Ryl’oth's Arc

Chapter 2 of 3

Ryl'oth swept dust from the counter with a cloth torn from old curtains. The space smelled like stale coffee and rot. Their tendrils reached high to clear cobwebs from the corners. Purple eyes watched multiple spots at once—the cracked window, the warped floorboards, the water-stained ceiling. They had coins for rent but nothing else. The first lesson hit hard: a healer needed supplies. Bandages, herbs, clean water, somewhere for patients to sit. Ryl'oth counted their remaining coins on the counter. Seven copper pieces clinked against the wood. Not enough for everything. They would have to choose what mattered most and learn to work with less. The back room held something useful—a weathered cauldron left by the previous owner. Ryl'oth dragged it to the front and built a small fire beneath it. The metal was scarred but solid. They spent four coins on dried herbs from the market and two more on clean water. One coin remained. The cauldron bubbled as Ryl'oth mixed their first remedy, purple eyes tracking the steam and color. The smell of brewing medicine replaced the rot. Not perfect, but it was a start. The door creaked open that afternoon. A woman limped inside, clutching her side. She stared at Ryl'oth's writhing form but didn't leave. Ryl'oth ladled warm liquid from the cauldron into a chipped cup they'd found in the cupboard. The woman drank and her breathing eased. She set two copper coins on the counter and nodded once before leaving. Ryl'oth picked up the coins and placed them next to their last one. Three coins now. Enough to buy more herbs tomorrow. The cycle could continue. They cleaned the cauldron as purple eyes watched the door. This place would work. One patient at a time, one remedy at a time, they would prove what they knew to be true.