Chapter Text
There are no flowers, no, not this time
There will be no angels gracing the lines, just these stark words I find
I'd show a smile but I'm too weak
I'd share with you, could I only speak, just how much this hurts me
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I turn on my bed, searching hopelessly for a position that would allow me to rest.
My breath is ragged, my body is burning but I shiver as cold sweat runs down my whole body.
I have been feeling sick for some days already, fighting against my oppressive magical power and just barely managing to keep it from running wild.
The first time I started feeling uncomfortable because of my mana, the caretakers immediately sucked it out but, as I grew older, I had to spend more and more days suffering before someone would take pity on me. They would always use feystones of the same size, so while at the beginning I would feel fine for a whole season, this time I started feeling sick again after just ten days.
I know what is going to happen to me. I remember when Quarta was suffering from the same fever I have now. The caretakers let him on his own longer and longer, until one day a guard visited him and he disappeared. The caretakers pretended one of the men from outside had come to take him, but this place is incredibly silent at night, I heard the guard tell Quarta he was going to turn him into a feystone. He closed the door and covered his mouth, but I could still hear his screams. I know he suffered, and I have nightmares about it every night.
I've kept on hoping with all my might that anyone, even one of the men that come from outside, would take me away with them. I've seen them in the garden sometimes, they do strange things to the princesses and make them scream, but anything that could happen to me is better than being turned into a feystone. I know it's just something the caretakers tell us to make us believe the older boys were taken to a better place -even though they only disappeared after suffering from the fevers- but as my only other option is to become a feystone, I've kept desperately clinging to it.
But it's too late now. Either I lose control of my mana or I manage to keep it in check and I am visited by a guard, either way I'm about to disappear.
I feel my mana get out of control. I try to calm my heart and chase away the negative thoughts before I'm actually consumed by my magical power, but the fear that I might not be able to do it makes my mana even more difficult to contain. I curl into a ball, squeezing my eyes shut as I desperately try to calm down, to keep in check the heat burning my body. Breathing is getting more difficult, and new sweat covers me. My heart is beating like crazy.
Is this the end?
Will I be consumed by my magical power?
Tears start gathering in my eyes.
I can't hold on anymore.
I want this to end...
I want--
I feel disoriented for a moment. Suddenly, the unbearable heat inside of me breaks away like tea from a shattered cup. I know this sensation, someone is sucking out my mana.
I take deep breaths and let my heart slow down. For a while I keep my eyes closed, pushing as much mana as I can out of my body. The feystone will soon be taken away from my forehead, but if I can push just a bit more in it, maybe it will take one bell longer for me to feel sick again.
"Seems I made it just in time." Someone whispers.
It's not one of the other kids, but the voice doesn't resemble those of the caretakers, either. Rather, it almost reminds me of the voices of the princesses that I sometimes hear. Is it a woman? But it can't be. The women that live in this place are not allowed here on the boys' floor.
With some effort I manage to open my eyes but, even though the sun is high in the sky and the room is fully lit, I can't see anybody in front of me. I can feel, however, another feystone being pressed against my temple as the previous one is taken away. This never happened before. Not even the older children had ever said anything about a second feystone being used to suck out their mana.
I'm afraid. What is happening? Is this person a guard? Can the guard that comes to turn you into a feystone be a woman? But shouldn't she come at night? And why can't I see her?
I try to turn around to look at the door. The only time I've heard it get closed was when the guard visited Quarta, so if I see it closed I will be sure that I'm about to become a feystone right now. However, I'm too weak to turn around and the woman firmly holds my head in place. She shushes me and speaks quietly, repeatedly moving her hand on my head.
"Quinta, the guard will come to visit you tonight. Do you know what it means?" Her words make my blood run cold. I know very well what it means. "Do you want to live, Quinta?" she asks me, without even waiting for me to answer the first question.
I look in the direction of the voice. Is she really giving me the choice? Can I really keep on living?
I'm not sure if I can trust her, but if the guard is coming tonight, it's not like I have anything to lose by answering her truthfully. After all, she just prevented my mana from consuming me.
"I do."
My voice comes out quieter than I intended. I'm not afraid that someone in the hall could hear me -nobody ever bothers reaching the last room in the hall during the day, when all the other children are in the common room- rather, I'm terrified that this might be a dream and that I might wake up if I speak out loud.
"Good. Then we'll escape as soon as the night comes. Now rest." I can hear satisfaction in her voice, but also determination. She puts a third feystone on my forehead, then a fourth, all the while moving her hand along my head as if to smooth my hair. It's strange that she isn't using a brush, but somehow the gesture feels calming, and I hope she'll keep doing it.
When I feel that my body has stopped burning and my mana is finally under control, the woman puts something in my hand. Only after she lets it go I can see it's a small feystone held by a thin chain.
"This is a magic tool. I have an identical one, and as long as we are both holding onto it, nothing we say will be heard by others." she is no longer whispering, but speaking normally.
"I'll give you a potion to restore your strength. Can you sit up?" she asks, and I try to muster the strength to do it, but in the end she has to help me up and keep me in place. I see a long, thin glass appear in my hand, and I feel the woman's hand guide mine to my mouth. "It's very bitter, but please drink it all in one gulp. I promise it will make you feel better."
I do as instructed and quickly drink the liquid. Even after swallowing it, though, the taste is so disgusting that I feel like I'm about to throw up, but I try to resist. All of a sudden, the jug on my nightstand rises by itself, tilts to the side, and water is poured into my glass. The incredible sight distracts me from the terrible taste I'm trying to endure.
"Drink." the woman says. I reach out for the floating glass and drink slowly, letting water slosh in my mouth to wash away the taste. When I realize that it isn't enough, I try rubbing my tongue against the top of my mouth in the effort of removing the awful flavor. It's not as unbearable as before, but it's still there. Once again I look at where I think the woman is, wanting to ask why she did something so cruel as giving me that disgusting thing, but I can't bring myself to voice my question. Ever since I can remember I've been told repeatedly that I have to eat everything that I am given. Although I've never been given something so bad tasting.
"I see you are a [gourmet] already..." I can tell by her voice that she's amused, and somehow I feel wary. Does she enjoy seeing me suffer? And what is a 'gourmet', anyway? Is it dangerous for me if she thinks I am one?
My worries must have been showing in my eyes, because she sighs, and starts smoothing my hair again. "Don't look at me like that, I know how disgusting that potion is, but it's the most effective you'll ever find. Aren't you feeling better already?"
My attention taken away from the bad taste in my mouth, I finally realize that she's no longer supporting me. I try moving my arms a little and squeezing my fist, feeling that my strength returned in full. Suddenly aware that my wariness was uncalled for, I feel the urge to apologize to this woman that in this short time has done nothing but take care of me. "Sorry." I whisper, and after a short pause the hand smoothing my hair slides down to my cheek, her thumb smoothing it. Do I have something on my face?
I feel her hand move to my back. "You're drenched... We need to get you cleaned or you'll get a fever before we'll be able to get away." she says, and for a moment I anticipate the feeling of a warm bath that I've missed for many days, but unfortunately I need the help of a caretaker to use the tub in the shared bath.
"It's impossible..." I say, both to inform her and to share my disappointment.
"Don't worry, I have a trick..." she laughs, but for some reason it doesn't feel mean like when the caretakers laugh. "Close your eyes and mouth and hold your breath." she says, but I do neither and stare at where her voice comes from, wondering what she is up to. "Quick..." she insists, and this time, reluctantly, I do as instructed.
I gasp in surprise as my whole body gets drenched in water. I quickly close my mouth as soon as I realize my mistake, but when the water disappears without a trace, taking away the dirty and sweaty feeling, I wonder why she told me to hold my breath if neither my nose nor my mouth were ever covered in water.
"Good thing I learned from your mistake and left the face out..." She says, her voice sounding amused, and I get annoyed at her words. Well, maybe I could have avoided the mistake of gasping in surprise if she had warned me I was going to get submerged in water. I'm torn between the urge to retort and the knowledge that one should never talk back to the caretakers. I know she isn't one, but it's confusing since now she's tending to me.
"Now hold your breath properly so we can get your face clean as well." she says, and at this point I feel the need to prove I wasn't in the wrong.
Turning my eyes down, uncomfortable with the action I'm about to take, I timidly whisper "...anybody would have gasped."
She answers my rebuke with silence, making me anxious. Have I angered her? Is she going to punish me? Leave me here? Just when I'm about to apologize for my misbehavior she sighs and, once again, smooths my hair.
"I wish you could have been this wise 15 years from now... Now, let's get your face clean."
I look at her -or, at least, at where I think she is- trying to understand what kind of nonsense is she spouting now.
"Come now, hold your breath. Faster than Steiferise!"
Steife--what? I wonder about it briefly, but then I just give up. I'm really grateful to this woman, but I have this strange feeling that trying to understand her will only make my head hurt. I hold my breath as she told me to and after the somewhat unpleasant feeling of having my face submerged in water, it feels clean and refreshed as the rest of my body.
"Feeling better?" she asks, her hand never stopping their movements on my head. I'm drawn to the warmth, but I refrain from leaning against it, knowing that I should never hinder the job of those taking care of me.
"Yes." With the excess mana gone, my physical strength returned and my body and face clean, I actually feel much better than I have in many days. I only miss not having been able to warm up in the bath, but I'm not going to voice my complaint.
"Good. We are going away as soon as everyone else has gone to bed. Why don't you take a nap until then?"
I think about her suggestion. I've been laying in bed for days, but I haven't been able to rest for even a bell, plus getting under the covers will give me a chance to warm up. However, taking a nap now doesn't seem such a good idea to me.
"I'll waste your efforts if I do..." I say, my eyes down in disappointment. Sometimes the caretakers quickly brush my hair before I go to bed, but somehow it doesn't seem right to make a mess of it after all the care she put in smoothing it.
"My efforts? ...Are you feeling unwell? Weak? Do you feel your mana is still unstable?" her words come out faster and faster and for some reason she starts touching my forehead, neck, wrists.
"I don't..." I say, a little uncomfortable with her touching, rougher than she has done until now.
"Then what?" with her hands on both sides of my head, she tilts it, pulling down the skin underneath my eyes.
"My hair will get messy, you smoothed it so much..."
For a while, she says nothing. Then one of her hands moves down to get hold of mine, and the other, once again, starts moving on my hair. "You mean like this?"
I nod. She squeezes my hand tighter.
"I'm not smoothing your hair, I'm petting you. Has nobody ever done this to you?"
"No." I say. Shaking my head would disturb her 'petting', so I prefer to speak. "The caretakers always use a comb."
Her hand stops moving, and shortly after she surrounds my head with both her arms. My face is pressed against something soft and warm, with a calming scent, even though it's a bit difficult to breathe.
"Petting is a way to show affection. When you pet someone you want to comfort them, praise them, soothe them... you want them to be happy." Her voice sounds more and more strangled. "I want you to be happy, Fe-- Quinta. To live and be happy."
A sensation of warmth spreads through my chest. I'm not sure what it is, but it's one of the most pleasant feelings I've ever felt, even more pleasant than having her arms around my head or being petted. I close my eyes and lean my head against the soft, good smelling thing, enjoying the warmth.
After a while she moves back, and starts petting me once more, guiding me to lay down. "Rest now, it's going to be a long night... And if your hair gets messy, I will pet you until it becomes smooth again, sounds good?"
I feel my cheeks contract and my lips stretch as I nod, eagerly. As her petting makes me drift off to sleep, I keep making this strange expression, one that I used to do when I was younger, but did it less and less as my mana became strong enough to constantly be on the verge of consuming me, until at some point I completely forgot about it.