Seven words. The untold bane of any doctor and his patient.
"There is nothing more to be done."
Young Esther's heart skipped a beat at the escape of those seven words. Her frail mother wept as they broke the silence of the candlelit room. And her father, away on important military business, was not present for the unfolding tragedy.
"Esther, your condition is very poor," the doctor had admitted, his brow damp with sweat. "Your fever is much worse than yesterday. Your body is battling a violent inferno, and I do not know how much longer it will be able to stave it off."
Esther's mother shocked the doctor by seizing his arms tightly. "Does that mean this night may be…" She could not manage to choke out the last few words before grief overtook her. The doctor then weakly uttered those seven words, and she hid her face from view, sobbing loudly.
Esther was too overwhelmed to know what to think. She tautly gripped the covers of her bed, her head burning and the world spinning around her as they had done for the past few days.
Her mother held a great share of enmity for tall city walls and crowded streets, and she had vehemently opposed her husband's suggestion of taking a trip to the city the week prior. Esther had little opinion on the matter, but deemed it a potentially interesting excursion. Thus, her mother was dragged along against her will, departing their quiet, foggy seabound town for a city draped in commerce and uncertainty. She knew it was those crowded streets that had afflicted Esther with this vile illness. She hated her husband for bringing up the idea, for taking them to that putrid place, and for showing such coarseness as to be absent while his daughter's life burned away in bed.
"Eleanor…" the doctor began solemnly. "May I have a moment alone with Esther?"
"Why?" she lashed at him through sultry tears. "If there is nothing more to be done, what could you possibly want to discuss with my daughter?"
He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and was somewhat surprised to be met with no backlash. "I wish to tell her what will happen."
Eleanor drew a slow and staggered breath, turning her head to glare at the doctor with hostile eyes.
"What could you possibly know about death?"
The doctor closed his eyes. "I have seen it many times. I have said the same things to many patients." He took a very deliberate breath. "...I have even conversed with them on one occasion."
"Them?"
The doctor shook his head, waiting patiently for Eleanor to understand. She never did.
After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Eleanor trudged to the bedside and took Esther in her arms. From his isolated seat, the doctor could only hear tender whispers and quiet tears. He could not bring himself to look in their direction.
Eventually, Eleanor ended this final exchange by kissing her daughter on the forehead, breathing one last pained breath, and departing from the bedside. She stopped briefly upon passing the doctor.
"Make it quick," she demanded with hostile stringency. "She deserves to leave in peace."
With that, she traipsed out the door and slammed it behind her. The doctor drew a deep breath and left his seat, walking to the bedside and kneeling to Esther's height. She still gripped the covers tightly, tears in her eyes after the exchange with her mother.
"Esther," the doctor tenderly spoke to her. "Two people are coming to visit you."
"Who?" she feebly replied, wincing at the pain from the fire coursing through her head. The doctor, hoping to keep her at ease, gave her a gentle smile. "You will know them when you see them."
He paused for a moment, his expression shifting. "When you meet them, look to the lamb. She is swift and gentle. The wolf… he is not."
"A… lamb and a wolf?" Esther inquired. There were tears in her eyes again, the doctor's words filling her with mounting dread. The doctor had nothing more to say, and quietly put a hand on her shoulder and stood to his full height.
"They will help you understand."
Waiting a terribly long while for Esther to show a visage of serenity, the doctor soon finally withdrew his hand from her shoulder and began to leave the room.
"Wait!"
He stopped and turned back to her. She remained silent for a long moment.
"What is death?"
He smiled faintly. "They will tell you."
He exited and the door creaked closed, returning the room to a pristine stillness.
Esther drew a deep breath and tried to will herself to hold back her tears. She knew nothing of this lamb and wolf the doctor told of, nor any of the questions he reassured her they would answer. She felt lost, wayward, cast away, and alone. Just moments after their departure, her mother and the doctor felt so far away, the warmth of their hands lost to the hellish fire of sickness.
The world still spinning, Esther gazed around the room - her room - and willed her eyes to focus on the golden-colored walls. On the wall opposite her bed, numerous paintings, some born of days of distinguished work and framed neatly, and others authored by herself and crudely taped to the wall. On the wall to her right, a wide and elegant window, granting her a view of the dark and foggy sea. The blackness of night meant that the concrete streets were entirely empty, contributing even further to Esther's loneliness.
Was this the final time she would see these wonderful things? Was the very room where her life began ten years ago to be the one where her life ended? Her head seemed to burn more acutely at the sheer thought.
The ensuing time passed by like a blur. Rogue thoughts came and went through Esther's scorching mind, never granting her the opportunity to ponder them for more than a moment. She felt as though she was waiting for something. Perhaps the mysterious visitors the doctor had mentioned. The excruciating silence of the room assaulted her alongside the vile illness as the minutes and hours ticked away.
Esther did not know how much time had passed when she snapped to lucidity. She gazed around the room frantically, worried that the walls may have melted in the same heat that consumed her. The walls were, in fact, the same walls she knew. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief in knowing she had not been swallowed up by the darkness outside.
She quickly realized her mouth was parched as a desert. Thus, she made the somewhat unwilling decision to escort herself to the washroom. Perhaps a sip or two of frigid water would help to quell the flames.
She threw the heavy covers off herself, revealing the periwinkle dress she had been wearing for the past three days. Having been bound to her bed by her illness, she was not at all acclimated to walking, and as soon as she left the bed her legs crumbled and she collapsed to the floor. It was only now that she realized how pathetically weak her legs felt, both from staying in bed for days and from the delirium her illness had imposed upon her. Standing again proved to be nearly impossible with how the room spun, but after rather desperately grasping the nightstand she managed to bring herself to her feet, her legs furiously trembling. She stayed close to the wall as she made her way toward the washroom with slow and feeble steps, confiding in the fact that the wall would catch her if she were to lose her balance.
Upon finally reaching her washroom, Esther stumbled over to the sink and drew a basinful of cool water. She took a few sips, quenching her thirst, and then splashed her face with the rest of it. After several deep breaths, she concluded that she felt better. Still just as ill, but better nonetheless.
Esther gazed into the mirror for a while, scanning her own emerald eyes and long, brown hair. She was somewhat surprised to see that she still looked just as human. With all the horrors this foul sickness had brought upon her life, it was relieving to see she was still herself. She glanced around the mirror some more, reassuring herself that all was well.
And then her eyes fell on the being standing in the doorway, and her heart stopped.
The figure's eyes were blazingly cold. Two spheres of awful light, an impossible blue-violet in color. It wore a mask, made of dark purple stone and pointed in shape, with two triangular ears at the top. The being behind the mask was cloaked in sickly white wool, possessing long, dangling ears and standing on hooves. In its left hand was a curved bow.
The Lamb.
It spoke.
"The weft and weave of fate guides the hunters on their chase."
Her voice was a soothing aria, carrying seamlessly on the silent air between them. It held the sound of a wistful piano, crying into the void with gentle notes.
"A tranquil dance of ash and wool, to bring death's last embrace."
This voice was different. Unlike the lamb's, it was a dissonant growl that tore through the air with no subtlety. Like a furious cello, it shook every frail bone in Esther's body.
Into the doorway frisked another being. This entity walked on no legs, instead flowing through the air as a plume of darkness. It had the same terrible eyes as the lamb, and wore a similar mask, though white instead of purple and more rounded in shape. It had a large snout, and its gaping maw, glowing a harsh blue, was filled with horrible teeth.
The Wolf.
"This room is sweltering and sultry," the wolf growled in irritation. "Why is this summer night so hot, Lamb?"
"It is her mind," the lamb replied, both their gazes turning toward Esther. "She is consumed by flames and melting away."
The wolf grumbled. "A charred heart is not a worthy prize," he gnarled, locking eyes with Esther. Their frigid fire seemed to burn her soul into oblivion.
"Wh-who are you?" Esther weakly stammered in demand. She once again realized how languished her legs were, and grasped the basin tightly to keep herself standing.
"We have many names," the lamb answered, plucking the string of her bow with a harsh twang. "But I am always Lamb to his Wolf, and he is always Wolf to my Lamb."
Esther did not know what to think. She was terrified to see that the doctor's words were true. That these two beings were real. Or perhaps they weren't. Perhaps she was simply dreaming. Or perhaps she was already dead. She did not know.
"We know your name as well," Lamb assured her. "Esther."
Esther nearly collapsed to the ground in shock at the sound of her own name.
"This Esther-thing smells of fear and hesitation," Wolf followed, grinning wickedly with eyes squinted in delight. "Why does she stand on such weak legs?"
"It is the flames, dear Wolf," Lamb informed him. "The fire in her mind has taken her legs from her."
"Does that mean they are no longer ours to take?"
"Certainly not. She is afflicted, yet she remains whole."
Esther finally mustered the courage to turn away from the mirror and stare her visitors directly in the face. Yet, when she turned around, the two had vanished from the doorway. Not a trace of Wolf's dark smoke or the gelid fire of their eyes remained. For a short moment, she surmised that they were naught but a figment of her imagination. A trick played on her by her burning mind.
This conjecture was shattered upon feeling Wolf's hot breath on the back of her neck and his awful growl in her ear.
"I feel singed and seared simply being next to her!"
Esther whipped around to see the two of them where she stood several moments ago, staring her dead in the face. Her only instinct was to slowly back away as she grasped the wall, her view of the two figures tilting and wavering as the world spun around her.
And then she turned, abandoned the aid of the wall, and ran.
Unfortunately, her sense of direction was distorted, and she only ended up escaping back into her own room. As she stumbled and swayed, she heard the horrible clang of Wolf's teeth gnawing at her ankle, but failing to make contact. Inevitably, she lost her balance and collapsed onto the bed, frantically turning around to meet the eyes of her two visitors again.
"The Esther-thing runs fast on such weak legs!" Wolf exclaimed with a cackle, evidently thrilled at the girl's actions. Without warning, he rushed over to her, ending up mere inches from her face. He eyed her intently.
"Her eyes are green as the forest," he gleaned, grinning as always, "and her charred heart beats so loudly!"
For far too long, his fiery eyes remained locked on hers, his snout and deadly teeth less than arm's length away. His sweltering breath smelled like nothing. She did not see him as a beast, but a pure manifestation of terror itself.
"Esther!" Lamb called out to her. As if on cue, Wolf abandoned his stance and returned to Lamb's side.
"Tell us… would you prefer Wolf's chase, or my arrow?"
Esther did not know of what they spoke.
"She does not understand," Wolf indicated rather noticeably, cocking his head to the side.
"Tell us," Lamb began again, "Are you one to accept or one to deny?"
For a moment, Esther was still too flustered to follow. But then her mind snapped back to the doctor's words.
When you meet them, look to the lamb. She is swift and gentle. The wolf… he is not.
Struck by realization, she uttered five stammered words.
"I-I would prefer Lamb's arrow."
Immediately, Wolf's expression sank to one of disappointment. "The Esther-thing plays a boring game. One without chasing or pouncing or biting."
Lamb lightly caressed her bow, renewing their eye contact. "You are the accepting kind," she declared, holding out her right hand. An arrow materialized in it, glowing with the same ghastly white as her eyes. Even with the fatigue on her mind, Esther did not need to think to realize what would come next.
She was once again on the verge of tears, and desperately choked out several more words. "What is going to happen?"
"What happens matters not," Lamb replied coldly, nocking her bow. "All that matters is that you savor life's closing act. Shine once more, before the end."
As she drew back the arrow, Esther was sobbing, unable to do the slightest thing.
Except break the silence with one more cry of words.
They will tell you.
"Wait! I have a question for you!"
Lamb relaxed her grip slightly, as Wolf uttered an exasperated growl.
"The Esther-thing is not the accepting kind!" he barked. "If she talks any longer, may I chase her and tear her to bits?"
"Of course, dear Wolf," Lamb answered. "Esther. I will answer your question."
Esther remained silent for a brief moment, but upon a disapproving scowl from Wolf, finally delivered her question.
"What is death?"
...
What is death?
What is death?
What is death?
What is death?!
Complete and utter silence. Not a word from the lamb or the wolf.
Death, when questioned of death, responded with silence.
Nothing remained but an empty stare.
The first thing Lamb said was…
"Death is not a thing to be understood. It is a thing to be felt."
She turned to Wolf.
He stared her in the eyes.
"Death is many things, little Lamb."
He turned back to Esther.
"The coldness of the endless sky, the icy touch of the deep ocean, and the frigid sting of winter. They are all death."
He drew closer to her, and a wide grin formed on his face.
"But death is many other things. It is the warmth of blood… the howl of wicked wind…
the plod of hunted legs against the shaking ground!" He was excited now, and nimbly circled Esther countless times, dazing her even further. Soon, he slowed, and brought himself within arm's reach of her face once more. They locked eyes.
"It is the thrill of the hunt, the scent of fear, and the last gasp of breath.
"It is denial."
Esther felt as cold as the death he described.
To Wolf's surprise, Lamb ended her long silence and presented her own sentiment.
"But death is many other things," she repeated. "It is the last light in the darkness. It is the final warm embrace of the world. It is one last act before eternal escape from life's stage.
"It is acceptance."
"Acceptance of the fact that life is a story. What do all stories have in common, dear Wolf?"
"They end."
"But I don't want it to end!" Esther suddenly cried through sweltering tears. She found the strength to pull herself from her bed and run over to the window. There was no longer any languish in her steps, no fire in her mind, and the world had stopped spinning. She gazed wistfully at the darkness beyond the curtains.
"There are so many things I haven't gotten to see," she sniffled. "So many places I haven't gotten to go. So many people I haven't gotten to meet..."
Wolf answered with an angry growl. Esther collapsed to her knees.
"Why? Why is this happening to me? Why am I the one you chose to visit? Why does this have to be the end?"
She turned around, only to see, once again, the empty stare of her visitors through her tear-filled eyes. She turned back around and covered her face.
"I don't want this to be the end! I want to learn to understand! I want to be strong and live!"
Thus evaporated the last of her composure, and she broke into a soft sob. The whole world was darkness. There was no more fire, no more fatigue, and no more sickness. Only regret.
Her visitors looked on with unfaltering expression. Silence.
Lamb broke it soon after.
"Wolf… how does she feel?"
He eyed Esther with quiet intent. He growled in exasperation for a moment, but soon after grew quiet.
"The Esther-thing is upset. But she is also resolute. She is hopeful. She believes there is more to be done."
There is more to be done.
"Perhaps, in knowing death, it has stumbled beneath her." She shook her head. "No. certainly not. But perhaps the future for which she holds hope is within her reach."
"Perhaps the game she plays is not one of acceptance or denial, but one of aspiration."
Empty silence.
"Tell me again, little Lamb. Which things are ours to take?"
"All things at their end, dear Wolf."
"Is she at her end?"
"No, dear Wolf."
Esther did not know why the Lamb waited so long to loose her arrow. She sobbed for what felt like eternity, and never felt the sharp pain of death in her back. She could only conclude that the doctor's words were true, and death's arrow was swift and gentle. Concluding that the moment had already passed, she slowly opened her eyes, expecting to be met with a sickly world of light and darkness.
Instead, through her tears, she saw the golden-colored walls of her room.
The paintings. The frames. The window. The past ten years of her life.
She did not know whether to breathe a heavy sigh, then sob even more in relief, or ask the numerous questions there were to be asked. She stood, her legs no longer weak, the room no longer spinning, and her foul fever entirely vanished. She felt the ground beneath her and drew a breath of wonderful air.
And then there were two voices.
The first, a gentle piano.
"Tonight, you have been given a second chance."
The second, a sharp cello.
"Take it and run to your heart's content."
Esther turned back to the window to glimpse dawn breaking across the sea.
Fin