story

First snippet. 3rd January 2026

Elio wasn’t looking forward to meeting the healer. He remembered her well enough – she was this overexcited, frankly annoying person who loved to cheer loudly for her friends in their matches and sang Christmas carols out of season in the nursery.

“Did you ever talk, back in the day?”

“I don’t think so.”

And thank God for that, because she was chatty. He could recall many times in which the professors back in Agnostos had to shut her up. A nonsensical behaviour, considering Calavia was far from being the smartest student in the class and would have benefitted from actually listening to their teachers. From his point of view, the girl seemed to try too hard to be liked, although she had never reached the status of school popular, and if there’s something worse than trying, that’s trying and failing. Pathetic.

Overall, Elio had deemed Calavia someone to avoid, even if his friend Cecilia seemed to like the girl enough to enrage her own parents. He wondered whether Cecilia wasn’t doing it out of sheer disrespect for her family, rather than truly finding something of worth in befriending Calavia. He didn’t have any other witnesses to her virtues, since the rest of his group had only approached her to hook up with her casually, not because she was pretty, but due to the fact she was in their house and therefore present and close in every party. She only remembered her making out with Gael, however.

“Be respectful,” Ciro advised before opening the door to Calavia’s office.

He expected a mess of a place, something that resembled the chaotic nature of the woman working there, but it was neat and proper. The cabinets were aesthetically stocked with potions, drugs and all kinds of instruments he wouldn’t know the names of, and the beds were prepared and without an inch of a stain or dust. On the walls there were subpar drawings that must have been done by a child, some shelves with books (whose topics ranged from medicine to folklore and biographies) and pictures in movement he couldn’t analyse from the threshold.

Alfonsina was seated on her desk, scrutinising some olden manuscript who could be written in gnomic or some obscure language, considering her confused look. She took a moment to put on a marker in the tome before looking at her visitors. She looked different, less silly than she used to – a disgusting scar ran across her left cheek, a foreign trait in Calavia’s otherwise innocent face, and she wore her hair shorter, at shoulder length. However, the big, circular glasses remained.

Her soft glance hardened when she took notice of Elio.

“I thought he was already patched up, Ciro.”

“We were expecting you to conduct a full-on revision, since he’s going to be put to work soon.”

“Is he? Not in the Balventia mission, I presume?”

“I’m afraid he is.”

It’s not like Elio had expected her to smile at him, but it was aggravating that she would talk like he wasn’t even there.

“Has Nicola lost his mind? Why are we sending him, out of everyone? He’s not reliable.”

Ciro bit his lip. Certainly, Elio understood why this woman would have her doubts about his loyalty, but he was nothing but reliable.

“I’m sorry, I was under the impression that Accorsi was in charge here. Are you doubting your superior’s judgement, Calavia?”

“It might come off as a surprise to you, but here we have no dictators. Accorsi is leading us, but we actually have a say in things. I’m not letting you help Cecilia.”