Despite the pain from the bullet lodged in his shoulder and the ache of the illness eating away at his body, Law forces himself up the mountain. He has nowhere else to go. The villagers had chased him off in fear, mistaking the white patches on his skin for a curse, a plague—something dangerous. While lethal, white lead disease isn't contagious. Law is a doctor, so he knows he doesn't have long left, and he's okay with that.

When his legs finally give out, he slumps against a tree. The pain dulls ever so slightly, and for a moment, he almost feels at peace. Maybe this is what mercy looks like.

All his life, he prayed to Nika, the Sun God, begged for healing, for a miracle. But Nika never listened. Not when his parents died in a fire. Not when his little sister succumbed to the disease. Not when his own first symptoms appeared.

A soft rustle breaks the silence.

“Leave me alo—” His breath hitches as he opens his eyes. There’s something in front of him: a figure, radiating a blinding light that strains his vision. It is hard to make out anything. Gentle hands cradle his face. They are soft and warm. The pain vanishes completely.

Law must be hallucinating before death, because this is exactly how he used to imagine Nika would be. Just—why now?