Joan's eyes slowly opened and she looked at the ceiling. Strangely familiar. Although she was not familiar with her previous life, she was familiar with this life. Painted in a simple off-white color, it is the plain roof of the infirmary. She was lying on a small bed, with a cool breeze blowing from the window. She found herself struck by a strange memory, a memory of this life.
When she first arrived at the academy, she saw windows made of glass, but designed in two pieces so one could slide to allow air in. This allows them to see outside as well as inside in the winter, while maintaining a cooler environment in the summer. It was the most amazing thing she had ever seen in her young life.
Joan focused her attention on the window, she could barely feel Hadwin staring at her. She took a deep breath before clearing her voice and preparing to speak.
"You're bad in every sense of the word," Hadwin said firmly, cutting her off before she could say anything.
She nodded, a small smile on her lips. "How did he take it?"
"He hugged me and started crying."
Joan sighed. She wanted to say something, but honestly, after breaking down and crying so many times over things she thought were trivial, she couldn't help but feel a newfound acceptance of that side of the boy. "So you're going to trust me from now on?"
"I've agreed to help you," Hadwin said.
"But I need your trust," Joan said, slowly turning her head towards him.
"Very well," Hadwin said, finally relenting.
"Okay, let's go then. Now I think Taglan is—"
A hand suddenly pressed on her chest, pushing her to the ground before she could stand up. "No."
"No?" she asked. "we need to - "
"You only slept a few hours. Once you are cured of this disease, you will be escorted back to the castle with Thel. You will then live with the Queen until I return."
"What?!" Joan yelled, trying to push the hand away. Yet even she didn't feel sick and weak. "Are you serious? You need me to—"
"I need you, yes. You're not wrong. I do need you. But I need you alive. I'm going to find Tagrun, deal with the underground monsters, and then come back. Once I do that, we'll decide where to go from there What to do. Maybe, if you behave, I'll let you go with me to the fourth option," Hadwin said, taking his hand back.
"You can't be serious," Joan said again. He stood up and, to her annoyance, was already ready to leave. His clothes looked neat and tidy and he even had a shave. "You can't leave me here alone. You can't just push me aside. I can fight!" she said, tears welling up in her eyes again.
"Yes, I am, and I can. I'm not. No you're not. Yes you can. But I don't need you to fight. I need you to stay here and stay safe. The kingdom, no, the world needs you, Joan .”
"Yes, and-"
"What's more important. Do you get the glory of our battle, or the glory of saving the world?" Hadwin asked. "Not only that, but you're here with another chosen one. If anything happens, he needs you there to guide him and fight through it."
How many times had she focused on her pride and glory instead of making things scary? She couldn't move now and any further force would only make things worse. She looked up at him and nodded slightly. "you're right."
"Okay. Where's Taglen?"
"Go to Silvermist, the capital of the dwarves. Search for the Golden Talgrun. He..." She struggled to think of the right words. "You'll understand when you meet him. Don't let him piss you off too much. He may look like a selfish, greedy bastard, but he has a good heart. He's also a selfish, greedy bastard. ” she said with a smile. "He'll charge you for your trip back to the capital."
Hadwin stared at her, his lips curling into an annoyed frown. "Are you kidding me."
"Not at all. He had blond hair and a long three-pronged beard. Now I think he ran a legitimate gambling ring."
"Is he one of the chosen ones?" Hadwin asked again, shaking his head. "You can't be serious."
"You know, I said the same thing most of the time when I met him. And you, old friend, always smiled and seemed to revel in my pain. So I say this from the bottom of my heart Yes. I'm glad it's you this time and not me." She chuckled, causing pain in her chest and a soft cry of beauty. She slowly closed her eyes and sighed. "I don't want to get sick."
"No one does that, Joan. Just take a break, relax, and you'll get back on your feet," Hadwin said with an amused smile.
She snorted roughly in response. "You know, heroes don't get sick."
"Really? Then not once in this life?"
"I've been stabbed, poisoned, slashed, burned, and pretty much everything else. But before I got this body, I'd never been sick, not once."
"Oh? How many times have you been sick since you got sick?" Hadwin asked with a chuckle.
Joan whimpered softly and rolled onto her side, pulling herself into a ball. It brought to the surface memories that she had truly wished had been buried.
"Joan?" Ha asked, the smile fading from his voice.
"I used to be sick a lot," Joan said softly. "When I was little. There were times they thought I was going to die." It feels so silly now. This was not part of her agreement with fate. If she died before she had a chance to meet anyone else, there would never be a chance to resolve anything. But she didn't know this at the time. All she remembered was the heat, the loneliness, and the fear. However, it wasn't the illness that bothered her the most.
Whenever she had the flu, they would let her rest by the fire. She didn't understand why at the time, but it always scared her. It was such a silly fear that she was eventually able to overcome, not completely ignoring it, but at least pushing it away enough to do so.
But when she's tired, sick, and weak, it's the scariest thing in the world for her. She imagined sparks from the flames, hitting her and erupting into unquenchable inferno. She imagined herself screaming for help, but no one came. She pulled the quilt tighter around herself, trying to push away the horrible nightmare.
"Joan?" Hadwin asked, then reached out and shook her shoulder gently. "It doesn't matter."
June whimpered slightly and looked up at him. "Don't let them light a fire in here," she whispered.
"What?" Hadwin asked.
"I don't want to start a fire. Not if I get sick. Please," Joan begged.
"Fortunately, there is no fire. Joan, what's wrong? You're shaking." She felt his hand on her forehead, but he pulled it away the next second. "Your temperature is rising and you're soaked. I'm going to get you a therapist. Don't move."
She had no intention of moving now. "No fire, you promised," she whispered.
It wasn't the sparks she was afraid of, though. That's the god of hell. Imagine its flames surrounding her. Melted her. Now that those memories had surfaced, it was all she could think of. She only remembered the pain, the pain of the touch surrounding her, slowly melting her body bit by bit. Her vision and hearing were slowly disappearing, leaving only pain. Is this what's going to happen to her now? She tried to push those memories away. They are not real. She had just fallen ill and was in the infirmary. None of this is true. None of this happened. But now that she was at her most vulnerable, these memories refused to budge, easily breaking through all her defenses.
"No!" she shouted, shaking her head.
"Joan, please stay calm," a voice shouted. She looked up and saw an older woman standing over her, holding a piece of cloth in her right hand. "It's okay. I'm just going to dry you off. You're covered in sweat."
"Okay," Joan whispered, shaking her head as the nurse began her work. That won't happen. This can't happen. No matter how sick she was, even if she died, she would never feel those flames again. never. Even if they lose and the God of Hell returns, she will kill herself before being caught by the God of Hell again.
In the end, though, the idea offered little comfort.
