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The sound of the ringing phone echoed through the room, sharp and insistent. A girl with tall, gleaming blonde hair, the color of sun-kissed wheat, picked up the receiver with a fluid grace. Her features were striking—high cheekbones, piercing blue eyes that carried the weight of wisdom, and a smile that could soften even the coldest of hearts.
"Hello?" Her voice was steady, yet carried an underlying hint of curiosity.
A familiar voice came through the line, cutting through the usual calm of her day. It was unmistakable—Isolde's. The name alone carried weight in their world, a name associated with authority, secrecy, and an undeniable connection to the Veil. But the tone, the urgency, was different now.
["Good, you picked up."]
Her brow furrowed slightly, surprise flickering across her face. "Wow, I'm shocked you of all people are calling me... What do you want, Isolde? Or should I say 'big sister'?" A teasing tone laced her words, but it was clear the playful jibe held no malice. The two shared a complicated bond, one that went beyond duty and strength.
["I need your help."]
The girl's expression shifted, the playfulness quickly fading as the gravity of the words hit her. She leaned back against the wall, the playful air vanishing in an instant, replaced by a quiet intensity. "With what?" Her voice was more serious now, more focused, like a wolf's gaze honing in on a distant target.
["There's this boy, he's been cursed, and we need to find the devil that did it."]
Her eyes narrowed, her posture straightening. "Huh?" She couldn't hide the surprise in her voice. "But you're the strongest Veil Keeper I know. You're *this close* to becoming the next Paragon. You're practically untouchable. So why are you asking me for help?"
["I know I would do it if I could, but I have a meeting in less than an hour. Please, come to the house."]
The request was simple, but the underlying urgency in Isolde's voice made it clear this was no ordinary situation. The girl's eyes softened, and without another word, she stood up from her place, her fingers tracing the edges of her armor-like attire. She had been preparing for a long time, always striving to be the best, but she also knew that there were moments when duty demanded more than just power. It required *action*.
"Alright, alright, fine." Her voice was laced with an amused sigh. "I'm coming."
"Aye, I'm Dr. Vesper Calder," the man said, his voice rich and confident, carrying a slight accent. "This world's best doctor, I suppose. You must be my patient."
Ezra blinked, still reeling from everything that had happened, but at least he now had a face to the voice. "Patient? I—uh—"
"Don't worry, lad," Dr. Calder interrupted, his smirk widening. "You've got quite the story, and I'm here to help you untangle it. But first things first: you need medical attention, and I'm not about to let a cursed boy wander around without proper care."
"How the hell did you know?" Ezra's voice trembled with frustration, his confusion palpable as he eyed the man before him.
"I might be blind, but I can see things you can't see, boy," Dr. Calder replied, his tone calm, almost amused, as if his blindness were no obstacle. He stood in the doorway, his sharp, intellect-laden voice betraying the depth of his awareness, though his eyes were shrouded behind dark-tinted glasses, concealing the void where sight should have been.
Ezra blinked, still processing the absurdity of the situation. "Wait a minute. If you're blind, then how the hell are you going to treat me?" He shook his head, still grappling with the surreal nature of it all. His body ached, his wounds throbbing with each breath, but now his mind was racing faster than his heart.
Dr. Calder chuckled softly, his smile barely visible beneath the dark glasses. "Don't worry," he said simply, stepping further into the room. His movements were fluid and purposeful, despite his apparent lack of sight. His blind eyes, seemingly scanning the room with a strange, almostotherworldly awareness, flickered across Ezra as if reading the very air around him.
Before Ezra could say another word, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind him. Isolde entered the room, her presence unmistakable. The air seemed to shift as she did, her aura a blend of quiet authority and untold strength.
"Oh, there you are," Dr. Calder greeted her with a playful grin. "You owe me big time for this, Isolde."
Isolde gave him a look that bordered on amused annoyance, but she didn't respond. Instead, she turned to Ezra, her gaze softening just a fraction. "Lets go upstairs"
They all went upstairs to the room Ezra lays down
Dr. Calder approached, his hands steady and precise as he unwound the blood-soaked bandages from Ezra's side. He didn't flinch at the sight of the deep wound, the blood still flowing sluggishly, staining the linens beneath. The hole in his side was an ugly, jagged tear, the skin surrounding it bruised and swollen.
"Wow," Dr. Calder muttered, his voice low, almost in awe. "You lost so much blood... even though this one isn't a doctor, you should thank her. If it wasn't for her, you'd be dead right now. Blood loss alone would have killed you."
Ezra felt his chest tighten, a sense of guilt and gratitude washing over him. He wasn't sure what Isolde had done—had she saved him? But before he could process it further, Dr. Calder continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone.
"If you hadn't called me, you would have died by tomorrow. Your lungs are damaged. That's why you're bleeding so damn hard." He paused, looking over to Isolde. "But don't worry. I'll fix you up."
"How? By normal means? Or faster means?" Asked Isolde.
"Normally if you want it faster... it means you owe me more than just your gratitude." Dr. Calder smirked, his tone teasing but never cruel.
Isolde's eyes flashed with impatience. "I need him healed right now," she said, her voice firm, every word carrying the weight of someone used to getting what they demanded.
"Okay, okay, I hear you," Dr. Calder replied with a nonchalant shrug. "Just sit tight, kid. This will take a minute."
Ezra blinked, the darkness threatening to overtake him. His thoughts were still a blur of questions. "Miss Isolde," he whispered weakly, "I answered your questions, but you didn't answer mine."
Isolde looked down at him, her expression unreadable. She stood still for a long moment before speaking, her voice quieter now, almost conspiratorial. "I can't answer those questions right now. Not here. I can only answer them when we're alone." Her gaze flickered to Dr. Calder, as if making sure he understood.
Ezra didn't have time to press further. He could barely keep his eyes open, the weight of his wounds dragging him toward unconsciousness. But the conversation continued, and it made his blood run cold.
"I gotta say, kid," Dr. Calder's voice brought him back to the moment, the doctor's words darkening the air around them. "The devil who cursed you... must be strong."
"It is, in fact," said Isolde, her voice strained. "It's the Watcher."
"The Watcher...?" Dr Calder murmured, his voice a mixture of reverence and dread. "One of the Six Kings of Hell."
Dr. Calder let out a low whistle, his blind eyes narrowing. "Are they that bad?" Ezra asked, his voice shaky, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.
"Yes, they are," Isolde replied, her tone heavy. "And the Watcher is the most dangerous of them all. It is said that he has the ability to see everything. Every move, every breath. The Veil Keepers of its time couldn't beat him. They could hardly defeat devils with their conventional means of fighting, so they resorted to sealing him away. The cave you were in—that's where they sealed him."
Ezra's mind reeled, but before he could speak, Dr. Calder raised his hand in a calming gesture. "Saint Nyx, come forth," he intoned, his voice sharp with authority.
A dark presence filled the room in an instant. A figure materialized before them, casting a chilling shadow. The devil that appeared was slender, humanoid in form, but draped in a veil of darkness so deep it seemed to absorb the light around it. The material seemed alive, shifting like smoke. Glowing tendrils extended from its fingers and back, each one pulsing with an eerie light. As the devil moved, the air itself seemed to hum with a strange power.
Its face was obscured, but luminous eyes pierced through the veil, eyes filled with an unsettling mix of compassion and focus, as though the devil had seen everything and understood nothing. It stood behind Dr. Calder, a silent guardian or perhaps something far darker.