The medbay was a whirlwind of frantic activity, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and the faint hum of medical machines. Lady moved like a blur, her hands working tirelessly as patients streamed in and out of the makeshift ward. But before she dove into the endless sea of responsibility, Dr. Solas had pulled her aside.
He was an older man, his hair graying at the temples and his glasses perpetually perched low on his nose, giving him a scholarly appearance. His calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them.
"Lady," he began, his voice steady, "Before you get too immersed in your work, there's something you should know." He motioned for her to follow him, leading her out of the main area and down a quieter hallway. The walls were adorned with old photos, some of soldiers from long ago, some of smiling faces in better times. Dr. Solas's footsteps echoed in the narrow corridor as Lady followed, her mind already racing with thoughts of the numerous patients she'd have to see.
They stopped in front of a door, its brass plaque now tarnished with age. Dr. Samantha Levis – Chief Medical Officer was engraved on the plaque, her name still sharp even after all this time. Dr. Solas placed a hand on the door handle, hesitating for a moment. "This was Sam's office," he said quietly. "I thought you'd want to see it."
Lady nodded without a word, a tightness settling in her chest. She hadn't really known Samantha, not in the way some had, but the stories she'd heard, the legacy left behind, made her feel as though she were walking into a place she'd only heard of in fragments—pieces of a life she would never truly understand.
Dr. Solas opened the door, and the faint smell of old paper and leather hit her nose. It was a small office, but it exuded a quiet, professional warmth. The desk was organized but had an underlying sense of hurried activity, papers half-stacked, old medical books with bookmarks peeking out. A few personal touches—a photograph of a woman with auburn hair and a man with dark eyes, both in military uniforms, a vase with dried flowers on the windowsill—gave the space a sense of life.
Dr. Solas stepped aside, allowing Lady to enter. "I've gone through some of her files already, but there's more here. Notes she left behind, instructions for critical cases, and, well, her personal findings. Some of these might be helpful in your work." His tone softened as he gestured to the desk. "She was meticulous, Lady. Very thorough."
Lady moved slowly, almost reverently, to the desk. Her fingers hovered over the stacks of papers, the weight of her mother's absence pressing heavily on her chest. It felt like an impossible task—to be in her shoes, to have to follow in the footsteps of someone she'd never truly known but whose shadow loomed large in the medbay.
She sat in the chair behind the desk, leaning forward to sift through the files. They were filled with detailed notes, charts, and medical procedures that Sam had written for future reference. Lady could feel the weight of every word, the hours spent perfecting every detail, every instruction for treating those who came through the doors. Some were simple protocols—administering fluids, performing routine checkups—but others were advanced techniques for handling infections, viruses, and injuries that no one else could treat.
One file in particular caught her eye—The Infection Protocol, handwritten in neat, looping script, Sam's notes sprawling across the pages. The details were meticulous, her careful handwriting almost a guidebook to surviving the madness outside. It was a map of desperation, of survival. Lady flipped through it, absorbing every bit of information with a seriousness that reflected her commitment.
"She left you a legacy," Dr. Solas said quietly, breaking the silence as he leaned against the doorframe. "But it's more than just these files. It's the way she cared, the way she understood people. Not just their injuries, but the stories behind them. The emotions they carried. She... she gave her heart to this work."
Lady didn't respond, her eyes glued to the pages in front of her. She had heard the stories, of course. How Sam had poured everything she had into her work, how she never gave up on a patient, how she had risked her life for others in ways that most wouldn't dare. But those were just stories, fragmented memories from people who had seen her in action. For Lady, it was all theory, distant concepts—until now.
As she read further, one passage caught her attention. It was written in bold letters, almost as if Sam had emphasized it herself:
"Everyone deserves to be saved. Even when you think you can't save them, there's always something left to try."
Lady's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't realized it until now, but those words resonated with her in a way she hadn't expected. She'd always been so focused on saving those she could—her friends, her loved ones—but had she been ignoring the ones that were harder to save? The ones who had no one else?
It was a revelation, and a hard one. She had always believed that if she could save a few, if she could make a difference for those she cared about, that would be enough. But Sam's words—her mother's words—had a way of shaking her to the core.
Lady set the file down and leaned back in the chair, the weight of the responsibility pressing down on her chest. Arlos had always warned her about stretching herself too thin, about trying to save everyone. But Sam's approach, it seemed, had been different. She hadn't believed in limiting herself. She believed that everyone, no matter who they were, deserved a chance.
She rubbed her face with both hands, trying to shake off the suffocating guilt that was creeping in. She couldn't do it all. She wasn't invincible. But, deep down, she knew she had to try.
Dr. Solas watched her from the doorway, silent for a moment before speaking. "You've got the heart for this work, Lady. I know that. But you've also got your limits, just like she did. Samantha... she knew the value of every life she touched. But she also knew when to let go."
Lady looked up at him then, her eyes filled with a quiet sorrow. "But what if I can save more? What if I'm the one who's supposed to do it?" She stood, her movements sharp with the intensity of her thoughts. "What if I let someone die, and it's my fault because I didn't try hard enough.. what if.. someone hears those whispers, the voices of who I couldn't save, what if it haunts them?"
Dr. Solas's expression softened, his tired eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "You can't carry the weight of hell on your shoulders, Lady. Your mother didn't, and neither should you."
Lady shook her head. "But what if I'm supposed to? What if I'm supposed to be the one to save them all?"
He smiled gently, his voice calm and unwavering. "Then you'll save as many as you can. But you'll also need to know when to let go, when to trust that you did your best. That's the hardest part of this job—knowing where your boundaries are and still doing everything you can."
Lady looked back down at the files, her fingers tracing the edge of a page. The weight of her responsibility hadn't lessened, but she felt a small shift inside. Maybe she didn't have to save everyone. But she would try. She would always try.
After a long moment, Dr. Solas spoke again, his voice kind and knowing. "Your mother would be proud of you, Lady. She would have wanted you to keep going, to keep helping. Just remember, it's not the impossible you're supposed to focus on. It's the possible."
Lady nodded, a quiet resolve settling in her chest she whispered, more to herself than to him. "I'll keep trying, they have a life to live." She wasn't convinced by Solas's words.
"everyone was worth saving".
And with that, the moment passed. Lady took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. She wasn't her mother. But she would try to be something close, something more. For Sam. For the ones who still needed saving. For everyone but herself.
End of part.
YOU ARE READING
Veil of the forsaken.
Fiction générale"Veil of the Forsaken" is a captivating story centered around an agency known as the Infected Defense Division (I.D.D.). Set against a backdrop of an apocalyptic world, the narrative explores the complexities of life within the agency's facilities a...