Memory tugged her adrift; the Holy Maiden stared at her reflection through rain-shedding glass, thoughts drifting like windblown leaves.
Her face, once round as a full moon, had waned and withered like a drying leaf.
When bare, the ribs on both sides of her waist showed like a cheap birdcage, all thin bars and hollow shadow.
She stood upright as a spear, yet the diet-thinned body clung like a cast-off insect shell to a twig; a stiffer wind would erase it like dust.
Watching her ghost on the window, the Holy Maiden thought again of Father John—gaunt like a monkey made of bones, a bundle of sticks. Now she was a small echo of that fate, a shadow mirroring a shadow.
She wanted to look away, yet the sick body held her eyes like a disaster headline—people staring at a report of far-off calamity, unable to blink.
She let out a thin sigh, a truce after an inner war, and turned toward Selina curled in the dim corner. Her wet clothes clung to skin like cold moss; every inch of fabric was heavy with chill, steeped in water-blue weight. She trembled without meaning to, and Hedi shivered in her arms like a leaf caught in the same wind.
The Holy Maiden walked over and knelt. Selina hugged Hedi tighter and edged toward the no-escape corner like a trapped cat, forcing out, “W-what do you want?”
“Your tricks are spent. Now we’ll try mine.”
Selina slapped a hand over Hedi’s mouth and snapped, “Come closer—and I’ll deck you!”
“Heh. I’m not you—I don’t pounce when someone’s guard is down.”
“It was mouth-to-mouth!”
“If you say so, fine.”
“Really... I mean it...”
She answered with motion: the Holy Maiden pressed her right palm to Hedi’s brow, calling Sacred Magic’s healing like spring light to seek the root of the coma.
As her gaze met Hedi’s face through a spill of gentle glow, pain slammed down like a crane’s weight. Bones creaked, muscles tore and cried, cells shriveled one by one, fine as grains of sand slipping through a fist.
She had to admit it: for six years, jealousy coiled like a snake around her, locking her in a prison of despair as bare as winter trees.
That prison had no walls, no guards; inmates walked in by choice, then locked it from the inside and hurled the key through iron bars like a bird flinging a seed away.
Of course, if you wanted out, you could slip free like smoke through a crack.
But the decision stuck like a thorn; it never settled.
Like a coronation borrowed under Melvina’s name, that disowned jealousy had grown roots; to leave it, you’d have to peel your skin off, raw and bleeding.
She couldn’t help thinking of Sister Bertha. The deceit resurfaced, waking an egg-shaped knot of resentment in her chest. The shell had cracked long ago, pressed down by conscience; now the ugly thing inside shoved upward with memory, hungry for air like a hatchling pecking light.
“You look scary,” Selina said, worry clouding her like storm-bent trees. “Is the Professor that sick?”
“I don’t care about that at all,” she said, voice cold as sleet.
“You just said you’d try your way!”
“The real one dying is a blessing with no downside to a fake,” she said, like a blade laid flat.
Selina shot her a glare; her heart revved like an engine floored, dark-red blood surging into her arms. In a blink she grabbed the Holy Maiden’s collar, fingers hooked like talons.
“Just a joke,” the Holy Maiden said, face blank as stone. “You like her, don’t you? I was testing your heart.”
“If the Professor can’t wake because of you—”
“Blaming someone with limited ability is throwing stones into fog; it changes nothing.”
“Aren’t you the Professor’s childhood friend? Why talk like that?”
“I’m two years older than Melvina. Not the same age,” she said, dry as dust.
Selina cut her eyes at her, voice sharp as an ice shard. “Heartless!”
“Wait till the day Melvina cuts you loose; then you’ll know,” she said, like predicting rain.
“The Professor would never!”
“She absolutely will,” the Holy Maiden said with a crooked smile, like an unripe fruit refusing sun. “The timing just isn’t ripe.”
“You’re so sure because you and the Professor fell out? Serves you right! You must’ve upset her!” Her words flew like stones.
“Consider this: maybe Melvina is simply ruthless. Her own words were ‘innate ruthlessness,’” she said, calm as a winter pond.
Selina shook her head hard, ponytail flicking like grass. “She’s guilty over the Priest, that’s all.”
“Wasn’t leaving Naghtown her decision? Guilt now is useless self-drain, like pouring water into sand.”
“That was Dark Magic—”
“Who forced Melvina to study Dark Magic?” the Holy Maiden cut in, voice sharp as a snapped twig. “As her follower, do you not know how grave the fallout is?!”
Selina’s voice thinned like smoke. “She had reasons—she had to!”
“What reasons? To learn one thing is to cast another aside, like trading a river for a well.”
“You’re just a thing!” she spat, words like grit.
The Holy Maiden narrowed her eyes and let out a slow breath like a cold wind. “Careful, or I’ll scold you into tears again.”
“Barbs don’t sting me anymore! I trust the Professor to my core—unlike you, swaggering around as a fake,” Selina said, chin lifted like a blade.
“Want to know why I pretended?”
“Spare me your sob story!” Selina snapped back, stubborn as a mule.
“My story’s darker than you think...” she murmured, like a cellar damp with old rain.
“I’m not listening—oink oink, little pig snorting!” Selina said, childish and cutting, like flicking mud.
“Lunatic,” the Holy Maiden muttered, then probed Hedi’s coma again like feeling for a pulse in fog. She drew back her hand and sighed. “I can’t figure why she’s out,” she said, frustration feathering like smoke.
“Because that’s all your power amounts to!”
“Sure, sure. A Spellcaster on Melvina’s level would fix it in a snap,” she said, words dry as tinder.
Those words sparked a plan like a match. Selina hefted Hedi and rose. “I’m taking the Professor back to the Academy! They’ll have a way!”
“No. The police still have questions for Melvina. You two stay,” the Holy Maiden said, voice firm like a shut gate.
“If she won’t wake, questions are useless!” Selina said, striding for the door like a storm front. Then a faint murmur brushed her ear, like a sleeper gently shaken, muttering on the border of dream and waking. Joy jolted her like a bell; she crouched fast and pinched Hedi’s face. “Please wake! Wake up!”
In a moment, Hedi’s eyes drifted open, then shut under the ceiling’s fluorescent glare like flowers closing at noon. Her fogged mind balked at reality, longing to sink into that gentle, familiar dark forever, like sinking in warm night water. Selina tightened her grip, kneading Hedi’s cheeks; pain hauled her up to waking like a rope.
“It hurts...” Hedi breathed weakly. “Let go...”
“You’re finally awake!”
“Where am I?” she asked, voice thin as paper.
Selina spilled the recent events like a tipped bowl, then added, “You scared me so much,” heart knocking like rain at a window.
“Mm... it was only a dream...” Hedi murmured, words soft as dusk.
“You said the same in the Dark Realm! Another nightmare?”
“This time was different. I remember it,” Hedi said, eyes narrowing a little, a light smile blooming for Selina like a small lantern. “I think it was Cheryl... I dreamed of Alina Cheryl...”
