"Turn her around."

The voice sounded far, far away, and Amy didn't respond to it. It was as if it came from another world. Or rather, it was almost as if it was part of her imagination.

It didn't affect her at all.

Because she couldn't take her eyes off Christina, who was foaming at the mouth... slightly tinged with red.

From Christina, who was dying in her arms.

Yes, that was what she had to focus on, not that strange noise that could really be anything.

Nothing was more important than this.

Desmond was out of control, he was in pain, but Christina was in agony.

And she didn't know what she could do. There was nothing… Nothing she could do for her, really. She knew an affinity-independent healing spell. But like all affinity-independent magic, it was basic stuff, not overly powerful. Even if she tried to apply it on Christina she wouldn't get anywhere with it. It wouldn't be able to heal her internal damage.

Blood. Blood in the froth, she thought.

"Turn her around!"

Amy emerged from the depths of her thoughts as if she had been dreaming. Suddenly and violently, in other words.

Shaking from head to toe.

Turn her around.

Turn her around. To what... to...?

Oh.

Oh right, right, she should have figured it out without anyone having to say anything to her, how stupid, how could she be so stupid.

Amy turned Christina around, to keep her from choking on the foam.

Or with her own blood.

What about now?

Good question. Amy had turned her around, keeping her from drowning. But that wouldn't stop her from dying.

She would die anyway. She needed help.

Medical attention.

She had to call for help.

"I need you to focus," Abigail said, from the bed where she and Desmond had slept together, holding her protégé in her arms as he writhed and screamed and his wings expanded and contracted as if to the rhythm of his agitated heartbeat.

Abigail was telling her that she needed him to focus.

Yet she herself was only able to think of the person in her arms.

She herself must have known that Amy wasn't capable of focusing. That there was no such possibility. No, rather, she was focused.

She was focused on what mattered.

She loved Desmond, but they could deal with that later.

Right now it was Christina who desperately needed help.

She would carry her.

Carrying her, she would go to the nearest hospital. Or to the palace. The princess's personal doctors.

Amy was going to carry her, but....

"I'll take care of her. Of both of them. You have to go downstairs, now."

"Why?" she asked, pausing.

"Didn't you hear it? That sound? They've forced open the doors. They've broken in, and soon they'll be here. I need you to come down and protect us from all intruders."

From the people who had followed them home during the day.

This must be them.

Now that Abigail said it, she thought she heard... footsteps, downstairs. But still...

What was going on, anyway?

What the hell was happening to Desmond, and why was Christina in this state?

Maybe the intruders had the answer. And the solution.

Now that she thought about it, it was a little too convenient that a situation like this had arisen. They... had surely provoked it. Hadn't they?

If they were stopped, then...

"Are you listening to me?"

"Okay," Amy said, getting up. "Wait. Why? You're so much stronger. And, not to mention…"

"Because I need to be here to calm him down, only I can do that! Your friend is like this because of what's happening to Desmond. She had a reaction to it. So it's up to me…"

"No need to say more." After a last glance at Christina, Amy crossed the threshold of the room.

"One last thing."

Amy turned her head, gritting her teeth. First she rushed her, now she was stopping her. She wanted him to move as she pleased, huh?

"What?" Amy answered sharply.

"Don't die," Abigail said, "If you die, I'll never forgive you."

But not because her survival mattered to the woman in the least, of course. But because of how her death would affect Desmond.

Amy snorted, turning away again.

"I have no intention of dying. "Saying this, sword in hand, Amy descended the stairs to meet the enemy.

Yes, she wouldn't die. She wasn't going to die here.

If Amy was going to die this way, why had she been allowed to survive again and again? Why on earth had she come this far?

Amy believed in the gods, as most people did.

She believed in the gods and their will, or in other words, fate. Even if they were forces beyond human control and understanding, Amy at least knew this.

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It wouldn't make sense for her path to end here. There were still things she needed to do.

After descending the stairs, she made her way toward the living room with slow, careful steps. Eyes wide open, ears alert.

Because she needed to.

The intruders had forced their way in noisily, letting them know they were there. But now there was only darkness and... Not silence.

Not exactly. But all she could hear were Desmond's screams, the flapping wings, and the house.... The wood screeching, as if the whole house was going to come down.

They weren't letting themselves be seen, at the moment.

In the middle of a situation like this, it would be hard for anyone to notice the presence of their enemies.

She didn't have particularly keen senses like Desmond.

But she would manage.

She would kill them. She would kill them all for what they had done, whether it was a single intruder or a few dozen of them.

They decided to reveal themselves at last.

They rushed at her from the darkness, half a dozen of them, at least.

The edge of their daggers and their golden masks glinting in the moonlight.

Amy didn't move from her position.

Amy solidified her stance, preparing for battle.

I'm not going to die here!

And I won't let you lay a finger on the people most important to me! This ends here.

——

Things had gone awry again in a very short time.

The princess had promised them protection. However, not much had changed. They were being attacked in their own home, in the middle of the night, by people who wanted to capture her at all costs.

They had gone from the heart of one Empire to the other.

However, not much had changed. As she had said.

Not much, or maybe a lot, but not enough, in any case. On top of that, Desmond was in this state and Christina was most likely dying.

Still, Abigail couldn't help but smile.

She had been disappointed, crushingly so, when Desmond's transformation came to an abrupt halt before reaching its climax.

Before he obtained a body capable of accepting the curse of immortality.

To have so close to what she sought, what she had sought for so long, only to see it snatched away had been almost too much. She had almost gone mad, truly mad.But she had not lost her last chance. Simply put, the transformation had been postponed. And now it was continuing.

She had told Amy that Christina was being affected by what Desmond was going through, and that only she could bring Desmond back under control by stopping that. Both of these things were true. Facts, not mere assumptions. What Desmond was going through, she knew from the first instant. As for Christina, his boy had told him the girl's secret.

That shadow magic allowed her to feel other people's feelings as if they were her own. So, being struck by Desmond's feelings as she went through this, she had reacted this way. Inevitably. Even Desmond hadn't been prepared for this. And Christina, as extraordinary as her magic was (an anomaly only a few hundred years old), had a human body.

She was vulnerable, like any other human being.

Abigail wouldn't be surprised if she died, really. Not one bit. Abigail watched her, trying to soothe her child with rubs, caresses and whispers. Whispers about what the boy needed to keep in mind, if he wanted to get out of that hole.

What mattered to him. Reasons to fight.

Her, but not just her.

She made sure to remind him of all that was at stake. She felt threatened by Amy and Christina, sometimes. But that didn't mean Abigail could put them aside right now. They were good for him. Besides, at the end of the day, she was the most important person to Desmond.

They weren't just words. Abigail knew she was number one.

As she should be.

And for that very reason, it was in her best interest that Christina didn't die. Desmond wouldn't take it well. It would be too hard for him.

Her hands were tied. Her options were limited, and none of them were good. As usual, but hey.... Desmond's experience was to blame for Christina's condition.

However, Christina hadn't been overwhelmed and overcome until she entered the room they shared.

Until she was exposed to that surge of dark feelings up close.

It wasn't one hundred percent certain, but following that logic, if Abigail got her out of the room she should get better. There were two main drawbacks to that idea, however. The most important thing for her was that she didn't want to leave Desmond alone and vulnerable. But she could put that selfish feeling aside temporarily, for the sake of protecting her child; protecting Christina was an extension of that.

The second thing was that putting Christina in another room would leave her vulnerable. If Amy failed (she didn't want to think about that right now, even), then Christina would be left vulnerable.

It was possible that they would cut her throat before they came for them. But that wasn't all.

Desmond's transformation was getting more and more intense. At this rate, as long as Christina was in the house, she would eventually be exposed to Desmond's feelings again. To his pain and suffering.

That was assuming, first of all, that it would be enough to separate her from Desmond to stop something that had already been set in motion.

And?

It seemed simple. It seemed her only other option was to stand idly by, but it wasn't that simple. Moving Christina to another room would waste valuable time. Seconds. A single second could determine the difference between life and death.

Whereas, if she focused on stopping this, maybe those seconds would make all the difference that nothing else could.

Maybe that way she'd get to save Christina.

One way or another, she had to make a decision quickly. Or time would decide for her.

In the end...

"Don't worry, Desmond. I'll be back soon."

She decided to act.

Abigail got out of bed and took Christina in her arms, lifting her up. After Amy left, Christina had moved again, in an involuntary reaction to the experience she was undergoing. Spasmodic tremors. But fortunately, she hadn't moved in a way that would cause her to choke on her own blood.

She'd make sure she didn't end up drowning, when she'd drop her off in the nearest room.

They left the room.

Behind her, a piece of the ceiling creaked once again, only this time it couldn't take it. The piece of the ceiling fell, raising a large cloud of dust, shaking the floor. Causing it to sink downward.

At least it didn't break, creating a big hole in the floor. That would have been problematic. A direct entry, quicker and easier, for the attackers.

Abigail kicked open the door to the nearest room.

She placed Christina against the wall and put a pillow between her and the wall. She realized that wouldn't be enough to keep her still. Of course. Was she panicking? She, who always managed to think with a cool head and free of fear?

She was too excited about the 'prize' that was approaching, that she could almost touch with her fingertips.

She shook her head. Focus.

Abigail couldn't waste too much time with Christina—how to make sure the girl, whom she needed, didn't choke?

Maybe it would have been better to leave her in the room, close to her and Desmond, after all.

Maybe, but...

What's done is done.

She looked around, searching for something in the room to tie her up with or whatever. Anything. Abigail wasn't thinking clearly. The excitement wouldn't let her. If she'd been thinking clearly, maybe she wouldn't have moved the girl in the first place.

Even if she found, say, a rope and tied her...to the bed or somewhere, that wouldn't stop her from possibly turning around.

If she was unconscious, that would be another thing. Abigail could leave her here and cross her fingers, hoping everything would be all right. But Christina was conscious and moving constantly. Regardless, Abigail had to get back to Desmond fast. She was happy. More than that, she was ecstatic.

However, if the situation continued like this, the house would eventually come down on them. Literally.

Abigail had to go back and help him get it under control.

A piece of the ceiling had fallen in. Come to think of it... After that, returning her to the room was no better option than leaving her here, without any safety net.

Abigail took a deep breath.

... It was as if she had forgotten. That on many occasions, there was no good decision. Just a series of bad choices. Yes. She was well aware of that. She'd lived for too long, after all.

"I'm sorry, Christina. Good luck."

After saying that, and making sure she was well"placed (at least for the moment), she turned and left without looking back.

On her way to her and Desmond's room, she heard it.

She heard the fight downstairs start at last. It seemed to her that it had been an eternity since she had woken up hearing Desmond screaming. But in reality, it had been no more than a few minutes.

Good luck to you both, she rectified herself.