"Your papa is very sick," she said gently.
"But you can fix him!" The boy grabbed her hands. "You're a healer! Healers make people better!"
Such simple faith. Absolute trust in the power of healing.
"Sometimes... sometimes people are too hurt to fix. Little one."
Jasmine was so immersed that she no longer thought of it as a trial. But as a reality.
The boy's face crumpled. "No! You have to try! Please! He's my papa!"
My papa. The same words I would have used.
Behind them, the dying man called out weakly. "...come here, son."
The boy, ran back to his father's side. The noble pulled his child close, whispering words Jasmine couldn't hear.
Last words. Final moments between father and son.
She watched as the man removed a ring from his finger and pressed it into the child's small hand. A family heirloom, probably. Something to remember him by.
The same way father gave me his pendant before he died.
"Take care of your mother," the noble whispered. "Be... be better than I was."
