Old Soul Syndrome |ONC 2020|

Early Fall, 1582

I couldn't stop the tears when my eyes fluttered open again. I was still laying on the floor of my cell. Chains still bound my ankles and I was still condemned to die for witchcraft.

But this time, I wasn't alone.

A quiet humming filled the cell, interspersed every now and then with a few sung words in a language I didn't know. A gentle clinking wove around the voice's cadence and the candlelight danced on the wall across from me.

A blanket covered me and I could tell that a few of the worse wounds on my body had been treated and bound.

"You're awake." The relief in his voice was astonishing to me. 

Carefully, I let my head fall to the side, realizing as I did that it was resting on something soft. When my eyes found the doctor stripped down to his shirtsleeves, I realized it must have been his coat. He had given it to me as a makeshift pillow.

More tears welled. "Why didn't you just let me die?" I asked, my voice sounding like I had been swallowing gravel.

Shadows flickered in his eyes as he leaned over me, once again placing his hand on the side of my face. He licked his lips, gaze darting quickly to the door before he leaned in and rested his forehead against mine, shocking me into stillness. "Because I cannot let you die here."

I tried to swallow, but my throat was too tight. Daniel's brows furrowed and he picked up a cup, bringing it to my lips as he lifted my head. I drank, wet eyelashes quivering at the sweet taste of herbal tea. It soothed my aching throat. 

"Slowly," he murmured as I clutched at the cup. "Slowly."

When I'd drained the last of the tea, he lowered my head back to the pillow of his coat and brushed the tears from my face. I stared into those familiar eyes, but couldn't think beyond the only question that seemed important. "Why are you here?"

Daniel's gaze slid away from mine, and I winced as he began prodding at one of the tool marks on my collarbone. After a long moment of silence, he whispered, "They ordered me to keep you alive."

I began to giggle as the words sank in, until my laughs turned into a small sob. Frowning, Daniel rested his cool hand on my forehead, likely checking to see if my fever had gotten any worse. I sighed and closed my eyes at his lovely touch.

"They cannot turn a dead girl into a lesson," I explained. "People have to see her die for it to count as such."

A whimper burst from me when he gripped my shoulder. He started, immediately releasing his hold. "What lesson could that possibly be?" he asked, voice edged in desperation. "What makes men do such things?"

I did not know how to answer his second question, so I settled for addressing the first. "Obey, or you shall suffer the same," I said with a painful shrug. "Hatred works more wickedly upon the mind than any spell ever could."

Daniel stared down at me for a long time, a most peculiar expression on his face. Slowly, he took my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. All I could do was gape at him, unable to understand any of his behavior. He continued to cradle my hand, his expression so pained and helpless, I couldn't bring myself to pull away.

As I watched, though, his expression began to harden and resolve, his eyes burning with belief or an idea, I couldn't tell which. All I could really think was that it made the sharp lines of his face somehow sharper, turning his handsomeness into something severe. 

"I am going to free you from this place," he said, pitching his voice low.

It took a moment before the words truly sank in. When they did, my eyes flicked fearfully to the door, certain the priest was going to burst through in a swirl of robes and self-righteousness and throw the good doctor into his own cell to await the flames. 

"Why would you risk even considering such a thing?" I whispered, tugging my hand out of his. "Why would you risk your life for someone you do not know?"

With a shrug, he gave me a sad smile. "Perhaps I simply know you do not deserve to die."

"How do you know that?" I snapped, the strain on my throat making me cough. "I am the wickedest of all creatures, remember?"

Daniel snorted, shaking his head. "No. You are not."

I scoffed, struggling to sit up, but he placed his hand on my shoulder to keep me still. Silence settled around us like a shroud, neither of us seeming to know what to say. After a while, the doctor returned his attention to my battered body, muttering under his breath at each new cut or bruise he found.

"It is not within your power to free me," I finally said, ruthlessly squashing the hope his words had so carelessly brought.

He gave a soft laugh as he deftly washed away some of the dirt around the raw skin of my wrist. Flashing a brazen look at me, he said, "I'm rather more useful than I appear." His gaze traveled around the cell, landing on the locked door. "There are only a few guards. There are more difficult things."

"You do not even have a weapon," I pointed out. "And I can barely walk."

Once again, he smiled. "I also happen to be stronger than I look."

"Please stop," I whispered, curling up beneath the blanket as I tried to retreat from his kind hands. "I am resigned to my fate."

"And that is when she abuses you most cruelly." He grimaced. "I will not allow you to suffer the same fate as I...as I have seen others suffer."

I could not fathom what made it so important to him, but could not deny the hope beating against my heart, gentle as butterfly wings. Something in my expression must have changed because he smiled and brushed the backs of his fingers against my cheek.

"We will need to move quickly," he said. "May I?"

I nodded, wrapping my aching arms around his neck as he picked me up and set me on my feet. My head spun mightily and I thought he might have pressed his lips to my temple, but was unsure.

"Just hang on to me."

We had barely managed a step forward when the door was flung open. A sound of terrified sobbing was punctuated by a nasty, wet cough and a small body stumbled into mine, nearly knocking me off my feet. Perplexed, I stared down at the boy.

My heart stopped when he tipped his tearstained face back and I recognized my nephew.

I untangled myself from Daniel and sank to my knees, wrapping my arms around Peter, staring up at the priest who loomed in the door. Peter coughed again, something warm splashing against my shoulder.

"We can risk no infiltration into our community," the priest leered. "We know you infected this boy with your witchcraft."

"He is ill," I said shakily, tears blurring my vision as I held Peter more tightly. "He...he is a child of God. He is only sick."

"Sickened by witchcraft, no doubt," the priest replied serenely. "There is no cure for that but the cleansing flame."

"No," I whispered, shunting Peter into Daniel's arms. My voice rose to a scream as I tried to scramble forward, intent on tearing the priest's eyes from his head. "No! You cannot do this. He is innocent. He is innocent!"

My screams were cut off by the sound of the cell door slamming shut. My body collided with the solid oak and iron and I slid to the floor.

The only sound that punctuated the following silence was Peter sniffling, trying to muffle the coughs still wracking his frail body. After that, I heard Daniel murmuring to him, trying to calm him.

I closed my eyes, pressing my hands over my mouth to quiet my own sobs.