Jana sat in the Celestial Node, the history echoing across the walls around her. She came here for solitude, and to be close to the gods. But more importantly, to escape the hospital and the air of death that hung about the fallen city.

She had worked as a nurse and an apothecary in the node that had been overtaken by the sick. It was not her first job - that had been an apprenticeship to her village matriarch. It wasn't even her only job - she also coordinated what brave men still travelled the country, and came back with alms of herbal remedies, as well as helping her husband do the grim business of hauling the dead and doomed to the Corpse Quarters of the city. But the healers and nurses had decided amongst themselves that each one should get two hours of break, to keep from going mad.

As it happened, sitting in the Celestial Node was how she relaxed. It seemed nice to be close to the spirit of that old Sun Queen, who had been cut down - the act that unleashed this curse. The mosaics seemed the shimmer from the sunlight that came down from the roof, despite parts being covered in dust and ruin. The old stories.

Perhaps her time here would help her lift the curse. Perhaps not. Perhaps it would merely keep her from going insane while she ate her lunch.

At the very least, the stench of death and the swarms of flies never made it up here. It was a good enough respite. But thank the gods about the flies.

Enough laybodying. Every second she spent here was another second that others were dying. And while she was loathe to go back down to the district where malady was rife and charity was short. Where she had to mediate what disputes there were between the healers that weathered the plague but had still had the paranoia and mistrust that went along with it. Where she could only stave off the death of others for one more day, one more week, one more month.

But every once in a while, a man made it out alive. Crazed, and blind in more than one eye, but alive. They were sometimes thankful. Sometimes they accused her of poisoning them, and occasionally they threatened and bit and spat. But they were saved, to a degree, and eventually they would see reason. Or actually, they might not.

Yet another curse. The plague either struck you down or marked you for life. The hideousness would seep in and poison the mind and eyes. Worst were those warlords that now rampaged across the countryside. Fortunately they were all too fearful and superstitious to attack Fallen Asor. Another irony! The very curse that struck them down was also what protected them. Asor was the source of the curse, and actions against her were what brought them. Nobody dared raise a hand against them now. Especially not now that they didn't really bother anyone besides begging for this herb and that.

Once the capital of the world, now a sickly beggar.

Good gods, Jana thought, and now I'm getting maudlin. Truly the world has ended.

She was whisked from her thoughts as she took an extra abruptly-stopping step on a staircase that had one fewer than she thought. Her knee hurt, and she was jarred, but she had finally arrived back at the Healing node. The cart was back, and Old Voran's head drooped. That meant her husband Obalo had returned from grave duty. He hated it, but it was a job that had to be done, and Jana made a mental note to give Obala a kiss for his help and persistence in doing what he hated for Jana's sake.

Obala went over to Old Voran, who lifted his head to acknowledge her. One of his eyes was out, and he had definitely had the disease, but rather than devolve into some inane moo cow he simply seemed the shrug and go Oh alright. What's the point of it all, anyways? Jana gave the old cow a rub under the chin for his help too, and he gave a mororse moo and went back to sleep, as if hoping that he would finally die peacefully from some falling rock or spontaneous fishing accident - after all, the disease had inexplicably failed to kill him. But, yet again, Voran would have no such luck, and Jana and Obala would have a beast of burden for another day.

Jana alked through the threshold of the Hospital Node. It hadn't always been there. It had once been... Stars, could've been anything. The murals had long since faded and no mosaics had ever been put down - it was an older one, without any dome. The blessings that were once written on its walls might've been read (Jana could read the Asoritan line-lettering, but not many else could) but it had faded out to much for her to tell if it was an dining node, a hostel, a storage place or a whorehouse. Nonetheless, this one had a tree growing as a centerpiece. Might've once grown something, but now it didn't, and it was possible that the tree was now dying.

Of course, they named it Ebbar.

Jana gave Ebbar's bark a good pat. Hang in there, big guy, we'll all make it through... At least Voran will. And proceeded into the subnodes where the mats were laid out. Healers covered in fluids and with the healer's sash scurried about, but all gave her an apologetic look whenever they passed her.

At first, it left her puzzled.

But then her heart began to thunder like a cursed giant of the mountains. One of the people she was healing was on death's door, she was sure of it. She had been on both sides of that look too many times - so many she couldn't even remember her first. Her face felt wet, and she realized she was crying as she ran through the node to search for her wards. Persata, Govo, Dzinzal, Tinto, she ran down the list. They were all fine! Well, not fine... she thought, but at least roughly the same. Who is it?!

And then she saw him. It seemed surreal at first, like a dream where something had ended up in a strange place, but seemed normal enough that you didn't question it until you noticed after you woke up. And stars, did Jana want to wake up from this nightmare. To be told that the disease was all a terrible dream, that the Sun Queen hadn't really fallen, and that she could have a bowl of apricots in cream.

And that her husband had not fallen gravely ill.

Obala laid on that mat, she stood there, and she wished that she ran to him and kissed him and promised it would all be better, and cried into his chest as his arms held her one last time. She wished she ran up to the Celestial Palace and made a deal - Obala's life for hers. But what she did was neither of those things. She ran from the hospital node, and retched. And then she retched again, and again, and again until all that was left in her gut was foul bile and misery. She was crying, and wanted to hide. She wanted to sink into the filth and die.

She seemed to sit there for hours. Or centuries. Or mere seconds. She couldn't tell. She felt as though she spent an eternity grieving for a husband who had not yet died. But if he lived, he would never be the same. She had fears that he would go mad, and curse and spit and throttle her - that she would be forced to watch as her husband became a monster from this awful awful curse.

Eight thousand realities of death poured through her head, but she had run out of emotions at this point. At some point, it had gotten dark. She had gotten up, not completely in control of herself. What healers were still around looked at her mortified. She must've looked worse than some of the cursed. She drifted over to Obala's bed, and held his hand. She clutched it, squeezed it.

He was dead. The curse had taken him in mere hours. Hours. When he got up this morning, he smiled to her. She told him she loved him. He told some stupid meaningless joke that Jana could not remember what it was. And now he had died while she was out retching.

And it made her want to retch again that she felt relieved. She didn't have to endure the long death. She didn't have to watch him go mad. Her cowardess and lack of duty had been rewarded. And it made her hate herself more.

Her husband was dead. They had been married but a few years. They had no children, but they wanted them. And now they would never have them. She cried, yet again, over the cadaver. She felt like her life was over as she drifted off to sleep.

When she woke up, the body was gone. Someone had taken up the mantle of corpse collector. She got up, and wandered like a ghost. Old Voran was still there. Ebbar was still there. The healers were still here. And that spirit of the Sun Queen was still there. But her heart was not - it was torn out of her viciously. And she felt like she tore it out herself.

Great shame fell over her once again, and she sat beneath another outside tree, hoping that nobody would see her. Her life felt like it was over.

Little did she know, it had only just begun.