The infirmary of Rose Academy glowed with a muted, ethereal light, the flicker of enchanted lanterns casting long, wavering shadows across the stone walls adorned with shelves of glowing vials and dried herbs. The air was thick with the bittersweet aroma of lavender, undercut by the sharp, medicinal bite of crushed sage and the faint metallic tang of blood, a scent that deepened the knot of dread tightening in Kaname Hiroshimae's chest. He paced near the healer's table, his obsidian-black hair—polished onyx catching the dim light—framing a face etched with worry, his green eyes fixed on Yuki Tsukishiro, who lay pale and still on a cot. His blue uniform, still patched from the night's battle, hung loosely, the red tie loosened in his agitation. The faint scar on his wrist, shaped like a starlit spiral, stood out against his skin—a relic from the night his family was slaughtered, a wound inflicted amidst the chaos that stole his memories of that horror, leaving him with only a vague unease he couldn't decipher. The scar's edges were rough, a jagged reminder of a fight he couldn't recall, its presence a silent weight that gnawed at his resolve. He paused, glancing at it, wondering if the blankness in his mind was a flaw or a shield, a question that lingered unanswered.
Yuki's beautiful black hair—deep as a raven's wing, shimmering with midnight silk—spilled across the pillow, her red bow discarded on the floor, its frayed edges a testament to the night's ordeal. Her side, where Darius's dagger had sliced deep, was exposed, the wound a jagged crimson gash that refused to close fully despite the healers' efforts. No black markings marred her skin, but an unsettling "off" sensation lingered—a slow, creeping malaise that sapped her strength, its cause a mystery yet to be understood. The flesh around the cut was warm to the touch, yet oddly unresponsive, as if resisting the natural flow of healing, a subtle wrongness that sent a shiver through her despite the infirmary's warmth. Her Empathic Starshard rested on the table beside her, its electric-blue light dim, a quiet echo of the emotions still swirling—Kaname's concern, the healers' confusion, her own fading resolve. At sixteen, her triumph over Darius felt like a fading dream, her ambition dulled by the exhaustion and the strange lethargy seeping into her bones, a puzzle she couldn't solve. She shifted slightly, wincing as pain lanced through her side, her mind drifting to the electric arcs she'd summoned, the crowd's awe, and the fleeting pride that now seemed distant.
The head healer, an elderly woman with gnarled hands and eyes like clouded quartz, hovered over Yuki, her robes whispering against the stone floor. The fabric was embroidered with faint rose patterns that seemed to shift in the lantern light, a detail that added to the room's otherworldly feel. She muttered incantations, her fingers tracing glowing runes above the wound, a soft golden light seeping into the flesh. "The surface will mend," she said, her voice a raspy thread, "but the healing is sluggish—unusually so. I sense… something resistant, though I cannot name it." Her hands trembled slightly as she worked, a rare sign of uncertainty that deepened the room's tension. Kaname's jaw tightened, his voice low. "She took a blade last night. Will this leave her vulnerable?" The healer frowned, shaking her head. "The wound's nature is unfamiliar. We'll monitor her, but it may take days—perhaps weeks. Rest is her best ally now."
Yuki stirred, her voice weak but defiant. "I'll be fine, Kaname. I beat him—I can handle this." He knelt beside her, his tone gentle yet firm. "You nearly didn't. That wound's not normal. I'm staying until we know more." She managed a faint smile, her empathy brushing his worry, a warmth that steadied her. "Thank you… but don't hover too much," she teased, her breath hitching as pain flared. The connection through her shard felt fragile, a thread of emotion that offered comfort amidst the uncertainty, though she couldn't shake the sense that her body was betraying her resolve.
The healer shuffled to a shelf, retrieving a vial of shimmering green liquid, her movements deliberate. The shelf creaked under the weight of countless remedies, some vials pulsing with their own faint light, others coated in a fine layer of dust that spoke of forgotten cures. "This tonic may ease the strain," she offered, her gaze lingering on Yuki's wound with a furrowed brow. "But the resistance… it's as if the injury defies the magic. I've seen nothing like it." She poured the liquid into a small cup, the scent of mint and earth rising as it mixed with the air. Kaname's fists clenched, his mind drifting to the scar on his wrist, a silent echo of that lost night when flames consumed his family, his memories stolen by a force he couldn't recall. "Could it be tied to the Council?" he asked, his voice tight. The healer hesitated, her fingers pausing over the cup. "Possibly. Their influence runs deep, but this feels… older, more primal. The academy's history holds many secrets—some we've yet to unearth."
She handed the tonic to Yuki, who sipped it slowly, the cool liquid soothing her throat but doing little for the ache in her side. "It tastes like the forest after rain," she murmured, her voice softer now, "but I still feel… heavy." The healer nodded, her expression grave. "That's to be expected. Your shard's power may have amplified the injury's effects, though how, I can't say. We'll need to consult the archives—there may be records of similar cases." Kaname leaned closer, his hand resting near hers but not touching, a gesture of support tempered by restraint. "If the Council's involved, we can't trust them blindly. I'll keep watch," he said, his gaze steady. The healer sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Be cautious, boy. The walls here have ears, and not all are friendly."
The infirmary grew quieter, the distant hum of the academy fading as night deepened outside. The fractured sky cast a violet hue over the courtyard, where the roses along the infirmary walls glowed faintly, their thorns sharp against the dawn that lingered on the horizon. The petals seemed to quiver, as if stirred by an unseen breeze, adding to the room's eerie stillness. Yuki's eyes fluttered, catching a fleeting image—shadowed halls, a figure cloaked in runes—but she dismissed it as fatigue, her mind too weary to linger. She glanced at Kaname, noting the tension in his jaw, and wondered what scars he carried beyond the visible one. "You don't have to stay all night," she said, her tone gentle. "I'll be okay." He shook his head, a faint smirk breaking through. "I've faced worse than a stubborn friend. Besides, someone's got to keep the shadows at bay."
The healer returned with a thick, leather-bound tome, its pages yellowed and crackling as she turned them. "This chronicles past injuries tied to the Umbrae," she explained, her finger tracing a passage. "Some resisted healing, linked to the academy's foundations. If this is similar, it may require more than magic—perhaps a ritual or a forgotten remedy." Kaname frowned, his mind drifting to the night his family fell, the flames, the screams he couldn't remember. "A ritual?" he echoed, his voice low. "That sounds like trouble we don't need." The healer nodded. "Indeed. But until we know more, rest is your shield. I'll send for an archivist tomorrow."
The lanterns flickered, their light dancing across the walls, casting patterns that mimicked the spiral on Kaname's wrist and the runes in Yuki's vision. The air grew heavier, as if the room itself held its breath, waiting for the next revelation. Yuki closed her eyes, her breathing shallow, while Kaname remained vigilant, his worry a silent promise. The roses outside glowed brighter for a moment, then dimmed, their thorns a stark silhouette against the violet sky, hinting at a destiny neither could yet fathom.