DECLINE

Written on October 8, 2021 (♎︎)

Author's Notes: Written for Whumptober 2021 for prompt No. 8: Coughing Up a Lung ("Definitely just a cold").

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Even years later—when she understood the whole of the story—Alma still believed herself the first to know. Slower poisons are fickle. Some never take; few keep pace with men's planning. In those first days' decline, Dycedarg could not have known with the same clarity.

Returning home a stranger, Alma understood that novices are not plucked from their monasteries over a cold. She understood the kind deceit in each assurance spring would see him back on the field. Raised by an inquisitor and academic, she knew too what questions might yield honest answers, but she asked none of them.

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