Shadow Sickness

The sun had barely risen, casting a soft, golden hue over the village. The morning dew clung to the grass like tiny diamonds, but the beauty of the day was lost on me. My heart was heavy, my eyes red from sleepless nights and endless tears. My little Lilly lay in her bed, her once vibrant eyes now dull and clouded with pain.
I sat beside her, holding her tiny hand in mine. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her breaths came in shallow, labored gasps. The Healers had named it the Shadow Sickness, a rare and cruel disease that struck without warning. It was said to be a curse from the ancient times, a remnant of a dark magic long forgotten. But to me, it was a thief, stealing my precious daughter away from me bit by bit.
“Momma,” Lilly whispered, her voice barely audible. “Will I get to see the stars again?”
My heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Lilly loved the stars. We used to sit outside every night, her little head resting on my shoulder as we traced constellations and made up stories about the heroes and monsters that lived among them. Now, the stars seemed so far away, just like the days when she was healthy and full of life.
“Of course, my love,” I said, forcing a smile. “We’ll see the stars together again soon.”
But even as I spoke the words, I knew they were a lie. The Shadow Sickness was relentless, and no one had ever survived it. The Healers had tried everything—potions, spells, even ancient rituals—but nothing could halt its progress. All I could do was be there for her, to hold her and comfort her as best I could.
Lilly’s eyes fluttered closed, and I gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. She looked so peaceful in her sleep, but I knew the pain would return when she woke. I wished I could take it all away, to bear the burden for her. But I was powerless, a mother trapped in a nightmare with no escape.
I thought back to the stories my own mother used to tell me, tales of brave warriors and wise sorcerers who overcame impossible odds. I had always believed in those stories, believed that good would triumph over evil. But now, faced with the harsh reality of losing my daughter, those stories felt like cruel jokes.
“Why, Lilly?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why did this have to happen to you?”
There was no answer, only the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the distant chirping of birds. The world continued to turn, indifferent to my pain. I felt a surge of anger, a burning rage at the unfairness of it all. But it quickly faded, replaced by a deep, aching sorrow.
I leaned down and kissed Lilly’s forehead, my tears falling onto her pale skin. “I love you, my little star,” I whispered. “Always and forever.”
As the day wore on, I stayed by her side, watching over her as she slept. The village went about its business, unaware of the battle being fought in our small cottage. I knew the end was near, but I clung to every precious moment, every heartbeat, every breath.
In the quiet of the night, as the first stars began to twinkle in the sky, Lilly opened her eyes one last time. She smiled weakly, her gaze fixed on something beyond the ceiling, something only she could see.
“Momma,” she whispered, her voice filled with wonder. “The stars… they’re so beautiful.”
And then, with a final, shuddering breath, she was gone.
I held her close, my tears mingling with the starlight that streamed through the window. The Shadow Sickness had taken her from me, but it could never take away the love we shared. In that moment, I knew that Lilly would always be with me, a shining star in the night sky, guiding me through the darkness.
And so, I wept for my little star, but I also found a glimmer of hope. For in the end, love was stronger than any curse, and Lilly’s light would never fade.