“Oh,” I said dryly.

“Oh? Really? That’s all you have to say after what I said?” Florencia cried out, her voice laced with immeasurable amount of built-up emotion. “After thirty-six years, that's what you tell me?"

I took a deep breath in, trying to center myself, but the woman all but crying before me made that impossible. Quickly I felt irritated that I had to deal with this situation, but soon followed a sense of familiarity and I watched her, sitting so close that I could just reach out and wipe away her tears, I began quickly feeling sorry for her. A sense of guilt washed over me in that dimly lit room.

"I'm sorry," I said. It felt like the most fitting thing to say, even though I did not mean those words. “I didn't know. I don’t remember anything. I don't even know who I am...”

This time Florencia broke down and had to wipe her tears into her sleeve. "By Iscia, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't be angry at you, that's not fair. I'm just... I'm just so confused and I still can't believe you're here and I feel like this is a dream and any moment now I'll wake up in my bed and I have to go back to work for Ardovar. Jonas, for years I dreamt about what I would tell you when you came back and—”

“Flo. It’s alright. I don't understand what you feel right now, but it's justified to be confused."

“You called me Flo,” she said. “Just like you used to call me when we were young."

Oh! I thought, but I stayed silent. That name just slipped out without my input.

"How about this, Florencia, thank you for saving my life."

She smiled, looked into my eyes for only the briefest moment and then looked away, breathing rapidly.

"Yeah, well, you're welcome. We can stay here, Jonas—” when she kept repeating that name, I felt an increasing connection to it. Whether it was that my blanked mind needed something to hold on to, or she was right and I had been Jonas long ago, I did not know. "We can stay here and cry and be awkward for days, Iscia knows how long I can keep myself together, or I can get you out of the Academy and bring you home. What do you think?"

Her rapid change of mood startled me, but I didn't even mind.

I looked around and said: "The Academy is nice, from what I've seen, but I wouldn't mind being free. What's the plan?"

She stood up and looked at the door, seemingly in thought for some time. "Let's get you bathed, shaved and presentable. Although I don't mind a trimmed beard, you did try that look on our second year, but the haggard look you have going on is rather horrid. And perhaps I'll trim your hair as well. Those scars look awful on your scalp. Do they hurt?"

I touched the long and short scars that ran along my scalp and temple. "No, feels numb."

Florencia forced a smile and seemed to suppress a wave of sorrowful thoughts deep down.

"And I think some food would be nice, Jonas. I haven't eaten for hours. I can't even imagine how you feel like, Ardovar had you on a strict bread and water diet. I promise to make you something warm and delicious when we get to my apartment."

I wanted to tell her that the dry and stale bread they gave me tasted like the most delicious piece of delicacy in the entire world, but I stayed silent.

"Very well. But please let us start with the tincture."

“Oh! Of course, I completely forgot," she said and laughed nervously, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers. "It's a few hours until sunrise. The Academy should be empty." She with a graceful flick of her wrist summoned her coat and effortlessly swung it over her shoulders. "I can get a few things done while it's quiet. I'll be right back, Jonas..."

Before taking her leave, she stole a glance in my direction, her eyes holding mine as they turned red once more. She smiled and waved farewell and when she closed the door softly, she left me with a feeling of lingering warmth. And with that warmth I sank back into the bed, now feeling even more confused than before. One partition of my mind, somewhere high and cold, told me I had no reason to like or trust this woman as I was beginning to. Yet another part of me, a deeper place, more quiet, more personal, felt like it was unraveling itself like a cocoon.

But the moment my head met the lumpy pillow, I lost myself in deep sleep without dreams or thoughts.

*

Hours seemed to tick by and I saw through the small window a reddish sunrise from over the orange rooftops, casting its light upon the city and into the room. I had been drifting in and out of sleep for some time, but despite the lingering pain of the cursed cut which was still pulsing and spreading its fell influence, it was now an easier thing to suppress. A sense of peace and calm had washed over me as I slept those few hours, and I felt my body had regained much of its energy.

As the Sun’s rays warmed the room, almost touching the narrow dark-brown bedframe, I was certain that I could walk again. I threw aside the triple-layered blanket and stood on my own two feet again, my legs held and my knees were strong. From the seatless chair frame next to the window, I took and threw on the white patient’s tunic. It was much too wide and long for me, but I waddled before the window and looked out.

There before me, I saw a city that was wide and tall, with many arched towers and large squares spread out in every direction. And straight ahead, far in the distance, I saw a great mountain range with snow-peaked caps, half hidden in thin clouds that glowed orange in the morning light. It was a sight that took my breath away, and I felt caught up in its majesty. As with Florencia, the sight stirred another feeling of recognition which I did not ignore. I had been here before, I knew for certain. That city, that light. Those mountains. The same air.

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Then I heard rushed steps coming up the stairs, the door opened, and Florencia stepped through. Her face was flushed and a cloth sack in her hand. “Oh! You're already walking?”

I nodded and said: “My legs are still a little weak, but I can walk. That little rest did me good.”

Florencia smiled for a moment, but then her eyes narrowed, and said: “That little rest was three days of you in high fever, mumbling and writhing in your sleep.”

“I had no idea. That would explain the damp bedsheets.”

“Yes, that would explain it,” she said matter-of-factly. “And just so you know, I had to watch you suffer through that fever, incredible sweating, and convulsing. One night you were delirious and spoke about things that frightened me, and I'm not an easy person to scare, Jonas. I had to feed you medicines while you were unconscious, and the sweat that poured off of you was so foul that I'm amazed I didn't throw up on you!" She took a deep breath to calm herself down. "I had to throw away the rags I used to clean you. They were so vile even the apothecaries got sick."

That last part was odd, I had to admit. It must have been because of the cursed cut.

"Having said all of that, I'm happy you're healing," she said and stepped closer, her eyes now even more vibrant than before. They were alight and animated, and I found it difficult to meet her gaze while I had no problem doing so before. “Jonas... I can't begin to describe how happy I am right now. I can barely think straight. Please let's get you cleaned up so I can get you out of the Academy so I can faint in my apartment, instead of here. High Warden Florencia Regalla fainting on the Academy grounds... that would be the talk of the year." The last part she mumbled as she took the items out of the sack.

Florencia was keen to get things moving, and she did not even wait before summoning a few guards from the lower stories. She quickly gave them instructions to bring a bath and necessary supplies—warm water, soap, and some towels. A new pair of grim-looking guards, wearing high-collared shortcoats without any armor underneath. They were palming the handles of their one-handed swords nervously as they listened to Florencia command them around, but her tone of voice was so determined that she left not even a moment for the guards to disobey her. The guards left with a click of their heels.

After some time, the two men brought the demanded items up into the room, but went back downstairs. We set everything in place, and Florencia warmed the bath water only by submerging her hands in the bath. Before I removed the tunic and underwear, she politely stepped outside to retrieve some last items from the apothecaries.

The water was hot and steaming in the morning light, and had oils and soap which, according to Florencia, would make for a delightful bathing experience. She was right, and I spent a long time soaking myself in the water so that when I finally got out, feeling like a boiled piece of meat, the water was cold and I toweled myself off, feeling the sharp chill of autumn.

And while Florencia was polite enough to not stay at in the room during the bath, I felt her presence behind the door for some time before I got out. She must’ve heard me walk around the room, as I was almost done drying myself off, when she rushed into the room again. Her eyes scanned up and down my now-dried body, and I saw her bit her lip before shaking off whatever thoughts she had.

I felt a pull toward her. A strong pull that increased every moment I spent with her. My lingering distrust of her was rapidly evaporating and replaced with a feeling I had not felt for a long time. That feeling was so alien I didn't even recognize it until later.

“I gathered the items you need for the tincture,” Florencia said, while forcing herself to look away and breathing shallowly. She took fast steps toward the corner, took from there a little circular table, and emptied upon it the contents of the sack. “I hope this is sufficient.”

After I threw on the patient’s robes again, white and wide, I looked at what she had gathered. On the table, in two separate white plates, were a grain of gold and three grains of silver. Next to those was a vial of clear liquid, and next to that, a larger one filled with a similar liquid. For mixing these ingredients, she brought a small bowl and a silvery spoon with a long neck and a wide head.

“How can this undo the poison?” Florencia asked me, as I was arranging the ingredients in a way that felt right.

And while her question was justified, I had no actual answer for her because I did not really know how or why this worked.

“The cut is not poisoned, but cursed. Curing it takes intent, that's what matters. The ingredients will only help the process along."

"Cursed..." she mumbled, but kept looking as I made the cleansing ritual ready.

I did things slowly and methodically and went purely based on instinct. I set the two plates away from each other, moved them one way, then the other, dropped a few drops of alcohol in the bowl, relaxed my breathing and looked outside the window at the Sun, poured most of the remaining alcohol inside, and slowly started adding the grains of precious metals. And while the work might have looked boring or nonsensical to someone without knowledge of spellcraft, Florencia watched the entire process with keen eyes and kept her attention on the details, almost as if trying to remember the whole thing. But for the entire time, she did not say a single word.

The Sun had finished its descent behind the endless plains and the shimmering lake in the west by the time the tincture was done. In the low light of the sunset, and the lantern, the liquid was glowing a faint sparkling white, and Florencia’s eyes went wide when she noticed this. She muttered something under her breath but again said nothing. As the mixture came to completion, I soaked a clean bandage in it and applied it to the cut. It stung sharply, but only for a moment, and then the pain was tamed. Before I could continue, Florencia stepped in, and with a gentle touch, helped me settle a longer bandage around my torso.

As the night fell, Florencia set about preparing my bed. She stripped away the old and stink-stained sheets and replaced them with fresh ones. She called for the guards again and handed them two bundles of fabric that smelled of sweat, medicinal herbs, and a cursed illness. The two men looked on in confusion but dared not to argue against her commands.

Quickly I felt drowsiness fall upon me. And despite her exhaustion over the past days, Florencia refused to leave my side and took the chair where she had been sleeping for the last three days.

“Are you going to spend the night in that chair again?” I asked.

“I would rather not,” she said bluntly, not even hinting at what she would prefer.

And despite the bed being narrow, I could not let her sleep in that chair, especially after what she had done for me the previous days. And spending the night with her closer to me was something I longed for more than I cared to admit, so I shifted to the right and gave her a polite nod. She hesitated only for a moment, then smiled. Her boots she threw off effortlessly, and her coat she cast in the general direction of the chair. Then she gracefully slid onto the bed beside me, gave me a warm and glowing smile before turning to her side, facing away from me. She moved so our hips touched, but we both fell silent for the night.

Through the cutting silence where neither of us slept, I could sense the storm of emotions swirling within her, almost to the point of boiling over. Florencia dared not talk, nor touch me, and I thought it was for the better. And as I fell asleep, I tried to suppress the unfamiliar emotions that threatened to surface.

My thoughts were now entirely consumed by her.