Chương 94: Chapter 27: The Promise Beneath the Stars

That night, sleep was a whirlwind of contradictory sensations. Selena found herself wandering through corridors of absolute darkness, so dense it seemed like a physical place. She was led by the hand by a golden, ethereal light that emitted no sound, yet every time that formless presence moved what should have been its mouth, an intense warmth, almost like a bath of solar water, ran through her from head to toe, warding off the chill of the stone.

As she emerged from the corridors, the sun became intense, blinding, and with the explosion of white light, everything vanished instantly. But out of nowhere, voices arose. A chorus of murmurs overlapping in a cacophony of languages. She recognized erahari, the elegant Russian, and then, with a jolt of nostalgia that made her stomach sink, she heard her own Spanish. The murmurs, in her mother tongue, whispered with terrifying clarity:"the final extinction."

But the emotion permeating the words was not terror, but a deep, almost beatific euphoria. It was as if total annihilation were a desirable destiny, a liberation. Then, three spheres of light of a spectral, vibrant, and unnatural green enveloped her field of vision, sealing the dreamscape and catapulting her back to consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly, the morning sun bathing her face with a normalcy that felt like an insult.

The echo of "the final extinction" and that perverse happiness still resonated in her ears. She leapt up, her heart racing. Today were the Medical Ethics exams! In her obsession with Eliud's secrets, she had neglected her studies, arrogantly trusting that the moral compass she brought from Earth would be enough. Upon arriving at the classroom and receiving the parchment with the questions, her confidence vanished.

The dilemmas were rooted in the rigid social structures of Erabergh, in loyalty to the crown above the patient, in the justification of experimentation on the condemned… Her earthly ethics clashed head-on with the dogmas of this world. She answered as best she could, but as she handed in the exam, she felt the unpleasant sensation of having navigated a sea of moral grays, leaving a trail of ambiguity and uncertainty. Hungry and with her mind clouded by frustration, she headed to the dining hall.

On the way, she encountered Maya, absorbed in reading a volume so large it looked like a brick of wisdom. The title, engraved in faded gold leaf, read: Notable Historical Events 1: The War of the Three Earls. Selena cleared her throat softly. Maya lowered the book slowly, revealing an expression of concentration that softened upon recognizing her. —I'm treating you to lunch —Selena proposed. Then she forced a smile she hoped was convincing. —But this time, I want you to choose the place and the food.

Maya looked at her, a flash of surprise in her hazel eyes. —I'm in. Her expression filled with a glow that Selena was beginning to recognize as typical of the healer. —But first I must go drop this tome off at my room. Will you wait for me or come along? She stood up, closing the heavy book and leaning it against her chest. —I'll come along —Selena replied, grateful for the distraction.

After dropping off the heavy book in Maya's austere room, both crossed the bridge over the river that separated the royal university from Kaelburg. The healer, with a familiarity that betrayed previous exploration, guided Selena through side streets until stopping in front of a place with a carved wooden sign.

"Sun and Savor" it said, with an almost comical carving of a smiling sun on a steaming plate. —I came here with a boy a few weeks ago —Maya confessed with a shrug. Selena couldn't help but smile at her blush. —Even if the food isn't that good… they have something I want you to see with me. Selena's curiosity was piqued. Upon crossing the threshold, she knew immediately what it was. The aroma of food was mediocre, yes, but the atmosphere was permeated by vibrant music.

In a corner, a bard sang with a deep, raspy voice, accompanying himself on a lute whose resonance box was covered in scales of a coppery shimmer that caught the light from the lamps, flashing with every chord. Maya, with a knowing smile that seemed to dispel the shadows of the library and the dream echoes, took Selena firmly by the hand. Her touch was warm, real, an anchor in the current of uncertainty dragging Selena along.

She led her through the modest establishment, weaving through tables until finding one semi-hidden in a corner, far from the main bustle but with a perfect view of the bard and his copper-scaled lute, whose shine danced to the rhythm of the melody. A young waitress approached, her face kind and her voice sweet. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. —What will you have? Selena looked at Maya, yielding the choice to her with a slight nod of her head.

—Grilled ornitura —Maya blurted out. Her answer came without a second hesitation, as if she had been repeating the order mentally for weeks. —Also, an ovin. Of a good vintage. Selena raised an eyebrow, a weak and curiously amused smile appearing on her lips. The Maya she knew was practical, frugal, raised in the secrets of the forest, not in the lands of nobility. When the waitress moved away, Selena couldn't contain herself. —So… of a good vintage —she commented, her tone laden with soft, knowing mockery.

Maya turned slightly red, toying with the edge of her simple dress. —I always wanted to know why they were so expensive —she confessed with a sigh, as if admitting a secret frivolity. Selena's laugh was brief but genuine, a clear sound that blended with the music of the lute. When the food arrived, the grilled ornitura turned out to be a simple but comforting dish: pieces of juicy fowl with a smoky crust, accompanied by golden, crispy tubers.

For Selena, they evoked a distant memory, one that reminded her of the closest thing to chicken and fries she had tasted since her arrival in this strange world. An earthly, almost mundane flavor that produced a pang of nostalgia as sharp as it was unexpected. They ate in a comfortable silence, broken only by the music and the murmur of the tavern. The tension of the exam and the heaviness of the ancient books seemed to dissolve, for a moment, in the aroma of the food and the company.

The bard sang with a beautiful voice about a flutist:"The flutist at the fair made the wild winds sway, while his lanquirios slept by the salt-blue bay. The merchant's daughter lowered her veil as he came near… they say from tasting his lips, she forgot how to haggle dear." Upon finishing, they set out on the way back to the university, crossing the bridge over the river whose constant murmur was the soundtrack of Kaelburg. The night breeze caressed their faces.

It was then, in the relative stillness of the bridge, with the city lights flickering over the dark water, that Selena broke the silence with a question that had been brewing for days. —You miss your parents, don't you? —Her voice was serene, but in her green eyes, dimly lit by the bridge lamps, a deep and sympathetic sadness was reflected. Maya looked at her, and for an instant, Selena thought she was going to deny it, to hide behind her mask of a serene healer.

But then, a deep sigh, laden with a long weight held back, escaped her lips. —I do. It was a confession, and her voice trembled slightly. —I miss them. Especially Mom. I owe being a healer to her. Another sigh, deeper, as if expelling an ancient pain. —We lose everything with the condemnation of our destiny… but it was never as clear as when Fern died. This time she fell silent, and the silence that followed was eloquent and heavy. —There are days…

Her voice was barely a whisper, so thin it was almost swallowed by the cacophony created by the echo of the wild river below them. —That I only wish I could leave this condemnation. They approached the stone railing of the bridge. Maya leaned over, staring fixedly at the dark silhouette of the mountain on the other side, as if in its folds she could find an answer, an escape. Selena said nothing. There were no words that could heal that wound.

Instead, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around her from behind, a simple but firm gesture. She felt, almost immediately, the warm dampness of Maya's tears soaking the sleeve of her vest. There were no loud sobs, only a silent trembling, the contained release of a pain they both shared. Then, Selena spoke, her voice a soft and sweet sigh, almost cradled by the river. —You will always have me —she murmured, tightening the embrace slightly— Together. She didn't promise that everything would get better.

She didn't speak of a bright future. She only offered presence. Companionship in the condemnation. It was the only real thing, the only true thing she could give. The embrace seemed to last for hours, a haven of peace and shared pain in the midst of the current of their lives. When they finally pulled apart, they looked at each other. Their faces were wet, their eyes red, but in them shone something new, something solid.

A trembling smile, fragile as glass but genuine, was born on Maya's lips, and Selena responded with her own. It was not a smile of joy, but of understanding. Between smiles and jokes after what had happened, they returned to the cloister; they were the first glimmers of something that could be a true friend. The following morning, Selena woke without the urgency that usually accompanied her.

The medicine finals loomed over her, yes, but the mere thought of facing the exam on the four humors again produced a deep disdain in her. She took her time, dressing leisurely, enjoying the rare absence of haste. Since inhabiting the Duchess's body, she almost always wore her hair down, a practical surrender to her inability to tame the complexities of feminine hairstyles. But that day, an impulse for normalcy, to reassert some control over her appearance, led her to try putting it up.

It was a clumsy battle against slippery hairpins and rebellious strands. Samira, observing from her corner with that calm that sees all, approached in silence. Without a word, her deft and gentle fingers took over. With efficient and precise movements, she transformed the chaos into a simple but elegant bun that freed her neck. Selena, a bit embarrassed but deeply grateful, gave her a sincere smile. —Thank you —she murmured, and the scholar's gesture was a slight nod, a flash of connection in her habitual reserve.

With a new determination, she headed to the library. But as she crossed the Atrium of Wisdom, she found a group of students huddled together, whispering excitedly in front of a poster pinned to a bulletin board. The letters, large and formal, proclaimed:"Lecture on the Heresy of the Path of the Voice, tomorrow at noon, in the Central Auditorium." The murmurs around her were a mixture of incredulity and morbid curiosity. —Again? —she heard a young woman in exquisite dresses say.

Another who accompanied her made a gesture of pure disdain, but one of the boys was the one who finally replied. —They give two of these a year, as if condemning some poor devils were a show. The mention of the "Path of the Voice" instantly reminded her of Corren, of the cave lit by blue beetles, of the philosophy of listening instead of imposing. A pang of worry ran through her chest. Would they be safe?

Shaking her head, she pushed aside the unease and resumed her way, descending the endless spiral of stairs toward her appointment with the past.