
The room they soon entered held the kind of sterile quiet that hospitals maintained around the seriously ill, but the young girl in the bed turned toward them with a smile that hit Arvid like a blow.
The girl couldn't be older than twelve, her small frame made smaller by illness, but her blue eyes held the kind of fierce spirit that reminded Arvid why she'd chosen to help others in the first place.
"Essin, I'd like you to meet Arvid," Dorn said gently. "She's the human scientist from Earth who's here to help us."
The girl's wave was weak but genuine, and when Arvid approached the bed, Essin's smile widened despite her obvious exhaustion.
"I'm going to do everything I can to help you and everyone here in Ashvorn," Arvid promised, meaning every word.
"I really hope so." Essin's voice carried the weight of dreams deferred. "I've already missed my First Rising because I can't shift into my dragon form. Ash Fever won't let me, and I'm really sad about that."
The statement hit harder than any medical briefing could have. This wasn't just about statistics and transmission vectors—it was about a child who couldn't become who she was meant to be because some pathogen was stealing her future.
"As soon as we find a cure and you get better, we'll make sure you can complete your First Rising," Arvid said, reaching out to squeeze Essin's small hand.
"We should let Essin rest now," Calix said quietly, and Arvid caught the rough edge in his voice that suggested the king was as affected by the child's situation as she was.
"I'll visit you again soon," Arvid promised, and Essin nodded before closing her eyes with the exhaustion of someone whose body was fighting a battle it didn't know how to win.
As they left the room, Arvid felt the weight of responsibility settle across her shoulders like familiar armor. This wasn't just another contract job or research project—these people were counting on her to save their children, their future.
I won't let them down.
The realization struck her with unexpected force. Somewhere between stepping through Gerri's impossible portal and squeezing hands with a dying child, Arvid started becoming emotionally invested in this place.
The thought should have terrified her. Instead, it felt right.