“What happened to Irma?! Is she okay?!”

“She’s pregnant, Dahlia. But she ain’t doin’ so hot. She’s in danger.” When Marcella finally raised his head, he showed everyone how terribly red his eyes were.

Dahlia handed him a towel. “What is her condition?”

Still dripping wet, he refused the offer to go upstairs and instead sat on the stone steps. It was only after firmly pressing the towel against his eyes that he spoke again. “Remember how Irma couldn’t get down the steps when the four of us got together for dinner last time?”

“Right, the summer festival...” She distinctly remembered how Marcella had had to carry Irma home in his arms. That was nearly three weeks ago, and Dahlia hadn’t seen Irma since; the only exchange they had had was through letters, and Irma had said she had her hands full. Dahlia had assumed she meant that business was good, but it seemed like that assumption was incorrect.

“Yeah. Afterwards, it was obvious that something was up. She felt nauseous, but brushed it off as having eaten too much or caught a cold or somethin’. But it didn’t get better, and so I dragged her to the docs, who said she was with child. At first, we couldn’t have been happier, but then it got harder and harder for her to move...”

“Is Irma still with the doctors right now?”

“No. They couldn’t do nothin’ about it, so she’s at the temple.”

“The temple? Can the priests use healing magic to cure her morning sickness?”

“It’s no morning sickness. It’s hypermageia. The baby’s magic is too powerful, and they said Irma’s body can’t handle it.”

“What?!” She was taken aback. Hypermageia could lead to difficul