The afternoon sun, filtered through the office's stained-glass windows, cast pools of ruby and sapphire onto the heavy oak desk. Popess Paula was immersed in rereading her book on vaccines, her fingers tracing illustrations of cellular structures that looked more like maps of unknown worlds.

  "According to this book, there are several types of vaccines," she thought, her brow furrowed in concentration. "All with the goal of preventing a specific disease. Some use a weakened version of the virus or bacteria, others use dead ones, some take just a part of the virus, others directly use parts of RNA that help our body fight the disease... But I don't understand. I don't understand any of it. What are viruses and bacteria? I know they cause diseases, but are they tiny animals? Spirits of pestilence? And are there other ways to fight them besides vaccines? What is this 'RNA'? I grasped that vaccines help the body create immunity, a shield... but the rest is like trying to read Hebrew in the dark."

  She dropped the book onto the desk with a dull thud, rising with a sigh of frustration. She approached the arched, gothic window, looking down at the meticulously pruned garden below. The scent of roses and rosemary wafted up to her, a fragrant contrast to the confusion in her mind.

  "It's been a month since Francisco left. It's time for him to return. I'm not holding my hopes high, but any help deciphering these concepts would be a blessing..."

  As the thought echoed in her mind, a discreet knock on the door made her turn.

  "Your Holiness?" a cardinal's deep voice echoed through the wood. "The merchant Francisco has returned. He brought a letter and said you would understand."

  Paula's heart leapt. She opened the door swiftly, a spark of animation in her eyes.

  "Yes, yes! Take me to him, immediately."

  As she followed the cardinal through the cold stone corridors, their footsteps muffled by carpets, she couldn't contain a smile of satisfaction.

  "Think of the man and behold, news arrives. It is a sign. The Divine is truly guiding my steps."

  No sooner had she entered the antechamber where Francisco waited, the man threw himself to the floor, kneeling desperately. His face was pale, marked by exhaustion and fear.

  "Your Holiness, I beg you!" his voice was a mix of supplication and panic. "Don't send me back to that place! Have mercy!"

  Paula moved with elegant speed, leaning over him like a bird of prey. Her whispers were sharp, a thread of voice only he could hear.

  "Shut your mouth and control yourself! You're causing a scandal! Have you forgotten the secrecy you swore to keep?"

  The reprimand worked like a bucket of cold water. Francisco swallowed dryly, took a deep breath, and with tremendous effort, stood up, recomposing his posture. The smell of sweat and road dust still clung to his clothes.

  "Forgive me, Your Holiness," he said, his voice still trembling but more controlled. "I have completed the mission entrusted to me. Here is the response they gave me."

  He was still pulling the letter from his coat's inner pocket, crumpled and dirty from the journey, when Paula snatched it from his hands impatiently.

  "Let's see what our mysterious friend has to say," she murmured, breaking the crude seal with her thumb.

  Her eyes scanned the lines, and a smile of genuine interest appeared on her lips.

  "Oho, straight to the point. The way I like it."

  The letter said:

  "Bacteria and viruses are microorganisms, tiny beings, so small they are invisible to the naked eye. They are everywhere: in water, air, soil, and even on and inside us. Most are harmless, but some can cause harm to humans.

  Bacteria are a type of microorganism that does not have a nucleus.

  Viruses are smaller than bacteria and are not considered alive, as they need to attack a living cell to reproduce.

  Vaccines are just one way to prevent diseases. Another very simple way is to wash your hands with soap, as it eliminates most viruses and bacteria. If you don't believe this, conduct a simple experiment: force the priests at the Holy House of Mercy to wash their hands every time they deliver a baby or treat an open wound, and record the results.

  If even after these experiments you still don't believe in microorganisms, I can explain how to make a machine that allows you to see them. This information I've given you is just the most basic of the basics. If you want more, send merchants to the quilombo. We have cheap clothes to sell in exchange for iron and other products.

  I, Carlos, have said all this in the name of the Jabuticaba Quilombo and Ganga Zala!"

  With each line, Paula's smile widened, her eyes shining with a light of discovery.

  "Fascinating!" she exclaimed, almost to herself. "Anyone else would dismiss this as nonsense from an ignorant black man, but not I! I must conduct these experiments! If it's true... I, Saint Paula, will have another monumental contribution to the Church in my name!"

  She was already turning, determined, ready to head to the Holy House of Mercy, when Francisco's anxious voice stopped her.

  "And my reward, Your Holiness?!"

  Paula stopped. An almost imperceptible sigh of irritation escaped her. She turned slowly, and a calm, serene, perfectly rehearsed smile appeared on her face. She addressed the accompanying cardinal.

  "Please, brother, reward this noble merchant for his service to the Church. Pay him one hundred thousand réis."

  Francisco's eyes widened, and a smile of ambition and relief spread across his face.

  "One hundred thousand!? Your Holiness is too generous!"

  As the cardinal moved away to fulfill the order, Paula's serene smile dissolved like smoke. It was replaced by a cunning and malicious expression. She approached the merchant, and being taller, leaned over slightly, looking down at him.

  "Generous?" she whispered, her voice now an icy thread. "That was just an advance. You will stay here for a week, until I verify the information in the letter. And then... you will return to the quilombo."

  All happiness fled Francisco's face, replaced by pale dread.

  "But... Paula... Your Holiness, you can't do this to me! They are barbarians! Savages!"

  The saint straightened her posture, tossing her long hair back with a gesture of arrogance.

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  "Hmph! I don't recall giving you permission for such insolence. For your luck, I am in a good mood. Besides, you have always helped me... and I am returning the favor. I bet you've already read the letter and know what they are proposing."

  "What they propose won't be profitable!" he argued, desperate. "Clothes are extremely expensive to produce! Even if they can make them, the travel time won't be worth the effort... Wait, don't tell me you believed that 'micro-whatever' story?"

  "Not only do I believe it," she retorted, her eyes narrowing, "but I had imagined that these so-called bacteria and viruses, mentioned in my books, were invisible because they were in the realm of the dead, or demonic creations, or simply because they were minuscule. And I consider none of my theories to be 'nonsense'!"

  The malicious smile on her face intensified, becoming almost predatory.

  "And you... you really did read the letter. It was a confidential Church document. The punishment for such a transgression would be..."

  At that moment, the cardinal returned with a heavy bag of coins. Seeing him, Francisco, in a calculated burst of terror, threw himself to his knees again, clutching the hem of Paula's dress.

  "Forgive me, Your Holiness! I will never make the same mistake! Spare my life, I beg you!"

  "Trying to tarnish my saintly image, aren't you, my old friend?" she thought with internal disdain. "Pity I don't fall for this pantomime."

  Externally, her face transformed again, the malice giving way to beatific piety.

  "Rise, my son. It's not that serious. I know you think you deserve a severe punishment, but you may accept this money without remorse. Just stay in the holy city this week and attend church daily. Pray for forgiveness and donate most of what you earned to the poor. God will reward you twofold. Use this time for reflection and penance."

  The short man stood up, a false, tense smile plastered on his face. Paula, however, saw the farce clearly, as well as the flash of hatred that shone in his eyes for a fraction of a second.

  "Thank you, Your Holiness," he said with a submissive voice. "I am immensely grateful for your benevolence."

  He took the heavy bag from the cardinal's hands and left quickly, disappearing in the direction of the lower city.

  Paula, in turn, gave precise orders to another cardinal.

  "Have a batch of soap fetched from the monks' workshop and take it to the Holy House of Mercy. Instruct all priests and sisters to wash their hands with soap before any procedure with patients. And, as always, have them meticulously record the condition of everyone."

  "I planned to go personally," she reflected, "but I think I should first thank God for this blessing and meditate on its content."

  Following her own advice, she headed to the cathedral. The building, although imposing by colonial standards and titled "cathedral," couldn't even be compared to the grand constructions of the Old World, which took centuries to build. Even so, it was the largest temple in the New World, at least for now—in the Spanish colonies, a cathedral was being built that promised to be more grandiose.

  Its silent, somber interior, perfumed by incense and candle wax, always calmed her. As she walked, her thoughts returned to the letter.

  "If this information is true... thousands of lives could be saved. Currently, three out of every ten people we heal in the Holy Houses end up dying from subsequent infections, even using the Gems of Healing and Alteration... Could it be us causing this? Do these 'microorganisms' get on our hands when we deal with the sick and then we pass them on to people with fragile health? Is that why soap is crucial? But what a pity, the letter was so short! I need more information! This Carlos could simply hand me the entire book! What would a man in a quilombo in the middle of the woods do with such profound knowledge?"

  Reaching the cathedral, she found her usual pew, secluded and quiet. She sat down and immersed herself in prayer for almost an hour, until her mind, once again, wandered to the realm of science and power.

  "The idiots at the Church headquarters in the Old World don't understand the potential of the Gem of Alteration at all. With it, one can feel the most minute aspects of the body. The cells, as the anatomy book describes. Not just cells, but every protein, every organ, every vein... and perhaps even more. If what the black man said is true, there are microorganisms inside my own body. If I can feel my cells, then I should be able to feel them too... But can I consider them part of me, since they live in me? It doesn't hurt to try."

  The Gem of Alteration, a dark blue stone set in the silver crucifix hanging from her neck, began to emit a soft, pulsating glow. The faithful around, noticing the Popess's deep concentration, kept a respectful distance, admiring her from afar. That time of day was always busy, with many coming to pray at the same time as her, though none could endure staying in devotion for so long.

  Paula felt every heartbeat, every blood flow, every organ working in harmony. Without using much mana, she felt the body as a whole. To focus on something specific, however, required immense concentration and a great expenditure of magical energy. The more mana she channeled, the more the microscopic world revealed itself.

  "...It's no use," she thought, a pang of frustration and exhaustion throbbing in her temples. "I'll spend all my mana and won't find these so-called microbes. Well, no matter. I'll continue with my usual practice... Altering my hormones and cells to keep my body in an optimal state."

  "And to think I started making certain cells produce estrogen just to test if the knowledge in the book was correct, and if the Gem would be capable of such a feat. After all, it was much less risky than cutting off a finger to try and rebuild it. And, well, if I ended up having some... side effects, as I did... it would be a victory in several ways, as it indeed was. Pity I was almost burned as a heretic because of it."

  "But not even I fully believed that 'nonsense' from the book back then, just as I don't fully believe this letter now. I just wanted to find a practical use for the Gem of Alteration. And I succeeded. With each new piece of knowledge I absorbed, my powers with the Gem refined, until I managed to perform the miracle of regenerating other people's limbs. So, perhaps... if I deeply understand this new knowledge, will I be able to cure diseases with a simple touch? It would be another miracle for Saint Paula!"

  "Wait... There's a group of cells in my lung... they're behaving strangely. Differently. Could they be infected by a virus? The letter said viruses need cells to reproduce. Is that it? I need to investigate... Ah, my head! The pain is unbearable, I'm consuming too much mana..."

  The throbbing pain became sharp. With a final effort, the Popess made the sign of the cross and severed the mystical connection. The light from the gem on her neck faded.

  "There are other ways to verify the knowledge in the letter," she reminded herself, breathing slightly heavily. "I don't need to rush. I need to have patience."

  She rose with her usual grace and headed for the cathedral's exit. As she crossed the great gates, a sea breeze, salty and fresh, blew towards her. The air laden with salt particles and humidity caused a sudden sneeze to threaten to emerge. She suppressed it with a superhuman effort, pinching her nose and taking a deep breath, maintaining her image of impeccable serenity intact.

  "Perhaps I am indeed falling ill..." she thought, a new spark of scientific curiosity replacing the physical discomfort. "Could it be related to those altered cells? I need to conduct more experiments!"

  ***

  In the capital of the captaincy of Pernambuco, the city of White Sand bustled under a merciless sun. The smell of dried fish, sweat, and spices filled the air of the main square. A sweaty, iron-lunged man swung a bronze bell, its strident sound cutting through the market's hubbub.

  "Hear ye! Hear ye well!" he shouted, attracting glances. "The governor plans an attack to eliminate the Jabuticaba Quilombo! Any man who knows how to use a magic gem will be well paid! Anyone with information on the exact location of the quilombo will also be rewarded! Let's finish off the runaway blacks and reclaim what is ours!"

  The crowd around began to stir, a murmur of interest and greed spreading.

  "I know how to handle a Fire Gem!"

  "I've hunted in those woods! I can guide the troops!"

  "How much are they paying? Name the price!"

  Amid the commotion, a boy in tattered clothes, no more than fourteen years old, slipped through the crowd and ran towards a dark, foul-smelling tavern at the edge of the docks. Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of cheap cacha?a and tobacco. He approached an old man leaning against the counter, a worn cowboy hat on his head and a deep scar cutting through his right eyebrow.

  "Seu Sebasti?o!" the boy called, panting. "They want to finish off all the blacks in the Jabuticaba Quilombo! They say they'll pay a fortune! We should join up, I can take down one or two, easy!"

  The man, clearly drunk, turned his face slowly. His red, bleary eyes focused on the boy with difficulty.

  "Huh..." he grumbled, his voice slurred. "This governor is new and naive, Jo?ozinho. If it were that easy to finish off the quilombo, we would have done it fifty years ago. Everyone who goes on this first attack... is gonna face reality. Hunting runaway blacks isn't child's play." He took a long swig from his mug. "Besides, we still have some coppers saved up. Let's just wait. Let this wave of adventurers get themselves killed. The next attack, then we'll join to get the real money."

  The boy, Jo?ozinho, involuntarily grimaced at the strong alcoholic breath, but restrained himself.

  "Okay, Seu Sebasti?o," he said obediently. "Makes sense. We'll wait."