CONTENT WARNING: Discussion of illness, death, murder | heavy religious scrupulosity
Owen
Today, I am visiting an elderly long-term patient of mine, Mr. Darlington. Unfortunately, this poor man has been stricken with illness of some sort all his life despite all of my efforts. There is nothing more I can do for him, as I have had to gently had to explain to himself and his wife.
I am only visiting him to offer him whatever support I'm able to give him in what is likely to be his last days. His poor wife is in tears in the living room. I couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose someone you've loved for years. Despite a lifetime surrounded by illness and uncertainties, I wouldn't want to think about losing my Lydia this way.
"Thank you, Doctor, for all you've done." He coughs and splutters.
"Save your words and your strength, Mr. Darlington. I appreciate your kindness, but you've no need to thank me. I'm only doing my job."
"S'alright. Words are all I have left," he replies, choking and laughing. "Can I ask you something, Doctor? What do you think happens after people die?"
I
always struggle to answer this question. Though I strongly prefer facts
and truth, the comfort of the patient's state of mind is as important
as his body.
"I can't say I've put much thought into it, Mr. Darlington - though I'd like to think that you would no longer have to struggle with all that's ailing you, if that's any consolation."
He
smiles at me a little, and takes in a deep breath. I see the mild
twinkle of sadness in his eyes. Before the dying reach that peculiar
state of acceptance and peace, they have to wade through a sea of
regrets.
"There's something I'd like to entrust you with before..."
One of the unexpected parts of my work as a physician is that doctor-patient confidentiality has also led to me being something of a keeper of secrets for the dead. The dying will share almost anything with you - sometimes heartwarming, sometimes upsetting, sometimes terrifying.
People have a lot they want to get off their chests
before it's too late, and they may as well do it to someone who can
offer no judgment of them. That figure of non-judgment is a sense of
comfort to many, as most see themselves being truly judged by the
Watcher upon their deaths. Some share their mistakes with me in some
attempt at last-minute absolution, even the ones who aren't Jacoban.
"Whatever it is you'd like to share with me, I can assure you it is safe with me."
He closes his eyes and scrunches his fingers up into tight fists.
"One moment..."
I notice a subtle glow appearing on his body and sparks near his fingers, and my heart sinks. This isn't the first time this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last.
"Mr. Darlington, I appreciate your honesty, but I would advise against using too much of your energy."
"Ah, not to worry. It's worth it to finally tell you." He chuckles to himself before the magic dissipates. "Only my wife and my family ever knew, you know."
Mr. Darlington was rather famous around Henford
for winning so many of Finchwick's local competitions. He told me he's
won the main award for growing the biggest vegetables this side of the
country every year for the past forty years. I suppose now I know the
secret element of his success.
My chest turns cold. The sheer
dread of knowing that so many people have lived their lives keeping
secrets that never should needed to be kept a secret - it is all too
familiar. All of these people I've cared for that died living a lie.
It's devastating to think about.
"I only wish you did not have to hide this your entire life, Mr. Darlington."
"I
know you do, Doctor, believe me. I know what you are," he says,
struggling to smile. "I've known since we met. It was a right shock, but
I'm thankful for it. Though, didn't you sense it within me?"
"I didn't, no. I'm a descendant of witches, so I suppose picking up on others' magic is lost on me."
I try and help Mr. Darlington turn himself around so he doesn't develop any more pressure ulcers.
"You know, Doctor...I bet a voice like yours would change everything." The sparkle of hope in his eyes disappears, leaving only a vague reflection of my own sullen expression in them.
"Why haven't you said anything? The people would listen to you."
The
question catches me off-guard, as if someone has studdenly buried a
knife into my chest. It takes me a moment to muster a reply.
"I would be no good dead, Mr. Darlington. Without me and my research, many people would die."
He
nods his head slowly side to side. "Nah, they wouldn't have the
bollocks to burn you. Everyone's afraid of you, aren't they? You know, I
bet more people die per year by Lord Volpe's henchmen than they do from
any ailment."
* * *
I believe I do well to continue through life level-headed most of the time.
Lately, everything seems to be weighing me down. The mounting pressures from all corners of my life are as threatening as a pack of wolves. My daughter's fear of Volpe and Mr. Darlington's words follow me like ghosts.
If I don't speak out, witches will die. If I do speak out, and if I am killed, then plenty more will die of their sickness.
If
I do nothing, I will have lived a lie as my patients have. And my
children will do the same. Their children will do the same, and their
children, and their children again.
On top of all of that, there is my condition. Even if I learn all there is to know about it by some miracle, then I won't be able to share it with anyone. My research on myself could potentially save the lives of other spellcasters - and could try and help prevent future issues for Miss Tilly - and yet I have no choice but to keep it quiet. Tilly has not used her magic as much since her own brush with overcharge, and since Volpe's visits have grown more frequent, she has not had any further issues.
I've
added my research to my work-in-progress book about the integration of
science and magic. Once it is published, likely upon my death, perhaps
future generations can look back on it once magic. Once magic becomes a
mere element of fiction, people will fawn over our existences and look
back with deep regret long after we’re removed from this world.
Valravn has been assisting me with her own magic 'reserve', as she calls it. Gryphons do not have much in the way of inner magic, but she is a great help with everything. It does not mean I can cast endlessly, but I can hold a spell for much longer with less symptoms.
She enjoys being in her full form in the basement, even though I warned her against it for the sake of all of the years-old books on the shelves. I have told her not to show it around the rest of the family just yet. As magnificent and as beautiful as she is, I believe my wife would probably faint upon seeing her like this.
I have had no choice but to become my own case study.
I
believe I have ruled out every other possible known illness I could
have that match the symptoms. I'd even sent desperate letters to the
Viridis and Charm families to see if they had experienced anything
similar, or members of their families. I never received a reply from
either. Isidora is a madwoman obsessed with faeries, and Evadne only
cares for herself.
I also think back to Reynold and his
overcharge issue - specifically that he, too, had his arcane training
withheld from him for much of his life. Is my body not accustomed to its
own power, the way his wasn't either? Or is it simply part of the aging
process of a spellcaster?
Had Samuel not prevented me from
continuing learning about my own magic, would I have developed this
condition at all? Should I be encouraging Tilly more to practice in
private, so she does not end up with something similar?
Many
conditions can improve by gradually building strength in the affected
part of the body. I believe the only way I can learn more about this
condition is by constantly testing my own limits and recording the
results. If I cannot help anyone else with it, then I can at least help
myself and, in turn, help others. It will have to get worse before it
can get better.
Some days, I am confined to bed by pain and
lethargy. Josiah and the other apprentices can handle a good amount of
the appointments, but I have had to cancel many of my own. My patients
are rightfully furious, but there is little I can do for now.
The doors swing open, and Lydia enters, beautiful as ever.
"Another one down," she says, wiping her brow. "A leg off in only nine seconds - not bad at all! The apprentices are doing well. Only one of them was sick in the bathroom afterwards. I just wish I could do more for the patients and their pain, that's all."
"I'm sure some day in the future, you could cut off a leg and they wouldn't even know it."
"We can only hope, my love. Anyhow, I just wanted to check in on you," she says, with an element of sternness to her voice. "I think there's something you're not telling me again. You know you can talk to me, don't you? I am your wife."
Valravn's voice echoes in my mind: Tell her. Keeping your feelings from your wife is doing neither of you any good!
I don't want to worry her.
She's worried specifically because you're not talking to her! Talk to her or I'll claw up your furniture and I'll soil your favourite slippers!
Will you stop with the inane threats? If you want me to tell her, then shut your beak and let me think!
"There's...a lot to think about of late, my dear."
"Is this to do with your condition, or is this to do with the argument you had with Lord Volpe?"
"Both, if I'm perfectly - Oh? You heard that?"
"I heard Volpe raise his voice, yes. The children ran in scared, but I got them back to sleep."
Now they're even more afraid of Volpe than they were previously, and it's partially my own fault.
"I must be entirely honest with you, Lydia - Eduardo found out that the vampire cure I gave him was fake. He also accused me of Samuel's murder, to which I said I did not care for his death. I warned Eduardo that if he continued in his ways, then he would end up like Samuel."
"You said what? What about our family, Owen? What about your position? Your condition?!"
"It's my duty as the family patriarch to look after us all. I know that my position and unwellness make it difficult, but within time, things will improve. Allow me to show you."
With Valravn's assistance, I
manage to conjure a Katharis spell in my hands. They glow a bright and
steady blue, and all I feel is a sort of numbness in my fingers.
"I see. That's a lot stronger than it was before."
"Indeed. The progress isn't as fast as I'd like, but progress is progress, hm?"
"Darling, this is wonderful!" she exclaims. "But you still need to be careful."
This is the longest I've held a steady Katharis spell in a long time.
"I believe the only way this is going to get better is by using it enough that my body gets accustomed to it."
"But it's leaving you bedridden some days."
"I understand, but such is the nature of some-"
I hear Valravn's voice briefly in my mind before a burning pain strikes through my fingers, down my back and up to my shoulders. A headache tears through the front of my skull.
"What did I tell you?"
Lydia
catches me before I fall, and Valravn flies up, hovering at the other
side of the room. I try and regain my breath. A tingling feeling spreads
through my legs and arms, and strange sparkling colours cross my
vision. Interestingly, I don't feel a warmth trickling from my nose this
time. There's no blood.
That was close. You're lucky your wife was there.
Thank you again for your warning, Valravn.
"That's...the
longest I've kept a spell going for a while, and there's no blood," I
tell her, through unsteady breaths. "Whatever it is I'm doing must be
working to some extent, but even then, there will be good days and bad
days - and they may be tough to predict."
Lydia places a comforting hand on my shoulder. The numbness is starting to dissipate, and my vision is clearing.
"It isn't just us, either, Lydia. I have to do something about Volpe before he kills every witch in Henford. I fear that he may come for us, but if I don't help to do something about him, he'll come for us anyhow."
The striking pain in my leg is worse than usual. Lydia helps me to sit at the desk, my hands still shaking from the spell.
"I can't help but feel responsible. I've been safe in here whilst my ancestors have been hunted like rabbits. Constance wants me to do something about Volpe; she's terrified of him. Not just Constance, either. I can't be like my father and hide behind my reputation."
"You're nothing like your father, Owen."
Lydia runs her hand along my back and through my hair. Valravn perches on the table next to me. She
and Lydia look to each other with a mix of concern and trust in their
eyes. Valravn must be talking to her. It makes me feel a little on-edge.
"I have to admit, these new limitations are making me feel useless to my family and patients alike."
"And is that how you feel about your patients that come to you with troubles like your own?"
"Of course not," I retort, having to apologise again."My patients don't lose their worth because of illness or inability. I always tell them this."
"Exactly." Lydia kisses me on the cheek. "If you're going to be your own patient, then treat yourself with the compassion you'd give to a patient. Though there is something you should consider - since you might be the first physician who's ever looked into this, I'm sure you can think of a name for it, don't you?"
* * *
It's been a day or two since my discussion with Lydia. After I'm done for the day with the few appointments I have, I get a surprise visit from my little brother, looking sullen, who says he has a gift for me.
It's a beautifully-cut gemstone of some sort, a blue-green colour with some grey crackling throughout.
"Is that... a wand, Eli? It's quite beautiful."
"It is." He fidgets with it between his fingers. "I was thinking of ways to help you with your magic."
A warmth spreads through my chest. I wondered why he'd been so quiet. Was he working on this just for me?
"I...I
don't know what to say, Eli. This is incredibly thoughtful of you to do
for me. I always thought no-one used wands anymore."
"They don't, not really. Áine said most witches nowadays see them as a shameful sign of a lack of casting ability and only use them for certain rituals. Back in the day, they were used to help young witches or the old or sick so they could keep casting magic."
Some witches saw themselves as superior to bloodline casters, and considered their lineage's 'mingling' with non-magic-folk as some kind of betrayal or insult. With or without a wand, those same people would consider me shameful anyhow, I don't see the point in caring. An assistive measure is an assistive measure; there's no shame in that.
"So how do these assist a spellcaster? I assume it just helps with spell precision."
"Oh. You see-"
He snatches it off me with excitement, giving me a momentary apologetic look.
"It concentrates a person's magical energy, so there's less of it expended from the larger surface area of your palm. As you said, it also allows for a smaller, more precise casting of a spell. Two gryphons, one stone."
"It seems you're quite the genius when you want to be," I say to him, in jest. "What stone is this? It's lovely."
"Turqouise. Apparently it's good for healing and protection."
Gemstones and wood are the best conductors of magic; it's why they're often useful components for alchemical combinations. I'm still in awe of such a beautiful gift.
"Well? Are you going to stand and stare at it or are you going to give it a little try?"
If this is going to make spellcasting easier, I may as well give it a try. I don't try anything too strenuous - just a little raw magic...
...and nothing, except my brother's playful mocking.
I
try and try, and nothing seems to be happening. I'm sure it's my own
error and no fault of my brother's. Almost everything he crafts is
practically perfect. I try to stay calm, but it's starting to draw my
ire. My brother spent goodness-knows how long working on this lovely
gift to assist me, and I can't even use it properly!
"Why can't I get this damned thing to-"
A crackle of lightning shoots across the room and almost damages the wall. Eli's shrill yelp draws the call of Valravn in my mind, but I tell her not to worry.
"Uhhh...at least you got it to work, I suppose."
I don't realise how hot the crystalline part of the wand is until I place it in my palm.
"I must say, Eli, I think this will come in quite useful in the future. I'm genuinely grateful for thinking of me like this, and I'm terribly sorry that I've had such little time for you. There's been a lot of difficulties of late."
"It's okay. I've been worried about you, Owen, that's all...I've already lost Oskar. I don't want to lose you as well."
I
could never be like Eli. I could never have my heart on my sleeve as he
does; it'd be far too painful. I'm barely coping as it is. Eli is much
stronger than myself.
"I'm
confident that I can find a way through this, Eli, and you've only made
that easier by making this for me. I can't guarantee what the future
will look like, dear brother, but you needn't worry. Besides, I have
some news for you that'll make you smile. I'd like to introduce you to
someone very special who a certain someone neglected to tell us about."
"Really? Like a long-lost sibling?"
"Even better. Eli, allow me to introduce you to-"
A flash of light appears, and just as Eli turns around...Valravn is standing there in her full form. I told her to stay in her smaller form so she didn't terrify him!
Valravn, when Eli wakes up, you owe him an apology!
Well, excuse me for thinking an Annorin, of all people, would be excited to see a gryphon!
Juniper
I have accepted my fate.
The Watcher's judgment is final. I can feel Their presence, the overwhelming guilt slowly forcing me to my knees.
I have misled my people. I have miscontrued the true message of the Watcher. I have failed my people, Henford, and the deity I claim to worship.
I have failed everyone, including myself.
"Today, you shall all witness the absolution of none other than the former Great Convincer, Juniper Yarnold. She has committed multiple affronts against the Watcher. Lying about the High Priest, twisting the words of the Watcher, misleading you all, and proudly standing in defense of the very people who would seek to have us all killed! Not only that, but she also has something else to share with you - don't you, Juniper?"
I
say nothing. I know it's not true, but The Watcher is screaming in my
ears, telling me it needs to be done. I do not deserve to live, not
after all I've done. I've spent my entire life trying to climb the
Jacoban ladder, and it's done nobody any favours, especially not other
women like myself.
"The Watcher is present, Juniper! Say it!"
"A witch! I'm a witch!"
I am a witch. Not by biology, not by way of magic, but by way of disobedience - by way of standing my ground.
I
told him that I had no fear of anything, and yet here I am, cowering
before the High Priest and the Watcher alike. Edmund's booming voice
echoes off the walls and through my skull, his yelling and the Watcher's
amalgamating.
"Great Watcher, hear my call, and absolve this woman of her treachery!"
There's a silence around the entire room. I try to wipe the tears from my eyes. Whatever the Watcher thinks I deserve, the High Priest will do whatever it is he himself wants. The Watcher would expect me to do enough good to make up for the terrible things I have done, but that is not what Edmund wants.
"Juniper Yarnold, you shall absolve yourself in the eyes of the Watcher..."
"...by death upon Jacob's sword in public, so your soul is intact for preparation for the Watcher's judgment."
When I expect someone to speak up, the silence remains.
Perhaps these people never truly saw me as their leader, or perhaps they, too, do not want to risk their lives by saying anything...
...That is, until someone shifts from the pew.
"We all know that's not true. No Jacoban High Priest would ever have a known witch as his Great Convincer nor his Eye of Jacob. You just want Juniper to die because she used her voice. It's been like this for far too many years, and I always hope that someday Jacobism will go back to the way it was- but it won't."
"Miss Beck, sit down and be quiet."
"No."
"All
of us know that Juniper isn't a witch. We all know how many women are tortured into a confession, emotionally or otherwise. The Watcher would
want Juniper to make up for what she's done by doing good by the people,
not by her death.”
Miss Beck, I greatly admire your bravery. She's always so wonderful - too wonderful to be here.
"Do not challenge the will of the Watcher, Miss Beck!"
"I'm telling you what the will of the Watcher is!" she screams, not backing down at all. "I'm not challenging the Watcher - I'm challenging you. You're the one who is turning your back on Them.”
I'm done with it all. If you kill Juniper, then I'll leave. I won't donate any more money to this place. Perhaps I'll even become a Peteran. You can accuse me of being a witch all you like; I'm not afraid to die if it means standing against people like you."
That evening, at the Peteran monastery...
"Alice? A lovely surprise to see you, but why the sullen face? And why so late?"
"Clementia, from today onwards, I am no longer a Jacoban. I can't keep tolerating what modern Jacobism is doing to people. I want to tell you that I'd be interested in converting to Peterism."
"You're most welcome here, Alice, but has something changed your mind? You were always so set on trying to bring proper Jacobism back in your own way."
"There's nothing I can do to change it now, Clementia. Juniper is being killed for 'witchcraft'. She resigned as Great Convincer and apologised for misleading anyone, and now this. She even admitted to it. Even the former Great Convincer has given up."
"What? How? Why would she admit to it? She's not-"
"She
doesn't believe she deserves a second chance. I know that's what the
Watcher would want for her, and I know you'd feel the same way."
The following day, at the Annorin mansion...
"Let's see...Still nothing of local interest. Whatever happened to those little puzzles? - One moment- Juniper? Admitting to witchcraft? Since when would they ever take on a witch? That can't be right!"
"Are you still not asleep yet, darling? - Oh? What's with that face?"
"Well, my dear- let's just say I never thought I'd see myself feeling sympathy for a Jacoban Great Convincer."