Smith's incompetence was his own failing. It proved his skills were fraudulent. But they were different. They had earned their accolades, their prestigious awards weren't for show. They could accept being second to anyone, but not to someone from Eldermere.

"If you all think you're so much better than Freya, then why were you all utterly helpless when it came to my illness?" Celia shot back. "If I hadn't met Freya, it wouldn't just be Brock lying in that bed. It would be me, too!"

Celia's epilepsy had been a congenital condition. She had sought treatment from every renowned doctor in Valerium, including Francis and the others present, but none of them could help her.

The doctors exchanged uneasy glances, their bravado evaporating.

After a moment, Francis spoke up again. "Miss Palmer, every doctor has their area of expertise. We were unable to cure your condition because epilepsy is not our specialty. We do not deny that Miss Gonzales has skill, but she is likely just a specialist in that particular area. The master's condition is entirely different. Please, do not confuse the two."

Brock's illness was, in essence, a hereditary disease, or more accurately, a curse. It was a condition that no one in the world knew how to treat. They doubted that even the legendary Dr. Oracle could guarantee a cure, let alone some unknown doctor from Eldermere. Celia was a case of survivorship bias. Just because Caitlin had gotten lucky and cured her, she now thought the girl was some kind of miracle worker. It was laughable. To them, Caitlin's success was nothing more than a fluke.

"We will see if Miss Gonzales can cure Brock when she arrives," Mrs. Palmer cut in, her voice cold. "A doctor's purpose is to heal the sick, not to engage in pointless arguments. If you are all as brilliant as you claim, then why can't a single one of you even wake him up?"

Brock had been unconscious for over an hour. The Palmer family employed over

a hundred doctors, and not one of them could alleviate his symptoms.

At her words, cold sweat broke out on the doctors' foreheads.

"Useless! You are all useless!" Mrs. Palmer's grief turned to rage. She grabbed a vase and hurled it to the floor. "Get out! All of you, get out!"

The doctors scrambled out of the room, practically tripping over each other in their haste to escape.

Celia watched them go, a frown creasing her brow. The doctors her family

employed were getting worse with every generation.

Mrs. Palmer turned to her daughter, her voice hoarse from crying. "Celia, do you really think Miss Gonzales can cure him?"

Celia's expression was somber. She didn't want to make any promises she couldn't keep. She took her

mother's hand. "Mother, whe

can or not, she is our last hope."

Mrs. Palmer understood. She closed her eyes, a fresh wave of pain

washing ove

lne

het She took a shaky,

breath. "When will you leave.

Celia's resolve hardened. "Tomorrow."