There was a figure standing above her. She wanted to speak, but couldn't. Then the figure came closer, and she felt a rush of panic. Serge's eyes glowed red in the darkness. He raised his hands and very slowly grabbed her throat. She wanted to reach out and push him away, but her body wouldn't obey. She couldn't even scream. His cruel laughter filled her ears again.
All she could do was lie there and let him take her life away again?
------
Joan sat up, her eyes wide open and her body soaked with sweat. Why is it so cold? Why is this happening——
"Joan? Are you-"
Serge's voice cut through the air, sending her into another panic. She stretched out her right hand and quickly cast a spell. Three tiny ice spikes condensed in the air and flew towards the direction of the sound. Just before a flash of light appeared, she heard the sound of ice breaking.
Serge sat on the bed next to her, his right arm emitting a dark light. He rubbed his chest, which had already formed a thin layer of frost. She couldn't believe it. Is her magic so weak now that she can't even hurt him? Then she saw two more spikes, one that hit the wall and was covered in frost, and the last one hit the other bed and shattered on the blanket. Ice is so fragile that it will shatter if it hits anything. How could she——
Her strength gave out and she fell backwards onto the bed, shaking and whimpering. Shame overwhelmed her as she realized she couldn't harm a baby with that attack. She wanted to know why she was so pathetic, so useless, so weak? What's up with her? She's just a complete waste of time and heroic potential. Why does she think she can do this? She pulled the blanket tighter. Why is it so cold?
"Joan?" Serge's voice came again. There was a small crackling sound, and a new yellow glow replaced the white glow on his arm. Then she heard him crawl out of the crib and start walking toward her.
"No," she whispered, unable to stop her voice from shaking. "Don't-" The words came to his throat. She reminded herself that he was not a demon lord, at least not yet. He won't hurt her. He won't kill her. He is one of the chosen ones. He was her friend, her ally. He was. Well, at least an ally. But no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this, all her instincts were screaming that he was going to kill her.
"You're soaked."
"I'm fine," she shook her head, finally looking up at him. When she saw him towering over her, she froze. He wants to kill her:
Serge also remained motionless, confused and guilty. "Are you afraid of me?" he asked.
"Joan, please," Serge said softly, reassuringly.
"You're soaked. We need to get you undressed and dry or you'll just get sicker."
"What?" she asked softly. "Why are you here?"
"She needs to help you change because you're, uh..."
Joan blinked several times. he blushed
"I can get dressed..." her voice trailed off and she could barely lift the quilt. Standing up to change clothes is a difficult task;
"I need a therapist, please," she whispered softly.
"Okay. I'll be right back. Try not to move too much."
June nodded and listened as he walked away and opened the door. After a while, she heard the door close and someone approaching. "I told you," said a strange yet familiar voice.
She slowly raised her head and saw Batu walking towards her carrying a small pile of towels. "You told me?" she asked, her teeth chattering.
"You should have a bad flu," Bote said. The other girl reached up and pulled the blanket back, exposing her to the cold air and making her try to curl up. "Shh, it's going to be okay. Trust me, it's not as bad as it feels. Let's take your clothes off and clean you up, okay?"
When the other woman slowly lifted her from the bed and guided her undressing, her white body had to be washed, dried and redressed, the new bed felt strangely warm, almost like there was a fire underneath.
"This is much better, isn't it?" Bout asked with a smile. "how do you feel?"
"Better," Joan said, her tone still cold but slowly fading away. "Am I going to die?"
"What's wrong with me? W-what is this?" she asked, pulling the blanket tighter.
"Shock + flu," Boutette said, before walking over to the other bed, pulling the bedding off and throwing it on the pile.
"I can barely move," Joan whispered.
"You don't have much experience in healing magic, do you?" Botu asked, looking back at her. "No, you know. You've been here so many times over the years, you should be here. Why do you think we always let you rest for a few days while you recover from serious injuries?"
"No, because you're fragile. Healing magic doesn't just remove wounds. It burns your body's energy to do that, speeding up the recovery process. You probably won't. Broken bones and the like can heal within hours or even minutes. Healing, not months.”
"How long will it take for it to go away?" Joan asked.
"One or two days"
June sighed softly and nodded. “How long until I can ride again?”
"A week, probably. You'll need to talk to the lead therapist to get an exact time frame, though. Joan?" Bout glanced back at her and said.
"Yes?" Joan asked.
"Please don't get yourself killed so quickly. If you burn yourself out, you'll bring shame on the academy. Try to relax and recover, okay?"
The girl paused, then stood up and walked to the bed. Then she knelt down, looked into Joan's eyes, and smiled softly. "Joan, it's okay. You're not trouble and no one is going to be mad at you if you don't handle everything yourself. As much as you may not want to admit it, you're still a kid. Let some adults handle things."
In her previous life, she should have been Zach. When she first became a hero, she was still a child. In this life, she didn't even have parents, and the adults around her only had the minimum ability to help her. "You know, you're not much older than me."
"I'm much older than you, thank you. I'm a healer too. We always grow faster."
"Humph. I bet I should have been a boy before."
June laughed for a moment, but her laughter stopped when she saw the serious, stern expression on the other girl's face. "Are you...are you kidding?"
“It takes a very talented therapist to cure stupidity, but with perseverance it can be done,” Bote said, standing up and walking over to the pile of laundry. "Sel is one of the assistants in the infirmary, so if there's anything serious, have him come to me."
Joan nodded, closed her eyes, and listened to the sound of the other girl leaving. After a while, she heard the door open.
"You know, you could have come in and helped," Bert said shortly.
"What? I'm a boy! When you-" Serge said from the doorway.
"I mean, after she gets better," Bote said.
"You never said she was," Serge said in a soft, meek tone.
"Of course," Serge said, and she heard the door close and his footsteps getting closer. "sorry."
Joan glanced at the small glowing ball that illuminated the room. She preferred it to candles anyway. "I prefer light spells to candles. Besides, I think this is a very wonderful day for you. Discovering that you are one of the chosen ones.
He sat on the bed next to her. Her cheeks turned a little red when she realized why the bed was warm when she moved in, it was the bed he'd slept in. She figured it was at least better than the cold. But finding comfort in the warmth of a murderer is an unsettling thought.
She shook her head and stared at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. He was a hero and one of her friends. Very important, very necessary.
"To be honest, I never thought it would be like this," Serge finally said, interrupting her thoughts.
"I can understand that. It's a huge thing to be one of the chosen ones.
"I always thought you hated me," Serge said, his tone soft and timid.
"What? No, I never hated you!" she said, even she heard the lie in her tone and cringed a little.
"Every time we talk, you always seem desperate to leave. I never understood how I offended you to make you feel this way. "
She recalled their several interactions at the academy. Being chosen as a sparring partner on several occasions gave her clear victories. But now that I think about it, she has always been a little harsh on him. She had been afraid of him from the moment she met him. She always suspected that if she were alone with him, he would do something, or do something to hurt her. In the entire academy, he had always been the person she feared the most. It wasn't until her memory finally returned that she understood why.
But it's not her fault. If he wasn't so weak and didn't fall into the hands of the Demon King again and again, she would have no reason to be afraid of him. The demon lord is probably out there now, plotting his next move. Prepare to kill them all. She wondered if Sel would be another weak link. Will he be the reason for their failure? This time she found him for the second time and maybe she could toughen him up.
"Is what Lord Hadwin said true?" Serge asked.
"No, are you a prophet?" Serge asked.
"prophet?"
"My lord said you have a vision for the future, that's why you know me."
Did he tell you? "
Serge nodded shyly, his cheeks flushed. "He said it was a secret. But it made sense to me."
"You have always been one of the most amazing people I know. They say you have the potential to be one of the greatest mages in the world"
Joan sighed softly again. She was too tired to talk to him about this.
"When this is all over, you'll know how weak I really am," she said with a final sigh. "Stop. Please."
"Oh. By the way, you're tired, aren't you? I'm sorry. If you need anything, please let me know." He said softly.
"Turn out the lights..." her voice trailed off. "
"Of course," he whispered. As he lay down, she heard his cot move.
She sighed softly again. There was no way she could fall asleep knowing how close he was to her.
That was her last thought before consciousness faded and she fell into unconsciousness again, exhausted despite her anticipation.
