Chapter Text
Now I see your tears on account of my wants
And now it appears that I'm feeling guilty and worried, dear
That you think that I might not want you here
— Coming Up Roses, Harry Styles
●◇○
It was getting worse.
Watching Sinocia's expert hands prepare her material for the procedure, he felt it deep in his bones. Something was wrong. But it wasn't supposed to be this way. It was supposed to work. It had to.
A few minutes ago, he had felt Olruggio's hand settle on his shoulder, but after Qifrey had flinched, its warmth had quickly faded away. He deeply regretted it now.
"Alright," Sinocia began, holding a strange silver device in her hands. "I'll need to anesthetize your eye before we can start. You can lay back."
Qifrey felt himself tense. His hands bunched up the fabric of his robes, creating a strange pattern of white waves in the warm light of the room.
Her eyes softened. "It's a completely painless procedure, I promise. I'll only put a few drops in your eye. Quick and easy."
He cleared his throat in an attempt to ease the lump that had settled there like a rock at the bottom of a river. "Of course." Feeling Olruggio's eyes on him, but refusing to meet his gaze, Qifrey laid back on the small medical chair. It wasn't comfortable at all, but he preferred it that way. Comfort always meant vulnerability. Weakness. Danger.
Sinocia scooted closer in her own chair, holding a small bottle of a mysterious clear substance. It glistened like water when it caught the light of the sconces in the room. Qifrey instantly decided he hated it and stared at the ceiling. Unfortunately, given his position, it meant he was now looking directly in his friend's eyes. Qifrey had no idea what Olruggio saw on his face, but judging by the frown now sporting his own, it must not have been very reassuring.
"Just keep looking at the ceiling, please," Sinocia advised before she let a few drops of the liquid fall onto his eye.
She was right; it didn't hurt at all. Somehow, that brought him no comfort.
The healer carried on: "You'll start having some trouble closing your eye and it also might get a bit dry, but we'll wrap it with bandages to protect it as soon as we're done here, okay? Should wear off in a few hours."
Qifrey could feel the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, like the awful sound of raindrops on rotten wood. With his condition, that meant that he wouldn't be able to see until the anesthetic wore off. He kept repeating to himself that it was temporary, it was only meant to be temporary and nothing else—
The feeling of a hand brushing against his own, the skin warm and dry, roughened by years of manual work. "Hey. Whatever you're thinking, stop it," Olruggio grumbled. "It won't be for long. I'll help you get around, okay? And the girls, too. You know how they are. You'll be lucky if you get a second to yourself."
Qifrey smiled. It felt more like a wince. "Yes, I know." At Olruggio's deepening frown, he squeezed his hand, trying to forget about the hitch underneath his skin, begging to come out. "I know."
After a few agonizing moments that felt like years, Sinocia turned back to them with the strange silver device. At first glance, it simply looked like a tiny hammer. She grinned at them. "This is a tonometer. It's meant to measure the pressure in the eye. With this, we'll be able to determine if anything's wrong with it."
Olruggio's hand was almost painful around his own. The hitch turned into writhing. "And if there is?"
Sinocia merely gave him a disapproving look. "Then we can go from there. No need to borrow grief from the future." And with that, she approached them again, her hands steady and her face a mask of pure concentration. Unwittingly, it made him think of Coco before she started a particularly difficult spell, sitting cross-legged in front of the hearth.
His heart gave a painful squeeze.
Following Sinocia's instructions to stare at the ceiling again, he could see the small hammer descending upon his eye. This close, he noticed it was coated in strange ink, but even though a part of him was curious as to its purpose, the rest of his mind was already panicking at the results this test would provide.
The metal pressed gently against his eye for a few moments. It was a bit strange to feel the movement in his head and not his eye directly, but he was glad for the numbness, if not for the recovery part.
Before he knew it, it was already over. Sinocia let out a satisfied hum and quickly turned back to her desk, leaving his line of vision. He tried to blink by reflex, but his eyelid wouldn't move, and when he couldn't even look at anything else but the ceiling, he felt a wave of nausea rising up.
Olruggio's hand gave him another gentle squeeze. "Hey, hey, hey! You're fine, it's just the anesthetic, alright? You're okay, Qifrey, stay with me." His voice sounded as anxious as he felt.
He nodded weakly, not trusting himself to speak. The lump was back in his throat and the last thing he wanted was to start crying with an audience. He was fine, it was only temporary, it was fine, he was alright, this would not last for long—
Sinocia appeared back in his periphery, but he had a hard time making out the expression on her face. "The pressure in your eye is a bit higher than the norm. This isn't too worrying, though; with a bit of daily exercise and a few pillows under your head when you sleep to relieve the internal pressure, you'll be fine. Just make sure to come right back here if anything's getting worse, okay? I'll give you a few drops to bring home with you to help with the pressure." She was writing down a few things while speaking, but after a few moments, she looked up. "Have you been feeling stressed out lately?"
Qifrey started to laugh. It sounded absolutely deranged even to his own ears, and judging by the tightening of the hand still warm and safe around his and the startled look in Sinocia's eyes, he wasn't the only one to think so.
He stopped himself before his giggles turned into sobs, but it was a pathetically close call. "I'm terribly sorry, Sinocia. I didn't mean to laugh, that was rather rude of me. Yes, I suppose I have been feeling a bit anxious lately."
He inadvertently tried to close his eye again, just to avoid the pity he was sure to find on her face, before remembering that it wouldn't work.
Gentle hands entered his vision again, wrapping soft bandages over his eye, leaving him in complete darkness. Temporary, complete darkness, he reminded himself with a clenched jaw. The phantom smell of rain, dirt and rotten wood wouldn't leave his lungs.
"That's alright," was all she said, securing the end of the cloth on the side of his face. "Then you'll just have to take it easy for the next few weeks, okay? I know being a professor must be quite taxing, but remember to take a break every now and then."
Her words were caring, and well-intentioned, he knew they were, but right about now, they only brought him the very same worry they'd tried to alleviate from him. But such was his burden to bear, and only his own.
A sudden vision of sinuous branches, white and twisted like broken fingers, flashed in his mind.
He removed his hand from Olruggio's, his only tether to reality in this complete darkness, immediately missing its warmth and kicking himself for it.
"Of course, Sinocia," he felt himself responding without feeling it. "Thank you for your help."
It really was getting worse.
●◇○
It had started with the sun.
A few months ago, after a quick trip with the girls to Kalhn to buy some paper and conjuring ink, Qifrey had elected to hold class outside for the rest of the day. After an entire season stuck inside a stuffy atelier by unrelenting snowstorms, it was the wise thing to do for any professor that wanted their students to remain eager and attentive. Alaira always reminded him that his choice to live so far away from the Great Hall was a poor decision for this reason (among numerous others, according to her and Beldaruit), but Qifrey was used to it by now.
Here was home.
The occasion was perfect; Coco had needed practice with her sylph shoes (their speed was sometimes a bit tricky to manage on longer distances, even for her) and Agott and Tetia wanted to experiment with a new levitation spell they'd been talking about for weeks. As for Richeh, she never passed an opportunity to fly around the atelier for a bit. She was quite the adept in that particular case.
Qifrey had been anxious to make the most of the day. He'd been having trouble sleeping lately (more than usual) and had thought the nice weather might help alleviate his predicament.
How wrong he had been.
"Careful with that bottom line, Tetia!" he'd shouted over the wind. Her and Agott had been sitting a few paces away under an appletree, dozens of paper sheets scattered around them like a halo. At the sound of his voice, their heads turned in tandem. "You don't want your object to fly to the moon, after all."
Their matched smiles reflected his own, as they brought their attention back to their wands. From where he was sitting cross-legged in the open field, he could catch a glimpse of Richeh spiralling overhead between the trees. Her long hair would probably get tangled like a bird's nest when they had to go back home – as she always refused to tie it up – but Qifrey knew she liked it when he brushed it for her in front of the hearth's warmth.
His glasses had been firmly sitting on his nose, in their rightful place, but for some reason, that day, they didn't do much to block the harsh light of the sun. Ever since getting his shoulder wounded in Romonon, he had known it was only a matter of time before his vision would continue to diminish drastically, but he'd thought he'd have more of it. Qifrey vividly remembered the look on Olruggio's face when the man had discovered the seal he'd drawn on the left lense. It was too bad the man didn't remember making them for him in the first place. The fear in his eyes had been everything but surprising; after all, it was the same look that he'd seen in the mirror every day since they'd made their promise to each other. But the forgiveness... the forgiveness was always the most disarming part.
He'd brushed back his sweaty hair from his face in a vain attempt to soothe the headache that had been building there for a few hours. Maybe he'd have to get back to the Great Hall and ask Sinocia and Ermile for some throne tea again. The mere thought of being underwater again made his skin crawl, but without a way to relieve the pain, he was quickly running out of options, and he had students to teach and an atelier to run. He couldn't afford to get distracted and forget his duties. Or become too comfortable.
Overhead, Coco had been swirling into a tight loop and getting dangerously close to Richeh's height. Without thinking, Qifrey had stood up, his feet unsteady and immediately preparing for flight, but before he could even knock his soles together, his vision had whited out.
It had only lasted a couple of seconds. Barely a few ticks on a clock, and yet it was enough to bring him to his knees, hands shaking in the grass.
Coco and Richeh had landed, safely – safely, thank all the stars in the sky — and made haste towards him, Agott and Tetia quick on their heels. His breath was rattling worryingly in his chest.
"Master Qifrey! Are you alright?" Coco had then been crouched in front of him. It had taken his mind a few moments to catch up; he could've sworn she'd been further away, but then he'd blinked and—
"Master Qifrey?" It was Agott this time. Her voice was hushed, but the undertones of worry were glaringly obvious, like a lighthouse at the sea.
He tried to slow down his breathing. "Quite alright, thank you. I simply must have slipped on something." Judging by the widening of Tetia's eyes and Richeh's frown, his answer had been anything but comforting. Damn it all, they'd grown so observant, smarter than he'd ever been at their age. He wondered how long he'd be able to hide this from them.
The answer had seemed alarmingly short.
"Do we need to fetch Master Olruggio?" Tetia had asked, ever the caring soul.
Qifrey's heart had squeezed painfully in his chest. Branches, leaves and vines, as white as bones and as twisted as veins. Filling his head, his eye, his mouth, blocking his lungs his throat and his view of the light—
"No." His voice had been as hard and cold as marble. Noticing the flinch of Coco's hands in his periphery, he'd tried to soften his features into something resembling a smile. "No. We'll get back now. We should prepare for dinner in any case."
On the way back home, four little witches had walked on the glowstones leading up to the atelier, and the last one had stared at the door, wondering when his life would be coming to an end.
It seemed only time would tell.
●◇○
After that fateful afternoon, the headaches were even more consistent, until they eventually grew unending. He'd tried every type of tea he knew, medicine, herbs, fresh air and – when he grew desperate enough – more sleep when he could, but nothing worked. That's when the panic settled in.
One morning, after what he thought was an appropriate amount of sleep, he'd awoken to a dry mouth and the same throbbing in his head. It suddenly hit him that this pain might not be natural in its essence.
That the source might be magical after all.
But it couldn't be, could it? They'd found a way to contain it, to avoid the parasite from growing, he just had to erase his best friend's memories every now and then, nothing more and—
Qifrey had gotten up and practically ran to the bathroom mirror, frantically brushing his fringe out of his face.
And there it was; the tiniest, most gentle twig, growing between his right eyelids, as silver as the moon and as pale as the snow. A paradox in reflection.
He had stared at it for a long time, frozen and paralyzed in his disbelief. But the sprout did not move, standing proudly where his eye should be, where it was always supposed to have been in the first place, anything but this monstrosity.
It is said that a Silvertree once fell in love with a witch.
Qifrey's hands clenched on the hard surface of the sink.
He really thought he'd have more time.
●◇○
The first time had been the worst. But the second time had almost killed him.
"It was my idea, wasn't it?" Olruggio's voice had sounded calm, but Qifrey had known by the look on his face he'd been terrified.
"We don't have to do this," Qifrey had pleaded. He could barely breathe through it all.
A flash of anger haunted his friend's eyes. "Of course we do! Are you going to break your promise so soon?" Olruggio had replied, his expression firm and unyielding. He had retrieved his palm quire and shoved it into Qifrey's hands without an ounce of hesitation, despite their shaking. "You can't give up now."
And so Qifrey had erased his memories. And again.
"How many times have you done this?"
"A few."
A pause. "Okay."
Again and again.
"How long has it been since last time?"
"A month."
"Wow. That didn't take long, did it?"
"You've always been too smart for your own good."
A warm smile. He'd never deserved it. "I can tell you're stalling. Come on, you don't have much time before you won't be able to use your hands."
And again and again and again–
"You've done this before, haven't you?"
"Yes."
A sigh. A deeper voice, weathered by the years and wearier than ever before. "I suspected as much." And then that smile. That beautiful and devastating smile. Always so trusting, so gentle. "Well, what are you waiting for? It's almost dinner time for the girls."
Olruggio's fear had never been for himself. It'd been for him. It had always been for him.
●◇○
The pressure had started to spread to his left eye, too. This was his worst nightmare come true, but at the time, he'd still had hope that it would resorb by itself.
It hadn't taken Olruggio long to notice. In fact, it had been almost embarrassingly easy for him.
One night, Qifrey had attempted to push through a particularly painful headache to make dinner for everyone, but his hands had been shaking so much under a wave of nausea he hadn't been able to steady them when pouring water into a pan. The result had been anything but subtle – and the sound deafening. The girls had all flinched from where they sat in the living room, their eyes wide and anxious as he tried to offer a shaking smile in apology. Olruggio had simply stared at him with a frown. He'd been doing a lot of that lately.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you all." Qifrey had grabbed an old rag from the counter and crouched on the floor to clean the mess. He'd tried to hide his wince as his head gave another painful throb in protest.
"Alright, that's it," Olruggio suddenly said, snatching the rag from his hands and manhandling him onto a kitchen chair. Before Qifrey could even think to protest, Olruggio threw a fiery gaze his way and started to clean the floorstones in his stead. "I know you hate it when I worry about you, but you can't go on like this. We'll pay a visit to Sinocia and Ermile tomorrow."
Qifrey felt like his insides had turned to ashes. If they saw the branches in his eye, it would not only be dangerous to him, but to them as well. Healers weren't supposed to know about magic cast onto the body. He couldn't let that happen to them.
He straightened up. "I'm quite alright. I'll be better after a good night's sleep, I promise."
Olruggio did not even waste his time making eye contact. "Nope. Nice try. We'll go tomorrow, bright and early. Well..." He paused, the hand which had been previously drying the floor frozen in the air for a moment. "As early as I can be up and about," he amended, finally throwing the rag away and standing up.
His weakened protests had fallen on deaf ears, and on the morrow, they'd brought the girls inside the sinuous hallways of the Great Hall to Ermile, while Qifrey was getting checked by Sinocia with Olruggio.
Upon their return that afternoon, Qifrey looked at the small vial of medicine in his hands, feeling an insurmountable exhaustion deep in his bones. Lately, he had felt like his entire existence was getting away from him. It was not so long ago that he'd been relying on a routine — admittedly, a very precarious one, one that involved constant vigilance and an entire sea of guilt — but it'd worked. It'd worked for two decades without fail.
So what has changed?
The question rattled in his mind through the entire afternoon, the evening and then the night, unrelentless, until the answer finally found him in the painful rays of the morning light.
He'd been too comfortable. Qifrey almost laughed when it hit him: this entire predicament was supposed to be anything but reassuring, but somehow, the gentle pass of time had withered away the sharp edges of his suffering. Just like the tides would smooth over the rocks of the shore again and again until they became nothing but sand, he'd grown to expect the pain, until it wasn't as excruciating anymore. It was almost like having a reason for it was enough to soften the blow.
And it did. Stars, it did.
But it meant that erasing Olruggio's memories of the Silverwood tree wouldn't be enough anymore.
Because somehow, that solution had grown into a routine, and routine was solace.
Routine was solace. Even a painful one.
He hid his sobs into knees as best he could.
●◇○
The twig could hardly be called that anymore. It had grown into a full sprout in a few weeks. Qifrey had let his hair grow longer to hide it as best as he could, knowing that it was only a matter of days before it would become too tall to conceal.
The light was also a problem now. Curtains were almost always drawn on a sunny day, Qifrey feeling every ounce of guilt in his chest for depriving his apprentices of sunlight when they were stuck inside to learn new spells. He tried to make his teachings as short as possible before sending them outside for practice to appease them. Nonetheless, the guilt settled in, between each of his ribs where branches were already writhing like veins, each time he had to blow out a candle or retreat to his room to let his eye rest.
Olruggio barely left his side through it all. He was always near, finding an excuse to be in the same room, proclaiming to need his advice on a project or simply offering his help with the lessons, which would baffle Qifrey a bit. It was the first time in a long while he'd seen his friend so eager to talk about a new contraption, let alone teach some students. Before all of this, he'd been spending more and more time in his own workshop, away from overexcited hands and the neverending questions of young minds. Qifrey was glad for his company, if not for the hitch it brought out of his skin every time Olruggio would lay a gentle hand on his shoulder in worry.
The last one had left a smatter of rather impressive vines on his arm. When Qifrey had felt the writhing again under the soft fabric of his shirt, he'd excused himself to his room – avoiding Olruggio's anxious frown and the soft light in his eyes – and took it off with trembling fingers.
And there, under the warm flickering light of the evening, boughs swirled around his right shoulder, in the soft shape of a hand he knew like the back of his own.
●◇○
Qifrey was sleepy.
Here, sitting in front of the hearth, warmed by one of Olruggio's spells, he almost wished to stay forever on the soft fabric of the rug. His thoughts were slow, as if wading through shallow waters before he could reach out and pluck them into consciousness.
His eye was closed, his head resting on his knees, but he could hear the soft clatter of Olruggio's work on the kitchen table. The girls were fast asleep in their rooms, but their brushbuddy had decided to crawl beside Qifrey for a nap in the warmth of the fire.
Before he knew it, the rattle from the kitchen had abruptly stopped and the muted sound of feet on a rug were approaching him. A few seconds later, warm hands landed on his shoulders, supporting his upper body weight. With a start, he found he hadn't realized he'd been slouching towards the floor.
"I think it's high time you went to bed, don't you think?" Olruggio's voice sounded amused to his ears, but he was long enough practiced by now to uncover the roots of worry hidden in it.
He hummed, his thoughts still sluggish and vague in his head. He was so warm, so comfortable.
Olruggio frowned, his hands clenching painfully on his arms. "Qifrey? Are you alright?"
Qifrey looked down at himself for a moment. He wasn't hurt, was he? Why would Olruggio ask him that?
"Qifrey." He was definitely panicked by now. "What– what is that?"
Qifrey froze, his eye widening in realization.
Olruggio's hand gingerly touched the side of his head, finding the silver sprout among the white curls of hair. For a moment, he didn't move, just stared at it in horror, until his gaze found Qifrey's eye in complete consternation. "Is it hurting you? Why haven't you said anything?"
And Qifrey– Qifrey wasn't strong enough for this anymore. Years of this routine had completely broken his resolve, and right here, right now, his promise escaped him.
"Olruggio. I have something to tell you."
So he did. And there went the cycle again: disbelief, disappointment, anger. Gentle forgiveness. Always, without fail, undeserving. But always given, nonetheless.
Olruggio's hands were on his face now, cupping his cheeks and swiping his right thumb over his tears. A silver leaf fell on his lap. "You have to do it again."
"I can't."
Olruggio gave him a disapproving look. "Of course you can. I won't let you throw your life away for my sake."
Qifrey felt a wave of anger wash over him. "But you would let me throw away yours for mine?"
Olruggio's expression hardened. "You said it was my idea in the first place. I trust you."
I trust you.
Qifrey felt the hitch in his bones, the writhing in his muscles, begging to come out, to stretch into the ground and rest for a moment. Just for a moment...
"It's not working anymore."
His friend huffed in annoyance. "What do you mean it's not working? You just have to draw the spell again–"
"Olruggio."
"I'll do it if you don't want to. You'll just have to show me how because I–"
"Olly, please."
The panic in his own voice must have registered in Olruggio's mind, for the man immediately stopped in his tracks. "What?" he asked. His voice had never sounded so small before. It terrified him.
There was a vine sprouting on his left knee now. He gently removed Olruggio's hands from his face, regretting it before it was even done, and looked into his eyes. It might've been the last chance he got to.
"It was bound to stop being effective after a while. We always knew it wasn't meant to last forever, didn't we?" Qifrey felt a branch swirl around his spine, rising slowly to his neck.
Olruggio threw his hands up in the air in frustration. "To hell with it! We'll find another way! There must be one, we'll just have to go back to the Tower again—"
"No," Qifrey briefly squeezed Olruggio's hand, before releasing it. He smelled like burnt wood and the parsley they'd been growing on the kitchen windowsill. "You have to stay here and take care of the girls for me. Will you promise to do this, Olruggio? Please?"
His face crumbled, the light in his eyes seeming to diminish ever so slightly. "Of course I will, Qifrey. But I won't have to, will I? You'll be here to take care of them yourself. And I you, because you always forget to," he added with a bitter smile.
The pain was hard to ignore by now. "I need to get outside," he winced.
Olruggio looked away for a second, before clenching his jaw and nodding. A few moments later, he helped Qifrey to his feet, before stepping away from the branches that were already reaching for him. Qifrey tried to make for the door, but after a few unsteady steps, his legs gave out underneath him and he landed heavily on the floorstones, barely catching himself. He thought about getting up – tried to – but eventually, the decision was made for him: strong hands slid under his knees and around his shoulders, and he felt Olruggio's chest against his cheek.
"This'll only be temporary, you hear? I'll find another way to bring you back." Qifrey could hear his voice reverberating through his chest. He decided it was the loveliest sound he had ever listened to, and was sad that it would be the first and last time he heard it like that.
Following his silence, Olruggio simply clutched him closer.
They made their way slowly, painfully, to the front of the atelier, where the hills were almost silver under the light of the stars. Qifrey had never felt so exhausted before. But he could feel his roots twisting around Olruggio's shoulders and legs, and he couldn't have that. "You have to put me down," he said urgently, though his voice was barely above a whisper by now.
A sob wrenched itself out of Olruggio's mouth before he clamped it shut and gently deposited Qifrey on the grass. He did not remove his hands from him.
Qifrey turned his head towards his best friend. "You have to let me go now." Those were the hardest words he'd ever had to say in his entire life. Everything inside of him screamed to cling to Olruggio, to stay by his side forever and never let him out of his sight. Seeing his friend frozen in place, hesitating for a moment too long, Qifrey pulled away before the branches could harm him. Every time it had happened before, it became the hardest thing he'd ever done, and this time was no different.
Olruggio tried to come closer, but Qifrey took a step back. The distance hurt like a physical wound. "I don't want to hurt you," he warned. It became harder and harder to keep his eye open.
"Are you sure I can't erase my memories again? Maybe it'll still work this time," Olruggio asked, his hands awkwardly resting by his sides, clenching and unclenching again in a feverish rhythm. His face shone bright with tears under the moonlight, the brightest star in Qifrey's sight.
Always the brightest.
Qifrey smiled one last time. "Take care of our family." The hand he wanted to raise to Olly's face was now stuck between two silver branches, swirling around each other like lovers in a neverending dance.
It was too late this time. Much too late. But for the first time in his life, this did not scare him.
He was safe.