The days stretched into weeks, the weeks into months, and months into years. Caius's parents managed to find a little out-of-the-way cottage a few minutes from Caius's home, and became good friends with Ara and Evan. Caius watched as Yeul grew, becoming slender and long-limbed, her hair growing nearly to her waist. She was mature far beyond her years, and had recently begun giving sermons. And her Guardian always stayed near her, keeping her out of trouble and protecting her from anything that could be dangerous. Though the knowledge of her inevitable fate hung like a storm cloud over Caius's head, he managed to keep it from consuming him, and stayed the strong, shy man that Yeul had always known.
The only times when Caius felt overwhelmed were when Yeul had visions. It pained him to know the cost of each one, and it pained him even more to know that he had no way to stop them. Most of Yeul's visions were not climactic or terrifying; the majority of them were simple things such as impending storms, monster infestations, and the like. But one autumn, when she was seven years old, she foresaw a terrible sickness that would sweep through the city like Death's scythe. It was Caius whom she first told of her vision, and a fearful feeling settled in his gut.
"Do you know when?" he had asked her once she had recovered and told him of what she had seen. She shook her head.
"No," she said, "I'm sorry."
Caius took her shoulders, shaking his head. "Don't you apologize," he said passionately. "It is not your fault. At least we know that it will happen before it does. We will be able to recognize the signs."
Yeul nodded seriously, though she did not feel entirely reassured. She knew more than what she had told Caius, but chose not to tell him, knowing that it would hurt him too much. So she recorded her vision in an oracle drive, as she always did, and life went on as normal. The winter passed, and the days grew warmer, until they reached the sweltering heat of summer, which faded into the cool touch of autumn. It was then that fate's cruel hand came into play.
Caius was one of the first to begin coughing. He insisted that it was nothing, just a common cough, but soon he felt his bones begin to ache, and his head pounded as if there were a tiny man inside his skull beating his brain with a club. Others, too, began to cough, and complained of aches. Caius was afraid that this was what Yeul had foreseen a year ago, the sickness that would take many lives. With one look at her furrowed brow, he knew his fears were correct, and he did all he could to keep her from being exposed to the illness, including staying as far from her as he could. But try though he might, Yeul, too began to cough, as did Ara, Evan, and Caius's parents.
The symptoms continued to worsen, and the city would have been in a downright panic had it not been for nearly everyone being bedridden. Caius did his best to tough his way through the sickness, staying by Yeul's bedside, making sure her chest continued to rise and fall, but eventually the pain became too great even for him. He became confined to his own bed, and could hardly move for the pain. Every nerve in his body felt hypersensitive, and a single movement felt as though he were being ripped apart. No one else was any different. The entire city was covered in a blanket of misery, and it was a few weeks into the epidemic that people first began to die.
Caius listened fearfully for news of the deaths of anyone he knew, though such was hard to come by. Very few people were well enough to check on those who weren't, and most of them stayed with their families. Only rarely would some brave, pitying soul check in on Caius, and they brought what news they could. To Caius, all that mattered was the safety of those few that were closest to him, and though he despaired upon hearing of their sickness, he was at least glad that they had not yet been taken by death.
Caius was further along than most in the sickness, and was among the first to reach the final stage of the virus: a coma-like sleep. Every now and then he would catch flashes of something, though he could never tell whether it was real or not. Sometimes he thought he saw Yeul, or his mother or father, or Ara or Evan, or sometimes just a nameless doctor. Once he even thought he glimpsed Arenth—but each time he thought he saw someone, he would promptly recede back into darkness.
Caius's sleeplike state lasted a few days. At last, he felt himself slowly drifting into consciousness, and everything began to come into more focus. Weak sunlight filtered into his room, and he saw a young man with deep circles under his eyes sitting on a chair. The man jumped a little at the sight of Caius's open eyes, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. "You're... alive?" he said shakily.
Caius himself could barely speak, he was so weak, but managed to croak feebly. "So it seems. Who are you?"
The young man blinked, staring as if he had seen a ghost. He shook his head to clear it, apologizing. "I'm sorry, my mind is a bit frayed, you see," he said. "My name is Irove. I'm one of the few people who seem to be immune to this sickness, whatever it is. For better or for worse," he added, a twinge of bitterness in his voice.
"Why are you tending to me?" managed Caius as he ran a tired hand over his face. "There are others more important, and others more endangered."
The man's young face looked nearly beyond tired. "With respect, sir, you are one of the most important people in this city. Of course there would be someone tending to you."
"But what about Yeul? And her family, don't they have someone to look after them?" A wave of anxiety washed over Caius.
Irove's face looked strained. "Yes, there is someone with Yeul, of course," he said slowly. The words brought a sliver of peace to Caius's heart, although the apprehension with which they were spoken only added to his other fears.
Irove continued, struggling to find words. "This... sickness has taken nearly half of the population of the city," he said, measuring his words, the gentleness behind them metamorphosing into icy veins of apprehension that spread through Caius's body. The young man took a long breath. "Ara and Evan are among the lost. Your mother, Myra, as well," he said, his voice tired. "I am so sorry."
Caius was shocked into silence, his mind refusing to comprehend the words he had just heard. It couldn't be, it had to be a dream, a nightmare. He would soon see Ara walking with a basket of herbs at her hip, Evan alongside her, smiling lopsidedly. He would soon see his mother bustling about in her kitchen, humming old Paddran lullabies to herself. There was no way that could be gone. He couldn't take it. The veins of ice spread through his body, and he shivered, cold with shock.
"Are you... is this the truth?" he mumbled, staring straight ahead.
"Yes," said Irove sympathetically after a heavy pause. "I was with both Ara and Evan for their final moments. They each told me to look after both you and the seeress, so I have done my best." Tears welled in the young man's eyes, and he brushed them away. "Ara died three days ago, and Evan followed her the next day. I only heard about your mother from someone else. I... am truly sorry."
Caius could barely nod, the knot in his throat keeping him from speaking. Irove stood, sensing Caius's need for solitude.
"I will come back later with tea," he said, clearing his throat. He hurried out of the room, leaving Caius more alone than he had ever been.
How strange was it that words could cause just as much damage as seeing something play out in front of one's eyes? Words were what crushed Caius all those years ago when he found out about Yeul's inevitable fate, and it was words that crushed him once more that cruel, bitter autumn. So few it took to deliver the worst message anyone could hear, so little to drive Caius to despair. Gone. He had not even been able to say goodbye. Three of the dearest people in his life were gone with just a few words.
Tears didn't fall, not because he wasn't unbearably sorrowful, but because they couldn't. The pain had clenched itself so tightly around his heart that he could not cry. He could only lie in his bed, suffering agonizing pain both from his own illness and his loss.
The only thing that kept Caius from slipping away forever was the knowledge that Yeul and his father still lived. He had to recover so that he could protect them; he had to be there for them when no one else could. This knowledge was all it took for Caius to recover well enough to move around on his own. Irove continued to check on him, making sure that there had been no relapsing, but Caius was a l'Cie, and he gathered his strength quickly.
As soon as he was able, he went to his father's bedside. Irove had told him that Giras was worse off than Yeul. Though Caius wished only to see her, he felt that he had to first see his father.
The young woman that was looking after his father ushered him inside, a tired, grim look on her pretty face. Caius thought he vaguely recognized her, but his mind was still muddled and he was unsure. Going past her and into Giras's room, he felt his knees grow weak at the sight of his proud father lying helpless on the bed. His face was gaunt and sunken, and his hands rested weakly on his bedsheet. Caius collapsed onto the chair at his father's bedside, his chest aching with sadness.
"Father?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?
Giras turned slightly to look at his son, his dull eyes brightening slightly. "Is that you, Caius?" he coughed. "Or are you another apparition?"
Caius shook his head. "I am here. Please don't exert yourself."
"I... am glad you came," said Giras feebly. He looked up at the ceiling. "I don't have much longer. This sickness has taken far too heavy a toll on me. And your mother..." The old man's eyes brimmed with tears, and he tried to catch his breath, coughing violently.
Caius gripped his father's hand, forcing a reassuring smile. "It will be fine," he said, just keeping his voice from cracking. "You will be fine."
His father laughed weakly. "You know that is not true," he said. "But thank you for coming here to... to see me off."
Caius didn't speak, and Giras turned his head painfully to look at him. "Listen to me," he croaked. "No matter what may happen to you, no matter what you may do, your are and always will be my son. Please, remember that."
Caius nodded around the knot in his throat. "I will," he managed.
"Thank you," whispered his father, looking at the ceiling once more. "I will be able to rest soon," he continued. "With Myra... and Ellia."
"Yes," said Caius softly. "You will."
His father smiled. "Thank you, Caius. For visiting me."
"Of course," said Caius, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Giras's was wracked with another violent cough before he could speak again. "Don't forget, Caius," he mumbled. "You are always... my son."
Caius nodded. Giras offered one last weak smile before he shut his eyes, his hand slowly falling limp. Caius felt the ice return, twisting itself around his heart, making his chest ache. He couldn't keep them back any longer—the tears squeezed themselves out of his eyes, and he was powerless to stop them. It was all he could do to not fall apart entirely.
Caius sat with his father until the woman returned, seeing what had happened. Her face turned gray, though she did not look surprised. She placed a hand on Caius's shoulder and said something gently, though he did not hear. She managed to pry him from the chair, and she sat him back down in the kitchen with a mug of tea. He stared silently into the cup, feeling the steam rise and warm his face.
"Drink up," said the woman gently. "You'll feel better."
Though he doubted this, Caius nonetheless drank his tea, barely tasting it. For the next few minutes, one could barely tell the difference between him and a statue, he remained so still. But after a few minutes more, he stood suddenly, startling the woman.
"Where is Yeul?" he said, his voice ragged.
The woman, frightened by the distraught man in front of her, stuttered, "She is in her home. You could probably go visit her, if you wish."
"Thank you," said Caius, and he rushed out the door in a near frenzy. What if Yeul had died while he had been recovering? What if she was dying? What if she was alone? What if, what if...
Caius hurried to Yeul's home, dark thoughts swirling like a hurricane in his pain-clouded mind. He had to see her, lest he go mad entirely. The wish to see her had grown greater with each day of his recovery, and now, after seeing his father die in front of his eyes, the wish had become all but a necessity. And yet he was so afraid, afraid of this being when he would lose her.
He barreled into the house like a madman, scaring the woman who had been looking after Yeul nearly half to death. "Is she alright?" he panted, having run from his father's home to hers.
"She's alive!" squeaked the woman. "But she's asleep, deep asleep, and there seems to be no waking her."
Caius nodded, keeping himself still. "Can I see her?" he pleaded.
"Of course, though you won't get a response." Guiding Caius to Yeul's room, the woman opened the door quietly. Caius entered the room slowly, and he nearly broke in two when he saw his Yeul lying so still on her bed. But then he saw her thin chest rise and fall shallowly, and clung to the hope that she, at least, would live. He sat at her bedside, holding her small hand in his, praying to Etro for her recovery. He couldn't lose her now, not yet. He had already lost so much. Should he lose her now, he would likely go mad.
"Yeul," he said quietly, though he knew she couldn't hear. "I promised to keep you safe, and I couldn't keep you from this. I am sorry."
Caius looked up at the ceiling. "Don't do this," he begged. "Don't take her yet. I could not... please, don't leave me alone." His voice faded away of its own accord. As he looked at his precious Yeul, the only person he had left, lying so still and looking so pale, the tears he had held back ever since he had awoken burst forth. Just as he was helpless to save anyone, he was helpless to quell the sobs that wracked his chest. He bent over the seeress, wishing he could give his life to her, wishing to see her well again. But all he could do was sit there, powerless, the tears rolling down his cheeks.
...I hurt myself. But all this was necessary for the next chapter, which I'm working on now! Hopefully that one will be less depressing and more exciting. Thanks for reading and reviewing, as always!