"You should have slept some before doing this," Peter mentioned as he walked alongside her, maintaining a cautious distance as she had requested, fearing he might get sick.

He expected her to deny his comment, but instead, her words surprised him. "It's still cold in the morning, and there are fewer people around. Fewer people mean less potential for the infection to spread to us. Plus, with your status, you would attract more attention, and that means more people again," she continued. "Besides, warmer temperatures promote more bacterial growth..."

"You seem quite knowledgeable about infections," he noted matter-of-factly, and she smiled, realizing just how much she knew.

She didn't voice it, but she was relieved she had changed her initial plan to quarantine inside the castle with Eduardo. After their conversation last night, she decided to witness the situation in the village for herself. Upon entering the village, Peter recognized one of the stable workers from the castle, and they entered his home first. 

"Don't touch anything," she whispered in Peter's ear as they stepped inside. 

The house consisted of two small rooms: one that resembled a kitchen, where a woman was juggling steaming pots, and another room where at least eight children were still asleep, all crowded together in the odor of sweat and illness. In a corner of the kitchen, Peter noticed a small child shivering and moved toward her, but Emily stopped him and went instead, followed by the mother.

The woman began explaining, "She got sick yesterday after sleeping at one of the neighbors' house, where they also had a sick child. She's been shivering all night, saying everything hurts..." Her voice trailed off, as she knew too well how many people had already succumbed to this new illness in the five days since it had emerged.

Emily gently touched the girl's forehead and felt the heat radiating from her. She carefully uncovered the child to examine her skin and noticed a rash on her back and legs. "Did she have this rash yesterday?" she asked, and the mother nodded.

"It was only on her back, but now it's spreading..."

"Did she complain of a headache too?"

The mother nodded again, visibly surprised. "Yes, she said it was very bad and hid in that corner. She mentioned wanting to be in the dark..." The woman's voice quivered. "She's going to see just darkness soon..."

Emily produced a small bottle and placed it in the woman's trembling hand. "Give her a teaspoon of this three times a day and make sure she drinks plenty of water," she instructed. She surveyed the room, her gaze settling on a large copper pot. "From now on, all the water you drink or use for washing must be boiled in that big copper pot. Wash all the clothes in your house and boil them too. Spread the word to everyone in the village. It's the only way to increase your chances of survival."

The woman looked at Emily, then at Peter, seeking his approval. He nodded slowly. "Do as she says. It may be our best chance. There will be no work in the fields for the next few days; everyone needs to focus on this."

"Wait," Emily added, grabbing Peter's arm as he was about to leave to relay her instructions. "We also need a place to quarantine the sick. They can't stay at home anymore; we need a designated location."

Her hand felt warm through the fabric, and even though he couldn't see her face beneath the veil, her determination was palpable.

"Don't worry," he assured her, their fingers briefly intertwining. "I'll find a place, and I'll make sure those people get there."

Before noon, a house on the outskirts of the village was already filled with blankets and sick individuals. Dozens of fires were ablaze, copper pots continuously boiled water, and a group of veiled women tended to the ill. Father John arrived with a carriage full of large silver pots from the church and joined in caring for the sick, refusing to wear any protective covering. The entire village was enveloped in a haze of smoke and steam, but for the first time in days, there was a sense of hope in the air. Around noon, Peter sought out Emily. He had been keeping an eye on her, worried for her wellbeing. He approached her with a steaming bowl of soup.

"It's time to eat," he declared firmly, leaving no room for argument. He led her to a shaded spot in the makeshift hospital's garden. For the first time in hours, she removed her veil, revealing a tired but determined face with sparkling eyes.

"I'll eat quickly and then check on your brother," she said, sitting on a log and glancing back toward the castle. "I hope he followed all my instructions."

Their hands brushed briefly as he handed her the bowl, and she almost dropped it when he withdrew his hand abruptly. She quickly apologized, misinterpreting his reaction. Then, Emily handed him a small bottle that had materialized from the pockets of her skirt.

"The strongest alcohol you can find," she quipped. "Not for drinking today, but for cleaning your hands."

"What?!"

Reluctantly, he followed her instructions. While slowly eating his own bowl of soup next to her, he observed other people tending to the sick, also cleaning their hands with alcohol. "How did you convince them to use it for cleaning instead of drinking?"

Emily smiled as she set aside her spoon. "I told them it would be their last drink ever if they didn't use it for cleaning."

Peter shook his head, laughing. There was no doubt he admired this peculiar woman who seemed to be waging a relentless battle against all things vile, whether human or naturally occurring. He remained rooted in the same spot until she disappeared from view. As she sprinted back to the castle, consumed by worry for his brother, he couldn't help but grapple with the jealousy bubbling up inside him. Emily had no inkling of the thoughts racing through his mind; her only concern was to see if the yeast had grown and if she could produce her own antibiotics, not just for Eduardo but also for the rest of the village. The castle bustled with activity as people carried hot water from the kitchen, where all the silver pots were on full display, to their assigned tasks. The Countess beamed with pride as she showed Emily the extensive operation she had organized for the production of clean water.

"It's functioning smoothly, and we're currently working on cleaning all the interior possessions," the Countess remarked. Her gaze stopped on a young woman seated by the door of Eduardo's quarters, and Emily couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance between her and the woman in question. The stranger appeared a few years younger than Emily but decidedly more affluent. "You shouldn't be here!" the Countess scolded the woman, who hastily curtsied before nearly fleeing. "Let's check on Eduardo first," the Countess suggested to Emily, who was ready to inquire about the mysterious visitor.

As they approached Eduardo's bedside, the man stirred, slowly opening his eyes. It was evident that staying awake was a considerable effort for him. A feeble cough wracked his frail frame, leaving him nearly limp against the pillows. In response to such a clear display of illness, Emily hurried to assess his condition. She reached out to touch his forehead, took his pulse, and leaned in to listen to his chest, placing her ear directly over his heart. "I'm going to prepare a new potion for you. Just hang in there," she reassured him.

"I'm not going anywhere... but please, make my people better too..." Eduardo murmured, his words causing Emily's eyes to well up with tears. She couldn't quite explain it, but this man had become profoundly important to her.

Without further ado, she set to work on her new potion. Emily carefully collected the yeast growth from her plates of bread paste, adding alcohol to extract the yeast from the medium. Two hours later, she had her first batch of penicillium, or so she hoped. As she straightened up, she was surprised to find the Countess waiting for her, as if she had been there for some time.

"I knew you could do it," the Countess said, smiling warmly. "From the moment I witnessed the initial simulation, I knew you were the One!" Her hands reached for the bottle containing the precious antibiotic extract, her eyes brimming with excitement. "You're going to save his life with this, and history will begin to change..."

"What do you mean?" Emily asked, taking the bottle back, wondering if the stress of the situation was causing hallucinations.

"I brought you from the future. Father John and I are not from this time. We are coming from nearly half a millennium later, but Peter, Eduardo's brother, created us in the future to save Eduardo, who had drowned. We are artificial intelligence with biological components, designed to appear fully human." Emily instinctively touched her forehead, checking for a fever. "No, I'm not ill. We can't fall sick, nor can we directly interfere in human lives. That's why I couldn't save Eduardo directly at the lake. We needed a human with a connection to the person whose life needed altering, and we found you. It's working!"

Emily took a step backward, as if to create some distance between herself and the Countess, her cautious expression suggesting she was worried about the woman's intentions. After a few moments of contemplation, she decided to pose the question that had been gnawing at her. "How am I connected to all of this?"

The Countess gestured toward Eduardo. "You are several generations down the line, his descendant. This story begins with the child he has with the woman you saw at the door. Without your intervention, that child would have grown up without a father, and Peter would have married her to rectify the situation. Peter is a genius; he created the time machine to travel to the future, where he fashioned us. Then, he brought us back here to save his brother..."