The magic seal—the metaphorical deadlock that wasn't meant to be opened by just any guest—utterly gave way to Fay's silent request for entry. As the door eased open, she felt as though she had crossed an invisible threshold, the atmosphere seemingly shifting from shadowed night to radiant day. The sensation was so peculiar that her eyes widened in awe, her breath catching at the unexpected transition.
"Wh-What is this place?" she uttered in a quiet whisper as she glanced around the brightly lit space.
Before her stretched a pristine room, its white walls and immaculate surfaces reflecting an almost otherworldly perfection. Sparse furnishings were neatly arranged, their polished edges free of even the faintest blemish.
At the heart of the room, a bed rested within the radiance of a large magic circle, its intricate symbols pulsing with a soothing rhythm. The aura spread outward, evoking the tranquil feeling and cadence of ocean waves softly lapping at the shore. The air was impossibly clean—untainted by dust or impurity—and carried a tangible essence of mana so pure it seemed to hum with life itself.
On the bed, a young girl lay, her delicate form appearing untouched by the harshness of the world. The formula weaved into the magic circle enveloped her in a gentle embrace, its soft glow weaving a cocoon of calm that held her in a deep, unbroken sleep. Yet beneath the serene surface, subtle traces of suffering remained: her pale complexion, the faint twitch of her brow, and the barely perceptible tension in her features—proof that no spell could completely erase her pain.
Fay's voice was soft with sorrow as she whispered, "I can feel it… she's in unbearable pain. But what's wrong with her?"
In an attempt to calm the rapid thrum of her heartbeat, Fay's trembling fingers brushed against the orange scarf snugly wrapped around her neck. She inhaled deeply, the soft fabric offering a fleeting sense of comfort.
Yet, her gaze betrayed her unease as it wandered across the sterile room again. It was clear that the girl on the bed was being kept here under strict care. But then, why were her wrists and ankles restrained? Was she perhaps being kept here against her will—a silent prisoner within a pristine cage? Or worse, a helpless guinea pig in some sick experiment?
As these thoughts churned in her mind, Fay couldn't help but be reminded of Reginald's manor and the horrors she had witnessed there.
"I don't understand," she murmured, her eyes grief-stricken as she glanced down at the girl before her. "Why would Ms. Lefahne and Mr. Zurrel do this?"
All this time, were they perhaps not being entirely transparent with her? And what exactly did this mean for her own fate? Was the kindness they had shown—taking her in, offering her a warm bed and food—nothing more than a carefully crafted façade, a means to turn her into a mere subject for their experiments? Could this be the secret behind the incredible effectiveness of their potions—why their products were so highly coveted?
Fay pressed her hands to her head, swaying as her eyes fluttered with panic. "No, this… this can't be happening."
Sympathizing with the girl's plight while grappling with her own turmoil, Fay knelt beside the bed. She cradled the girl's hand gently within both of her own, her thumbs resting softly against the small, cold fingers. Lowering her forehead to her hands, she closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath as she attempted to clear her mind.
With every beat of her heart, her thoughts swirled, racing to find a way out of this situation. But as her pulse hammered in her ears and her concentration heightened, rather than a solution, a strange energy stirred within her—fragments of something ancient, a power that had long lain dormant in the depths of her mind. It bubbled to the surface of her subconsciousness, as though responding to her need for guidance.
Suddenly, as though a veil had lifted, Fay felt an unexpected surge of awareness. She could visualize—no, it was more accurate to say it was a keen sensation, as if her very consciousness had stretched to intertwine with the girl's. Like electricity crackling through a web or the sprawling roots of a tree, she could sense the ebb and flow within the girl's body. Each pulse, each movement of life, was clear to her in a way she never imagined possible.
The sparks of energy, however, were sluggish, dull—weak. They sputtered and flickered through her veins, barely able to fight off the threats looming within. It was as though the girl's body was waging a silent war, but with too little strength to win.
Fay's mind raced, unable to fully comprehend the depth of what was unfolding, but there was one undeniable truth that stood firm in her heart: something had to be given to save the girl before her. It would be no easy feat—painful, perilous even—but it was a price she was willing to pay.
The weight of the decision pressed on her, but not once did she hesitate. If their roles were reversed, she would've wanted someone to do the same for her. That's right, there was no time for doubt, no room for fear. Without thinking, she resolved to take that first, critical step forward. Surrendering to the mysterious energy thrumming within her, Fay found herself relinquishing a portion of her own life-force to bolster the girl's weakened immune system, hoping to combat the disease eating away at her.
The moment the soft glow that had pooled in her palm was transferred to the girl, a wave of weariness struck Fay, overwhelming her in an instant. The fatigue sank deep into her muscles and bones, and the world seemed to tilt for a moment beneath the weight of the sacrifice.
But even as her breath came in shallow gasps, Fay allowed herself a small, weary smile at the sight of the girl's cheeks regaining their color, the tension in her brow easing as pain receded. But there was no time for celebration. With the last of her strength, Fay worked quickly to untie the ropes binding the girl's wrists and ankles, each knot undone bringing them closer to freedom.
Just as she was about to lift the girl from the bed, a sudden shift in the air stilled her movements. A wave of hostility, thick and suffocating, swept through the room like a suffocating fog. Her instincts screamed danger, and she froze, a sharp sense of malice hanging in the air. Slowly, her gaze lifted, dread pooling in her stomach as she turned.
Lefahne and Zurrel stormed into the room, their arrival like a thunderclap, bringing with it an oppressive weight of anger. The very air seemed to crackle with their fury, their faces twisted in a wrath so fierce it could have shattered stone.
"Fay!" Lefahne cried, her fury giving way to a deep, anguished disbelief. "H-How did you get past the magic circle? Do you have any idea what you've done?"
The couple stood in the doorway, their presence suffocating, eyes burning with a mix of rage and heartbreak. Their glances bore down on the girl who had dared to trespass into this most sacred of places, her hands on their daughter, and in doing so, threatening the fragile balance they had so carefully maintained, endangering the very life they'd fought so hard to protect.
What had been an act of compassion, of taking in a stranger out of kindness, now felt like a grave mistake. They had opened their home to someone who hadn't fully trusted them, and now that very trust had been shattered, endangering the life of their beloved child.
"I knew this was a mistake!" Zurrel bellowed, his voice shaking the very walls as anger seethed like liquid fire in his veins. In a single, savage motion, he hoisted an enormous axe over his head, the blade gleaming with deadly intent.
Fay's lips parted in a soundless cry, her wide, frightened eyes fixed on the descending blade. The weapon's arc seemed to stretch across an eternity, slicing through the suffocating silence as it hurtled toward its mark with a dark promise.
"STOPPP!!"
""….!""
The axe halted mid-swing, a desperate scream piercing the air. But it wasn't Fay's voice—the blow would have fallen without a second thought, leaving her cleaved in two. No, this scream was not hers.
"Mom! Dad!"
The voice, feeble and strained, belonged to the girl who, for the last several moons, had been bedridden and trapped in the unyielding grip of a coma. It was inconceivable that she had awakened on her own, yet here she was, defending the very stranger who had supposedly jeopardized her well-being.
Lefahne's eyes widened in shock, her hand trembling as it reached out, her body frozen in disbelief. "Silvie?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "But… this can't be! You shouldn't have been able to—"
In an anguished cry, the mother dismissed the futile words, rushing forward to hold her daughter, the need to feel the truth of the moment overwhelming everything else.
"Silvie! Silvie!"
Tightly clutching the girl to her chest, Lefahne pulled back just enough to cup her daughter's face in her hands, as if she was but a mirage threatening to slip away at any moment. "I've missed you so much," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry… I couldn't protect you."
"…It's okay," Silvestia murmured softly, offering a fragile smile that barely touched her eyes.
Lefahne swept locks of hair behind the girl's ear, her thumb gently brushing the warm flush that had returned to her cheek. "My goddess, you look so much healthier now."
Silvestia weakly pointed to the girl next to her, even as tears rippled down her own cheek. "It's all thanks to her," she admitted, a hint of gratitude lacing her words.
"…Fay?"
Silvestia nodded. "Even while I was unconscious, I could feel her touch. She… healed me."
Zurrel's shoulders sagged, and the axe clattered to the ground as it slipped from his grip. His face crumpled in grief, eyes wide with a tangle of emotions. "Fay, I'm so sorry," he choked out, his voice breaking as he pulled his wife and child into a tight, desperate embrace.
Fay stood motionless, her face pale, as if she were still caught in the haunting moment when her life had flashed before her eyes. Grief, fear, betrayal, and anger churned within her—she couldn't quite sort through the storm of emotions. But as she watched the family in their embrace, a deep loneliness gnawed at her. Just as she began to turn away, not wanting to intrude on their tender reunion—
"Fay…," Lefahne called softly.
The girl lifted her gaze to find the woman and her husband welcoming her with tear-streaked faces and open arms. Fay's eyes trembled, the weight of the moment sinking in as tears welled up within her. Her heart ached, torn between the confusion and the lingering sting of betrayal. But in the face of their unwavering warmth, she could no longer hold back. With a choked sob, she threw herself into the family's embrace.
"Fay… thank you for bringing her back to us."
"Fay… I'm so sorry for hurting you."
"Thank you."
"Thank you so much."
The words of her parents fell like a prayer, each one wrapped in gratitude and remorse. Silvestia squeezed tighter, her embrace trembling with emotion. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered, her voice breaking.
But as the words left her lips, she blinked back her tears, and in the depths of her eyes, a profound sadness lingered.