(Hey guys! I'm just starting out and I'm still getting the hang of it. The first chapter will be more descriptive to introduce the story, but things will start to get more direct and action-packed in the next few chapters! If you could leave a comment with your thoughts, that kind of thing would help a lot. Happy reading!)
During medieval Europe, Florence was one of the wealthiest cities, a center of trade and finance. However, in 1348, even its prosperity was not enough to protect it from the dreaded Black Death. Thousands died, and the terror spread like wildfire.
Far from the city, high on a mountain, there was a secluded farm where a simple peasant lived with his sons. They grew wheat, barley, and vegetables, raised goats and chickens. There was also a spring a little further down the mountain, from which they drew water whenever necessary.
"My sons, hurry up with your chores! Your sister is already finishing preparing dinner!" Eadric shouted, his strong voice cutting through the cold mountain air.
The peasant was a man marked by time. His calloused hands and sun-beaten face reflected years of hard work in the fields. The weight of responsibility fell on his shoulders too soon, but he never let his sons see how much it wore on him.
"I'm almost done with the animals here!" Replied Dante, the eldest of the children, as he adjusted the ropes in the stable. Since he was a child, he had carried the same burden as his father, protecting his brothers and helping out on the farm. His hair, dark as night, swayed in the wind, and his eyes held the seriousness of someone who had learned the meaning of duty too early.
"The logs are cut! Exactly as you asked, my father!" Exclaimed Andrus, appearing at his brother's side. The second oldest always followed in Dante's footsteps, determined to prove his worth. His long, brown hair was like dry leaves in autumn, but it was his undeniable strength that defines him.
"You should have finished everything out there by now!" Shouted Samara from the kitchen window, her voice full of impatience. The third of the four siblings, and without a doubt the most responsible. From an early age, she assumed the maternal role, honing her skills in the kitchen after the loss of her mother when she was still a child. Her long, reddish hair was reminiscent of the fertile land where they farmed, and her firm gaze made it clear that she did not tolerate delays.
"Take it easy, fiery hair. We were working just as hard as you. Besides, the food won't be running out." Andrus teased, with a certain air of sovereignty.
"The next time you talk about my hair will be the last." Samara said, holding one of the knives that was on the table.
When entering the house, the siblings were greeted enthusiastically by Luke, the family dog. The animal jumped around them, wagging his tail and licking, especially Dante, who knelt down to pet his childhood friend.
After a few moments, he turned and walked, carrying a bowl of soup that he had taken from the table, to one of the rooms where the door was partially open. With a sigh, he leaned against it and knocked lightly.
"Can you smell it, my little brother? Our sister made your favorite... vegetable soup. What do you think?" Whispered Dante, with a soft smile as he passed the soup through the crack in the door.
"It looks incredible, Dante… It smells wonderful. I wish I could sit with you at the table…" Theodore said, trying to hide the lump in his throat.
The youngest son's voice was soft, almost drowned out by the cold wind that blew through the cracks in the old cabin. His breathing was weak, accompanied by the hoarse, dry sound that had become part of his daily life. Theodore, the youngest of the family, was the reason they had fled to the mountains. When the first symptoms of tuberculosis appeared, his father, Eadric, made a difficult decision: to leave the city. To leave everything behind and look for a place where the fresh air could give him more time. But even there, Theo seemed like a ghost of himself, his pale skin and sunken eyes telling a story of silent struggle.
He lived isolated, separated by walls that not only protected him, but also imprisoned him. His world was limited: a window to observe the lives of his brothers and a crack in the door, the only connection with his family during meals. The disease had not only robbed him of his freedom, but also his right to belong.
The town did not mourn his absence. Quite the opposite.
There, Theodore was seen not as a boy, but as a warning of what should not be touched. People looked away whenever he passed, and when it was unavoidable, they hurriedly moved away, covering their noses with their sleeves. They whispered in the alleys, in the markets and even in the church, where it was said that the sick were burdens, divine punishments disguised as weak bodies.
"That child should have died at birth…" The old women whispered, clutching their rosaries to their chests.
"Diseases like that spread… may his father have the decency to keep him away."
When Eadric still lived in the town, he knew that no one would sell him bread if they knew it was for Theodore. He would receive no help, not even looks of compassion. Tuberculosis was not just a physical ailment—it was a mark. A sentence.
In the market, vendors cleaned the coins he touched. Some threw boiling water over the places where it touched, as if it could leave something invisible behind. And when he coughed, the murmurs always came.
"A filthy one."
"May he die soon."
That's why they left. Because there was no future there anymore.
The dog, Luke, was bought so that Theo wouldn't feel so alone, so that he would have something besides the shadows and the silence. And now, as the boy smiled weakly from the other side of the door, holding back the urge to join his family at the table, Dante felt something stir inside him.
Anger.
Anger at the city, which treated them like pests. Anger at the world, which seemed to want to steal everything from Theo.
And, above all, anger at himself for not being able to do more.
But there is a moment, brief and precious, when all this disappears.
In the morning, when the sun still touched the grass softly and the breeze carried the fresh scent of the trees, Theo could go out. Not too long, not too far, but enough to feel the ground beneath your feet and the wind against your face. Enough to run after Luke, to laugh as he watched him spin around trying to catch his own tail, to forget, even if only for a few minutes, that his body betrayed him a little more each day.
In those moments, there was no illness or isolation. Just a boy and his dog, sharing a piece of happiness stolen from time.
And Dante knew… it was these moments that kept his brother alive.
Outside the room, Theodore's heavy coughing could be heard. The dry, incessant sound echoed through the house, each attack tearing through the silence and squeezing Dante's chest, who closed his eyes helplessly.
They were gathered at the table, eating dinner in uncomfortable silence. The aroma of vegetable soup and freshly baked bread filled the air, but no one actually savored the meal. Each spoonful was swallowed without enthusiasm, as the sound of Theodore's coughs made it impossible to ignore his absence.
In times like that, with the Black Death spreading, there was no way to go to the city to get medicine.
Dante dropped his spoon on the table, his gaze fixed on his plate. He took a deep breath before turning to his father.
"Dad… can we talk outside?"
Eadric looked up at his eldest son, hearing the weight of concern in his voice. He nodded silently and stood up, walking to the door with Dante right behind him.
Outside, the cold mountain wind blew against their faces, but Dante didn't care. He turned to his father, his gaze filled with anguish.
He could feel the weight of injustice crushing his shoulders.
"Dad, Theo isn't getting better..." He said, his voice breaking. And with the situation in the city, what can we do? He hardly sees us anymore, and the few moments of peace he had, when the cough didn't dominate his thoughts, are gone!"
Tears threatened to fall, but Dante held them back, clenching his fists.
Eadric sighed heavily. He knew his son was suffering, but he was too. More than anyone imagined.
"I understand, my son. But you can't be shaken. Not now. He placed his hands firmly on Dante's shoulders. You need to stay strong, because your brothers need you. Can you do this?"
The question made him hesitate. He understood what his father meant, but he couldn't accept it.
"I don't agree with that! Dante pushed his father's hands away and took a step back." Why don't you let me or Andrus go to town to get at least some medicine? I know things are bad, but I can't just sit back and watch my brother waste away!"
Eadric's heart sank. He didn't want to hear it. Not because he disagreed, but because the truth hurt.
Suddenly, his face hardened, and his voice sounded firm and filled with fear.
"Listen, Dante. Look at me!" His tone made his son shut up. "He's my son too! I love him too! But don't ask me to risk losing another child without there being anything I can do about it!"
Eadric took a deep breath, trying to contain the emotion that threatened to spill over.
"Neither you nor Andrus will go to the city. That is non-negotiable. Understood?"
The silence between them was heavy. Eadric then staggered, almost falling, but managed to catch himself on Dante, who quickly supported him.
"Hey, Dad! Are you okay?" Dante said, his voice full of concern.
"Yeah, yeah, just a little nausea and a headache. Maybe I spent too much time in the sun." His father replied, his voice weak, but with a slight smile on his face as he struggled to his feet.
"I think you should go inside and get some rest," Dante suggested, leading his father to the bedroom through the back door. After tucking him into bed, he quickly returned to the outside of the house, where the cool mountain air seemed to ease the weight of his mind. He needed a moment to reflect on everything they had discussed.
Inside, Theodore's coughing sounded like a cruel reminder of reality.
Meanwhile, Samara tried to talk to Andrus, trying to dispel the heaviness in the air.
"Dante worries too much about us... he'll end up getting wrinkles before him time" She joked, forcing a smile.
Andrus didn't respond. His gaze was distant, fixed on the table as if his mind was somewhere else. Without saying a word, he stood up and walked towards his room, leaving the plate practically untouched.
"Hey, where are you going? What about the food?" Samara sighed, frustrated. He looked around, noticing that no one else seemed to have an appetite.
She crossed her arms and sank into the chair, looking at Luke who was wagging his tail next to her.
"Looks like it's just you and me, little one..." she murmured, petting the dog's head. Her chest tightened. "I wish things were different for us..."
Inside the room, Andrus sat on the edge of the bed, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. The silence around him brought no comfort. On the contrary, it only made his thoughts grow even louder.
He took a deep breath, clenching his fists. He wanted to blame someone. He wanted a name, a face, a reason for all that pain.
His gaze slowly rose to the ceiling, and then a whisper escaped his lips, full of longing and weakness.
"If Mommy were here... she would know what to do..."
And for the first time in a long time, Andrus allowed himself to feel the pain of her absence.
Dante went back inside the house, stamping his feet to remove the dirt from his shoes. He gave Samara a brief smile, trying to reassure her.
"Thank you for the soup, Samara. It was delicious." He said, walking towards the room he shared with his brother.
"You barely touched your food..." Samara murmured sadly.
"I wasn't very hungry..." Dante replied, trying to sound carefree.
As soon as he left the kitchen, Samara tried to hold back the tears that were streaming down her face.
When he got to the bedroom, Dante saw his brother moving restlessly in bed.
"Still awake?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"Move away!" Andrus grumbled, without looking away.
Dante sighed and lay down on the top bunk, looking out the window. The silence lasted a few seconds before he finally spoke:
"We can't just sit around doing nothing! We need to go to town tomorrow. Theo needs medicine. He won't last much longer without..."
No answer.
"Are you listening to me!?" Dante insisted, already irritated.
"Who cares?" Andrus retorted.
Dante turned around in surprise.
"What are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about! We can't risk ourselves for this dead weight!"
Anger flared instantly.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
"kidding with u!?" Andrus sat up abruptly, his eyes filled with frustration. "Are you going to stop acting like our father? Just because you're the oldest, you think you need to make all the decisions? You think you're responsible for everyone!?"
Silence fell between them for a moment. Then, Andrus continued:
"If you want to go to the city, go. But alone. Don't involve me in this madness. I'll stay here, helping with what really matters."
"He's still our brother! You can't be serious!"
"Think whatever you want. I don't care. Now leave me alone." And with that, Andrus turned away, ending the conversation.
Dante remained seated, stunned. He wanted to believe that his brother was just frustrated, but his words echoed something deeper. Neither his father nor his brother... No one wanted to take action.
But he couldn't just sit around and do nothing.
Tomorrow, at dawn, he would leave for the city alone.
The next morning, Dante was the first to wake up. The sun was still barely lighting the sky when he got out of bed, quickly dressed and walked down the quiet hallway. His destination was certain: Theodore's room.
Standing at the door, he hesitated for a moment before knocking lightly.
"Theo? Are you awake, brother?" He asked in a whisper, careful not to disturb him if he was sleeping.
There was a brief silence, followed by Theodore's hoarse voice.
"Yes, I am, Dante..."
The answer was too quick. He had been awake for some time, but he was trying to hide it.
Dante smiled, relieved.
"That's good, I was afraid I woke you up. How are you?" Did you sleep better last night?
Theo sighed and then, to Dante's surprise, he let out a light laugh.
"Actually... I've never slept so well. Tonight I actually managed to catch up on the sleep I had lost over so many nights..."
Dante's face lit up.
"Really!? That's great!" he exclaimed excitedly. "And you didn't even need any medicine! Who knows, maybe you're getting better with time? You looked so bad yesterday, I'm glad to know you're better!"
Theodore smiled, but his eyes held something different. A hesitation, a hidden weight in his voice as he murmured:
"Yes... without any medicine..."
His words sounded low, almost like a secret.
I have to tell Dad, he'll be happy to know he better!
With that thought, Dante ran to his father's room, but when he opened the door, all he found was an unmade bed. No sign of him.
Frowning, he walked through the house, calling for him. Nothing. He went out to the plantation, then to the stable, but there was no sign of him.
"Just a moment, Theo" he said, trying to contain his uneasiness. "I can't find Dad…"
He forced a smile, but his anxiety was starting to grow. As he turned back to the table, something caught his eye: a carefully folded piece of paper lay on the wood. With shaking hands, he picked up the letter and unfolded it. His eyes scanned the hastily scribbled words, the handwriting firm but urgent.
*"My children,
A few days ago, I went into town to buy medicine. I know I should have told you, but I didn't want to worry you. Theo knew, but I asked him to keep it a secret. I did it because I wanted to make sure I wasn't infected before I said anything. I waited. I watched. But now, I realize I can't ignore it any longer. I felt the first symptoms, and that's why I made the decision to isolate myself. I don't want you to take any risks. I don't want you to go through this.
I know it may be hard to understand, but the most important thing right now is that you stay together and take care of each other. Andrus, you have always been strong, keep it up for your brothers. Dante, never lose the kindness that is in you. And, my little Theo, thank you for trusting me.
Samara, my dear, you have always had a strong heart, more than you can imagine. Even in the face of everything, never stop being who you are. Your strength and generosity have always been a light for me, and I know that this will guide you in difficult times.
All of you are the reason for everything I have done and continue to do. If things don't turn out as we hope, I want you to remember one thing: I love you, I always have and I always will.
With all my love,
Father"*
Dante reread the words, disbelieving what he was reading, the sentence weighing on his chest like lead.
"What is this? What is he talking about?" He mumbled, his voice cracking, his fingers clenching the paper.
Then, he heard a sob coming from Theodore's room.
"Theo?" He called, his heart clenching at the muffled cry.
He ran to the door and opened it.
"Brother? What is he talking about?" He asked, fear rising within him.
Theo didn't answer right away. In the background, all he could hear was the sound of tears falling to the floor.
"No... no..." Dante whispered, his voice cracking. "Father! Father!" The scream echoed through the house as he ran outside.
The noise woke Andrus and Samara, who scrambled to their feet.
"What's going on? Where's Dante, Theodore?" Andrus asked, knocking loudly on his brother's door. Silence. The lack of response, coupled with his growing uneasiness, made him decide to follow Dante.
"Theo? Theo?! Where did Dante and father go? What's going on?!" Samara asked, her voice shaking. Her hands clutched her chest, while Luke, the dog, approached as if sensing her anguish.
Theodore was shaking, tears rolling down his face as he struggled to breathe. "I didn't want this... He didn't have to go... Not for me..."
"Theo, please... Tell me what's happening!" Samara begged, her eyes filling with tears.
Her brother lifted his face, his lips trembling. "I tried to stop him, Samara... I told him not to go... I begged him! It's not my fault, it's not my fault..." He repeated, shaking his head, as if trying to convince himself.
Samara felt her heart tighten. "I don't understand..." She said, as a single tear ran down her face.
"Then I'll explain everything!" Andrus roared, bursting through the door.
The force of the charge nearly pushed Dante back as he tried to restrain himself.
"Our father is sick! He caught that damn plague in town because he went out to buy medicine for this sick we keep at home!"
Andrus's words hit Samara like a blade. Her stomach turned.
"No, Andrus… Please… I told him not to go… You have to believe me!" Theodore sobbed, his eyes red and swollen. "Please, Dante, you know I didn't want this!"
Dante stared at the door to Theodore's room, unable to say anything. Shock paralyzed him, but he had to act—now.
"Let me go, Dante!" Andrus struggled, trying to move forward. "It's all his fault! I told you! That dead weight... Wasn't it enough that we took care of that sick little shit?! Now we don't even know where our father is!"
With a roar of fury, Andrus slammed into Theodore's door, while Dante struggled to hold him back...
"Wait Andrus what are you thinking of doing!?"
END OF CHAPTER 1