The sky was still dark—only a faint indigo glow on the horizon hinted that dawn was near. The wind from the shore whispered through the trees, and the surface of the nearby pond rippled under moonlight. Most of the town still slept. Even the Whisps had grown quiet.
Then, a sudden scream pierced the silence.
The boy sat up sharply on the veranda, drenched in sweat, clutching his chest as if something were trying to crawl out of him. His voice rang through the still air, raw and panicked.
"Where… where am I? What is this place?!"
He looked around blindly, eyes wide open—but saw nothing.
"Who am I…?! Why can't I see anything?! Please—someone help me!!"
His breaths came in short, uneven gasps as he staggered to his feet, disoriented and trembling. He took a few steps forward, trying to make sense of the pitch-black void around him.
"I can't… see—!" he cried, stepping over the edge of the veranda.
He slipped.
But just as he began to fall, the white dove who had been resting nearby shot into action. With swift, desperate flaps, she caught the collar of his shirt in her beak. Her wings struggled against his weight, but she managed to guide him gently back down to the wooden floor.
He fell to his knees, dazed, muttering faintly. His lips moved as if to say thank you.
The dove cooed softly in reply.
Moments later, the others arrived—rushing from their tents and resting places nearby. Nun Lisa was the first to kneel beside him.
"Jimmy! Can you hear me?" she asked, her voice full of worry. "It's me—Sister Lisa. You're safe now. Mr. Goat Uncle is here too."
The boy turned his head slowly in her direction. "I… I can hear you. But who are you? Who… am I? Why can't I remember anything? My head… it hurts…"
Before anyone could respond, he cried out again—this time in agony. He clutched his head as if it were splitting apart.
"AAaaaAAAaaaghhh!!"
Then—he froze.
His body trembled as a strange sensation surged through him. A sudden pressure filled the air, like something heavy shifting in the invisible depths of his mind.
Then—boom.
Not a sound in the real world—but a mental rupture. Like a sealed gate thrown open within his mind.
He collapsed again.
"What just happened?" whispered one of the others. They quickly came to support him.
Nun Lisa turned to the dove urgently. "What did you see?"
The dove flapped closer and began chirping in her coded tongue. Though none but Lisa could fully understand, they caught pieces: confusion, panic, blindness… and then something else. A distant glow. From the pond. Strange, pulsing light—brief but real.
"She didn't see exactly what it was," Lisa said. "But something triggered a surge in him. This might be… his mind's garden is opening."
Goat Uncle knelt beside her, quiet for a moment. "You think it's starting?"
Lisa nodded slowly. "It's the only explanation that fits."
Everyone stared at the boy, still faintly glowing with the soft residue of healing cotton and honey. His body was still. His breath shallow. But something inside him had changed.
Then they saw it.
A faint golden shimmer—barely visible—rose from his chest like steam, curled briefly in the air, and vanished.
He opened his eyes again.
But still—blackness.
"…I still can't see," he whispered.
Lisa didn't hesitate. "Call Dr Mu," she told the nearest helper. "Now. But quietly."
The man nodded, already dialling. After a few tense moments, he turned back with a message:
"She said she understands. She said he'll pass out again in ten minutes. But it's happening. She's on her way."
Everyone went quiet.
The wind blew gently across the pond. The light on the horizon grew ever so slightly—night was retreating, and the first hints of dawn crept forward.
But none of them looked at the sky.
They only looked at the boy.
And waited.