Back in the safety of the cottage, the aftermath of the fight felt heavier than the blows themselves. "Let me clean you up," Lyra said, her voice gentle but firm. "Sit. I'll heal your arm before the swelling gets any worse." Esther sat, the shame of her failure, of endangering Lyra, a bitter taste in her mouth. Lyra returned with a damp cloth, her touch surprisingly tender as she wiped the mud from Esther's skin. A fleeting wonder crossed Esther's mind at how soft her own skin felt under Lyra's careful ministrations. "You'll have to take this off," Lyra murmured, gesturing to the sacred garments. "It all needs washing." With Lyra's help, Esther stripped down to her pink lace underwear, feeling a strange, vulnerable intimacy. As she cleaned her chest, Esther's body responded with a faint, involuntary warmth to the proximity. Now what? she thought, a silent plea to her brother. Couldn't expect to stop being an F-Rank on your first try, Elfried's familiar, cutting tone echoed in her head. It's normal to fail. The point is to learn from it. I did nothing! I almost got Lyra killed! Then go alone next time. Buy some potions. Simple. Esther saw no other way, and the cold logic of it settled uncomfortably within her. Meanwhile, Lyra, whose nipples had hardened into tight points beneath her habit from the close contact and sight of Esther's form, began to prepare for the healing, her breath shallow.
Lyra positioned herself, her hands hovering over Esther's broken arm. "Wait," Esther began, pulling back, but Lyra's other hand shot out, gripping her good arm firmly, preventing her retreat. The nun began to chant, a low, melodic prayer. To Esther's astonishment, the pain in her arm receded as the bone mended itself. But as her arm healed, she saw it: a series of dark bruises blossomed across Lyra's arms and a shallow cut opened on her cheek. Lyra bore it all without a sound, her face a mask of stoic concentration. "Thank you," Esther breathed. "I thought... I thought you'd have to take the whole injury." "A good healer knows how to fragment the damage," Lyra explained, her voice a little strained. "Spread it across the body as lesser hurts. Though it's better to use an animal to transfer the damage to another living being. We don't have that option right now." She then gestured to Esther's other arm, which was bruised and sore from blocking blows with the shield. "That one too." Esther hesitated. "You have to try again tomorrow," Lyra insisted, her gaze earnest. "You need to be at full strength." The unwavering faith in the nun's eyes touched Esther deeply, and she relented. "Let's eat to regain our strength," Lyra said, moving to heat the stew from earlier.
Esther glanced at her mud-caked clothes in a heap by the door. Hey, does this Goddess getup clean normally? she asked her brother, half-joking. When you wake up tomorrow, Elfried replied, everything will be pristine. Even what you're wearing now. Esther was genuinely surprised at how practical that was. She relayed this to Lyra, who was stirring the pot. "How do you know that?" Lyra asked, turning slowly. Esther froze, caught. Lyra's eyes were wide with wonder. "Does the Goddess... speak to you directly?" Not wanting to reveal the truth about her spirit guide, Esther simply nodded. "It's... something like that." A brilliant, faith-filled smile spread across Lyra's face. "Then I must teach you magic! If you have a direct connection, it will surely be easier for you!" Esther found herself wondering if her destiny was to be a healer, someone who could die over and over to save others from the demons, though her brother's warning about the pain of dying still echoed in her mind.
Remaining in her underwear, Esther felt more at ease in her own home. She started work on splintered shield, pleased to find it was still structurally sound, wondering if she'd need to buy something better from the blacksmith tomorrow or just rely on her dagger. Lyra, however, found it increasingly difficult to disguise her admiration. Every time Esther's back was turned, her eyes would linger on the full curve of her breasts or the rounded shape of her behind. Esther, oblivious, was focused on her tasks. "Let's sit at the table to begin your magical training," Lyra suggested, but Esther cut her off. "I'm going back to the woods tomorrow. Alone." "That's too dangerous!" Lyra protested. "No," Esther said, deciding on a partial truth. "It's hard for me to die. The Goddess told me so. But I won't risk you again." Lyra reluctantly accepted.
Lyra finally relented, though her concern was a palpable thing in the small room. "Very well. Then I will go into the village tomorrow to find some small animals for the transference. And I will prepare food for your return, so you may regain your strength." Esther nodded, grateful. "And I'll buy some potions. Just in case." With their plan for the next day settled, Lyra gestured to the table. "Come. Let us begin your training. Hold out your hand and gather your mana, make it visible." Esther closed her eyes, focusing. In her cupped palm, a faint, barely-there shimmer of pale blue light appeared, weak and wavering like a distant star. Lyra held out her own hand, and a much brighter, more solid orb of cerulean light bloomed, a visible, thick layer of energy that coated her skin. "With this amount," Lyra explained gently, "you can only heal the most minor of wounds, and likely only once before you are exhausted. It is not yet enough for a true healer, but your power will grow. We must start now, for it will take time."
"For today," Lyra continued, "we will only practice control. Tomorrow, I will bring an animal, and you can attempt a true healing." The effort of even that small display of mana had drained Esther more than she cared to admit. "I'm going to sleep," she said, her words heavy with fatigue. She looked at the spot on the floor where Lyra had slept the night before. "But you can't keep sleeping there. We're friends. You don't have to do that." A deep blush spread across Lyra's cheeks, but she nodded silently. Hesitantly, she slipped into the narrow bed beside Esther, her body rigid. For the embarrassed nun, sleep was a long way off. She didn't dare turn to face Esther, nor did she dare turn her back, so she lay perfectly still, caught in the middle of the small bed, hyper-aware of the warm body so close to her own.