For a long stretch of time, I just lay there paralyzed and starving, forced to listen to her eat. Every bite, every chew, every whiff of grease and hot fat wafting through the cool room. If I wasn't already monologuing in my head, I had so much free time I probably could've counted her bites...
After a while, she muttered aloud to herself, "Now, where did I put that elixir? Time to feed this starving soul." She paused, then grumbled, "I wonder what he's saying in his head right now... Focus on your goal, Lini. You get distracted way too fast."
Rushing footsteps echoed across the floorboards. A second later, she was right beside me. A warm hand slid gently beneath my neck—no weapons, no hidden blades, just lifting my head so the medicine could actually pass down my throat.
As my gaze shifted, I caught sight of her outfit: a pair of cozy pajamas at least two sizes too big for her small frame. Up close, she didn't look like some terrifying mythic entity or an immortal monster. She just looked like a slightly older girl. Her dark brown eyes shone with an odd, restless excitement, her raven-black hair fell like midnight shadows over her shoulders, and her pale lips had the sharp, striking shade of frozen blood.
Her hands radiated a comforting, solid warmth. In her other hand, she held a glass flask filled with a thick, dense green liquid. Incapable of moving or making a single comment, I watched her maneuver her fingers with practiced care, prying my jaw open just enough to slide a straw inside. She tapped the glass, casting a small spark of magic to levitate the bottle in mid-air.
Before slipping the straw between my lips, she drew a quick breath through it to prime the fluid.
She sat back on the edge of the mattress as a strange, cooling wave of sweetness trickled down my throat, washing away the bitter taste of scorched mana. That's when I noticed her left arm—wrapped tightly in fresh linen bandages from her wrist up to her elbow.
I wanted to ask about it, but again—ahhhhh, what the heck! Why couldn't I squeeze out a single damn word.
"You're recovering slowly," she said, watching the elixir settle. "But honestly, it's a miracle you're breathing. Nyx comes from the lineage of an Earth Dragon that mated with a Sky Dragon. Natural-born killer. His strikes are more precise and fast than a fraction of a second—you couldn't even react. What he did to your insides is a condition I'm not even gonna bother explaining."
I sat there in total silence—not like I had a choice. But Nyx's lineage title sounded straight out of a video game database. Who knew a walking calamity had the same kind of stats in real life as in games?
She continued, leaning in slightly. "If you hadn't opened that domain, the whole academy would be turned to ash right now."
The domain really opened? I questioned myself, my brain stalling. I didn't even realize I pulled it off.
"Hey," she added, catching my expression. "Did you notice your eyeballs? You can actually move them now."
The moment she said it, I tried, and realized she was right. If she hadn't pointed it out, I wouldn't have even noticed the quiet milestone.
Suddenly, my vision started to blur. Light scattered wrong through my retinas. A strange mix of guilt and panic flared up—right before a roaring, gut-wrenching agony slammed directly into my stomach.
THWACK.
"I absolutely hate this part!" her voice barked out above me. She had literally just jabbed me in the gut. "I successfully turn someone's pain receptors off, and the second they flick back on, they act like it's hurting like hell! Stop crying! I ain't your fiancée, nor am I your mother—I'm not here to wipe your tears and whisper comforting sweet-nothings!"
She huffed, standing over me with her arms crossed. "And if you think you lacked the power to kill Nyx, guess what? None of your people could have done it combined! When you forced that domain open, it anchored the spatial plane so I could use my star magic, teleport right in, and kill her myself!"
Did she really just punch a paralyzed guy because I had tears in my eyes?! I took every soft thought back. This girl was terrifying.
The pain only escalated, tearing through my abdominal walls and radiating into a blinding headache. My mind began to drift, tears involuntarily spilling over.
Seeing that I wasn't stopping, her tone shifted slightly. "Ryn. Ryn, you polymath reader... listen to me. If you're crying because of emotional isolation or some dramatic crap like that, blink twice. If it's because the temporary spell broke and your pain receptors are receiving actual signals again... blink thrice."
How does she even know my one of oldest nickname? A nickname I'd almost forgotten myself under all the chaos.
In agonizing pain that made me feel like I was dying all over again, I rapidly blinked three times.
She sighed, her expression softening just a fraction. Reaching out, she placed her warm palm directly against my forehead and began to chant in a low, rhythmic cadence:
"Oh, spirits of old, come to aid the folk,
People come and go, but you remain untamed.
Come to soothe, to salvage the child of norms,
And let him rest, untroubled by his deeds..."
As her words ended, the white-hot agony began to recede, drifting away until it was nearly gone. Her chanting voice hadn't sounded like her normal cynical self—it was polite, gentle, almost childishly sweet. I still didn't fully know who she was, but right then, it felt like she had at least earned a slice of my trust.
I stared up at her. Twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger, she looked away defensively. "Don't get any ideas. I didn't just 'beg a spirit' for your sake. It's just an ancient elven healing spell to numb nerve pain. The chant just sounds like that."
My eyelids grew impossibly heavy.
"Once it takes hold, you're gonna pass out for a while," her voice echoed, growing fainter. "Don't try to fight it. It's natural..."
Her words cut out. The room dissolved, darkness swallowed my senses whole, and I finally surrendered to sleep.