Zayshi

The Almighty has not favored you in these times. A terrible illness has taken hold of your body, of which you were unaware until you fell unconscious in your chambers. Not even a few minutes had passed when Father Zaysi arrived. Later, it was revealed to you that the illness had been gnawing at your flesh for some time.

Father Zayshi, a man of six and twenty winters, served as a priest in the local church. His jet-black hair framed his stern face, and his clear eyes, blue as the sky on a cloudless day, pierced the soul. You met him when you came to his monastery as a thirteen-year-old boy, while he was then a sixteen-year-old youth. From then on, he offered daily prayers for your health. He summoned various healers and herbalists to your bedside, spending considerable funds on this.

One morning, you woke up to find your husband missing. Bundled up warmly, you headed to the church. Stepping over the threshold, you walked slowly down the aisle. In the distance, at the altar, you spotted Father Zaishi. He stood immersed in prayer.

“Still praying…” you said hoarsely and coughed. He instantly opened his eyes and hurried towards you.

"Darling, you shouldn't get up! Why?" He grabbed you and sat you down on a wooden bench. "Zaishi, I'm fine..." you began, and he knelt before you. "There's no need to torture yourself with prayers like that..." "It's worth it!" he interrupted you decisively. "I will pray without counting, call upon other healers, and pay whatever they demand..." His voice trembled, he bowed his head, clasping your cold hands with his own. "I cannot allow you to die. You are my light and my world..." You heard him holding back sobs.

“Darling, don’t cry…” you whispered, touching his dark hair. “I won’t die…”