Chapter Text
Chapter I: A Letter Goodbye
Sitting at the tiny writing desk, a young woman stared at the blank piece of parchment before her, right hand grasping tightly to the quill in her in fingertips, almost willing for the page to write itself, or at least give her a hint to how to begin. How to begin the same report she had written so many times since asking Doctor Devorak to work at his clinic; the same report she had written each time someone had passed through the doors, suffering from the Red Plague. She had wanted to learn medicine, learn to help ease the suffering that had fallen on Vesuvia, but all she learned was that the suffering was endless, and there was little to nothing she could do.
The soft flame of the lamp just barely illuminated the desk, but even its minimal light was enough to strain her tired eyes, and she couldn’t help but squint slightly against the offensive glow. Running her empty hand through her mess of hair, she felt where the sweat-damp strands refuse to move from where they stuck against her skin, no matter how many times she tried to push them back. All she could do in response was sigh, running her dry tongue absentmindedly across chapped lips.
There wasn’t much time left...
Pressing the tip of the quill to the parchment, she began to write, tuning out the sounds of coughing, crying, praying and pleading that bled through the crack beneath the door that separated her from the rest of the clinic.
Patient No. 10375
Patient name: Calindra Illuris
Patient started displaying symptoms approx. four days prior, beginning with a mild, dry cough. Symptoms progressed along the same timeline as observed in most of the previous patients who have been admitted into the clinic. A slight fever was noted by the end of the first day.
It must be noted, that while I have mostly limited the use of magical remedies for treatment in other patients out of fear of exacerbating the plague’s effect, such caution was not taken -
Calie paused her writing as a violent coughing fit overtook her, ripping at her already tattered throat and sending painful spasms through tight, sore muscles, her entire body convulsing with each hacking rasp. Quickly covering her mouth with the handkerchief she kept close, it was several long, agonizing moments before the coughing ceased, giving her some reprieve. She lowered the fabric from her lips, seeing the dull ivory color spattered with bright red. She stared at the blood, transfixed, though only for a moment; there wasn’t much time, and she wanted to get everything down before...
Looking up, her eyes stared past her dimly lit reflection in the small window, in the direction of the Lazaret. Were it not the middle of the night, she knew she would be able to see the smoke of the crematorium billowing from the island. In her hand, the quill shook. Taking a shallow, painful breath, she returned to the task at hand.
-for Patient 10375. As I suspected, there is something in the nature of the plague that seems to either rebuff the use of magic based remedies, or even becomes worse with their use. As such, after the second day of attempts at this form of treatment with no progress made, I decided to no longer pursue the use of magic as treatment, instead attempting to use it merely as a means to delay the outcome of the plague, so that I could at least help as many others as possible before the sickness ran it course. Unfortunately, it seems that such measures are also ineffective.
Four days have passed since the onset of symptoms, and if this case is to progress like most of the others, I estimate that only two, perhaps three days remain before the sickness has run its course. In the time allotted, I have made further notes and observations that may at least aid in providing relief from the worse of the symptoms. I have included my notes on these with this patient report.
Setting the piece of parchment aside so the ink could dry, she took a moment’s rest, feeling drained from such a simple task. Closing her eyes, she took as deep of a breath as her ragged lungs would allow and nodded to herself. There was more that needed to be done. With eyes open, Calie once more caught sight of her reflection in the window, seeing nothing but the crimson stare of the plague looking back at her. Shaking her head, she looked back to the desk, dipping her quill in the inkwell before writing on a new blank sheet of parchment.
My dearest Asra...
__________
Wrapping her cloak tightly around her shoulders, Calie stood outside the door of her shop, staring at the familiar wood façade, hesitant to enter. Checking that her mask was tightly secured to her face, she quietly unlocked the old worn door and stepped inside. The interior was dark, the shop closed, as it had been for too long now. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she looked around the little shop, knowing she would never step foot here again. This was her home, and she would never again cross its threshold, never again feel the warmth and love that filled its rooms. Tears clung to her eyelashes and began to obscure her view, and all she wanted to do was go upstairs and curl up in the bed and pretend none of this was happening. Even as they fell, the trails of her tears dried quickly against her fevered cheeks, leaving their salty remnants behind.
Holding back the sobs she knew would cause immense pain, she gently placed a scroll on the countertop, facing up so Asra’s name was visible. Taking one more look around, Calie steeled herself against the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, and she turned and quickly left.
Asra would find her letter when (‘if’ her subconscious whispered in doubt) he returned from wherever he had escaped to. She had to have faith that he would.
Calie began the journey to the docks, to find the ferryman to carry her to her final destination.
__________
Asra had read through the words, over and over and over again, until his sight became blurred and his eyes weary, and the paper had become worn and crumbled in his grasp. Every line and dot and rounded letter written in her delicate hand became committed to his memory. She was gone. Calie was gone. Why did she have to insist on staying behind? She should have left Vesuvia with him, where she would have been safe!
My dearest Asra...
He had been too late.
The fine layer of dust that settled on every surface within the small shop told him many days too late. He knew he should have come back sooner, had felt it in his bones that he needed to return. And so, he had come back with an apology on his lips, spoken to an empty building.
Too late.
Sitting on the dusty floor of the painfully silent shop, he held the letter to his chest, as if letting go of it would mean letting go of her. Faust wrapped loosely around Asra’s shoulders, pressing her head softly beneath his chin, trying to give comfort.
Wiping his eyes, Asra gently smoothed out the letter in his hand, his gaze following the flow of her words once more.
My dearest Asra,
I’m not sure how to even begin. Though I suppose there is no good way to ever begin when one comes to the end. Looking back, as I sit here, it doesn’t seem like there was ever enough time. We didn’t get enough time. But the time we did have, I wouldn’t trade it for all the stars in the sky.
You were my friend, my confidant, my heart, and I have cherished the life we shared in. I may no longer be here, but you will always have a part of my heart.
There are so many things I want to say, that I wish I had time to say, but time is funny thing, isn’t it? No matter how much we get, is it ever enough? I know you, and so I ask, please don’t blame yourself. Everything that brought me to this point was my choice, and if my choices have eased the suffering of at least a few, then I do not regret a thing. Well, that’s a lie... I regret one thing. The day you left, I regret my words to you. You are anything but selfish and I understand why you wanted to leave, and I don’t begrudge you for it. I hope you can forgive me for what was said.
I must confess, I thought I would be more afraid at the end… I am many things right now, but at least I’m not afraid. I suppose I can take solace in that.
Goodbye Asra, my heart.
With love,
Calie