After Luciene finally calmed in my arms, I eased back slightly. I couldn't keep her here. I placed a hand on her shoulder, slow and deliberate.
"Luciene," I said. I used her name on purpose.
She flinched, then lifted her head. Her eyes were bloodshot. The focus was still there but no longer scattered. She was looking at me. Only me.
"We can't stay here," I said. "Your power is unstable. You've lost a dangerous amount of blood. And night is coming."
It was logic.
And logic was exactly what Luciene needed right now.
She nodded. A small, hesitant motion. But she didn't refuse.
I slipped one arm around her shoulders, careful not to touch the broken side. Her body leaned into me on instinct. I took part of her weight. The rest, I forced her to carry with her own will. For now, there was no need for unnecessary closeness.
What remained was finding the way.
Luciene had come from the direction of the cave. That meant the city was south of where she'd arrived. From here, it was to the right. I turned my steps deliberately in that direction. The forest thinned along that line: less mana density, more signs of human passage, less pressure from wild creatures.
After a few steps, Luciene stumbled.
I didn't stop.
I didn't carry her. I only adjusted my pace, slowing by one step and grounding my stance. If she fell, it would be in a way that wouldn't compromise my balance.
"Keep going," I said quietly. "We're close."
"How do you… know?" she asked. Her voice was still weak, but there was no doubt in it. More a curious need for reassurance.
"We're heading the right way. Trust me."
That answer calmed her.
People trusted decisiveness more than absolute certainty.
We walked in silence for a while. Moonlight began to seep through the trees. The shadows were no longer shaped by the sun, but by night itself. The forest was thick with the scent of damp earth, blood, and flowers.
Luciene's breathing slowly steadied. Her steps were still heavy, but she was no longer being dragged forward. Her power was still there, coiled and restrained like an animal beneath the surface. But there were no more uncontrolled surges.
Then a faint light appeared ahead. Steady. Unflickering. It's not a torch, it's a lantern.
The city boundary.
Luciene saw it too. Her fingers tightened on my shoulder without realizing it.
"Really…" she said, unable to finish the word.
"Yes," I said. "It's real."
She tried to quicken her pace. Failed but the intent was there. And that intent was what kept her standing.
As we approached the city gate, the silhouettes of two guards came into view atop the walls. When they noticed us, they raised their spears slightly.
"Halt!" one of them called.
We stopped.
I drew Luciene a little closer. She seemed to be losing strength by the second, but I knew she wouldn't die. Fate had saved her once. It might do so again… or it might not.
"She's wounded," I said. "Goblin contact. She needs medical attention."
The guard's gaze moved over Luciene, taking in her blood, torn clothing, and arm.
There was no need to lie.
"Where are you coming from?" he asked.
"We are under the protection of Baroness Catherinne Ravencrest," I replied. "We came here on a visit."
The guards studied us in silence for a moment. Then the gate opened.
As soon as we passed inside, the release of tension caused Luciene's body to slacken. She nearly collapsed. This time, I tightened my grip.
"Don't let go," she whispered, almost pleading.
"I'm not. Don't worry."
-------------------
That evening, we barely managed to find a healer. She demanded extra coin for the late hour, but I had no choice but to agree. Later, I learned she was one of the most skilled healers in the city, which meant the price I paid was not unreasonable.
While the healer worked on Luciene, I watched her closely. Because this woman was, in truth, a witch-healer.
She was middle-aged. Her hair wasn't completely white yet, but the roots had turned gray. Her robe wasn't new. It had been washed countless times and repaired many times. Details like that mattered. Those who were truly skilled had no need for ornamentation.
She carefully removed Luciene's blood-soaked, shredded clothing. Her brow furrowed slightly the moment she touched the broken arm. Only for an instant. But I saw it.
"It's fractured," she said. "And it's already begun to set badly."
"She wasn't allowed to rest," I replied. "She had to keep walking."
The healer gave me a brief, nonjudgmental but assessing glance.
"You did the right thing," she said. "If you'd left it as it was, she wouldn't have lasted until morning."
Luciene hadn't lost consciousness, but her eyes were half-lidded. Her fever was rising. Her power was still there, suppressed like a storm forced into silence.
The healer placed one palm on Luciene's chest and traced a complex symbol in the air with the other. Mana caused the air in the room to tremble faintly.The temperature was neither hot nor cold, but rather like the breath of something alive.
Luciene jerked. Her lips parted. But she didn't scream.
"There's… far too much mana inside her," the woman said slowly. "And it's unstable. This isn't a normal surge."
"She crossed her limit," I said. "By force."
I chose the word carefully.
The healer nodded. "Death-threshold activation. Rare. Most people don't survive crossing that line."
Her gaze shifted to me.
"Something helped her cross..." she said. It wasn't a question. But she wanted the answer.
I stayed silent.
That, too, was an answer.
She returned her focus to Luciene. Mana resembling pale light seeped from her hands and wrapped around Luciene's arm. Bone, muscle, and vessels are each aligned in turn.. This wasn't an instant miracle. It was controlled, deliberate reconstruction.
Luciene's brow tightened. Her breathing quickened. There was pain but she was not conscious.
"Are you close to her?" the healer asked without looking up.
"She entrusted her life to me. That should be enough." I said at last.
The healer gave a slight nod. It wasn't a matter of approval or rejection, just acknowledgment.
"Then," she said, "you should stay. Leaving her alone right now is far more dangerous than you think."
She continued guiding the mana. The light spread from the arm to Luciene's shoulder and chest. The excess power was released slowly and deliberately. It was not dispersed, but rather bled off under the healer's control. This kind of balancing was harder than raw healing. It required experience.
Luciene groaned, her fingers clenching the sheets.
"Hold on," I said. I didn't raise my voice, but it was firm. "Get through this part, and the rest will be easier."
Her eyes opened slightly. Blurred, but they found me.
"You didn't… leave," she said.
"I'm not going anywhere."
She needed to hear that. What she was holding onto now wasn't Will; it was me.
When the healer finished, the vibration in the room slowly faded. The light withdrew. The air returned to normal. Luciene's breathing was still heavy, but no longer erratic.
"The arm will heal," the healer said, washing her hands. "She shouldn't strain herself for a while. Function will return. But that's not the real issue."
She turned to me.
"The power inside her isn't under control. If she can't master it, it will kill her."
Just as I thought.
"For now, it's calm," she continued. "But if it's triggered again, there may be no coming back. She needs rest. And…" she hesitated briefly, "a safe environment."
Our gazes met.
"How long can she stay here?" I asked.
"Two days," she said without hesitation. "I'm sorry, but I have dozens of patients every week. I don't have many spare beds."
I wasn't surprised.
I took out another pouch and let the coins spill onto the table with a solid clink. The healer glanced at them but didn't count.
"For your care, and for your discretion."
This time, she truly nodded. When she left the room, we were alone.
Luciene was asleep. Her fever had broken. Her face was still pale, but her brow was no longer drawn tight. For the first time… she was truly resting.
I pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down. I leaned my sword against the wall and closed my eyes to rest.
When I came to this city, I hadn't expected to end up playing nursemaid. I still had matters to handle. Baroness Catherinne had only granted me two days' leave, but it seemed I would need to ask her for a little more time.