"Victor? Victor!"
"Young Sir!"
The two were quick to catch the falling infant. Alice tugged her son away from Emilia causing the attendant to cast a displeased but understanding glance at the mother.
"A fever."
Unlike her child, Alice lost the color on her face when her hands caressed his searing forehead. "Emilia!"
The attendant nodded and bolted out of the study. Alice looked down, realizing her warm embrace would do Victor more harm than good. Her head throbbed from her increasing heartrate, and she held on to the table.
She did everything perfectly: feeding her son when he was hungry, heating the house properly, attending to all of his needs. Sacrificing everything to be two parents at once, her success in raising her child and his amazing intelligence caused her great pride.
Ultimately, Alice knew she took it for granted. While it was out of her control that vulnerable children sometimes fell sick even if they lived in perfect conditions, she couldn't help but blame herself.
She tried looking out of the window, but there was nothing but a thick layer of opaque ice and darkness. Tugging at her hair, she recalled her own childhood.
A small aristocratic family from the city. Four siblings of hers died before they reached the age of 5, and all of them from small illness. It was as if the Four Gods all frowned at her: her child falling sick during the White Months, when not even hunters dared to go to the dark and frozen abyss outside.
"My lady!"
Emilia came back with a tub of cold water and a cotton towel in her hands. Wetting the towel, she placed it on Victor's forehead.
"I'll go bring medicine, Emilia! Please, please keep your eyes on Victor – if anything happens to my child, I will…I will-
"Yes, my lady! Get the medicine!"
Alice sprinted towards the estate's main corridor, and into a dim room. Lighting up a candle, she saw her husband on the bed; his eyes as open and frozen as always.
"Matteo, our child is sick – do you hear me? Our child is sick, dear. I wish you were here. I don't want our son to die, Matteo."
While opening the medicinal cabinet near the bed, a few glass gourds fell onto the floor from her aggression. Fortunately, fever medicine was not part of those.
…
Alice gently opened her son's mouth and poured a few drops of medicine onto his tongue along with cold water. Locking his small hands with hers, she prayed.
"Emilia?"
"Yes, my lady?" Emilia was cleaning the towel and refilling the tub with clean water.
"Should I not have born my child so close to the White Months of winter? Is this just the curse he was bound to receive?"
Superstition was a strong practice in this place. Emilia kept silent, for she harbored the thought herself but did not wish to hurt the mother more than her child's sickness already did.
"I see."
Alice chuckled, "I'll be staying here all night next to Victor."
"My lady, he's a victor. I'm sure he will be alright."
"Thank you, Emilia. Now go to sleep, I'll take care of the water."
"Understood."
Emilia exited the chamber in slow strides. Disappearing into her quarters, the mother was left alone with her suffering child.
"Matteo was always of the atheistic kind, you know? Never believed in the power of the Four Gods, always insisted submitting to them amounted to giving up on the power of humanity to prosper by themselves."
Whispering to Victor, she continued, "However, my family, Beneveta of Monteverdi, were always followers of the Goddess of the Green Months, Nativesia. I'm not much of mage myself, I never had the talent for it unlike your father."
Clasping her hands, she raised her head and fixed the ceiling, "This human is weak and reverent: a creature of imperfection and sin unlike the gods above. From the chrysalis in which His Reverence the God of the White Months, Antisol, has placed us…"
'Please.'
"I plead with the heavens above for my sinful and selfish words to reach the divine and selfless ears of Her Reverence the Goddess of the Green Months, Nativesia. I wish for the health of my child, and am ready to accept the sacrifice of my request."
Tightening her hands, she awaited a response. Gods did not always respond personally to prayers, especially if it was a loyal follower praying.
'REPENT, YOU AGNOSTIC TRAITOR.'
A voice shook her head, the voice of a goddess. As expected. She abandoned her faith long ago. Alice nodded frantically, "I will! I will! Please save my child."
'YOUR CHILD CANNOT BE SAVED BY PRAYER.'
"What? My goddess, what do you mean? Please-
No more divine interception flowed into her ears. Instead, her hands glowed a green, soft light. All of the little mana in her body left to power this divine spell.
She was no accomplished priestess. Therefore, she knew her spell wouldn't produce a miracle like the High Priests of Nativesia could cure blindness or regrow a limb.
The green orb of light hovered above Victor, where it dissipated. Alice fixed her son with wide eyes, examining any change in his expression from the healing spell.
Instead, her face twitched. Steam rose from her child's face, which grew even redder after the spell. A high groan sounded out from Victor.
'This isn't normal. It's not. Not even a prayer could heal him?! What can heal him? What is wrong?' Her head was spinning and her hands convulsing.
"My lady!"
Alice tilted her shaking head. Emilia changed her attire into a thick coat and a scarf. "The doctor is only five hundred steps away. Let's take the Young Sir."
"In t-this snow and ice…?"
Emilia shook her head, "I'll use my magic and a shovel to clear a path for us…"
Alice bolted towards the attendant. She grabbed the girl from the shoulders and said, "Are you – are you capable?!"
"I will do my best, my lady."
And thus, Emilia left the estate before the two others.
Alice wrapped Victor in a few blankets and opened the gates of the estate. A breathtaking sight greeted her. Within the skies that remained pitch-dark during the winter months shone green waves of light and a million stars.
An aurora to light up the skies, to light up the hope from the dark depths of despair, to light up their paths towards the health of her son.
As Moses had commanded the seas on Earth, Emilia commanded the snow on Lusland and opened a passage with her shovel and her weak magic. Meanwhile, the dice of fate began rolling for the little boy, and the side in which it would land would determine his well-being.
"As the book is long, I beg the reader must know that the hero did not die of his sickness. In the spirit of wisdom, I hope you then understand no sickness nor curse have only ill for their bearer. With that in mind, let us move on to the second chapter, when the hero meets the healer." - Didiet Erasmus, Searching for The Lost Times of Victor Agosto, Volume 1.