The Crimson Affliction

Katarina flinched as sunlight struck her face. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering receding gums. Dr. Keller adjusted his spectacles, observing her with clinical detachment.

"Observe, don't assume," he said, fingers pressed in a steeple. His voice carried the weight of Paduan medical texts.

He opened the book, pages rustling like dried leaves. "What your family calls a curse, medicina calls porphyria." His voice was steady, sure.

Katarina's eyes darted over the diagrams. Heme deficiency, photosensitivity, garlic intolerance. Each symptom was a puzzle piece.

"Porphyria," she echoed, her aristocratic accent sharp. Her voice wavered slightly, betraying hope.

Dr. Keller nodded, his pen scratching across the leather journal. "A disorder of the blood, not the soul."

The journal filled with observations. His hand never paused. Katarina leaned in, asking precise questions.

"Can it be treated?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Scientifically," he said, "yes. But politically?" He frowned. "That is another matter."

Katarina’s breath caught. She had never heard her condition called treatable.

She reached for the journal. "Then we must document more cases." Her fingers brushed his.

Dr. Keller’s pen stopped mid-sentence. "Your cousin," he said slowly. "The one burned?"

Katarina’s face paled. "Executed for witchcraft."

His jaw tightened. "Then we—*you and I*—must present this evidence to Church authorities."

The oil lamp flickered, casting shadows over the diagrams. Katarina’s reflection wavered in the glass.

"Science, not superstition, must prevail," Dr. Keller said. His voice was resolute.

Katarina’s hands trembled. She had spent a decade in darkness. Now, a path emerged.

"Where do we begin?" she asked. Her voice was steady now.

Dr. Keller tapped the journal. "Recent attack reports. We need more case evidence."

The lamp’s glow stretched across the floor. Katarina’s shadow lengthened, merging with his.

"Then let us begin," she said. Her voice carried the weight of a new purpose.

Dr. Keller stood. The journal clutched in his hand. "We must be careful."

Katarina followed him toward the door. Her steps were lighter. The sunlight no longer terrified her.

"Careful," she said, "or we may find what we never wished to know."

Dr. Keller paused. "Then we proceed with caution." His voice was firm.

The door creaked open. Sunlight spilled in, no longer a threat. Katarina stepped forward.

The world outside was still dark. But for the first time, she saw a way forward.