BEARING WITNESS

With every step I took, the weight of the suffering pressed down on me like a suffocating blanket, threatening to smother my resolve. But amid the sea of twisted forms and tortured souls, I knew that I had to steel myself for what lay ahead.

The carriage driver's assistance was a welcome relief as we lifted the thrashing student from the carriage and into the dimly lit infirmary. Her feverish struggles sent a shiver down my spine, a stark reminder of the primal chaos that lurked within her infected body. With each laboured breath, she emitted guttural growls that echoed off the walls, filling the room with an eerie resonance.

Despite the weight of her suffering bearing down on us like a suffocating blanket, I knew that I had to steel myself for what lay ahead. Amid the sea of twisted forms and tortured souls that filled Agatha's infirmary, I could not afford to falter. With determination etched into every fibre of my being, I steeled myself for the daunting task that awaited, ready to confront the darkness that lurked within.

Turning towards Jess, I saw the horror reflected in her eyes, mirroring the dread that gnawed at my own insides. With urgency infusing my voice, I spoke, the words tumbling out in a rush, "Jess, you need to go back to the pack house. I can handle things here, but I don't want you to risk getting infected."

Jess's eyes widened in protest, her voice shaking as she replied, "But Alivia, I can't just leave you here alone. What if something happens? What if you need help?"

Just then, Sarah entered the infirmary, her weary expression a testament to the pressure she was under. I turned back to Jess, gesturing towards Sarah with a reassuring smile. "See, Sarah is here. I'm not alone. I promise I'll be fine."

I reached out and clasped Jess's trembling hands in mine, my gaze meeting hers with unwavering determination. "You need to trust me, Jess. I can handle this. But I can't bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me."

Reluctance flickered in Jess's eyes, but ultimately, she nodded, a silent agreement passing between us. With a heavy heart, she turned and hurried out of the infirmary,
leaving me behind with Sarah, and a wave of trepidation washed over me. The weight of responsibility settled heavily on my shoulders as I turned to face Sarah, her tired eyes reflecting the same weariness I felt deep in my bones.

"Where do you want me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper amidst the cacophony of moans and cries that filled the air.

Sarah glanced up, her tired eyes meeting mine with a mix of relief and exhaustion " Alivia, that the Moon Goddess you're here," she said, her voice tinged with fatigue "We're short-staffed and overwhelmed. I need you to help me tend to the patients in the critical care wing."

Nodding in understanding, I followed Sarah through the maze of cots and makeshift beds, the air heavy with the sounds of moans and cries of agony. The stench of illness and despair hung in the air like a suffocating fog, threatening to overwhelm my senses.

As we reached the critical care wing, I felt a knot form in my stomach at the sight before me. The wing was filled to capacity, with patients lying in rows of cots, their faces contorted in pain and anguish. Some were unconscious, their laboured breathing echoing off the walls like a haunting dirge.

As we reached the critical care wing, Sarah wasted no time in assigning tasks. "Alivia, I need you to check the vitals of these patients and administer their medications," she instructed, her voice steady despite the chaos around us. "I'll start triaging the new arrivals and coordinating with the other staff."

With a sense of purpose, I set to work, my hands trembling slightly as I approached the first cot. The patient lying before me was pale and frail, their laboured breathing a painful reminder of the fragility of life.

Amidst the chaotic frenzy of Agatha's infirmary, Sarah and I found ourselves navigating a labyrinth of challenges that tested our resilience in ways we never imagined.

The scarcity of medical supplies became a relentless adversary, taunting us with its scarcity and forcing us to scavenge for every last bandage and drop of antiseptic. We patched wounds with makeshift bandages, praying they would hold long enough to stave off infection, and administered basic first aid with a sense of grim determination.

But the shortage of supplies was just the beginning of our trials. The overwhelmed staff left us feeling like we were drowning in a torrent of despair, struggling to keep our heads above water amidst the deluge of suffering that surrounded us. With each passing moment, the weight of our responsibilities grew heavier, threatening to crush us beneath its relentless weight.

Yet, perhaps the most agonizing challenge we faced was the patients themselves - each one a poignant reminder of the toll exacted by the outbreak. We encountered patients on the brink of death, their bodies ravaged by the merciless onslaught of the virus, their lives hanging in a precarious balance. And with each life we fought desperately to save, we felt the crushing weight of our own limitations bearing down on us, threatening to break our spirits.

For me, the emotional toll was particularly devastating. I struggled to contain my emotions as I bore witness to the heart-wrenching scenes playing out before me - families torn apart, loved ones lost, and lives shattered beyond repair. The agony of their suffering weighed heavily on my heart, leaving me feeling utterly helpless and adrift in a sea of despair.

Then, amidst the cacophony of moans and cries, one patient's laboured breathing pierced the air like a dagger to the heart. We rushed to their side, only to find them gasping for air, blood oozing from their mouth in a grotesque display of agony.

As I knelt beside the patient, my hands trembling with fear and uncertainty, doubt clawed at the edges of my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. Could I really save this person? Did I have the knowledge, the skill, the strength to pull them back from the brink of death? The weight of their life hung heavy on my shoulders, pressing down on me with a suffocating force that left me gasping for air.

Despite my best efforts, I felt a sense of helplessness creeping over me, like a dark shadow looming at the edges of my consciousness. The patient's labored breaths filled me with a sickening sense of dread, each gasp echoing in my ears like a grim reminder of my own inadequacy.

As I struggled to stem the tide of blood, my mind raced with a whirlwind of inner conflict. Was I doing enough? Could I do more? The doubt gnawed at me like a ravenous beast, tearing away at my resolve and leaving me feeling lost and alone in a sea of suffering.

I knelt beside the patient, grappling with the overwhelming sense of helplessness that threatened to consume me, and a small voice whispered in the depths of my mind.

"You can save him if you believe," it murmured, a faint echo of hope amidst the despair that engulfed me.

I shook my head, trying to shake off the intrusive thought, but it persisted, its gentle insistence growing louder with each passing moment.

"You ready Alivia," the voice urged, a gentle nudge of encouragement urging me to take action.

With trembling hands, I placed them gently on the patient's chest, my fingers hovering over the wounds that marred his once-vibrant skin. Closing my eyes, I focused, drawing upon the wellspring of energy that lay dormant within me.

But as I concentrated, a sense of unease began to gnaw at the edges of my consciousness. Doubt crept in, insidious and persistent, whispering words of inadequacy and fear.

"No, I can't do it," I muttered under my breath, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

But then, as if in response to my doubts, a familiar voice echoed in the depths of my mind. "Yes, you can," it whispered, a gentle reminder of the strength that lay within me.

Drawing upon the memory of my training with Dr. Volkov and Seraphine, I took a deep breath, channelling my energy with renewed determination. With each exhalation, I felt the power surging through me, coursing through my veins like a torrential river.

"You ready, channel your energy," the voice urged, a reassuring presence guiding me through the darkness.

Summoning every ounce of my willpower, I focused my energy, directing it towards the wounded patient lying before me. Despite my best efforts, a sense of doubt threatened to overwhelm me, crashing against the shores of my resolve like a relentless tidal wave.

Just as despair began to take hold, a soft, ethereal green glow began to emit from my trembling palms. The glow danced and shimmered, casting a gentle light upon the patient's battered form, illuminating the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

With each passing moment, the glow intensified, bathing the room in its radiant luminescence. It was as if the very essence of life itself flowed through me, manifesting as a beacon of hope amidst the surrounding despair.

The sight of the green glow filled me with awe and wonder, reminding me of the latent power within me. It served as a symbol of hope in a world fraught with darkness, a testament to the strength of my will and determination.

As the glow enveloped the patient, a sense of peace washed over me, soothing the frayed edges of my spirit. In that moment, I knew that I had tapped into something greater than myself, something infinitely powerful and beautiful.