"231 days left…" by Duvencrune, Edgar O. Diary of the Long Night, 111th Edition

"Congratulations, Captain Magi Lolth!"

The nurse's face lit up with that professional smile, the kind meant to put anyone at ease, though it had the opposite effect on Zora.

The dark elf blinked, her vision narrowing as though the walls of the room were closing in. She was perched on the edge of the stretcher, her legs swinging slightly, not long enough to touch the floor.

Her throat felt dry, her mind spinning as if caught in the pull of a whirlpool. Her lips parted, but the words stumbled in her head before they reached her tongue.

"Ehm… are… are you—" she started, her voice faltering as she swallowed hard. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. She inhaled, trying to ground herself, searching on the nurse's face for a hint of doubt.

"Are you sure?" Zora finally managed, almost drowned out by the deafening thrum of her heartbeat in her ears. Her eyes flicked down to her lap, her legs swinging more vigorously now as though they could propel her back into a steady ground.

The nurse's smile widened, her lips stretching so far it nearly reached her pointy ears. "Positive."

"So… What happens now?"

The nurse returned to her desk and pulled out a sheet of paper. The scratch of her pen filled the room. "I'll just fill out this form for the royal office."

Her hand moved in quick, the sound of ink brushing paper punctuating her words. "Once it's processed, you'll be free to head home and rest."

The nurse looked at the Magi, her pointy ears twitching faintly, and offered Zora a knowing smile. "I imagine you'll have plenty to take care of in the next few moons. This is an important step."

Zora's fingers tightened around the edge of the stretcher, and she watched as the nurse slid the paper across the desk toward her.

"So, you should be free in a couple of days," the nurse continued. "Any absent days will be added to the remaining days of your contract, assuming it's not renewed, which I doubt."

Zora's hand hovered over the paper for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly before she took it. Her eyes scanned the neat lines of text, but the words blurred together, their meaning slipping away as her mind raced ahead.

"Do I need to tell someone? I…" Zora's words stumbled as her hands fidgeted with the edge of the paper, crumpling its corners. "Maybe I should pack my things and…"

The nurse's smile softened, her pointed ears wiggling as she turned back to Zora. "Well…" she began, her tone carefully neutral, though a faint knowing glimmer shone in her eyes. "I would think there's at least one person you would like to inform, don't you?"

Zora's head snapped up, her wide eyes locking onto the nurse's.

"Or," the nurse added with a slight shrug, "maybe not? Well, that's none of my business."

The elf leaned forward against her desk, crossing her arms loosely. "And yes, it's wise to start saying your goodbyes," she continued gently, "and to think about returning home to…"

Her words hung briefly, a pause just long enough to leave the rest unspoken as if the nurse trusted Zora to fill in the blank herself.

"Ostesh… I live in Ostesh." The words tumbled out of Zora's mouth, more to herself than anyone else.

Before the nurse could respond, Zora swung her legs and hopped down, her boots landing with a faint thud. She turned abruptly as she faced the nurse.

"I need to make a phone call," she blurted out. "I need to tell him, to explain to him… I am late, and I'll be late again… for fuck sake, I'm always late!"

The nurse tilted her head, her expression hovering somewhere between sympathy and awkward amusement.

Without waiting for a response, Zora darted out of the infirmary, her footsteps echoing down the hall. The crumpled paper she'd been clutching slipped from her grasp, floating briefly before settling to the floor behind her.

The nurse watched her go, and one eyebrow raised, a faint sigh escaping her lips. She leaned down, picked up the discarded sheet, and shook her head softly, muttering, "Awe, young careless love…"

Zora's legs were almost faster than her shadow, her small frame slicing through the corridors of the Pollux Palace. She ran with the speed of someone fleeing for their life.

She dodged a startled maid balancing a stack of linen sheets, the fabric fluttering as the woman gasped. A guard barely had time to react before Zora clipped his shoulder, her momentum barely breaking as she stumbled and caught herself with a swift, almost feral grace. His muttered curse was lost in the rush of wind she left behind.

A sharp turn brought her into the Magi sector, the ornate decorations giving way to more austere designs. The air felt cooler here, heavier as if the palace's magic thickened in this space. Zora's boots skidded slightly on the smooth floor, her hand brushing the wall to steady herself before she bolted forward again.

She finally reached the office, her eyes locking onto the telephone booth standing at the far end of the room. But her speed halted abruptly, and her chest heaved as her gaze took in the line of people spilling out of the office.

A short groan slipped from her lips as she staggered forward, her fingers clutching the edge of the doorframe. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her hair clinging to her damp forehead as she realized the phone was already in use, and the queue didn't seem to budge.

Her lungs fought for air while she straightened her spine. She squared her shoulders. There was no way she was waiting in line.

"Out!" Zora's voice rang out, commanding, slicing through the low hum of conversation and the clatter of papers. Heads turned, Magis pausing mid-action to glance at her with puzzled expressions.

"Seilrtez!" She repeated in elven language.

A few exchanged wary looks, clearly unsure if they'd misheard or if the petite, fiery figure in front of them was serious.

When no one moved, Zora stepped forward, her eyes blazing with intensity.

"I said out! Now!" Her voice was a whip crack, cutting through the air with an authority that left no room for argument; after all, she was captain.

The Magis froze for a moment, then slowly began to shuffle toward the exit, some complaining under their breath, others exchanging uneasy glances. A tall, bearded Magi hesitated, his brow furrowed in indignation as he opened his mouth to protest.

Zora's gaze snapped to him. "You too!"

One by one, they filed out, and the office gradually emptied until only Zora remained. The quiet that followed felt almost deafening.

She stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling as the adrenaline coursed through her. Then, with an exhale, she strode toward the telephone, her fingers already reaching for the receiver.

The soft, distant, static hum filled the stillness as she lifted it to her ear.

Her free hand found the speaker's hook, pressing it firmly down, her grip tightening as she waited for the operator's voice to break through the quiet.

A crackling voice broke through the silence. "Operator. Where would you like to connect?"

She hesitated for half a second, her lips parting as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "Hum... Ostesh," she said. "I mean, city Regulus for Sterling Dagurstea."

There was a brief pause and the faint sound of papers rustling filtered through the line.

"Please hold for a minute," the operator replied, polite but detached.

Zora exhaled softly as the line clicked, and silence settled once more. She adjusted her grip on the speaker, her thumb brushing against its edge.

Zora's foot tapped against the floor with an annoying beat that betrayed her nerves. Her eyes flicked to the door and back to the receiver as though expecting the connection to materialize faster if she willed it so. Each passing second stretched unbearably, the sound of the line's faint static gnawing at her patience. "Come on..."

Finally, the operator's voice broke through. "Ma'am, no one is picking up the line. Would you like to leave a message? I'll call back once Mr Dagurstea is available."

Zora's grip on the receiver tightened, her knuckles paling. "Try again."

"Very well."

Another stretch of silence followed, the seconds crawling by with agonizing slowness. Her foot tapped faster as she stared at a random desk, willing the call to connect.

The operator's voice returned, as measured as before. "No one is picking up, ma'am. I would recommend—"

"Try again!"

The operator's voice returned, crackled faintly through the line, calm as if Zora's impatience hadn't reached her. "No one is picking up, ma'am. I would recommend again—"

"Try again!"

"Ma'am," the operator repeated, her tone even but firm. "No one is picking up the line."

Zora's jaw tightened, her teeth pressing together as frustration bubbled beneath her skin. "Try again, please."

Nowadays, I can never call Little Spider. I always have to wait for her to reach out first, dialling from some prepaid phone that will, soon enough, be discarded. The cycle repeats—her voice, brief and distant, and then silence once more. I never had the chance to tell her I was no longer mad. That I wanted to see her. That I missed her. That maybe, just maybe, I regretted how we left things. Perhaps it's better this way. She has a new love in her life, a fresh chapter, while I remain a relic of a past she has outgrown. And what am I now, if not a selfish ex-lover, longing for something long since lost? Five hundred Summers and even someone like me starts to feel lonely. — by Duvencrune, Edgar O. Diary of the Long Night, 111th Edition

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