When Sophia was a little girl she remembered the day she made her wish for a career. And of all things a doctor. Her mother was taken aback but would be supportive as possible. Going as far as to teach her math and buy one expensive text book on biology. Her mother gave her the determination to rise up in society. But still having respect for those in her mothers profession.
Isadora, Sophia's mother, did not have the heart to tell her there was little chance of her daughter becoming one. Yet despite this she studied that book, memorizing every diagram, every example and every passage.
She even went as far as to cut her hair and dress in boys clothes to go to a small school. She was caught of course. But it was worth a shot. She was later grounded for cutting her hair. But not for trying to go to a school.
Now it all seemed to be a lifetime ago. And yet her heart still ached for her mother. She flipped the page, her fingers going to her hamza necklace, fiddling with it. She felt closer to her mother when she touched it.
Her mother told her the story of the hamza, how it would protect her from harm. It was the hand of god.
Girl you have some kind of luck to be in the right place at the exact right time.
Tears threatened to fall. Why did she think of that? She had survived, but harm did indeed come to her. Terroir and sadness from his betrayal slithered in her like a cold snake. She stood up from the table. Walking fast back to her room. Narrowly missing a man coming into the room she was once in. Her eyes were too blurry with tears, too angry to really care.
The man began to follow.
—
Andrei Leos. Previously the right hand man to Nadir Khan, now leader of the wolves of Tehran, was dyeing. The arrow to his eye was daunting to look at and if removed could make a bleed to death. His wife was told this twice. Both were doctors unwilling to remove it, as it would most likely lead him to bleed quicker. His lieutenant was sent to retrieve a doctor who had once worked in Jerusalem, a doctor with a huge record of recovery.
Almost thirty years of marriage. Angelique wiped the tears from under her eyes as she stared at her unconscious husband. The sight would have been darkly funny had it not been her Andrei. His breaths were shaky, as if he was barely holding on. Angelique placed a delicate hand in his.
She turned around to face the door when it made three hard knocks. A man much shorter, with brown hair came in first keeping their head down under a hood. Pulling it down, his face was strangely feminine. He also looked young, almost too young to be in a practice like this.
"Hello my name is doctor Isa Karas, and I assume this is the man himself?" He held out a hand for Angelique to shake. Their tone is strangely at ease. Most Likely trying to sooth her nerves.
She cleared her throat, " yes, I'm not very sure what happened. I believe someone was trying to rob us." Isa did not believe them for a moment. Instead changing the subject. " So, do you speak Greek? I thought I heard it in your accent." Isa asked innocently, slipping off their jacket. The somewhat forceful change of subject was not lost on her. She picked up these things quite quickly.
Tiny spots of blood were seeping through the white sleeve on their bicep. In a rush to get out, they had barely bandaged it, what it really needed was to be stitched. Both Angelique and her husband's guard took notice. But both kept quiet. But made quick glances at each other.
—
Down two floors below the trio, Erik sat in relative silence. Wiggling and squirming against his restraints. His mask was nowhere to be found. Making him panic and rage at the same time. All of his weapons had been removed, all blades, all forms of an escape had been ripped from him. His whole body was sore. His shirt had been ripped open to reveal his sallow and sunken chest.
He could hear the crowd sneer and recoil from his presence. How Javert told him to dry the tears up. How he would beg for his mask but would be greeted with nasty cold and horrified stares. All of the beatings. The wips, the chains. Blades. Anything to cause the most harm.
He was not human enough for dignity. He never was, never has been. He would always be Vivant le Mort. He would always be a monster. Never a human being. Never loved but also never afforded the hope of solitude. God how he had been a fool to think that he could live safely, tucked away from danger.
A ragged cry of anguish tore from his throat.
He could never escape from torment. He had been cursed with it the moment he was damned with this face. His own mother despised him. Just like everyone else.
In the end he knew he deserved it. After the many lives he had taken. He deserved it. He would have to live out this nightmare.
—
Back up above Isa worked tirelessly to take the arrow out of her father's eye. Angelique eyed her up and down.
She had noted the doctor had softer than normal features for a man. Their face was too round. Their hips a tad too broad, how their hands worked far more delicately than any other doctor she had seen. Their bedside manor was far better than others at least. Intending to cause as little pain as possible.
Finally the arrow did come out. The eye was completely destroyed, Doctor Karas noted that it came close to breaking through the socket and entering his brain. But he had been lucky.
While Isa stood cleaning her tools a question was said that sent chills up her spine.
"Do you happen to know Isadora Beni?"