Prologue
21st February 1832, Earth #4, Milky Way Galaxy:
“Ana? Ana, I’m here now. It’s alright! It’s alright.”
As he tip-toed over a stone floor, a man with a yellow corduroy jacket cleared his throat of its nervous contents. He had a thick British accent and held a wide, off-white tray. It had a vase with a flower in it. His knees trembled. The sound of coughing, coming from a wash of light down a stony, vast hallway, made the man’s heart race in his chest.
As he turned a corner, and into that bath of light, the man set the tray down by a pale bed. White pillows had topped it off with a rosy-pink blanket. The coughing was as loud as a slamming door now, and a girl with long, wavy, brown hair gripped at the ends of some blankets. She shivered and sneezed, her skin pale and cold.
The girl’s coughs subsided, if for a moment, and the man nodded. She breathed out of her mouth and looked around the room. She rubbed her sweaty feet together beneath the covers, only to experience another sickly shiver. The aroma of ferns, honeysuckle, and sweat dripped across the stuffy, brick walls.
“It’s... so hot in here.” The young woman shivered. She looked up at the tall man and his tray. The two of them just exchanged glances in the dim, off-red room.
The man bolted toward his tray. “R-- Right! Your medicine. Y-- Yes. Medicine. Hm! Let’s see what the physician ordered here. Lavender Ginseng-- Ah, perfect. Here you are-- Drink this, please, lovely?”
The girl gulped down the liquid medicine. She took it into her weak, shaking hands. She held her arm back out, the glass in hand, waiting for the man to retrieve it. After a few minutes, the young woman looked up at the ceiling, then back to the tall assistant. She forced up a meek smile that soon faded back into concern and insecurity. She was also British. “Hey, Librion?”
“Hm?” The man uncrossed his legs. He had sat over a dry, wooden chair with a book in his hands. He was engrossed in its yellowed pages, but he shut it closed as quick as thunder.
“Um, you mind tellin’ me what’s happenin’ in that book? You always read it whenever you come over.”
Librion rubbed a hand across the back cover, chortling. “It’s about animals who have found themselves on par with the same level of intellect as human beings! Turns out... all they really want is a princess to covet after. Just like me, I presume. Hmph. My word, that wasn’t very subtle of me, now, was it?” He winked.
The girl crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Not subtle at all, I’m afraid. So, royalty and monarchical systems are simply a byproduct of intelligence? Hmmm, that’s quite the loaded moral. I’d tend to disagree! The divine right kings was once thought impermeable, before revolution after revolution. I’ll have to contest with your story.”
Librion opened the book back up to the spot he’d left on. ”Good. Stories are meant to be contested with, after all.
The girl chuckled. It took her out of the hospital room for a moment. She was back to laughing with a vivacious constitution. As she looked back down at her hospital bed, however, she clutched the covers and frowned. “Librion, I’m... sorry. You know -- I hope you know -- that I’m sorry it had to end this way.”
As he put his book down over a nearby cabinet, Librion shook his head. “Hey, hey-- No, no, no! Tch, Ana, you’ll always be--” A knot formed in his throat as he saw the girl’s nose begin to bleed. His heart raced again. “Oh, jeez. ’addon, I’ll just get some tissues! You just keep your pretty, little head tilted back.”
“Hmph. I’ll always be what, exactly? You were going to finish that sentence, I presume? What was that ‘what’? Beautiful? Dreamy? Well, am I still ‘dreamy’ now? Bleeding on myself?”
Librion pulled out a box of tissues from a glassy cabinet. “Well, you’re a young woman stricken with Consumption who still manages to be sassy, so, yes, you’re quite the unicorn. You still have your wits about you, and I adore that!”
“Unicorn, huh? Was always more a fan of ponies, myself. Unicorns are boring. Oh, I’m destroying these bloody sheets! I’m surprised I still have so much blood to spare. Do ya reckon the hospital will be cross with me? After all that I’ve done. The children I’ve taught, the books I’ve read, the people I’ve helped--”
Ana’s coughing suddenly grew more violent.
When she regained her composure, she wheezed. “L-- Librion... I-- I--” Putting a bloodied hand to the man’s cheek, the girl shook as she spoke. “I’m... so lucky -- is the right word -- to have ever had you. As a lover. As a friend. As a c-- caregiver, even. You’re quite the caregiver. Hehe. I loved-- I loved every moment. I love--” Tears crashed down her cheeks as the girl spat blood.
“Ho! Ho! ’addon, Ana, you’re crying.” Librion looked down at the young woman’s pale gaze. Her skin was cold and growing as cold as cold ice. He lowered his voice then. “You seldom cry. I-- I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you emotional, there. Guess I gotcha, then, didn’t I?”
The young woman hiccupped, biting her lip. “Guess you did get me, you crazy boy.”
Librion forced a laugh. “Ana, you are the strongest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”
The young woman coughed into Librion’s beige coat. “I-- I’m sorry. I don’t want to get you sick. I think... that it’s my time, now. Is this what mother meant when she… got the consumption? I-- I think I can see her.”
“Ana? Ana, stay with me. Just-- I-- I will do…” He whispered as he stared at the mossy, brick walls ahead of them. “... whatever it takes. I don’t care. I don’t care if-- If I have to travel through all of Time, if I have to face this entire country, or if I have to die and be reborn a million times over! Whatever fantastical, stupid, unreal thing-- I don’t care! I’ll find you, Ana. I’ll find you… again, and again, and again. I love you, Ana!”
“I-- I--” Her voice and pulse went weak in his arms. “I’ll always love you... Librion.”
“Ana.” Librion smiled. She had perked up for a moment, or so he thought. “Ana, you can talk-- That was a very clear sentence! Must mean you’re alright. You can still speak! You can… Ana?”
As he looked down, he saw the girl’s gaze fall to a far-off, nowhere land. At that moment, the ivory and maroon bricks of the old hospital vibrated with furious mourning and grieving from the well-coated, well-combed man.
Ana’s name traveled throughout the hallways, which were lit only by the sconces of dusty, crackling torches. He clasped the dead, young woman in his arms, and soiled her outfit with his tears.
And, in the next moment, as if with the passing of the wind, the man, known as Librion, vanished.
