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[Spoilers for gross image]
You breath in and out. If you are going to do this, you can't mess it up. "Master Chet. Take down all the talismans. I will separate the ones that are helpful and enchant one of my own, so we can get a better look at this."
--
It took you and Chet a bit over an hour to finally separate the useless baubles from the useful stuff. Four were enchanted in the end. The other useful enchantments were: one that lowers fevers, one that quiets a place (explaining how you didn't hear her coughing her little lungs out), three more that did minor things like make the air smell flowers... and the last one - an impressive third level spell. A vial that held a magical entity. Whatever was in there made the little girl go to sleep whenever she held it. You decided to put that last one away. It was too scary. You didn't tell Cashire yet. One magical problem at a time.
Meanwhile you used the time to enchant one of the fake talismans. It was an amber piece on a chain hanging from the ceiling. Someone scribbled the symbols of protection and eyesight on it, but it held no magic. Maybe it dissipated with time, or it was never enchanted to begin with, but you wouldn't spit on the face of luck now. With the piece done, anyone wearing it or holding it against their palm would be able to see into the ethereal.
The very moment the paper spell vanishes from your fingertips and you complete the circuit in the amber is when your eyes take in the astral sight. However, you were not ready for what you saw and almost gagged with disgust. It was a bloated fleshy bag, barbed and cruel, digging around inside her. It festered for a long time and was now eating the poor little catkin inside out. This was a curse alright, and an ugly one.
"What is it, lad?" Cashire asked.
You thought about lying, about comforting him and say everything was fine. In the end you just handed him the ember talisman and looked down.
--
"What can we do?" Lapom asked.
You, Cashire and the Harekin were sitting around the floor in the first level. You filled him in after Cashire came out screaming bloody murder and it took both of you to finally calm him down.
"I could burn it or freeze it, but it is a high level of precision and control... If I miss-" You cut yourself short.
Lapom crosses his legs. "Can't ya pull it out?" You shake your head, but then.
"Maybe I could. I need a proper tool for it - a long pincer. Pulling it out wouldn't be so hard, if I can grab it that is."
In the end both of you turn to Cashire. He is disheveled. His nose is bright red and he is looking 10 years older, but he still has the energy to nod along.
[27/100 fatigue. You gained 10 from enchanting. 2d10 for enchanting twice in the same day, thus pushing yourself.]
