Divided: Act 6:1 - Triage

CONTENT WARNING: Nothing major this time, I don't think

Lydia

This overload of patients is nothing like the pandemic in San Myshuno.

Back then, I was confident that my methods could help halt the spread of illness - that I could cure people of the condition. San Myshuno is far more crowded than Henford - and much easier for disease to spread like wildfire.

Regardless, myself and a few others managed to completely turn things around. Once Owen had recovered, he'd done a little to assist me, but ultimately it was my efforts that helped to put a stop to the illness - that, and the efforts of people who listened to my advice. However, I fear these people will never listen. I fear the witchfinders may never cease their attack. 

The reality is that this will only come to a stop once everyone stops trying to kill one another, and the witchfinders won't stop until every single witch in Henford is dead. It's only reasonable for the witches to fight back in whatever way is necessary, but it's a never-ending cycle of injuries and a growing backlog of patients that all need my help. I have had to let every single one of my apprentices go - none of them could handle being a surgeon in the thick of a conflict, and I don't think I can wholly blame them.

The pained groans and moans...I can hear them in the little sleep that I get. I wake up constantly throughout the night and day, dreaming of someone needing my help. Back in San Myshuno, people would always tell me that I cannot help everyone, but San Myshunans like to shrug their shoulders when they weren't the ones affected.

Yes, I cannot help everyone, but that doesn't mean I won't try.

Mr. Edwards is recovering from surgery. He's had trouble sleeping - he keeps having nightmares about the procedure. However, he is recovering well, and the wound is not infected.

"You do an amazing job, Mrs. Annorin...but I worry you might have some competition on your hands. And we all know what Annorins are like about competition, heh."

Competition? If there's any competition, that's music to my ears. It means I may actually be able to help all of these people. So many come in through the door each day - witches, witchfinders, passersby all with varying injuries, most of witch a result of the conflict. I tend to the worst cases first, but I can't let those with more comparatively-minor injuries down, nor can I leave them for too long - I don't want to risk infection.

"I married into this family. I promise you that whatever they did historically, I would never do myself, sir."

"And that's why everyone prefers you to your husband," he says, choking a little. "Joking aside, what I heard reminded me of your husband, actually. The word outside is that there's a witch going around healing people's wounds!"

Hearsay is rarely ever correct, but my desperation feeds into my curiosity. Is it possible that magic could actually heal a wound? Maybe the witch just cleaned it with Katharis, the way I do? Could the story have gotten muddled along the way, as they tend to do?

"You never know - maybe they're just stories. It could always be scaremongering."

"Scaremongering? Ah, I'm not scared of magic. Never have been. I've always thought, well, if something can be used for bad, it can be used for good, can't it?"

It's always refreshing to hear such things from patients. 

 

"Anyway, thank you for everything you're doing, Mrs. Annorin. I know it can't be easy after your husband buggering off, but you're doing well. I hope you know that."

I try to fight the tears in the corner of my eyes. Not only that, but I try to fight asking him for more information on this witch. I keep telling myself that maybe it's not hear-say. Maybe there is a witch out there who can offer a hand...

"Your kind words are appreciated, Mr. Edwards, but for now, try to get some rest."

 * * *

I'm supposed to be making dinner, but right now, my thoughts are too muddled to conjure up anything appetising.

I'm clutching at straws, I know I am, but if there's someone out there who actually has abilities that can heal wounds, then I need to know where they are. I know the ethics are messy. I know they may have to disclose their status as a witch if I am not to lose my license the way Owen did, but I don't have any other choice if I am to find time to help both those with minor and major injuries.

Attitudes are changing for the better - I know that for a fact. A good number of patients talk positively or curiously about magic. Many say that Owen having magic doesn't change the fact he did good by many people in the name of medicine. Many are open to the ways magic can benefit society...

Someone with a power like that is going to be an enormous target to the witchfinders. Wherever she is, she isn't safe there. Here, she would be. She'd be safe here under my roof, well-guarded by Valravn, a valuable asset and friend to the Annorin family. I made something almost of a pact with the witchfinders - if they try to attack my patients or the mansion in any way, then I will never offer any of them my services. If that witch were here... Surely there must be some truth to the rumours.

Even with all of the mess of ethics and rules...If Owen can break the rules and still be hailed as a positive force for witches, then why can't I?

Josiah enters, shy as usual. His confidence with his patients drops the moment he gets out of an appointment. He has no need to be so shy - he's a clever young man.

"You look exhausted, Lydia."

"As do you, Josiah. I can't apologise enough for all the pressure you've been put under."

"It's no worry," he says, his voice soft. "I don't blame you. I went into medicine to help people, and I'm not going to stop when we need healers the most right now."

I'd also heard word that Katlego had left as well, seemingly having packed up overnight some months ago. There was an apothecary here, but we'd found phyisican appointments had spiked greatly. Without Reynold, without Owen, and without Katlego, the 'web' of healing that Owen often spoke of had fallen apart.

"Something on your mind, Lydia?"

"Indeed... Josiah, have you heard anything about a witch healing people's wounds?"

His eyebrows raise.

"Now you mention it, one of my patients mentioned it earlier. Joked about the fact Owen wouldn't be happy about it and that the witch might find themselves 'mysteriously disappeared' once he finds out..."

There might be a way that I can weed out whether or not this is truth or a miscontrued rumour. I could write a letter on the noticeboard or in the local paper asking for help for anyone with healing knowledge of any sort. If witches can sense a spellcaster's magic, then she might open up to me- but that all depends on whether or not she'd look at either of those places. It's probably the only chance I have.

 

"I know it's not ideal, but I'm going to see if I can find if there's any truth to this claim. Whoever this witch is, we need her help."

"Lydia? Are you sure-"

"I'm sure, Josiah. She's safe with me - she won't be safe wherever she is now. If they can accept Owen healed people by supplementing his methods with magic, then there's every chance this could work out well."

Róisín

I take a walk out in the crisp winter cold to clear my head. 

I've been trying to piece together my 'vision' in the moonlit water all night. It's difficult to fathom what was happening - blurred images, powerful emotions... I still don't want to talk to Alistair or Father about it. They worry about me enough as it is, and I don't want them to - not when I will find my wolf in two or three years, then they won't have to worry about me at all.

I flinch and turn when something grabs me from behind. It's a little girl - not just any little girl, but it looks like the girl who I healed with lunar magic the other night. She hugs my leg tight.

"You! Miss! I can't believe it's you! Thank you thank you thank you! I-" - she looks around and looks back to me, with a finger to her mouth - "I'm sorry! But I mean - Thank you for - you know! Now my knee is all better!"

 

"Oh, you're welcome! You don't need to thank me - I was just trying to help."

"I was running away from a scary witchfinder! I'm not a witch, but they're so scary!"

"Ah, there you are. I've been meaning to say thank you as well."

 I look to my right and a young man about Eli's age is standing there with a smile.

"I'm Michael. I'm more than grateful for what you did with my little Whitney. I was looking for her everywhere that night; she got lost when we were heading back from visiting family. And don't worry - your secret is safe with me," he says, with a larger smile.

"Good to meet you, Michael, and I appreciate your kindness. I'm Róisín."

"Róisín? That's a name I've not heard before."

"Indeed, Whitney- my mother was born in Innisgreen."

 

"Oh! Oh! I won't tell anyone about you either - I swear on my father's life!"

"Whitney!"

"Okay, sorry, Father - I swear on my grandfather's life!"

 

"Father says there's not a lot of healers in Finchwick anymore. They all went away for some reason. Even the scary doctor in the big house went away too! Who's going to help people when they get sick?"

I still wish Owen hadn't have gone away, though I hear from Eli he's in Glimmerbrook with Mother teaching alchemy at her magic school since he lost his medical license. She hasn't sent a letter for some time. I don't mind too much, but I'd like to hear from her. I wonder where Katlego went?

"That's right - a lot of people now are talking more highly of the witches. I think Dr. Annorin and Miss Anansi got a lot of people realising magic can be used for good. Perhaps your skills would be useful? I bet Dr. Annorin's wife could use your help - the town forgave one witch who healed people, after all."

Michael makes a fair point. Have things progressed enough that I needn't entirely hide my abilities? After all, they're useful, and they're different to what most witches have. My limitations on only being able to use them on clear nights don't make them terribly reliable, but it's something.

"I appreciate your thoughts, but I don't think a teenage girl has the same level of influence as a renowned male physician, Sir, but I want to be as hopeful as you about changing minds. I hope you're right."

Michael gives a polite nod and picks up Whitney, who giggles, kicking her legs.

"We'd best be off - but we'll never forget your kindness, and the way you risked your own safety to help my daughter. Goodbye and stay safe, Róisín."

"Bye, Róisín!"

Trying not to cry, I wave them goodbye as they head home together, Whitney excitably telling her father that she wants to be a witch when she grows up. I don't know if it's possible to turn someone into a spellcaster, but then if it's possible to take someone's magic from them, maybe it's possible to give it to them also.

Don't worry, Whitney - I'll do my part to help secure a world where you could live the life of a witch if you really wanted to.

* * *

Finchwick's noticeboard is usually full of descriptions, bounties, and sketches of potential witches around Henford, offering rewards to those who manage to capture them. I don't check them too often as to not draw too much attention, but sometimes I keep an eye and make sure the witch who's been secretly healing people's wounds behind a church doesn't appear on there...or any of the other witches I know.

Alongside advertisements for produce, tobacco and the Willow Creek coffeehouse, I notice a rather frantic-looking note:

[scrawled letter on the Finchwick noticeboard]

HELP WANTED
- to treat minor injuries of patients
With the growing conflict, many people are pouring through the door day by day. With no apprentices of surgery I currently only have time to properly tend to those with more serious injuries. I ask anyone with medical or general healing knowledge to come forward. Role paid. Bed and board provided if necessary.
- Lydia Annorin
[there is a watermark of a gryphon on the bottom of the page.]

I remember seeing the gryphon watermark on the papers on the desk when I visited Owen in his office, so this must be legitimate - but how desperate could a renowned surgeon be to reach out like this? 

Even with my limitations, is there a chance I could help her? The way some people stood by Owen the way they did, and the way they still went to Katlego, could attitudes towards witches really be changing for the better? Is it just wishful thinking on my part?

If Owen and Lydia can save the lives of people who would otherwise kill them given half the chance...is it right for me to do the same?

The mansion seems a safer place to put my gifts to use.

* * *

I think about my moon sight 'vision' some more. 

I wonder to myself if it may be a warning of some kind - of what could happen if I don't change something - but what? I feel I have done nothing wrong. All I have done is help others. Perhaps Lunvin feels I have not done enough? Deities aren't known for being easy to please, are they? Perhaps if I do this, if I strive to keep doing good by other people, I may avert whatever it is She is warning me about.

The maid is cleaning outside the door. All seems calm until I feel a blast of cold air and a powerful swooshing noise.

You there! Up here!

That voice! It's - 

The gryphon! It's Owen's enormous familiar sitting on top of the roof! I freeze, and not because of the cold - she's terrifying! She spreads her wings wide.

 

 I recognise you from Owen's trial. You stood up for him, didn't you? What can I do for you?

Her deep voice sounds softer than it did back at the trial. She almost sounds friendly. The telepathy gives me a strange sensation in my head. For safety's sake, at least I can tell her in confidence why I'm here.

Lydia is looking for people with healing knowledge. I have healing magic. I wanted to offer my help. 

She gracefully flies down, landing less gracefully in the snow and splattering me with cold splodges of the stuff. Her piercing blue eyes are like precious sapphires. I'm somewhere between joyously mesmerised and soiling my undergarments. I can't stop thinking about the way she so easily killed those witchfinders, their bones cracking under her powerful talons. Even having seen her already, I still can't believe she truly still exists even when she's standing right in front of me.

You needn't be afraid. What is your name?

 

 I gulp. Róisín.

Róisín? Ah, yes, he's mentioned you once or twice - but Owen is not here. He left to become a teacher in Glimmerbrook. I am not so impulsive, and so I remain here to guard the mansion for the time being. It's good you came; both Lydia and Josiah are struggling. They both work immensely hard. I am Valravn - it is a pleasure. I would shake your hand, but alas, I do not have any hands to shake with. She lets out a peculiar broken-up screech.

You see, Valravn, there's one problem, I explain. I can heal most flesh wounds with my magic, but my magic comes from the moon. If it's cloudy outdoors, then I can't use it. I can't use it during the day, either.

 

Sometimes you can still see the moon on clear mornings. What about then?

 

 

Well, yes, but it still means I'm not reliable all of the time. The trouble is, I'm not really safe healing people outside. I'd be safer here.

 

Of course you would. I'm here. You did your part to try and protect Owen, which was incredibly brave of you to do in the face of Eduardo Volpe. I would gladly protect you from harm.

 

I didn't expect a huge gryphon to be so kind. Without thinking, I throw my arms around her in gratitude. I flinch, but Valravn does nothing. She closes an eye and makes a soft sound to herself.

 

Thank you, Valravn - from the bottom of my heart.

 

No, thank you, Róisín. Your bravery is more than appreciated - not just by me, but by Owen as well. Now, go and see Lydia - if you're quick, you'll get to eat some of her delicious food.

 

* * * 

After a bit of a wait, Lydia appears in a beautiful blue dress. She looks exhausted, but she makes us food anyhow. It all smells so good, but I think I might have upset her by leaving my chopsticks sticking out of the bowl. She warns me politely that it's apparently a bad omen of some sort. I wonder why?

 

"The food is lovely, Lydia." I don't know if that's impolite, but I feel she wouldn't want to be called Mrs. Annorin.

 

I can sense it from her - the hum of magic. It's relieving, at least. I had a feeling she too would be a spellcaster.

 

I introduce myself to her and explain my healing powers to her.

 

"I mean this in the nicest way, but aren't you a little young?"

 

"I am, but that says nothing about my capability, I hope."

 

"Not at all...but I worry what sort of toll a role like this might take on you."

 

"It should be fine. I've seen a lot of hardship over my life. I don't really have a safe way in which to use my abilities, so it would be good to have a way to use them to benefit others properly. There is one other issue. I... I get incredibly enraged upon the full moon. I struggle to control it, so I can't help you then."

 

"Are there any side-effects to your healing that you know of, Róisín?"

 

"Not to my knowledge. I healed my aunt when she was stabbed through the stomach and the wound was gone almost immediately. When she woke up, she was fine. My father also healed the old Eye of Jacob who suffered the same fate and he was fine too - lived to be almost eighty years old. My father explained that it can't heal much in the way of damage to major organs - mostly just flesh wounds."

 

"Good to hear," she replies, with a smile. "Will you be needing a place to stay?"

 

"I don't live far. It shouldn't be necessary."

 

"I ought to explain the risks, Róisín. Whilst we can do everything in our power to protect you here, I cannot promise one-hundred per-cent that nothing will happen. The witchfinders know to leave this place alone if they want me to stitch up their wounds, but there is no guarantee that no-one will come after you. Attitudes are changing, but they're changing slowly. I should also explain that patients will not always be kind nor understanding, but we still owe it to them to save their lives."

 

I can't imagine what it must be like for both Lydia and Owen - having to save the lives of people that might kill you given half the chance.

 

"Very well. Pardon the desperation, Róisín, but if your magic works the way you say it does, you may be of some help to me. Lacerations, stab wounds ... those are the people who I don't currently have time to treat due to having to prioritise more serious cases. We'll have to hope we have a patient who's willing to try an experimental treatment with magic, but one will come around. Some of the severely-injured, they'll take anything they can get to ease their pain."

 

I can imagine. If circumstances are dire enough, they'll take anything to improve them even if it's not ideal.#

 

"I believe we can make this work, Lydia. I'm afraid I can't always be relied upon due to the way my magic works, but whatever assistance I can be, just ask."

 

"Well, I've only a short time left until I have to return to work - why don't you tell me a little more about yourself?"