Chapter Text
You wake up.
That, itself, is bad news.
The morning sunlight streaming through the open window is even worse news.
You try to cover your eyes with your arm, to block out that wretched light, but your muscles refuse to cooperate. All you can move is your fingers, but anything more refuses to cooperate.
Awareness of your body floods back with a host of pains. Your head hurts. Your eyes hurt. Your chest is on fire. Even breathing hurts. But worst of all is the pain of failure. You were supposed to die. Dawn was never supposed to come. The world was to end and all this pain should have been over, yet here you are, still groaning under the weight of a thousand problems.
Said groan escapes your lips and you hear a familiar, “Gah!”
Partitio...
You brave the dawn to look at him, sitting beside your bed. From the way his hat is over his face, he must have been sleeping too. From the way his chair is teetering back and his limbs flailing around, he must have had his feet up on your bedpost. You manage a dry chuckle as he finally falls over but immediately springs up again.
The chuckle is literally dry, as your mouth feels like you’ve been eating sand.
“Ori! You’re awake!” Partitio says, as he dusts himself off from his mishap.
“Of course I’m awake, Partitio! Can’t sleep when there’s a scoop!”
...is what you want to say.
The words catch in your throat and all you can manage is saying his name, “...Partitio...”
“Yup. That’s me,” he says. He looks more rumpled than normal, with a growth of beard and hollow cheeks. He must have been sitting there a while while you slept.
There’s so many things you want to say that they get stuck in your dry and scratchy throat, so you turn your head and make gestures towards the glass of water beside your bed.
“Yeah, you must be thirsty. Here. I can help...uh...if’n that’s okay with you.”
You nod weakly and he puts a arm behind your back, scooting you up to a sitting position. Then one strong, calloused hand holds the back of your head while you sip. That first sip is cold and refreshing as liquid night, but you cough and sputter trying to swallow.
It takes a few tries for you to remember how to drink water correctly, but once you get that down you make eager noises for more.
“Easy there, Castti told me not to give ya too much, gotta see how it sits in your stomach first...” He looks at your pleading eyes. “Aw, heck. A few more sips won’t hurt.”
A few sips become a few gulps and soon you’ve downed the entire glass. Somehow drinking water is the most exhausting thing you’ve ever done in your entire life.
“There you go,” Partitio says, gently lowering you back down to the bed. “Castti’s gonna come by later, she’ll be pleased as punch to hear you’re awake. Just get some rest now, I’ll be right here if ya need me.”
“Partitio....” you say, and drift back into sleep.
You wake up from dreams of the dark abyss and the endless night to soft yet strong hands on your wrist.
“Pulse is weak, but regular. Expected for someone in her condition,” says a motherly voice.
You open your eyes and from the light you can tell it’s late evening. A familiar-looking blonde woman is taking your pulse.
“She seemed weak as a kitten earlier. Couldn’t even sit up on her own power.”
“That’s expected. Infection and inactivity have ravaged her body, she’s half-starved, and the effects of Shadow are still poorly understood. The worst of it is behind, but the recovery will be long and hard.”
Partitio takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. You recognize the woman now. Castti Florenz, the amnesiac apothecary who defeated Trousseau.
“Well...” Partitio says, “I was plannin’ to take her back to Oresrush just as soon as she’s well enough to travel. Guess we’ll figure somethin’ out from there.”
“It’s my duty to take care of the sick and injured,” Castti says. “ You have no such responsibility.”
There’s a hostility in her voice, and it’s not directed at Partitio. You don’t blame her. After all, you were there when Claude broke her friend, turned him into a lunatic who tried to turn the sky to poison. Of course, at the time you were too busy being creeped out and hiding so that Claude didn’t try to put his seed in you , but you were still a part of it.
Ugh. Even the thought of that lecherous immortal makes you squirm uncomfortably.
“Partitio?” you say.
“Gah!” He jumps. Somehow you always manage to startle him. “Almost forgot you was layin’ there.”
“Ah. Good,” Castti says coldly. “You’re awake.”
“How ya feelin,’ Ori?” Partitio asks.
You want to say, “Lucky to be alive after that accident!”
You want to say, “Filled with the burden of terrible guilt.”
You want to say, “In the worst pain of my life, please just end me.”
But nothing comes out of your mouth.
Castti sees you struggling, gets you some water, and helps you drink (nowhere near as gently as Partitio).
“There,” Castti says. “Can you try again?
“P....” you hesitate. “Partitio?”
The only word that would come out of your mouth. The only word you could even find .
“Yeah, I’m right here, chickadee,” he says.
Castti’s brow creases with concern, erasing her previous sour expression.
“Let’s try something different,” the apothecary says, “Do you know where you are?”
The light is dappled through the window. You can see that now, though it seemed so harsh when you woke up earlier. The cottage you’re in is cozy, and clearly does not belong to Partitio. Too well-maintained and feminine, with two other beds than the one you’re resting in. You’re probably in the Leaflands, but you can’t narrow it down any further, so you just shake your head.
“You’re in the Leaflands,” Castti says.
“Yeah, she said we shouldn’t move ya too far,” Partitio adds. “But Temenos said ya couldn’t stay in Crackridge. Didn’t elaborate as to why, but I took his word for it. So we stopped at Cropdale while ya got yer strength back.”
That makes sense. Half the townsfolk of Crackridge are actually Moonshade Order cultists. They were an implicit threat from your brother. Back out at the last minute, and they’ll make sure you perform your duty.
Castti shushes Partitio and he backs off, admonished. She returns to her questioning.
“What is two plus two?” Castti asks.
Since your voice isn’t working right, and you can barely raise your arm, you tap on the bed four times. With four fingers, just to make the point clear..
“Hmm...” Castti says.
“Something the matter?” Partitio asks. Ever the empath, he’s picking up on Castti’s growing concern.
“Do you know who we are?”
You nod.
“What are our names?”
Crap.
“P...Partitio,” you say.
“Yeah,” he says. His ever-present smile looks very brittle as he too starts to realize something is wrong. “That’s my name...do you know hers?”
You nod slightly. You can’t tell if you’re more fatigued or anxious. Something is wrong, but maybe you should just go back to sleep forever and forget about it?
“Can you say it?” Castti asks. “My name.”
You try to form the shape of the word. Castti. It’s simple. Two syllables. Cass-TEA.
It just won’t happen. Your mouth stats to make a P-sound, but you don’t let it finish.
What is going on? This isn’t normal.
“What is your name?” she asks, now seriously concerned.
Panic is setting in. You know your own name. It’s Ori, of course. That’s the name Oboro gave you. You don’t remember your original name.
Then just go with Ori! You tell yourself. Why are you questioning your own name?
You make the O shape. You know you make the O shape with your mouth. But as soon as you start to make the sound, your lips come together in a plosive. You look between Partitio and Castti, your own fear mirrored in their expressions.
“Partitio...?”
It’s all you can say.
The realization sinks into the deepest pit of your heart.
It’s all I can say...
Your eyes just leak on to the pillow beside you because you lack the energy to truly cry.
“C’mon, Ori!” Partitio says. He sounds frantic, almost panicked. “Ya got the gift of gab, just like me! What...what else can ya say?”
Castti puts gentle but firm a hand on Partitio’s shoulder and pushes him back. “I think we should let her rest for now. Don’t try to push her too hard.”
“Why? What’s going on? Why can’t she...?”
“I don’t have an answer, unfortunately. Not yet.” Castti glances back at you and there’s no trace of the veiled resentment from earlier. You see actual genuine sympathy in her face for the first time. “I’ll have to travel to Montwise and see if there’s anything in the literature about this.”
“Is there anythin’ I can do to help?”
“Let her rest. Regain her energy. I’ll leave medicine for her. I suspect now that she’s conscious, it’ll be worse at night. One ampule every 12 hours, give or take. Liquids like broth and peach juice until you are sure she can tolerate solid food, then..."
You tune out the instructions. They’re not for you. You barely even exist anymore. Your brother is probably dead. The order you served has failed, and you’d be shunned as a traitor if you ever tried to return. Trapped in your own mind. Too weak to move. Bereft even of the words you once held so dear. All because you were too weak to go through with your duty.
When they’re done talking, Partitio comes by, cracks an ampule, and drips it into your mouth. You’re pretty sure he says something comforting, but you don’t hear it. All you feel is pain as your chest burns with regret and shame. If you weren’t a coward , you’d bite your own tongue and drown in the blood. But who are you kidding? You’re too weak right now to do that anyway. You couldn’t even chew soggy bread, let alone bite your tongue.
You close your eyes and face the wall as best you can. After a few minutes the pain subsides, and sleep takes you.
You dream of dark forests and darker nights.