A Curse of Fire and Ash

Ethan asked the town lord Martin

"Martin, I am about to heal her and it might seem violent but don't enter the room no matter what! You can watch from outside, that's the most I can agree to!"

Martin didn't even think about it and agreed. 

"Please prophet! help my Elara"

Ethan nodded and went into the room, he was hit by a foul smell, but he didn't hesitate and went to her and examined her more closely, she was a beautiful women in her 20s, but now she had sunken cheeks like a malnourished child, a deep craze in her otherwise bright blue eyes. Ethan put his palm on her forehead and felt her burning skin, the fever had no signs of coming down at all. He knew what he had to do, he whispered under his breath just loud enough for Martin to hear near the door

"Damn Atronach Temple, the curse is too deep"

Ethan then took out a glass vial of transparent liquid from his coat pocket and started praying to Mandal in loud noises, Martin could only hear some of the words like 

"O great Mandal, whose mercy knows no bounds, whose light casts away the shadows of falsehood—grant me your divine will."

"Save this child from eternal fire with your abundant blessings!"

Ethan then opened the vial and fed it to Elara, even though she was resisting and screaming at this point, as soon as the liquid flowed into her mouth she subsided a little but Ethan still continued praying loudly while pressing down on her forehead

"From the depths of suffering, I call upon your name. Let this soul be cleansed, let this curse be purged!"

Elara resisted one last time with a scream before collapsing and passing out. Ethan was also panting at this point with sweat trickling down his forehead, he came to the door and addressed Martin

"Sir Martin, The issue has been resolved for now, for the follow up it's advised that you bring her to the temple every week for a few months before the curse is removed fully, only the holy water in our temple with your pious prayer can save her in the long term"

Martin was ecstatic, he held Ethan's hand and said

"Prophet! Thank you so much, if she really is cured as you said I will definitely follow up with what you said!"

Then Martin turned a little serious and asked

"But Prophet! What do you mean curse? Wasn't this a disease? I'm confused now"

Ethan replied solemnly

"Let's move elsewhere, Elara should rest at this time"

Martin nodded and moved to his personal study, he sat at the main seat and asked Ethan to sit on the guest seat, he didn't even offer any drink to his guest which indicated how desperate and worried he was about this matter, before Martin even asked again Ethan started

"Lord Martin, I had my suspicions when I first heard the symptoms," Ethan said, his voice calm but laced with certainty. "But after seeing her—the madness in her eyes, the relentless fever clinging to her like a death shroud—there is no doubt."

Martin's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. "No doubt about what, Prophet?"

Ethan met his gaze, unwavering. "This is the curse of the Atronach Temple."

He let the words settle, watching as a flicker of dread crossed Martin's face.

"You already know the Atronach Temple worships the Fire God, purging so-called heretics in flames to 'cleanse' their souls," Ethan continued. "But what many fail to realize is that when their influence is threatened—when an obstacle stands in their way—healthy men and women suddenly fall ill with searing fevers. Their flesh wastes away, and within months, they are reduced to nothing but ash."

Martin swallowed hard, horror dawning in his eyes.

"It is said their worship does not truly belong to the Fire God, but to something far darker—something that should never be named." Ethan's voice dropped to a near whisper, sending a chill down Martin's spine. "And only under the protection of a greater power can such a curse be broken."

He glanced at Elara, her frail body trembling under the weight of the unseen torment.

"Your daughter is fortunate," Ethan said, his voice steady. "Had she not been under the grace of Mandal's temple, she would have perished long ago."

Ethan watched as Martin trembled with rage, his fists clenched so tightly that his nails nearly drew blood. He had expected this reaction—after all, there was nothing more dangerous than a desperate man seeking vengeance.

"Those damn heathens!" Martin spat, his voice shaking with fury. "I never imagined they would go this far! Aren't temples supposed to be merciful? To heal, to guide—not to curse innocent people!"

Ethan furrowed his brows, feigning confusion. "What do you mean, Lord Martin?"

Martin let out a bitter chuckle, his expression darkening. "Prophet Ethan, there's no point in hiding it now. Three months ago, envoys from the Flame Atronach Temple came to my estate. They requested permission to establish a branch of their temple here in town. I refused, of course—Ravenspire already had its faith, and I saw no reason to let another one take root."

He took a deep, ragged breath before continuing, his voice a mixture of rage and realization. "But now… now everything makes sense. It was only after they left that my daughter fell ill. Only after my refusal did her condition worsened!" His eyes burned with a new intensity. "Those bastards did this to her! They wanted to punish me—to make an example of my family!"

Ethan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, his expression solemn. "Lord Martin, this was no mere punishment," he murmured. "This was a warning."

Martin's breath hitched as the weight of Ethan's words sank in.

"And if they dared to do this to your daughter," Ethan continued, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "tell me—what do you think they'll do next?"