A father married off his daughter, who was blind from birth,

“The Saint is busy changing the bandages,” Yusha said in a raspy voice. “And the Shadow is tired. What does the city want from us now?”

The governor, Julian, moved toward the porch. He stopped three steps away, staring at the man who had once been a ghost.

“My father is dead,” Julian said quietly. “He died cursing the ‘monk’ who saved me, because he knew deep down that no monk has the hands of a surgeon. He spent the last years of his life trying to find this house and finish what he started in the Great Fire.”

Zainab appeared in the doorway, her hand resting on the doorframe. She wore a deep indigo shawl, her unseeing eyes seeming to pierce through Julian’s outfit.

“And you?” she asked. “Have you come to finish his work?”

Julian dropped to one knee in the frozen mud. The entire village collectively drew a breath.

“I’ve come to pay the interest on a ten-year debt,” Julian replied. “The city is rotting, Zainab. The doctors are charlatans who suck the blood of the poor to make gold. The hospitals are morgues. I’m building a Royal Academy of Medicine, and I want its director to be the man who saved the dying boy in the mud hut.”

Yusha stiffened. “I am a corpse, Your Excellency. I cannot return to the city. I am a beggar. A ghost.”

“Then the spirit will receive a charter,” said Julian, rising and pulling a thick parchment from his tunic. “I have signed the decree. All of Doctor Jusza’s past ‘crimes’ are erased. The Great Fire is officially recognized as an act of nature. I grant you the power to train a new generation. Not in the art of gold digging, but in the art of healing.”

The offer was everything Yusha had once dreamed of—rebuilding, prestige, and the chance to change the world. He glanced at Zainab. He saw her tilt her head toward the mountains she knew through their echoes.

“What about my wife?” asked Jusha.