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Of Strings and Strength: Chapter XXXVIII
Perhaps a year or so following their journey back home, William began to fall ill. His joints hurt more frequently, rain or not; he became frail and irritable though Alna knew he meant it not. He would mutter to himself in concentration or worry, and often awoke Alna at night, the terrors of his sleep seeming real and grave. She heard him gasp about flames, about ever-watching green eyes, and of music which he could scarcely recall.
Alna felt both sad and guilty. She thought often of Carmena, Vaerita, and the Woman, remembering their joy at being freed, but also their sorrow at living life without a purpose. And she felt guilty that her love for her uncle was so great that she wished that they could experience what she was experiencing with caring for him, and similarly jealous that they would never know her sense of disquiet.
Her uncle spent much time on the outskirts of the village, either near the crumbled towers or the brook. Particularly he’d taken to sitting by the calm yet rushing water, often dozing. Alna would collect him towards the evening, and he would inquire about her friends — especially Calypsia, but Alna would shrug off his questions. She felt anticipation because she knew that once he passed away, Alna would inherit their home and his studio therein. And she would do her duty with repairing instruments, but they would lack his…
