POV: HELENA IVYRA.
A strong, throbbing headache made me gradually wake up, as my blurry vision began to clear. Still, I had some difficulty understanding where I was or what was happening around me.
It was a calm voice that rescued me from that confused state.
"Hey, kid, wake up!" someone said softly, fully awakening me at that instant.
I slowly opened my eyes and realized my face was a little drooled. From all indications… I had fallen asleep on the library table, with my head resting on my arms.
"Sweetie, are you alright?" the voice repeated.
I turned my gaze towards the speaker and immediately recognized her: it was Rose. It had been her voice all along.
"I'm fine, Auntie Rose… my head hurts a lot," I murmured, bringing my hand to the painful side of my head.
"It's normal, sweetie. You were sleeping out of the sleeptime again. It's 2 PM, and you're here, sleeping… Still having insomnia problems? If so, you should ask your mom to take you to the doctor," she said, with her usual tone of concern.
"You know Mom… She always says it's my fault for not being able to sit still and all…" I grumbled, still rubbing my aching head.
"Hmph… Oh, your mom's quite stubborn, huh…" Rose sighed, exhausted. "Anyway, look at the time. You'd better go home before the sun gets too hot."
"Ohhh, I wanted to stay a little longer… I wanted to read more," I insisted, trying to get a little more time out of the house.
"Read? You spent the whole time sleeping, sweetie…" she said, with a slight smile.
"Ohhh, I promise I'll stay awake this time. Ughh…" I yawned, feeling a bit weak.
"Uh-huh… I know," she replied, skeptical.
"Just go home…" As she spoke, she was already tidying my things on the table, putting everything into my backpack.
"But, Auntie Ro–"
"No buts, sweetie. Just go. It's better for you, that way you can catch up on your sleep," she interrupted, guiding me to the exit.
"Ohhh, at least let me take something to read??" I pleaded, trying to squeeze out at least one concession.
"Hmph…" she sighed, clearly trying to gather patience. "Alright. Let's make a deal, then. If I recommend a book, do you promise to read the whole thing?"
"Absolutely! I love the books you read to me!" I replied, excited by the idea.
"Hmm… let's see…" she said, putting her hand to her chin and observing the environment carefully, looking for something appropriate.
"Aha! I know!" she suddenly exclaimed, taking a few steps to a niche shelf near the reception desk.
"This one! I think you'll like this read. Do you promise to read it all, Helena?"
"Absolutely, Auntie Rose!" I said, excited, eager to see what book it was.
I took the book in my hands. It was simple, with a cover showing several children running on a beach.
The title was curious, enigmatic to me, but, at the same time, captivating.
They say you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but at that moment, I knew that even before opening it, I would love it.
After all, it was Auntie Rose's recommendation.
"I insist you read this book. It's my favorite! Its name is Captains of the Sands, by Jorge Amado. A beautiful story!" Rose said, with genuine happiness in her eyes.
But, before I could answer, my vision suddenly darkened.
The pain returned, cruel and pounding, and destroyed that memory like a tide breaking a sandcastle.
My vision became confused, blurred, exhausted.
Probably, everything was still a reflection of the shock I had suffered in my head…
Everything around me became unstable. I only caught brief flashes of consciousness, images that passed before me like loose memories.
I saw my mother for an instant. Mrs. Eduarda, with her long, dark blonde hair, already sprinkled with some stubborn white strands, almost as reminders that time, although it hadn't taken away her good humor or her strong identity, had made sure to erase the color of her hair.
'And I hope that's the only thing that fades from her for many years to come… I need her to see me as a physicist someday…'
Even so, she was there. She stayed by my side during the brief moments I managed to retain from memory. Due to the intense magical and physical trauma, I barely remembered the moment H hit me.
All that remained was the memory of the crushing weight on my body, as if all my muscles had given up.
The same sensation of total fatigue I felt during the draining of my QPs. That strange smell of sulfur and carbon monoxide from the fire still seemed clinging to me and the environment.
It made my stomach churn and my senses got confused. Part of me wondered if I was still in that burning library.
Scattered memories came to mind… memories of when Rose had recommended her favorite book to me… And that later, it became mine. This kind of memory made me slightly happy to have come to this city.
Meeting people like Rose always made me happy. She was an honorary aunt who supported me a lot when I arrived.
My emotions became slightly confused due to the Chains of Marginal Liberty enchantment, but thanks to the counterpoint of Tessellation with control, I could even handle the conflict between the two well.
But this time, I had overdone it a bit.
My exhaustion was making it difficult. Especially during elementary school.
I remembered having a bit of difficulty with the blessed Portuguese language and those cursed rules of paroxytone, oxytone, and where to put the fierce accent.
She was one of the first people to teach me how cool it was to study and how learning could always cheer me up.
'I hope she's okay…'
After a long and exhausting headache, my vision finally returned to normal, and I was able to distinguish where I was.
I was on a simple stretcher with white and light lime-green details. Beside me, some medical equipment, a very simple gray cabinet with two doors with black details.
On the opposite wall of the bed, a small upper window allowed the fresh night air to enter.
And, of course, the shadow of the moonlight that seemed to be at its zenith.
I recognized that place by the view. It was João Batista's Monsenhor Hospital. The city's public hospital.
I had been there on several occasions when I was sick.
I remembered hearing some heavy footsteps coming from the door near two chairs, positioned next to an arm support for blood tests. I saw a man open the door, wearing a green social shirt and a simple brown cardigan.
I recognized him: it was Noah, the police officer who was at the library.
"Ah, you're awake. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Noah said, in his very gentle tone, apparently trying not to speak too loudly.
"N-no problem, you didn't wake me," I replied, with some difficulty moving, due to fatigue.
"Try not to overexert yourself," Noah said, as he sat in the chair on the other side of the room.
"The doctor authorized me to come here, as long as I didn't make you exert yourself too much." As soon as he sat down, he straightened his posture, crossed his legs, and continued:
"You showed quite some skill there, huh? Do you plan on becoming a police officer or something similar?" Noah asked, in a relaxed tone, as if making small talk.
"Thanks, but actually, I'm not thinking about that. I plan to become an academic," I replied promptly.
"Good thing too… Considering you're 17 and can do that… Mercy…," Noah exclaimed, his face showing a certain indignation.
"Kids these days are scary. If you were to become a police officer, you'd replace me in a week, and I don't want to retire that early… So, I guess I owe you one for that," he completed, amused.
"I think we're even. You saved my skin there too," I joked, returning the jab.
"Indeed, you fight very well. Have you practiced anything?" Noah asked, as he switched the leg he was resting on.
"A little Muay Thai, some fencing classes, and individual combat practices at school," I replied, trying to recall anything else.
"A little? The other guy ran off in fear. And honestly, I don't blame him, I'd run too," Noah said, with an ironic tone.
"You should've seen what I'd do to him on a good day, ev—"
Cough-cough. Cough-cough.
I started coughing violently, to the point where my dry throat momentarily weakened. I saw Noah pick up a water bottle, which I now realized he had brought with him, and approach the stretcher to hand it to me.
"Calm down, drink some water… The CO₂ from the fire must have affected you a bit," he said, with a worried expression.
I quickly took the bottle and drank a little less than half at once. I realized how dry my throat was and how much smoke I had inhaled.
"Your mother was very worried about you. She spent the whole day here," Noah commented, as he leaned against the wall.
"What do you mean, the whole day? How long I've been unconscious?" I asked, incredulous, unaware of the passage of time.
"A little over a day. You showed signs of speaking this morning. Now it's the night of the day after the library incident," Noah replied promptly.
"Ah, I see," I concluded, not knowing what else to add.
A moment of silence naturally settled… So many things needed to be said, thousands of questions I had. But the problem with words is that they choose when they will come, not you who chooses when to use them.
Noticing the silence, I saw Noah sigh heavily. He walked back to the chairs and pulled one closer to the stretcher with his left arm.
"Alright, time for the complicated talk," he said, as he sat down normally, returning to his position of crossed legs and arms, with one hand on his chin, as if organizing his thoughts.
"Alright, let's go! Before I forget, pardon my manners, I didn't introduce myself properly," he said with a certain reverence.
And, without waiting for a reply, he continued: "My name is Noah Williams, a Federal Police Agent and Technical Specialist from ABIN (Brazilian Intelligence Agency)"
He straightened his posture again and, with a serious expression, said: "That man you fought at the library is an international fugitive. He is unidentified suspect number 8. Or as we call him: Suspect H. So far, his nationality is unknown, but we believe he is American or Norwegian."
I stared at him intently as he reported who the suspect was. Suspect H, international fugitive?
'This whole thing feels like a James Bond movie. Damn, Helena, congratulations. Look where you got yourself into, fighting a 007 supervillain… Ugh.'
Seeing that I suddenly fell silent:
"If you're thinking you might be in danger, don't worry. Our sources confirmed this morning that H's whereabouts have already been identified far from here," Noah said, intending to reassure me.
Which worked a little, at least. Because, without realizing it, I saw my hands shaking rapidly as he spoke. Hearing that helped calm me down a bit… I stared at him in silence, waiting for him to continue.
"He was looking for something, a document," Noah continued, but then looked away. "We'll talk about that later. First, I need to tell you something… and it's not easy."
My heart tightened. The way he hesitated left thousands of openings for bad interpretations that I could think of.
But none of them were as horrible as what he said.
"Rose was last seen being brutally thrown against a wall by H."
I closed my eyes, trying to contain the pain that was starting to grow inside me. But he wasn't finished yet.
"The library…" he said, his voice heavy. "It's seen in flames. The entire structure collapsed. It was completely destroyed."
The last place where readers could travel to other worlds and realities in peace. It had fallen. It was similar to the fall of Constantinople.
I felt that perhaps it wouldn't be the last.
"The girls you managed to get to the stairs," he said, trying to comfort me. "They are stable, for now. However, we're not sure about their final recovery. H's enchantments were strong… we need to observe." Then he took a deep breath, as if each following word required immense effort.
He waited for a moment. Which made me think of various scenarios of what could have happened. Bad things.
Things that could change the tone of that dialogue to something positive.
Something that would cheer me up. However, Noah maintained his cold expression and icy demeanor. And he put the cherry on top of that horrible situation.
"Helena… I'm sorry. Unfortunately, Rose didn't survive. She died of head trauma."
The world stopped for a moment. And everything inside me fell silent.