CONTENT WARNING: deals with illness and medical situations, in-depth discussion of death and murder, as well as a possible attempt at murder. Don't worry, nothing bloody or anything.
- as usual, one to bear historical context in mind for outdated terminology.
A quick glossary note- Katharis is the old word in-universe for the Scruberoo spell, and Fulguris is the old word in-universe for the Zipzap spell.
Owen
My father enters the laboratory, only to complain that I haven't yet prepared dinner.
"I haven't made dinner because I'm trying to research something for a patient."
I've been more abrupt with him as of late, and he's noticed. He isn't happy about it, but there's not much he can do other than complain about it. Behind closed doors, Samuel would always harangue me about how he thought the physically invalid were a drain on resources. I wonder if he still feels that way now.
Returning here after my time in San Myshuno makes me think back to what my mother used to tell me- that, many years ago, Samuel had a genuine interest in medicine, before it became entirely about greed and manipulation. I don't remember it ever being that way.
"Well, while you're at it, perhaps you can feed your invalid father?"
"How about I make you a deal? You help me with this, and I'll make us something to eat right away."
He tuts at me. "What is it?"
I show him what's on the desk- the alchemical experiment I used to reveal the abnormality in the samples of blood. Whilst my father hoarded his knowledge like a dragon for the sake of greed, I also know it's because much of our medical knowledge is in partial thanks to either magic or alchemy, and the Annorin family is no good to anyone being hung from a rope for being open about such a thing.
I've always hidden my magic, and I've always hated the fact that I had to. My mother taught me most of my spellwork. If I could be more open about it, so many more lives could be saved. In fact, one of the most basic ways to raise survival rates was as simple as hygeine. In an area where such a thing isn't easily achievable, Practical witches could use the Katharis spell. I once managed to get a person's heart beating again with careful use of the Fulguris spell.
"I know you have a more complete set of notes than the ones I took. And I want to offer your protoype cure to a patient- if not that, then I'd at least like to know how to recreate it."
The look he gives me offers me no hope or comfort whatsoever.
"And what patient does this concern, Owen?"
"It's none of your business, Father."
"Of course it's my business. Quite literally, in fact-"
"I'm not revealing anything about a patient that I don't need to, Father. All I'm asking is where your research notes are, and the cure you created."
This isn't his business, not anymore. I do almost all of the work, and unsurprisingly, I've yet to find anyone who wants to, or is willing to, work with me. I wouldn't mind trying to educate people on medicine, but again, I doubt anyone would be too accepting of the arcane side of our success.
"I did a little forethinking some time ago, Owen. Either Eli told a certain someone about the cure to the illness, or you would seek to try and save the life of the man who tried to kill your own father."
I try to quell the rage building up within me, but if he's about to say what I think he's about to say, I don't know if that'll be possible.
"Our little discussion the other day felt like a knife in my chest, Owen," he says, in a mockingly-sad tone. "Both of my sons have turned on their father. Do you know how that feels-"
"Don't make this about you," I reply. "Do you, or do you not still have what I need?"
He proudly straightens his back, as if he's about to announce a crowd.
"No. I destroyed my research notes and my sample of the cure."
Of course he did.
I can't contain it any longer.
Over thirty years of pent-up ire escapes in the form of the Fulguris spell, crackling bright blue all over. The sheer power of it after not using my magic in so long is overwhelming. My hands quiver as the elecricity pools inside my palms. Samuel's fearful expression only heightens my anger. It only makes me want to kill him even more.
Is this how it felt for Oskar when he transformed into whatever nightmarish being he transformed into? When he made an attempt on Annorin's life, guided entirely by the combination of his magic and his hatred? Is this the kind of cruel yet guiltless pleasure a vampire revolves its life around?
"You destroyed what could be the only step forward in curing a previously-incurable illness entirely out of spite for one person! You've set the entire field of medicine back years! Thousands of people have died because of you, and now thousands more will follow!"
I try to breathe it off, but I can't. The crackling electricity is swelling in my palm, and my desire to end him right there and now is only growing tenfold.
"All of this because you couldn't save Mother! All she's meant to you since her death is an excuse for your greed and selfishness!"
"Don't you dare bring her into-"
"Get out!"
There's a gap of a couple of seconds between me firing a bolt of electricity at my father, and now. The surplus magic burns through my veins. My blurred vision clears, but seems brighter, and Annorin's horrified expression is emphasised in the surrounding darkness. Without another word, I open the door for him, and he leaves the laboratory. There's a dark burn mark in the stone from where the electricity narrowly missed him.
I throw myself back onto my chair, a river of emotions running through my mind. For the first time in many years, I'd used Wild magic, and it shouldn't have been exhilarating. The sudden, emphasised desire to take my own father's life shouldn't have felt the way it did, but I cannot deny it. I've never felt like this before, though. I've never felt so angry that I wanted to kill someone.
I stare into the warm orange of the candle's flame, watching as it wavers, endeavouring to calm myself down.
As for my father's actions- disgusted doesn't begin to describe how I feel about it all. We had a potential future of a cure to an uncommon, terminal ailment, now lost to my father's misguided vengeance. To cure Oskar of his vampirism was enough retribution, but of course it wasn't. Father had decided that it didn't matter how many other people died because of what he did- so long as it affected the person he wanted dead.
My father was not often wrong in his field of knowledge, and I despise the fact that his theory was likely correct- that vampirism did not override his humanity, it merely left it in a kind of stasis.
Every single time I have to tell someone their ailment is incurable, it's never easy. It ever gets easy to tell someone that their life is much more finite than they once thought.
People have peculiar beliefs about the frequency of death. They believe that it is all around us, our children, parents, brothers and sisters...There's always someone who doesn't make the winter, who doesn't reach childhood. They think the same about people in my profession, also. We're surrounded by death- eventually, it just gets easier, that's what they think. The truth is, it never gets easier. Dealing with death is never easy for anyone- for a mother, a son, a sibling, for a physician, an undertaker, a soldier.
It'll be even harder telling Oskar about this, and not just because this is my father's doing. My father referred to his mental state as a 'weakness of temperament', which I do not agree with- but it makes telling him all the more difficult. How do I tell a man so used to the way he lives his life something that will change it forever? First he has to become accustomed to being human after over one hundred and fifty years of vampirism, and now this.
I can send letters to other families my father worked with in the past, and I can clutch at straws in the Willow Creek library to see if I can find any further information. If there's anything I hate to say to patients, it's that there's nothing I can do, but I genuinely think that might be the case.
Oskar
one week later
I don't read the letter straight away. I try to take my mind off of my anxieties with a warm fire and a hot cup of tea, but it does little to settle my nerves this time around.
Eli is currently out with Daniel. I've kept this letter until Eli wasn't around, so I wouldn't have to explain anything to him straight away if the results were not a positive outcome. If that's the case, I wouldn't want Eli to find out like that.
My heart freezes in my chest, and my entire body feels cold in spite of the warm fire. Owen has asked me back for another consultation. He believes he's found an abnormality he wishes to discuss.
At least Owen had worded the letter the way he did. As much as it feels like a knife being plunged into my chest, it isn't like it was all those years ago, when they told me heartlessly on pen and paper that I didn't have much longer left.
Just as it did back then, the thousands of futures I'd been trying to recreate in my mind after years of not having to think too much about it begin to dissolve one by one. I thought that perhaps I had at least twenty to thirty years left, and now, that may not necessarily be the case.
A montage of tearful reactions runs through my mind. Violeta, Eli, Alistair, Áine...and Róisín. I don't want to hurt them, and I don't want to upset them, but I have to do this for them as well as myself.
* * *
Owen's voice fades into unintelligible mumbling. I can't focus on him at all.
"Do you need me to repeat any of that, Oskar?"
I force myself to make eye contact with him momentarily.
"What I was saying, is that despite the abnormalities, I believe I've found them fairly early. Back in your...'original' time, and even now, identifying such issues was and is almost impossible, but with some alchemy know-how, I think we've saved some time. As to how much, I'm afraid I'm not entirely sure."
I felt much, much worse when I received that letter back then, so Owen is right- perhaps he's found it early and has bought me some unknown amount of time. Still, no amount of extra time can change what he said earlier.
"My findings match up with the notes I'd copied from my father, and as such, I believe that your illness has returned."
Of course it has.
"And what of your father's cure? What of his knowledge of it?"
He doesn't respond right away. His sorrowful expression doesn't give me any hope at all.
"I'm afraid my father has..." he pauses for a moment, before looking angrily into the carpet. "My father destroyed the cure, as well as his notes."
My emotions become so intense I'm completely frozen in place. Anxiety, despair, and anger fight for their place in the forefront of my mind. The way his voice cracked as he said it- is this an act? Is he covering for his father?
"And how do I know you're telling the truth?"
"Because I wouldn't lie to a patient, Oskar. I have no reason at all to lie to you or antagonise you in any way."
I don't know if I entirely believe him. I don't know what to think. I don't want to think at all.
"Fine, I'll break my professionality if I have to. Oskar, did you see a black burn-like mark on the wall in the hallway as you entered, with a particular lightning-like pattern to it? That was the result of my finding out what Samuel did."
As a matter of fact, I did, and I did notice it wasn't there before. I assumed it was a possible magic mishap, and it seems a little too specific to be some kind of set-up on Owen's part, though I can't speak for Samuel on that.
"My father assumed that either Eli would have told you about the cure, or that I would defy his expectations and try to save your life. He called me a traitor, and told me not too long ago that his theory was that vampirism only froze you in time, not that it reset your humanity in any way."
Judging by the genuine urgency of his voice, it seems he's being honest, after all. He's gone as far as to betray his father's own wishes to do this, putting his occupation as a physician before anything else- unlike his father, who seems to have put himself before his occupation every time.
I laugh to myself about him almost injuring his father with magic. "You must be a pretty powerful spellcaster to leave damage like that. What a shame- if only magic could heal something like this, hm? If only you could say simsalabim and have it done with!"
"As powerful as magic can be, even magic has its limits," Owen replies, in a monotone voice. "My only options are to try and see if anyone else I know in the profession has any more knowledge on it, and I can try and scour the Willow Creek library- but, unfortunately, that is all I'm able to do for now."
The way he ended that sentence...I can tell he doesn't like to say that to anyone. Just as I'm about to leave, he stops me. What more could he possibly want after telling me something like this?
"I'd be happy to see you again if you ever have any questions, Oskar. If anything, I think it would be good to see you regularly, so I can at least keep an eye on any changes-"
"So I can become your guinea-pig now that your father's research is no more, you mean? So you can go on all day long about bloodletting like it'll change anything? Because that didn't work last time, either."
He tuts and sighs. "No, nothing like that, but you never know what developments are around the corner, Oskar, and I can only do that with your help. I can't promise there'll be a cure anytime soon, but the more I can learn about it, the more I can at least try to make things easier for you- and it'll be beneficial for the future. It isn't common, but there are going to be plenty more people out there with the same condition. It'd give them hope."
Hope? What does hope mean to me now? How am I supposed to tell everyone this? I've spent most of my life never having to worry about this happening again, and yet here I am. Before, I only had to tell Violeta- and now I had to do it all over again, with far more people.
"Hope doesn't save people's lives, Owen."
"No, but scientific research does. I'm not doing this because of fame and success- I'm doing this because I want people to stay alive."
I suppose he has a point. I give him a reluctant nod in return. "Okay. I'll do what I can."
"Thank you, Oskar. And if you need anything for pain, sickness, anything like that, if it gets to that point- I'll have something for you, free of charge, at any time."
I can't bring myself to say another word to him. I ought to thank him, but the words won't leave my lips.
I don't have a clue who I'm going to tell first, nor how I'm going to say it. I would have to word it in a sense that I don't know what's next. The trouble is, Áine doesn't even know. I've always felt her to be far more emotional and vulnerable deep down than any other person I've known- the same with Eli. The reason I never told Áine is because I didn't need to. I probably wouldn't have told Eli if Violeta hadn't eluded to it first. After all, back then, did they need to know about something so terrible that was no longer a threat to me? It'd have given them meaningless anxiety over me.
Do I tell Áine only about this illness, or do I tell her the whole story? Do I tell her everything and break my daughter's heart, or do I do as Owen said, and try to have hope for the sake of the people who I love, who love me? I fear I may have to. After all, Áine has been lied to or withheld from too many times. I cannot do that to her.
And Violeta...I'm the only man she's ever trusted besides her father, Vasile. She's known me for about one-hundred and thirty years, and she practically raised me as if I were a son to her. Her emotionless front would be shattered to pieces if she were to know it had come back. It's difficult enough knowing I am likely going to die much sooner than I thought. It's even more difficult trying to figure out how I'm supposed to tell everyone.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: The title is an obvious reference to the 'Hippocratic Oath', but I found out long after releasing this chapter that apparently it isn't even in the oath and I don't think it's ever been part of it. The more you know!