Caleb’s gaze softened as he caught the glimmer of a tear in Celestia’s eye. Concern flared in him, but it quickly hardened, morphing into a severe frown. “My Lady… have you even tried to heal yourself? Can you at least attempt a basic healing on one of those cuts?” His voice was level but sharp as if reprimanding a reckless novice rather than an accomplished diver.

Celestia’s eyes dropped, avoiding his gaze. She raised her left hand over a deeper gash on her right arm, muttering the familiar words of a healing spell. But as her mana rose, it flickered like a dying flame, sputtering out before it could weave fully around her wound. She hissed in pain, pulling her hand away as the tips of her fingers turned a sickly black before returning to normal. A sudden wave of nausea crashed over her, intensifying the dull, ever-present headache that haunted her days.

“I… I know what I’m doing, my Lord. I’m a decent swordswoman, but…” Her voice wavered as she clutched her head, closing her eyes briefly. “Right now, I can barely even call myself a mage. I understand the risks, but I have no choice. You wouldn’t understand.”

Caleb’s jaw tightened as he observed her, noticing the battered armor, the exhausted slump of her shoulders, and the anxious energy radiating from her. “How long has this been happening, Lady Pendragon?” His voice was tense with a mixture of exasperation and something deeper, almost protective. He could scarcely believe that an experienced diver like her would plunge into the depths alone in this condition.

“I don’t care how skilled you are. What you’re doing is reckless—foolish, even,” he growled, irritation seeping through his formal tone.

Celestia’s eyes snapped to his, her gaze sharp. “Of course, my Lord. Forgive my insolence for trying to take charge of my curse,” she spat bitterly. Gathering her scattered concentration, she focused again on the spell. Her mana surged, black sparks crackling ominously around her wound. The pain was like a knife twisting in her flesh, her hand jerking back as a dark, trembling aura rose from the wound.

“Is that what you wanted to see, Lord Nightglen? That I am reckless?” she bit out, her voice breaking as anger shimmered in her eyes, tears she barely contained blurring her vision. “You couldn’t understand,” she whispered hoarsely, “the need to find what’s lost… to remember.”

Caleb’s hand flexed, his fingers clenching tightly as he absorbed her words, a tangled knot of concern and anger twisting inside him. “You’re risking everything… for what?” His voice was rough, laced with frustration. “To relive memories of a past you can’t even grasp anymore?”

She turned away from him, anger and despair radiating from her. With a hand gesture, she threw open her notebook and tossed it at him. The pages fell open, and the words scrawled in a frenzied hand caught his eye—Cursed. The word repeated again and again, etched onto every line of the worn pages.

“I know it’s reckless, Lord Nightglen! I know it’s insane to go alone. But this… curse… it’s eating me alive! I wake up, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Her voice dropped, shaking with the pent-up anguish she could no longer hold back. “Voices whispering in the shadows, this constant burning under my skin, a watchful eye that’s never there, draining me every day, taunting me… the 10th Level was the last place I was whole! And I’m going back… I have to go back!”

The force of her words was a blow to Caleb’s chest, leaving him stunned. His eyes held a glint of horror as he took in the desperation scrawled across her face, the haunted look that even her fury couldn’t conceal. “The 10th Level…” he echoed softly. “You think you’ll find answers there?”

Celestia’s voice rose in fury, a raw edge cutting through her words. “Yes! The last time I could heal, remember… feel normal… was down there. But what good is that?” Her face twisted with bitterness. “Who would trust a cursed woman, especially one as reckless as I am?”

A pang of guilt struck Caleb as he heard her words, images of the past swirling in his mind. He saw his assistant pushing her down the stairs, the scornful, dismissive look he’d thrown her way. She’d come seeking help, and all he’d given was a laugh and a refusal. The weight of his actions pressed on him, filling him with regret. “I didn’t mean for… I never wanted that to happen, Lady Pendragon,” he murmured, his voice strained. “I was only trying to…”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

“Help?” She laughed, a cold, joyless sound. “A funny way of showing it. Instead, you humiliated me. When I came to you, desperate, seeking a way out… you dismissed me like a bothersome fly.”

Caleb’s gaze dropped, shame seeping into his expression as he watched her slump, beads of sweat glistening on her forehead. Kneeling beside her, he hesitated, his fingers brushing her forehead, feeling the feverish heat radiating from her skin.

“Lady Pendragon… let me help you now.” His voice softened as he reached for her shoulder, worry shadowing his gaze. “How did you… how did you end up cursed?”

Celestia exhaled, her exhaustion clear as she stared at the ground, almost ashamed. “A mistake. I don’t even know why or how, but I live with it every day.” She paused her voice barely above a whisper, raw with hopelessness that struck Caleb to his core. “You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered, “what it’s like to be haunted, every step, every moment… seeing shadows dance in your vision, feeling eyes watching you, listening to voices whispering… all the time.” She met his gaze, her eyes full of torment. “No one can lift this curse. Not me. Not even you.”

Caleb’s heart twisted as he watched her, his hand lingering on her shoulder. “Please… let me try to help. Not the curse, I promise. Just… let me heal your wounds.”

Celestia closed her eyes, her resistance waning as she acknowledged her need for help, even if it was from him. “Alright…” she whispered. “But just the wounds.”

Nodding, he gently placed his hands over her wounds, his magic seeping through his fingers in a warm, green glow. “Hold still,” he murmured, his voice softer, steadier now. Her breath slowed, her muscles unwinding under the gentle warmth, and he felt a sense of quiet relief as her injuries closed, her pallor gradually easing.

Her eyes fluttered open, her expression softening as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice faint. Caleb offered her a small, tired smile, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment before he pulled it away.

In the quiet that settled between them, she met his gaze again. “I wasn’t… I was never angry with you,” she admitted, her voice carrying a rare, vulnerable sincerity.

Caleb blinked, her words catching him off guard. “Never… angry?” he repeated, studying her face in the dim light. For the first time, he felt a strange heat rise to his cheeks as her eyes traced his features, lingering on the patch over his right eye, his golden gaze still faintly illuminated with his magic.

A silence stretched between them as the weight of her words settled, a fragile moment of understanding passing between them.

As the silence between them lingered, Caleb shifted, a hint of hesitation crossing his expression. His gaze dropped to her hands, resting lightly in her lap, the faint traces of blackened magic still lingering on her fingertips. He reached out, a glimmer of uncertainty in his usually confident golden eye, before carefully lifting her hand and examining it.

“Your magic,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper, “the way it falters… it isn’t just exhaustion, is it?”

Celestia’s gaze fell, a shadow crossing her face as she pulled her hand back slightly, though not enough to escape his gentle grasp. “No,” she replied, her voice laden with a tired bitterness. “Every spell, every breath—it’s all… tainted now.” Her fingers trembled in his hands, and a hint of anguish glinted in her violet eyes as she finally met his gaze again.

Caleb’s grip tightened just slightly, as though trying to anchor her in that moment, to ground the frayed edges of her spirit. “You don’t have to bear this alone,” he murmured, the weight of the words settling between them. “Sometimes… we all need a tether.”

Celestia’s breath caught, her eyes widening at his words. For a fleeting moment, she felt the warmth of his concern seeping through the barrier she had so carefully built. Yet, a flicker of resistance returned to her expression as she pulled back her hand, settling herself more rigidly against the cool stone behind her.

“I’ve been alone long enough, my lord,” she replied, her voice edged with a fragility that contradicted her steady gaze. “It’s all I know now.”

Caleb watched her for a moment longer, his eyes searching, before finally nodding, a resigned softness overtaking his expression. And yet, he couldn’t help himself from adding, almost as an afterthought, “For what it’s worth, Lady Pendragon… the burden you carry is not invisible.”

He offered a small, almost wistful smile, then glanced away, stirring the fire to fill the quiet that had settled once more.