Seraphina Valdris did not flinch.
That alone told me more about her than any medical reading could.
Most people instinctively reacted to heat—jerking away, gasping, tensing. She didn't. She stood perfectly still, chin lifted, silver lashes casting shadows over eyes that revealed nothing about her feelings.
But her breath had changed.
It was shallow now. Controlled, as if she were counting each inhale and exhale to maintain control over her body.
"That sensation," she said quietly, "should not be possible."
"The curse suppresses sensation," I replied. "Not perfectly. Just enough that most stimuli never register."
My hand remained at her wrist, warmth flowing steadily. The glow was faint but persistent, pulsing gently beneath her pale skin. Frost patterns along her fingers dulled, the edges softening as if thawed by an unseen sun.
"This is the first time in years," she continued, her voice steady despite the tension in her shoulders, "that I have felt anything like… heat."
I nodded, focusing on the diagnostic sense. The curse was unlike anything I'd encountered before—layered, adaptable, and old enough that it felt settled. Like it believed it belonged there.
Permafrost Heart wasn't killing her quickly.
It was patient.
"Your body is responding," I said. "That's what matters."
"And the curse?" she asked.
"Resisting," I answered honestly. "Actively."
The warmth met a wall of cold deeper within her, a pressure that pushed back against the flow of healing. It wasn't violent. It was stubborn, enduring.
I eased the flow, careful not to overwhelm her.
[Patient Receptiveness: 14%]
[Curse Integrity: 98%]
[Status: Sensory Suppression Weakening]
Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly as the system feedback flickered in my awareness.
"You're thinking," she said.
"Yes."
"About how difficult this will be."
"Yes."
She exhaled slowly. "I appreciate your honesty."
That surprised me.
Most nobles expected reassurance, confidence, promises.
She expected truth.
"I need you to sit," I said gently. "Standing forces your body to maintain control. That makes the curse stronger."
She hesitated.
Just for a heartbeat—but I felt it. The instinctive resistance. The reflexive refusal to appear vulnerable.
Then she moved.
She sat on the edge of the treatment bed with rigid posture, hands folded neatly in her lap.
"Better?" she asked coolly.
"Better," I confirmed.
I adjusted my position, stepping closer without touching her again just yet. The glow dimmed slightly as contact broke, then steadied at a low hum beneath my skin.
"I'm going to increase the stimulation gradually," I said. "Your curse reacts violently to sudden changes. If I push too hard, it will lock down entirely."
"And if you don't push hard enough?" she asked.
"Then nothing changes."
She studied me for a long moment, searching for something—hesitation, perhaps. Discomfort. Fear.
Whatever she sought, she didn't find it.
"Proceed," she said.
I placed my hand against her forearm again, this time allowing more intent into the touch. Not aggressive. Not hesitant. Purposeful.
Her reaction was immediate.
A sharp intake of breath. Her fingers twitched once before stilling.
[Patient Receptiveness: 19%]
The frost along her skin cracked—audibly.
She froze.
"Did you hear that?" she asked quietly.
"Yes," I said. "That was the outer suppression layer fracturing."
For the first time, uncertainty crept into her expression.
"You mean… this isn't just discomfort?"
"No," I replied. "It's progress."
The warmth spread slowly up her arm now, no longer confined to the point of contact. I could feel the curse reacting, pulling inward, tightening its hold around her core.
Seraphina's composure wavered.
Her breathing grew uneven, shoulders lifting slightly with each inhale.
"This sensation," she said through clenched teeth, "is… distracting."
I kept my voice calm. "That's because your body isn't used to responding anymore. You've been numb for so long that normal feedback feels overwhelming."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I do not appreciate being out of control."
"I know," I said quietly.
I moved my hand slightly, adjusting the angle, allowing warmth to flow more evenly. The glow brightened a fraction.
[Patient Receptiveness: 23%]
[Curse Integrity: 96%]
Seraphina let out a sharp breath.
Her gaze snapped to mine, eyes flashing. "Do not look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you can see through me."
I met her gaze evenly. "I can see the curse. Not you."
That seemed to unsettle her more than anything else.
Silence stretched between us, thick and charged.
After a moment, she spoke again—quieter this time.
"How long?"
"How long for what?"
"How long until this curse is gone?" she asked.
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Months. Possibly longer."
Her jaw tightened. "I don't have years."
"You don't need them," I said. "The curse won't kill you quickly. But it will continue to take pieces of you unless we intervene."
She looked away.
For just a second, the ice cracked enough to reveal something beneath—fear, sharp and well-hidden.
"I will do whatever is required," she said. "Within reason."
"Define reason," I asked gently.
Her lips curved in a humorless smile. "That remains to be seen."
I eased the warmth back slightly, allowing her to acclimate. The glow dimmed but didn't vanish.
"This is enough for today," I said after a moment. "Any further and your body will start resisting again."
She frowned. "Already?"
"Yes," I said firmly. "Forcing it would be counterproductive."
Reluctantly, she nodded.
I withdrew my hand completely.
The warmth faded, leaving behind a faint residual glow beneath her skin—like embers banked under ash.
She flexed her fingers slowly, watching them with quiet intensity.
"I can still feel it," she said. "Even without your touch."
"That's the goal," I replied. "Restored baseline sensation."
She stood, smoothing her uniform with practiced precision.
"How often?" she asked.
"Once a week to start," I said. "More frequent sessions once your tolerance improves."
She considered this, then nodded once.
"Very well."
She turned to leave, then paused with her hand on the door.
"Theo Ashford," she said without looking back.
"Yes?"
"If you speak of this—of what I felt—to anyone…"
"I won't," I said immediately. "Confidentiality is absolute."
She inclined her head slightly. "Good."
Then she left.
The door closed softly behind her.
I exhaled and leaned back against the treatment bed, rubbing my temples.
[Session Complete]
[Minor Progress Achieved]
[Stamina -5]
[Curse Analysis Updated]
The system's feedback was subdued but clear.
This curse would not be broken quickly.
But it could be broken.
Outside the clinic, voices murmured. Footsteps paused, lingered, and then moved on.
By the end of the day, everyone in the academy would know that the Duke's daughter had visited the Pleasure Healer.
And by the end of the week, half of them would want to know why.
I closed my eyes briefly, letting fatigue wash over me.
One patient healed.
One curse weakened.
And a storm quietly gathered beyond the walls of my little clinic.