Murin and I grabbed our medical kit and the stack of assessment forms we'd been given. Our section was the northwest part of the village, past the market area, toward the fields. The same area where we'd found Katya and Alek yesterday.

  We started walking, the morning sun slowly warming the air. Smoke rose from cooking fires as families prepared breakfast.

  "Think today's going to be better or worse than yesterday?" Murin asked.

  "Worse," I said. "Word's definitely spread by now. More people will know who we are and what we're doing."

  "Think the headman will try to stop us again?"

  "Probably."

  We reached the first house and knocked. No answer. Tried again. Still nothing. "Same as yesterday," Murin muttered.

  We moved to the next house, then the next. Most didn't answer. A few opened the door just enough to tell us to go away. At the eighth house, a middle-aged woman answered. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, hair disheveled.

  "We're offering free health screenings," I said. "Blood pressure checks, temperature, basic examination. No cost."

  She stared at us. "Why?"

  "Because we're here to help. That's all."

  She looked past us, scanning the path behind us like she was checking if anyone was watching. Then she stepped back and opened the door wider.

  "Come in. Quickly."

  We stepped inside. She closed the door behind us immediately and pulled a curtain across the window. "My husband can't know I let you in," she said quietly. "He thinks all doctors are liars. But I need help."

  "What's wrong?" Murin asked.

  She pulled up her sleeve. Her forearm was covered in bruises—dark purple and yellow, in various stages of healing. Some looked old, some looked recent. "He hits me," she said simply. "When he drinks, which is most nights. Last week he pushed me and I fell against the table. I think I broke something here," she touched her ribs on the left side, wincing. "It hurts when I breathe."

  I felt anger rising in my chest. "Have you told anyone?"

  "Who would I tell? The headman? He's my husband's friend. The healer? He'll just sell me herbs that don't work. There's no one."

  "We can help," I said. "We can examine you, see if anything's broken, give you pain medication if you need it. And we can document what we see. If you ever decide to report this, you'll have medical evidence."

  She shook her head quickly. "No reporting. He'll kill me if he finds out I talked to you."

  "Then we won't report it," Murin said. "We'll just examine you and give you what help we can. Okay?"

  She nodded, tears starting to run down her face. I pulled out the stethoscope while Murin got the blood pressure cuff ready. "Can you sit down? This is easier if you're sitting."

  She sat on a wooden stool, and I gently palpated her ribs where she'd indicated pain. She gasped when I pressed on the lower left ribs, and I could feel a slight instability—not a clean break, but possibly a fracture or severe bruising.

  "I think you have fractured ribs," I said. "Maybe two or three. They'll heal on their own, but it's going to hurt for a few weeks. I can give you pain medication to help."

  I pulled out a packet of ibuprofen from our kit and handed it to her. "Take one of these every six to eight hours when the pain is bad. It'll help with the inflammation too."

  Murin finished taking her blood pressure. "One forty over ninety. That's elevated. Do you have headaches? Dizziness?"

  "Sometimes. When he's yelling, my head pounds."

  "That's stress," Murin said. "But the elevated blood pressure is something we should monitor. If you can, try to come to the health center so we can check it again."

  "I can't. If he finds out—"

  "Then we'll come back here," I said. "Tomorrow, same time. We'll check on you. If your husband asks who we are, we're just doing village-wide health screenings. That's all."

  She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Thank you."

  We filled out an assessment form for her—carefully worded, nothing that would get her in trouble if someone found it. Just basic vitals and a note about rib pain. We didn't mention the bruises explicitly.

  As we left, she grabbed my arm. "The girl," she said quietly. "Two houses down. The one with the blue door. She's pregnant and something's wrong. She won't come out of her house. Won't let anyone see her. Please check on her."

  "We will," I said.

  Two houses down, blue door. I knocked.

  No answer. Knocked again. "Hello? We're medical students offering free health checks. We're not here to cause trouble. We just want to help."

  Still nothing. I tried again. "A neighbor told us someone here might need medical care. We're not going to force anything. But if you need help, we're here."

  A long pause. Then a voice from inside, young and scared. "Go away."

  "We can't do that," I said. "Not if you need help. At least let us talk to you through the door. You don't have to let us in."

  Another pause. Then footsteps. The door opened just a crack, and I could see part of a face—young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with frightened eyes.

  "What do you want?" she asked.

  "Your neighbor is worried about you. She said you're pregnant and something's wrong. We're medical students. We can examine you, make sure you and the baby are okay."

  "I'm fine."

  Murin tilted his head. “You sure? Because if you were fine you probably wouldn’t be hiding in here with the curtains drawn.”

  The girl's lower lip trembled. "They said I'm cursed. The healer said the baby... it's not natural. So go away if you don't want to be cursed."

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Who said that?"

  "The healer. He came here last week when my mother asked him for help because I've been swelling. He looked at me and said I'm carrying something evil. That the swelling is because the baby is cursed."

  "That's not true," I said firmly. "Swelling during pregnancy can be normal, or it can be a sign of a medical condition that's very treatable. But it's not a curse. Can we see you? Just to check?"

  She pulled back slightly, her hand gripping the edge of the door. "No. You don't understand. If you come in, if anyone sees you here, they'll know I let outsiders near the... near it. They'll say I'm making it stronger. You need to leave."

  "We're not leaving," I said. "Not when you need help."

  "I don't need help!" Her voice rose, panicked. "I need you to go before someone sees you here! Before they—" She stopped, pressing her lips together.

  "Before they what?" Murin asked quietly.

  She didn't answer, but I could see fresh tears running down her face.

  "Listen to me," I said, keeping my voice as calm as I could. "Whatever the healer told you, whatever people in this village believe, you are not cursed. You're sick. There's a medical condition that causes swelling during pregnancy, and if we don't treat it, you and your baby could die. That's not a curse."

  "You don't know what they'll do," she whispered. "You don't know what happens to cursed women here."

  “Then tell us,” I said. “Because right now we’re standing here and we’re not leaving until we know you’re safe.”

  She shook her head, backing away from the door.

  Murin stepped forward. "Hey. Look at me." His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it, but with an edge of steel underneath. "I know you're scared. I know everyone in this village has been telling you that you're carrying something evil, that you're dangerous, that you deserve whatever's coming. But that's... That's wrong."

  The girl's eyes widened slightly at the bluntness.

  "You're sixteen, maybe seventeen years old," Murin continued. "You're pregnant, sick and terrified, and instead of helping you, they're making it worse by filling your head with superstitious garbage. But here's the thing, you're not a curse. You're a person. And you deserve to live."

  "But the baby—"

  "The baby is just a baby," Murin said firmly. "Not a demon or a monster. Just a baby who's going to die if we don't help you. And you know that, don't you? Deep down, you know this isn't about curses or evil spirits. You know you're sick. That's why you're scared. That's why you won't come out."

  The girl was crying openly now, her whole body shaking.

  "Let us help you," Murin said. "Please. You don't have to believe us. You don't have to trust us. Just let us check your blood pressure and make sure you're not about to have a seizure and die. That's all."

  For a long moment, she just stood there, tears streaming down her face, hand still gripping the door. Then, slowly, she opened it wider. She was definitely pregnant, maybe seven or eight months along. And she was swollen. Not just her feet or hands. Her entire face was puffy, her fingers looked like sausages, and her legs were so swollen I could see the skin stretching tight.

  "What's your name?" I asked gently.

  "Sofia," she said, her voice barely audible.

  "Okay, Sofia. Can you sit down for me? We're going to check your blood pressure."

  She sat on a wooden stool near the door, moving slowly like every motion hurt. Murin pulled out the blood pressure cuff while I grabbed our assessment form and pen.

  "Do you have headaches?" I asked while Murin wrapped the cuff around her arm.

  She nodded. "All the time. They make me want to throw up."

  "Blurred vision? Seeing spots or flashing lights?"

  "Yes. Especially when I stand up too fast. Everything goes white and sparkly."

  "Any pain in your upper abdomen? Like right under your ribs?"

  "Sometimes. Sharp pain, like something's pressing from inside."

  Those were all the classic symptoms. Headache, visual disturbances, epigastric pain. The triad of severe pre-eclampsia.

  Murin finished pumping the cuff and we both watched the gauge as it deflated.

  One hundred sixty-two over one hundred twelve.

  Oh no. That wasn't just high. That was seizure territory. She could die at any moment. Murin met my eyes, and I could see he'd reached the same conclusion.

  "Sofia," I said carefully, "you have something called pre-eclampsia. It's a condition where your blood pressure gets dangerously high during pregnancy. It's very serious, but it's also very treatable. You need to be in a hospital right now. They can give you medicine to bring your blood pressure down and monitor you and the baby."

  "I can't go to a hospital," she said immediately. "If I leave, they'll know. The headman's men watch my house. They'll see me go with you, and they'll tell everyone that I tried to save the cursed baby. They'll..." She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself.

  "They'll what?" I asked, even though I was starting to get a very bad feeling about what the answer would be.

  "They'll do the ritual," she whispered. "To cleanse the village, to stop the curse from spreading."

  "What ritual?" Murin demanded.

  Sofia looked at us with hollow, terrified eyes. "They burn the cursed mother and the evil thing inside her to purify the land."

  After hearing this, for a moment I couldn't breathe. This kind of things still happening in this era? "They're going to kill you," I said flatly. "That's what you're telling us. They're planning to burn you alive because some charlatan healer convinced them you're cursed."

  She nodded, fresh tears spilling over. "In two days. When the moon is full. The healer said that's when the curse will be strongest, so that's when the purification has to happen."

  So, we had two days before they murdered a pregnant teenager based on superstition and fear.

  "No," Murin said. "That's not happening. We're getting you out of here."

  "You can't," Sofia said desperately. "They'll stop you. The headman controls everything. His men are everywhere. If you try to take me, they'll—"

  "They'll what?" Murin challenged. "Attack us? We're government-sponsored medical workers. If they lay a hand on us, they'll have the police here within hours."

  "The police don't come here," Sofia said bitterly. "The last time someone called them, it took three days for them to show up, and by then the person who'd called was already dead. The headman has friends in the district office. He pays them to look the other way."

  Of course he did. Of course this entire nightmare village was being protected by corrupt officials who didn't care that people were being murdered in the name of tradition.

  I looked at Murin. He looked back at me. We had no authority, no power, no resources beyond what we'd brought in our medical kits. But we couldn't just walk away. We couldn't leave Sofia here to be burned alive in two days.

  "Okay," I said slowly, thinking it through. "Here's what we're going to do. Right now, we're going to examine you properly, document your condition, and give you some medication to help with the blood pressure. Not a cure, just something to buy us time. Then we're going to leave, and we're going to go back to the health center and talk to Dr. Voss. She'll know what to do. She'll have contacts, resources, ways to get you out safely."

  "But—"

  "No buts," I said firmly. "You're not dying. We're going to make sure of that."

  Sofia looked at me with desperate, fragile hope. "You promise?"

  I shouldn't have promised. I had no idea if we could actually pull this off. But I looked at this terrified girl, seven months pregnant and sentenced to death for the crime of being sick, and I couldn't bring myself to be honest about our chances. "I promise," I said.

  Murin pulled out our assessment form and started writing down Sofia's vitals while I did a quick physical exam. Severe pitting edema in her legs—when I pressed my finger into her shin, it left a deep dent that didn't bounce back. Hyperreflexia when I tested her reflexes. Her blood pressure was still dangerously high.

  I pulled out a packet of medication from our kit. We didn't have proper antihypertensives for pre-eclampsia, those required a hospital setting, but we had some basic blood pressure meds that might help a little.

  "Take one of these twice a day," I told her, handing her the packet. "Morning and evening. It won't fix the problem, but it might bring your blood pressure down enough to buy us some time."

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  "Don't thank us yet," Murin said. "Thank us when you're safe in a hospital with your baby."

  We finished up the examination, collected our things, and prepared to leave. As I reached for the door, Sofia grabbed my arm. "Be careful," she said. "The headman's men watch everything. If they see you coming here again, if they think you're trying to help me, they'll stop you. They might even... They might decide you're cursed too," she said quietly. "Outsiders who try to interfere with the purification ritual. It's happened before."

  Great. So now we were potentially on the hit list too.

  "We'll be careful," I said. "Stay inside. Don't let anyone know we were here. We'll come back tonight after dark with Dr. Voss and figure out how to get you out."

  She nodded and closed the door behind us. Murin and I stood there for a moment in the morning sunlight, both of us processing what we'd just heard.