By the time Aria stirred groggily from sleep, the knights were gathered around Lenn and Linus.
"Linus has a very high fever,"
Lenn spoke. His voice filled with anxiety as he continued.
"He's not waking up."
His eyes didn't leave Linus's flushed, sweat-covered face. The others exchanged grave looks. Maxim turned to Magnus, his tone firm.
"Help me examine his injuries."
This wasn't caused by the night's cold. Their bodies had long since been trained to endure far worse.
And as Maxim peeled back the coverings, his expression darkened.
"Lenn, when did you last tend to his wounds?"
Magnus frowned at the sight of blood-soaked cloth and reopened injuries. Lenn, pale and guilt-ridden, answered in a low voice.
"Last night they were fine. Before dinner, I wanted to apply the medicine but he said… he already had."
"Bastard!"
Tristan muttered harshly, glaring at the unconscious Linus.
They all understood. Linus had lied.
The wounds must've opened again after the day's exertion.
"I… I should've insisted." Lenn whispered in self-blame.
But none of them blamed him. Linus had always been like this. Keeping his things to himself.
"We need to stop the bleeding and bring down the fever. Fast," Maxim said.
Linus's body had started to shiver, and his hands and feet were already going cold.
The knights sprang into action. One retrieved the physician's medicines and another gently covered Linus, careful not to aggravate his wounds.
Standing just behind the tall figures clustered around Linus, Aria could barely see what was happening. But when she finally caught sight of Linus' face—red with fever—and his bandages soaked in blood, her eyes widened.
Why was no one helping him?
She looked around, confused, searching for someone who could explain. Then she approached Maxim, who was working with Magnus over a small pot of heated liquid.
"Max… Maxim!" she called out, remembering the name Rayan had used.
Maxim looked up. "My lady?"
Unable to communicate, Aria simply pointed urgently at Linus.
Help him!
Maxim followed her gaze. His expression tightened. Linus's lips were already tinged blue.
Then Lenn's strained voice echoed through the silence.
"It's not stopping…"
The bleeding seemed to be relentless, deep red against already soaked cloth. The wound wasn't clotting.
The blood soaked cloth reminded Aria of the worst moments of her past.
Maxim tried to reassure her, but this time, there was doubt in his voice. "We'll save him, my lady."
But in his heart, he wasn't sure. In weather like this, a healthy knight could survive, but an injured one—without a real healer—was another matter.
Still, none of them were ready to give up.
They had fought together for years. Losing even one of them felt like tearing away a limb.
Aria couldn't understand their words. Her gaze dropped to the red-stained water and then to Linus's pale face. Her throat tightened.
Wordlessly, she stepped forward.
Lenn was still searching for clean cloth. Tristan was stoking the fire, trying to give Linus more warmth, when he noticed Aria moving toward Linus.
"Stop!" he barked.
But Aria didn't hear him—or perhaps she didn't care.
In a daze, she knelt beside Linus. Her hands trembled as she reached for the deep wound on his chest. Gently, she laid her palm against it… and closed her eyes.
Tristan stormed toward her, fury etched into every step.
He couldn't expect anything good from her. After all, she had been standing silent despite when his master was attacked.
Maxim saw the situation and quickly stood, ready to intervene. But before Tristan could grab Aria, Lenn stepped in and pushed him back.
"Lenn!"
Tristan's voice rose in disbelief, but Lenn's eyes were fixed on Aria. He whispered in a voice full of confusion and bewilderment.
"She… she's healing him."
The others were equally confused.
At first, Tristan thought Lenn had gone mad. But then he saw it.
The wound—gaping, angry, and bleeding—was knitting together, slowly but unmistakably. The torn skin mended. The color returned to Linus's face. His lips pinkened. The fever lifted.
The truth, long avoided, hit Tristan in the face.
He had wondered how their master had survived that devastating wolf strike in the mountains.
Now he knew the answer.
It was Aria.
The knights stood silently, watching in disbelief as the miracle unfolded. Aria murmured a soft chant, her face calm and focused.
When she opened her eyes again, Linus lay peacefully. The wound was gone. His breathing was steady.
Aria exhaled in relief. She hadn't meant to touch him without permission—especially remembering Rayan didn't like it.
But there had been no time to ask.
She rose slowly, turning to find all the knights staring at her.
Aria swallowed hard.
Why were they looking at her like that?
Did she… displease them?
Her throat was dry. Palms damp with sweat. She tried to speak, her voice barely a whisper.
"Li… hontey?" (I… apologize?)
But of course, they didn't understand her language.
Aria felt frustration adding up to the weakness she felt because of using her powers.
Her body couldn't hold it any longer.
Darkness crept in.
And then, Aria collapsed.