Mornings in The Shade were quieter than its nights. Koro sat on his bed, an aged book spread across his legs. His practiced fingers glided over the raised dots covering the pages, the familiar pattern steadying him.

  A faint smile touched his face as he traced the same lines he always returned to. When he reached the end of the page, he read the final passage aloud, a favorite among many.

  “'The first beasts molded the world, and though these colossal titans have long since vanished, we still live in their shadows.'”

  He paused for a moment, imagining the spectacular size of the first beasts.

  A knock at the door came, loud and harsh, tarnishing his peace.

  He shook his head, hid the book under his mattress, and felt his way toward the door.

  “Who is it?” he asked.

  “Good morning. It’s Dandric,” a grating voice said from beyond the door.

  A scoff forced its way out of Koro. “And what is it you need from me this early in the morning?”

  “You told me to bring the ‘cure-all’, did you not?” Dandric replied through the door, his voice unbothered.

  “Try coming by another day, but I would rather you don’t,” Koro said. “I’m not interested.”

  “Look, Devil. Give me ten minutes of your time, and I’ll pay you a silver coin. If you aren’t interested, I’ll leave and never come back.”

  Koro’s jaw dropped.

  He’d never had more than twenty coppers at a time. With a silver coin, he could eat food with flavor for the first time in years.

  With clenched teeth, he opened the door. The steady wind of The Shade was the first to enter, meeting his face with cold breaths.

  “Ten minutes,” Koro sighed.

  Dandric strolled by him, but he sensed someone behind him.

  “This is Harald,” Dandric said. “Sorry for the surprise, but he will be the proof you’re asking for.”

  “Yes. Hello,” a squeaky voice stuttered. “Thank you for having me.”

  “And how is this well-spoken man supposed to convince me of your cure?” Koro asked, taking a seat on his bed.

  “Harald is Cursed by the Dead One,” Dandric said, leading the nervous man toward Koro. “His body is plagued by sores and rashes. He will take the cure, and you will feel his skin clear with your own hands.”

  The bed squished near him as Harald sat. Koro’s mouth grew dry and his palms began to sweat. No one had ever been in his place, or on his bed.

  “Harald,” Dandric directed. “Eat this. It might be difficult to keep down, but finish it all if you wish to rid your affliction. Devil, feel his arms and face. Examine his blemishes for yourself.”

  Koro lifted his hand and found the coarse skin of Harald’s arm. He felt every sore and bump, careful not to hurt him. It reminded him of reading his older books, the pages wrinkled from age.

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  Harald chewed, gagging twice before finishing what had been given to him.

  “What was it he had you eat, Harald?” Koro asked, releasing his arm.

  “It tasted—”

  “I blindfolded Harald when he came in,” Dandric interrupted. “Don’t go talking about what it’s like, only that it works or doesn’t. What good is a secret if people know it?”

  “Fair enough.” Koro shrugged. “If it cures afflictions, they wouldn’t care if it was horse shit.”

  Dandric chuckled as the room filled with a ringing silence, broken up by an occasional cough. Every few seconds, Koro felt Harald’s arm and face, searching for changes in the patterns.

  “It’s been ten minutes,” Koro said.

  “Ten, twenty minutes to start taking effect. I figured if I said more than ten, you wouldn’t have let me in,” Dandric replied. Koro could hear the smirk across Dandric’s face.

  “If I don’t notice any changes in—” Koro’s brow furrowed. He tilted his head in thought, running his fingers over Harald’s shoulder.

  “You had three sores here, but now there’s only two,” Koro said aloud, unsure if he had made a mistake.

  “Soon there will be none,” Dandric muttered.

  “Now that you mention it,” Harald added, “my throat is feeling better than usual.”

  “And here. A scab from your left cheek is gone. Just smooth skin now.” Koro continued to examine.

  Each minute that vanished took a sore along with it. Harald’s skin grew smoother beneath Koro’s hands, the blemishes fading one by one.

  “I reckon it’s been about thirty minutes since you took it,” Dandric said. “How do you feel?”

  “I feel good, better even!” Harald said, his nervous stutter lost to excitement. “The cough that has persisted in my throat since I was born is gone. I can rub my arms and legs without opening fissures.”

  He stood, stretched his back, and swiveled his head back and forth. Koro sat stunned on the bed, his mind swimming through the revelations and chaos a cure would bring.

  “Are you satisfied?” Dandric asked.

  “I don’t understand,” Koro replied. “I have so many questions. What are the side effects of taking it?”

  “Harald,” Dandric said. “I think that is all that we need from you, if you would see yourself out.”

  Harald nodded his head, almost running toward the door.

  “Oh, and Harald…” Dandric paused. “Remember our deal. I trust you’ll keep this to yourself.”

  “Of course, goodsir!” Harald said, finding his stutter in his final words.

  The door slammed shut.

  “No side effects as of now, but the founder and I were the only two who took it before today,” he started. “It’s been two weeks for us and all I’ve noticed is a craving for more of the cure, but I think it’s a fondness of the taste.”

  “And what is the cure? What is it you had Harald eat?”

  “That is irrelevant.”

  “It is not. I’m a cautious man,” Koro said. “I won’t take anything without knowing what it could do to me. You said it yourself. If this works on me, there won’t be any room for debates or discussion.”

  Dandric didn’t interrupt.

  “‘The Devil cured,’” Koro continued, the picture forming in his head. “People would swallow that much easier than a sick, faceless sheep amongst the herd.”

  “And without you,” Dandric added. “The Court of All may get wind of our cure and steal it for themselves. It all depends on how quick the sheep are to believe us.”

  He leaned in, his breath blanketing Koro’s face. Koro tried his best to not wince at the scent of rot, but his sense of smell was too strong.

  “Understand,” Dandric said, his voice low. “If I tell you and word gets out, you would be the only suspect. You can imagine what would happen to you if this fate unfolds, no?”

  Koro had heard many threats throughout his life. He could sense when someone meant what they said, and Dandric was genuine.

  “Yes, I understand.”

  Dandric shifted even closer, his whisper sounding like a shout.

  “It’s human. Fresh human meat is the cure.”

  Koro sat, waiting for Dandric to laugh.

  “Surely, you jest?” he asked. A chuckle came as he said it, trying to convince himself it was a joke.

  “I don’t,” Dandric said.

  “I think I’d rather it have been horse shit.”