Cora. No last name. That was the name she had given herself — a new identity that no one would take from her. An identity outside of her father's influence. She had grown up in a well-off family of merchants, and her father believed that all women must serve men and submit to them. He favored her older brother, but treated her with indifference. It was only when her father found out about her ambitions that Cora witnessed the man showing his emotions in the open, even if he was screaming at her to get out of his house.
She had always been the black sheep of the family, that was what her mother called her. She never learned to sew, never learned to cook, and never submitted herself to a man. Her preference lies in books, knowledge, and the world of medicine.
Her parents hated that fact, however.
But that had been 20 years ago — 20 years that she had left her family and never looked back.
Now, she had another life, a life she built all by herself. Cora, The Black Medic.
At the age of 17, just two years after she left home, she was recruited to be the apprentice of a Black Medic. In other circumstances, she would've refused. But her thirst for knowledge, and her ambition to be a Medic sent her to the other side of Medicine and healing — a world unbeknownst to anyone who never searched for it.
Who was never desperate enough to look for it.
The other side of the coin.
The darker side of it.
A year ago, after she had finished travelling around Edaria and aiding the people who are desperate enough for her help, she settled in the magnificence of Sorenth, the town of wealth, grandeur, and festivals that seem to last for days on end, whose people are wealthier than the average commoners.
A perfect cover.
They say that the higher you go, the darker the shadow that follows you. She could say the exact same thing for Sorenth. People might not know or they might've feigned ignorance — perhaps might not even be aware of the skeletons hidden underneath the paved roads of their mansions, but a well-kept secret is also a secret unkept.
Hidden behind the glamour of the town, inside dark alleys no one dared to enter, were the world of the Black Market that ran rampant in Sorenth. Slavetraders, prostitutes selling themselves, dealers of plants long banned from Edaria — most especially the sought after Black Medics, people whose loyalties lie in who could pay them the most.
People in pursuit of knowledge, a cure for all sickness; those that will do everything in the name of research, possibly even sell their souls to the Devil, if they were given the chance.
Cora, The Black Medic. For those who are familiar with her know her by different monikers: The Witch, The Cure, and The Saint.
A woman medic.
Possibly the only woman in Edaria who would even dare go against the laws of the Empire, and against the words of the Emperor himself. The only woman who successfully established herself as a Black Medic, whose ambitions were far greater than any man. Someone who would do anything — anything, for knowledge.
" — just take this once a day, a spoon, only a spoon after your meals, you got it?"
Dark mahogany, the smell of different herbs filling the chilly air breezing through a small window inside the dimmed area, where a single roaring hearth kept the room alight and warm. There were rows of shelves that filled a whole wall, where jars filled with different dried herbs were kept. In the kitchen, just beside the small receiving area was a countertop with a boiling pot, mortar and pestle, a thick black book with handwritten recipes, and the overwhelming smell of sage.
The clinic was small, yet it was well-kept, and there was no visible dirt or dust flowing in the air despite the small mess in the kitchen.
In the center a table, where two women sat face to face, sat a burning incense from the Eastern Continent — the exotic aroma combined with the smell of boiling sage was a soothing scent that kept her clients at ease.
"Is this one of those medicines you take with wine?"
Cora shook her head, a sigh revealing itself from her mouth. "Listen, I'll only say this once, but you must never, ever take your medicine, no matter what type it is with wine or any sort of alcohol"
"What? But my other Medic said it keeps the bitter taste away" the woman says, though she took the black cotton pouch of dried herbs and pulled the strings to peek inside.
"How much will this be?"
"The examination is 30 silvers, and the herbs are 50" the woman's eyes widened as she stood in surprise, her jaw dropping.
"T-That's too expensive" she argued, shaking her head in disbelief.
Cora clicked her tongue, she crossed her arms and rested her back against the cheap sofa. "Do you think some other Medic will take you in? You have an illness most Medic will call 'cursed', and Clerics won't even glance at you because of your status" her eyes closed as she spoke in a calm yet chilling tone.
When her eyes opened after a moment, they were a chilling blue.
"I'll ask you once again. Do you think you have any right to refuse right now?"
Her eyes slitted, imitating a preying fox and they stood out from the darkness of her skin. The black coat she wore signified her status in the medical world, an anomaly — immorals, as the White Society calls them.
The woman trembled beneath her sharp gaze. The blemishes on her skin chafed. Her hands shook, and as if by instinct, she moved to itch them, only to stop herself after a quick second when Cora's eyes slitted even more.
"...I-I understand" she stood up, dropping a small pouch on the table, tumbling against the burning incense. "Will this really help me?"
The woman wore her coat, long-sleeved and covered the blemishes all over her skin. She puts the fur hood up to cover the disfigurement on the right side of her face. She looked nervous as she placed the cotton pouch inside her bag.
"I'll return your money if it doesn't, feel free to come back, ma'am" Cora's politeness returns. Her gaze now focused on the bag of money that laid on her table.
The woman noticed the immediate lack of interest in her. She sighed and turned away from the Medic, leaving the small clinic in the most dingy of alleys inside a busy, unsuspecting street in Sorenth. The door slammed closed as the woman finally left the clinic.
Cora slumps further into her couch, uncaring that it started poking her uncomfortably in various parts of her back. As easily as she could have replaced the old couch, she would rather spend that sort of money on her research instead.
The bells on the single mahogany door of her clinic chimes, and she doesn't even tilt her head to gaze on the people who just entered her clinic.
"I'm sorry, but I'm done for the day"
"Miss Cora…" there was a certain desperation in the tone of the stranger's voice that made her turn slowly.
Pale eyes. Those were the first things she saw. Incredibly pale eyes that stared at her with no visible emotions in them. She was almost startled by their striking and unnatural color, but her attention was caught by the blonde girl that stood behind her.
"You" Cora spoke. Her back separated from the couch as she straightened her posture in alarm.
She knew the blonde girl. An orphan from a village she was visiting by chance struck by an epidemic. But, the other girl…no, Lady. The furred capelet she wore, the extravagant mauve dress — that never belonged to be seen in her rundown clinic — satin gloves that graced her hands, and the simple yet expensive-looking jewelry she wore.
A noblewoman. It was clear as day. The black-haired lady was a noble.
"Miss Cora, do you remember me?" …Allie, was that her name? Cora uncrossed her legs as she stood up.
"I remember every patient I ever had, girl" Cora snorted as if that had been too obvious. "What are you doing here?" she added, raising a brow at the black-haired milady.
When Cora laid her eyes upon the girl with pale eyes, she noticed it immediately. Red rimmed eyes, mildly sunken, dry and chapped lips underneath all the makeup, and a little bit of gauntness in her cheeks Cora knew had nothing to do with her physical genetics. Not to mention her countenance was pale to the point of seeing her veins beneath her skin.
She looked like an ill woman.
"Is your Lady sick?" Cora wanted to get it straight.
It wasn't everyday that she encountered a noble, especially a high-ranked one like the woman who stood before her, looking so out of place in her dingy clinic, yet the lack of fear and disgust in the woman's eyes almost made Cora think such a place was not unfamiliar for her anymore.
But that couldn't be, she's a noble.
"Oh, um…" Allie glances to her right.
The young woman raised her own dark brow. "Are you not going to invite us to sit?"
Cora sighs. For the lack of a better reason to force the girls out of her clinic, she gestures for them to sit without a word. To add to that, she was curious as to what sort of sickness threw a high-ranked looking noblewoman inside the dark alleys of Sorenth.
How desperate are you? She stares at the woman who was taking her black-fur capelet off, giving it to her maid instinctively, and revealing the entirety of the glamorous mauve dress she wore, that seemed to shine like stars as the jewels in it reflected the warm glow of the crackling hearth just near them.
Allie, who was her maid, carefully folded the capelet and let it hang on the backrest of her old, wrinkly couch.
"Careful, you wouldn't want to mess the precious fur of your cape" Cora chuckles darkly, she just couldn't help but mess with the young lady who now sat in front of her.
The young woman didn't seem to find amusement in her taunting. "I couldn't have cared less if that cloak burns to pieces"
Cora's foxlike eyes widened. She freezes for a quick second in surprise before bursting out in laughter. She bent forward, clutching her stomach as she cackled loudly. When she sat up straight once more, there were tears in the corner of her eyes.
"Is there something so amusing?" the young woman asked.
"No, I just didn't expect such an answer from what seemed to be the daughter of a Marquis" Cora rested her chin on her hand, bending forward to her knees — her legs were spread outward like a man scandalously, and she had a smirk playing on her lips.
The woman with strikingly pale eyes didn't dare say anything, but her gaze, which Cora expected to be filled with disgust, barely showed any of her own emotions.
"My Lady, should I be the one to speak with her?" Allie attempted to whisper, but the Medic's ears were sharper than ever, despite her age.
"There's no need, Allie" the young woman turns back to her, and her eyes, rimmed red despite the makeup she wore glistened with an emotion Cora was too familiar with.
Fear.
The cool winter winds outside her clinic howled, louder than ever.
"My maid told me that you are a competent Medic. That you were able to cure the epidemic in her hometown" the woman started, she had her fingers clasped together — an anxiety-filled habit it was.
Cora remained silent as she tilted her head resting over her palm.
"I came in here to seek your expertise in medicine, and ask that you examine me" the woman hesitated, her lips left hanging for just a moment before she spoke again.
"I am willing to pay any price"
Cora grins, a business smile plastered on her lips as soon as she heard the word 'pay any price'. Suddenly, she felt this discussion was already over. Cora would gladly do anything as long as it paid for her research.
"Alright, my Lady, but I just need to ask some questions before I examine you" Cora reached inside the breast pocket of her black coat, and took out a small notebook containing the information of all her patients.
"Is it necessary?"
"Yes," the lack of hesitation in Cora's voice seemed to relieve the woman. She eyed her maid, who nodded immediately from just a glance, and stood up.
"Is there somewhere I could stay to give you both privacy?"
Cora was taken aback from the question and the quick interaction between the Lady and her maid with just a look from both of them. There was clear loyalty in the maid's eyes, and a deep worry for her Lady's being.
She quickly recovers, then, and points at the door just behind her. "Well, I'm not happy about this but you can stay in that room"
Allie nodded and smiled in gratitude.
Silence filled the room when Allie entered another room in order for her Lady to be given privacy. Cora takes the silence as a chance to observe the woman in front of her.
The long, black hair that was let free fell in waves over her shoulders. Cora noticed the thinness of her arms beneath the long sleeves she wore, and the bones on her wrists were visible under the warm light of the fireplace. She was too thin, it was painfully obvious.
Why? Is she not the daughter of some high-ranking noble?
Is she not eating enough? Or is she not being fed well?
But how is that possible? The woman in front of her wore clothes that no commoner could've ever worn no matter how much they save up for it. There was no possibility of someone like her being starved, unless…
"My name is Ciana Evrian"
Cora blinked in surprise, her heart thumped against her chest from the surprising revelation. So, she's the youngest daughter, born from a prostitute. The tale of her birth was well-known in any part of the Duke's territories. Cora, though surprised, tries to maintain a neutral expression.
I can't scare off this potential customer.
"Age?" Cora started writing in her sheepskin notebook, the sound of pen against paper was the only thing that could be heard in the room.
"20" Cora hummed at the quick response.
Her head rose to meet Ciana's pale eyes. "Why did you seek me?
Ciana hesitates and her striking eyes wavered as she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else rather than answer her question. Her fingers picked with each other in what seemed to be an anxious habit. Cora watched the movement like a hawk before taking note of it.
"I…" the young Lady found difficulty in finding her words.
"On the 20th day, before the month of Winter…it was the first time I vomited blood" she stopped her words, and gritted her teeth through the reality that she appeared to be ignoring for the longest time.
That Ciana Evrian might've been ill.
"I see" was the only thing Cora said. Her face remained neutral — a mastery of self-restraint after years of experience as a Medic being exposed to the most horrific of diseases.
"How much blood did you vomit at that time?" she asked and the young Lady seemed taken aback by her nonchalance of the situation. Ciana's mouth gapes a centimeter as she looks carefully at Cora.
"Maybe a fourth of a small glass," she said softly.
"How many times has this happened now?" Cora writes, her foxy gaze moving from the young Lady to the notebook on her lap.
"Three times now" she didn't lift her gaze from her notebook as she kept on noting the information she was being given.
Cora hums. "Am I the first Medic you went to?"
Ciana stopped. She seems to be hesitating even more now at the question. "I did not inform our family Medic…" she trails off, as if she would rather not speak about it.
Cora's head rose, and she set her eyes upon the young woman once more. "Would you rather not talk about it?" there was no need to force her to speak of something she didn't seem comfortable telling her.
"No…I-I have an aversion to touch, and with men" Ciana's hands clasped her skirt, and the tensed expression on her face was already an answer to a question Cora had at that response.
The grip on her pen tightens, but Cora steels herself.
"I see, and what other symptoms have you experienced?" she averted the topic, knowing no good will come of it from her asking what the Lady might have gone through.
"I feel dizzy at times, I often faint, and I feel something painful in my chest" Cora stops her writing.
"Will you be able to describe the feeling of that pain for me?" she asked.
Ciana nodded. "It's like an itch from a hundred insects swarming inside my chest, and it's painful like I'm being poked with needles" her hand subtly massages circular motions on her chest, and her gaze clouds, like she was staring at a distant memory.
That doesn't sound like any symptoms I have ever heard before. Cora thinks for a moment as she observes the woman. "Do you feel the pain right now?"
Ciana shakes her head. "No, there is only a small ache" she rests her hand on her lap before speaking again. "I felt that pain yesterday night, and Allie was a witness to it. That's why she told me to seek you" she explained.
"I see. What did the pain feel like?"
Ciana looked pained as she tried to recall the memory. "Unbearable. I…felt like I was dying" there was uncertainty in her voice as she spoke of something she might've never admitted even to herself before.
Cora was all-too familiar with it.
But what she wasn't familiar with, was the symptoms that the young noblewoman was telling her. The daughter of Duke Evrian, with an illness that she didn't know. This might be a headache incoming, she thought.
Still, an unknown illness.
Cora wouldn't be a Black Medic if she dies without knowing everything about this unknown illness. A disease that makes you vomit blood, and associated with episodes of pain like stabbing needles and insects crawling in your heart.
Interesting.
It was all very interesting.
Cora was sold.
"I can only confirm that you indeed have a sickness. Though, the question for what is currently something I cannot answer right now" Cora shuts her notebook, she clipped her pen on the side of it as she pockets it on the inside of her black coat.
Her blue eyes glanced at the woman before her.
"So, you cannot help me?" Ciana bit back like a wounded beast, sharp and cold.
Cora sighs. "I didn't say that. I would need to further examine you — a full physical examination and also, I need to draw blood from your finger" she raised her hands and gestured to nothing, a habit she had while speaking.
"Draw blood? That is a method I've never heard of before" Ciana looked apprehensive at the mention of it.
It was true that the White Society prohibits drawing blood from patients, calling it unethical and disgusting. Still, they could call it what they want but it wouldn't erase the fact that drawing blood is the quickest and most efficient way of identifying a disease.
"You might not be familiar with it before but it is a progressive method Medics like me often use" Cora says, attempting to look believable. But the dingy alley and the small, dark clinic, and the woman who calls herself a Medic, wearing black coat doesn't seem to make it any more believable.
"And also, there's something you need to know before I do the examination. It is just a possibility so it might not even be applied to your illness, but…" Cora hesitated. If she was a Medic under White Society, what she was about to say oversteps her boundaries as a Medic.
But she had always hated that organization.
Patients always deserve to learn everything and all truths about their illnesses.
"Tell me," Ciana said. The fire in her pale eyes was the only confirmation Cora needed.
"The truth is vomiting blood is a sure-tell sign of a chronic illness. And the pain in your heart is similar to a disease I have heard in passing before, though, I would need to research more about it" Cora spoke, there was heaviness in her tone that told the reality of the situation before them.
She saw how Ciana's eyes widened, the pale irises almost seamlessly blending with her pupils if not for the speck of lilac in them. Surprise and confusion filled her expression, and the gauntness of her cheeks became more visible in the dim light from the roaring hearth beside them as she tilted her head to the right.
"A chronic illness? What does that mean exactly?"
Cora heaved a nervous breath. Shit, I didn't want to tell this to her. But her conviction to be truthful to all patients weighed heavier than any difficult truths.
"It means an illness that might not have any current cure"
.
.
.
A stifling silence filled the room.
Ciana lips hang open slightly. Cora had to watch as her surprise went from confused to disbelief. Like all patients who had a chronic and incurable illness, she was in disbelief — she doesn't seem to believe it at all. And Cora knew it was a process, a series of realizations that all chronically ill patients go through.
They say that in moments of death, people go through a series of stages and realization before they are able to finally accept the reality before them. Shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally, in the end, acceptance comes. But as she observed the woman before her, she couldn't see much visible surprise in her face, and there was something in her pale eyes that could only either be a silent confirmation or a well-hidden internal breakdown.
"I…might be dying?" Ciana asks and Cora watches how her fisted hands tightened at the news.
"Let's be optimistic that you aren't," Cora slowly said, watching how Ciana closed her eyes, the withdrawn expression on her pale face was not of someone who had just been told that they were dying. It wasn't a response Cora had ever seen before in any patients.
It's like she had known all along.
As if she had just been wanting to confirm her suspicions.
"I see"
Cora stood up, and the young woman's eyes followed her motion. She gestured for her to follow and she rose from the couch. The Black Medic led her to another room beside where Allie let the maid enter. Though, Cora wouldn't even describe it as a room. I was a space hidden with a worn-out divider. There was a cot sitting against a scratch-filled wall, a worn blanket was folded neatly over it. A desk littered with dried roots and thin glass vials and another sheep-skinned book was open to a page filled with sharp, spiky handwriting.
The smell of iron and incense filled the area.
"Sit" Cora instructed, and Ciana obeys without complaint. She didn't flinch at the coldness of the cot or the way Cora slid into a chair before her and pressed her fingers on her wrist, checking her pulse.
A warm glow rose from the tips of the Medic's finger, an essence from the long-gone ancient magic that once ran in the Continent, a reminder of that power people once used to wield inside their cores without so much as batting an eye.
Now, only shadows of that power remain. And Cora uses it from a relic that shone around her wrist. A relic that she inherited from the person who taught her everything she needed to know as a Medic. The only person who pushed her just enough to accomplish her ambitions.
When the examination ended, silence stretched between them. Cora removed her fingers from Ciana's wrist, and she rested it on her lap as she finally looked at the woman once more.
"It's not a cold or fatigue…It's something worse — but, you seem to already know that, don't you?"
Ciana nods, and Cora could see it now. The silent acceptance in her eyes. She looked down at her gloved hands, twisting the fabric between her fingers. "I…do not know how much time I have left," she admitted.
"You might have more than you think. And you'll need me for it" Cora replied, her tone blunt yet softer at the same time. "I need to draw blood from you" she added, and without asking, she pulls the hand gloves from her fingers, the satin sliding off gracefully.
Instantly, she sees lesions on the tips of her fingers, just below the nails. They seemed like cuts that resulted from continuous friction. "What is this?" she asked straightly.
"I wanted to scratch the itch from last night, I didn't know they were bleeding until Allie stopped me" Ciana explained, her fingers stiffened under Cora's hold.
Cora hummed as she swiftly took a small vial from the near table. The relic on her wrist glows a strong blue as she holds the index finger and as she watches it bled slowly, she placed the opening of the glass vial on it, collecting the drops of blood that fell from the tip of her finger.
"I'll need to further examine this" Cora says, closing the lid and showing the small amount of collected blood to Ciana. "You'll need to be back tomorrow" she placed the vial on a small rack on the table, securing its place as a label appeared on the center of it.
Without any hesitation in her movements, Cora took the rolled bandage on her table, cutting it into small pieces with mastery and wrapping each of Ciana's wounded fingers.
"I'm leaving Sorenth later and I'm afraid I won't be able to be back for a while" Ciana answered, watching the Medic tend to her scratches. "I need you to come with me"
Cora blinked in surprise, though she continued with wrapping and taping her fingers. "...Why would I do that?
"I'll fund your research, and I'll supply you with everything you'd need" there was no hesitation as the black-haired lady spoke. "I'll hire you as my personal medic"
Cora freezes at that. She stared back at the pale eyes that gazed at her with desperation in them. "I doubt your father will allow a woman to be your Medic" she countered.
"You'll disguise as my maid. But I'll organize your room to be a fully functional workroom. I'll provide everything you need — whatever it is. But, I need your help"
Cora sits, studying her.
She was serious. Desperate, but serious. She wasn't just looking for a cure. She was preparing for something akin to war. The kind of war you fight against your own body. The kind that will end in victory or silence.
How far are you willing to go?
How far are you willing to fight?
Cora sighed, she felt an incoming headache from the situation.
But she just couldn't ignore the desperate pleas of the pale-eyed woman in front of her.
"I'll do it," were the words she found herself saying.
.
.
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