The day she heals her familiar—I'll kill her, for that is her respite.
Those words rang in her mind. What can I do? Nothing. If fate was absolute, then Ilona was right.
It had been two hours since Iris locked herself in that room. Diantha was oh so tempted to open the door and take a peek, but she heeded Ilona’s warning. She sighed as she paced at the foot of the stairs. What was Iris doing? After another hour, her patience ran out, and she approached the door. Hesitantly, she touched the cold knob and twisted it, but no click—Empty silence—a spell to silence the screams. Diantha went in.
Her entire being shook, her eyes involuntarily spanned. She remembered this feeling well. The black filth was acid for her. She held her breath and forced her eyes open, tearing up from the rancid smell that almost had a physical presence. Iris was in a puddle of black blood, mummified as the filth on her skin began to dry. Diantha’s throat hitched.
No…! Her mind screamed at Iris’s state.
She did not approach her. It would do no good. The black blood would melt her before she could even touch her. She was still unsure how big of a deal surviving was. If she called a healer and somehow it got out. There would be another mess to take care of. So, calling Ilona was the best choice.
…
Ilona lifted off the almost dead, swollen body, which still held on to life. Diantha also called in Natasha, the healer Iris met on her first day, to check her condition. A few bones in her rib cage were broken. Natasha cleaned off her body and lay her down on the bed.
Diantha found Iris’s web bandage on the bed and wrapped it around her chest. Her whole body was puffy, especially her eyes, and soft as if a single nail could slit open her. Ilona’s stature visibly deflated when she saw Iris's eyes. Red and puffy, with the web stitched tightly—forcibly shut.
Her room, with the top floor, was practically unstandable. The smell was revolting, reaching even the lower levels. Diantha ordered Viktor to clean out the mess, which was carried out elegantly, and before dawn, the mansion was back to normal.
With nothing tangible to help Iris, Ilona left first. She couldn’t bear the sight of Iris. Natasha followed Ilona, worried still but knowing she had nothing to offer. “Don’t let anyone know of this situation,” Diantha said as Natasha left.
It would take days to heal, and hiding from Hecate and Ianthe for that time was impossible. They already asked about Iris twice during the night. Hiding her until she recovered wasn’t possible.
“A…a.a..” Diantha turned. Iris was shaking—her mouth was open wide to breathe, her body trying to solve, and then she fell limp, like a marionette cut off from its string. Diantha sighed. There was nothing she could help with. And the words of Ilona only made her feel even more guilty. Her fate would only worsen if she lived. Diantha looked at her body, begging for a release. Nothing, she could do nothing.
“What will you say to lessen her suffering?” Ilona’s question. Diantha had no answer for it. What was the reason Iris would live for?
Early in the morning, the first lightning struck the forest around Lancaster’s estate, followed by rain and high winds.
“A death storm,” Diantha mumbled under her breath. She walked out of the room, and then, out of the mansion, through the compound to Ilona’s tower. Not to meet Ilona but other Mage who excelled in long-range casting and barrier formation. She needed to surround the city with a barrier and get a reading on the coming storm. The city could be under lockdown for weeks to come.
Iris had let out an enormous amount of raw mana at once, ousting the mana in the environment and changing the density. Even if by 0.001%, a storm would be born. A death storm, it was called, for the death it left in its wake was innumerable. She would need to evacuate every nearby village and small town, hoping their homes would survive and medium or large towns could erect a barrier without her help.
“I’ll take care of the storm. You need not be worried,” Ilona said. She was in the hall, reading a book, most likely a story.
Diantha held her tongue. She would’ve outright refused it, having the help of an outsider was detrimental in the long run. Only by experiencing and solving situations on her own would she learn to be able to lead this kingdom to betterment. But she needed time; Iris was one thing, and then there was also the death of knights. She needed to have an honourable funeral for their end and offer time for their mourning family, both of which she could not do in the storm.
“Thank you,” Diantha said, with a graceful bow. Her hair slid off her shoulder and dangled in front of her. It was messy! She overlooked her appearance. Did anyone see her like this? She needed to leave, hopefully without being spotted. “I’ll take my leave,” Diantha said, her voice level.
“Try not to trip, for it would be a mortifying spectacle to witness the Grand Duchess of the Broken Empire slipping,” Ilona chuckled.
Diantha was too narrowed in on her undetected escape to heed her words. Still, tripping was something that Diantha never did; even as a toddler, she was too smart to tumble. Her streak, fortunately, was safe for one more day.
She returned to her room and got ready for the next day. With her hair calm and dark bags hidden under makeup, she was prepared to work another day. Of course, there was little she could do to hide the red eyes. People have gotten used to it and never asked.
Diantha opened the door to Iris’s room.
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“Diantha…?” It was Iris’s voice—frail and hoarse, barely above a whisper. Diantha’s heart tightened hearing her.
“It’s me,” Diantha said as she approached her bed. “Can you not see?"
After a long pause, Iris replied, "No, my mana... I cannot absorb mana for twenty-four hours from the time, I repel it out of my body. I do not see anything." Diantha could feel the turmoil she was going through. Her instinct screamed at her to hold Iris, tell her—it was alright. No one would be here. She didn’t. She was afraid of hurting her.
Diantha stared at her recovering body. Her chest was fine now. “Your body... it will take a long time to heal. I mean, the rest of your body has… swollen." Diantha sighed. She lacked a better word to say it. Her body was what a body left underwater for a time would look like. Her face was no better; she would not even recognize her without her eye stitches and hair. It was a round mass of skin, and her words were barely intelligible.
If the only way to heal her was to use this small piece of cloth, it would take weeks. Diantha did not understand how Iris survived in Labyrinth under these conditions. She was barely able to move without mana. She was in no condition to hold the cloth, let alone heal herself.
“This will naturally regress as my mana returns. It is not an injury but what my body becomes without mana. A wretched hatchling, a half-step spirit. Humans cannot become spirits nor sustain themselves on mana. I am a living abomination who does both to survive." Even in the barely above-whispered horse voice, Diantha could feel how much she loathed herself. She did not dare to hug her. It might hurt her.
“We all do everything to live; such is the philosophy of humans.” Diantha immediately regretted her words. She was saying Iris did not need to feel guilty and self-depreciate herself. Her words were failing her.
“Haha, live… I so dearly wish to live that I would crawl out of hell to do it." Her body visibly shook in rage. Diantha did not say anything. Iris slowly calmed down. “I’m sorry, it’s just so painful, I want to end it. Nothing is worth this pain.” Her voice broke. She cried, which was hard to tell due to her state. But the blood flooding from her eyes was an indication enough.
“...” Diantha again failed to find the words to console her. Was there something that would make her feel less pain? Winny, of course. She was curled up to the right side of her head. Dantha sat on the left side and gently patted her head. “I’m sorry... if only I had a way to lessen your pain."
“There is; I just need to hold onto life until Winny is back to herself and healed. After that, I can end this pain. Just a little longer... that’s what I say every time, and it becomes unbearable every time. I…” Iris did not continue.
She was asleep or passed out after expanding all her energy. Diantha looked up and saw Ianthe peeking in. Of course, she forgot to have guards in front of Iris’s room. There was no security inside this mansion. Only servants.
Diantha silently walked out and saw Ianthe standing frozen at her stop. Was she scary? Or this fear was instilled by Isolde. Diantha sometimes had a hard time believing in variety in humans. Someone capable of treating other humans worse than animals, others weeping seeing an animal hurt. She wondered what shaped their morality. Or were they born with it?
“Ianthe,” she gulped as Diantha called her name. “Did you hear what Iris said just now?” Diantha softly asked as she gestured away from the door and stepped out. She was too lost in Iris to pay attention to Ianthe. She was mentally stronger of the three, at least, Diantha thought so
“N-no, I was searching for her and saw you on the bed. That was Iris?” Ianthe said in a horror-stricken voice.
“She was. Leave her be, and she would be back to herself by the evening. I have to attend the funeral ceremony—I can trust you’ll stop Hecate from peeking inside."
“I can try,” Ianthe replied, unsurely. Diantha smiled. She needed to take care of the funeral and check on Iris. She could ask Natasha or Ilona to take a look at her. But she was far too vulnerable to have a stranger like Natasha or Ilona, whom Iris feared. Even she was too much for Iris right now.
Most of the preparations were done by Viktor. She just needed to be present. The ceremony was quiet. The storm that never reached them only served to add to the somber air. Diantha had expected grieving mothers to blame her, but they all just cried; she did too with them, but she did not show her tears. She alone was to blame for this situation. She made a hasty decision, and everyone paid the price.
It was evening when the graveyard emptied. She stood a minute alone in front of the knight who was with her on the night of cleansing.
Diantha returned to check on Iris, but she was still asleep. Hecate wished her a good day, a little late, but it made her happy, all the same. She left the mansion and visited the hospital. To check the conditions of the knight who made it alive. The first person she met was Clara, who was ashamed to have lost so easily. Diantha assured her it was alright. So did every other knight, and Diantha was not surprised. They were hard-working and responsible.
Finally, she arrived at Jasper’s room.
“My lady…” Jasper hissed in pain as he tried to stand up. He was on his bed, his stomach covered in bandages. “Forvige my shameful display, My Lady."
“It is alright, don’t move. I am not here for courtesies,” Diantha sat on the chair beside the patient's bed. “How do you feel?” Diantha knew the answer; it was the obligatory “Ashamed”, like everyone else.
“That I know very well; other than that, how is recovery going?"
“I should be up and about on another day... I shall be playing violin again as soon as I sit again."
“And…”
“It's frustrating... being shown how powerless I am every single time I stand against an opponent,” Jasper's hand clenched on the duvet laid upon him. “I wish I was not a unique class, a worthless class, but a fighter or even an assassin, then I could’ve been far better of service than a measly musician.” His voice was filled—with frustration and self-loathing.
“I’m sorry…” Diantha muttered. Again, another wrong decision she made. She should’ve denied his request to join the operation, but she couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say no to his heartfelt plea. She should've become cold-hearted.
“It’s not your fault; I am the one who is weak,” Jasper replied. He closed his eyes and sighed. He had a past that he regretted, just like everyone else she knew.
“I am grateful that you’re a musician; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to take care of business, the state, and my people. Strength isn’t everything.” Even if every weak person’s face would be smothered by their powerlessness, He still had strength, compared to a non-mage like her. Everyone she was surrounded by could kill her with a snap of their finger, and still, she never complained about it. Because she accepted her limitations and did what she could. Today, however, every person she saw only reminded her how insignificant she was. Nothing, she could do, after making a decision that led to hundreds of deaths. She could do nothing for Hecate. Neither could she do anything for Iris.
Jeremiah was not in the hospital but in his own home. So was Felix. Which was alarming, but it was ten already. She decided to visit them tomorrow. She returned to the mansion and lost herself in paperwork. First, the list of complaints and improvements for her estate, and then the business that would pay the emperor the tribute he demanded every new year. There were three meetings, a count would visit her in a week from Emberstone territory, and then—Diantha sighed. She missed the deadline to send Fia the price for offering help that once. A crystal, aerate-stone that could only be excavated from the mines in Gracia.