Warmth.
Heavy blankets. The smell of medicinal herbs.
My eyes opened to a white ceiling and bright lamplight. I was in the infirmary.
My body hurts everywhere. Bandages crossed my arms all the way to the shoulders. My fingertips were wrapped. My chest was tight with gauze and disinfectant. Someone did it all of it while I was out.
I turned my head slightly. Damian sat in a chair beside the bed, elbows on his knees, his head in his hands eyes sunken like he hadn't slept at all. Nox was leaning against the far wall with his arms crossed, looking irritated but somehow… quieter than usual.
The moment Damian noticed me move, he shot up from the chair like he'd been electrocuted.
"You're awake," he breathed, voice rough with relief. "Thank the gods."
I groaned. "Stop looking at me like I just died."
"You nearly did," he snapped, then caught himself, exhaling to calm down. "Do you have any idea how close your body was to nerve damage? You were hypothermic. Your hands were—" His voice cracked as he looked at my bandaged wrists.
Nox clicked his tongue from the corner. Yet he looked relieved.
Damian rubbed his face with both hands. "You are not moving from this bed until I allow it. And that is final."
"I feel disgusting."
"You can feel disgusting while resting."
I tried to sit up, and he immediately put a hand on my shoulder.
"No."
"But—"
"No." His voice was firm, almost gentle, but not giving an inch. "You're staying right here until you can move without bleeding," he said dryly, pulling a blanket higher around me. "Rest."
"You don't have to stay."
"I'm not leaving." His tone didn't rise; "Not until I know you're safe."
There was an uncomfortable silence. I hated how warm it felt.
I turned my face toward the wall. "Do whatever you want."
I heard him sit down in the chair again. A soft exhale. The fire mana stone in the corner flickered gently. Nox was silent, arms folded, but he hadn't left either.
Damian added quietly this time, "You scared me."
I didn't respond. Not out loud. But I could feel something heavy in my chest at those words.
His presence beside the bed didn't feel like pity.
It felt like someone was making sure I didn't disappear in my sleep.
"You can stay," I muttered, barely above a whisper.
He glanced at me and nodded once.
Just like that, I closed my eyes, finally letting the exhaustion drag me under comfort, only slightly, by the fact that someone was still sitting right there.
****
The instant her body hit the floor, the office erupted into chaos.
"CECILIA—!"
Damian dropped to his knees beside her, hands already glowing with healing magic. Her arms were too cold. Frostbite lined her skin in pale streaks and blood flowed from her hands. Her face was unnaturally pale, eyes half-open, barely breathing.
Nox stood just behind them, silent, tense, dark aura still swirling from unease. Damian looked up, eyes sharp with panic and suspicion.
"You," Damian snapped, pushing a healing spell over Cecilia's wrist, "who the hell are you?"
He didn't answer. His gaze was on Cecilia, not on Damian unreadable, unsettled. He knelt down on her other side.
"I told you countless times not to go overboard," Nox muttered, glaring down at her unconscious form. "And yet you still did whatever you wanted."
Damian looked up sharply, finally addressing him again. "Who are you?"
He ignored him again, eyes fixed on Cecilia. "Just because she's begun to trust you a little… doesn't mean you've earned a place in her heart. Or a right to question me."
That clearly struck a chord. Damian's eyes narrowed, displeased but he said nothing back, focusing instead on sealing the frostbite wounds along Cecilia's arms.
Her shirt clung to her skin, soaked partially with blood near the shoulders. Damian hesitated, then moved to unbutton her blouse carefully so he could apply a healing salve to the injuries along her collarbone.
Before he could touch her collar, Nox's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.
Damian's head snapped toward him. "Let go."
Nox's voice dropped, low and deadly. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Damian responded calmly, but there was steel beneath it. "Treating her wounds. If I can't remove the freezing damage under her clothes, her arm may never move again."
"I didn't ask," Nox snarled. His grip tightened around Damian's wrist. "Don't touch her."
Damian's eyes darkened. "Do you really think I'm going to harm my own student?"
Nox's expression was cold, dangerous. "Think twice before you lay a hand on her body again or I'll break this wrist right here."
For a tense few seconds, the two men just glared at each other's shadow aura rising from Nox, Damian's mana crackling with restrained fury. The nurse looked like she might pass out from the pressure.
Finally, Damian jerked his hand out of Nox's grip and stepped back, restraining himself with visible effort.
"I'll bring a female healer," he said stiffly, turning toward the door.
Nox just stood there like a dark statue beside Cecilia's bed, eyes never leaving her.
The door clicked shut. Silence fell again in the infirmary, heavy and humming with mana.
Nox stayed standing right beside the bed. Shadows flickered gently around his boots, reacting to the unease he refused to show on his face. Cecilia's breathing was shallow. Still too pale.
He sat down quietly on the edge of the cot and stared at her bloody hair, bandaged hands, and frost on her lashes. She looked far too fragile for a girl who had ripped a monster apart moments earlier.
"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, voice barely audible. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed for a long moment.
If anything had gone wrong while you were tearing through those cursed barriers…
Or if she hadn't managed to grab the core before collapsing…
He exhaled sharply, forcing the thoughts out.
"It's not your job to die for me." His tone held a rare edge of pain. "Stop acting like it is."
Her hair brushed the pillow, unmoving. Too still for his comfort.
Nox reached down and brushed a strand of blood-stained hair off her face. Even that brief touch made him frown—her skin was still cold.
"I got it back… thanks to you," he said quietly, almost confessing it into the darkness. "So don't dare disappear on me ever."
He glanced at the door but no one came through yet.
And for once, without eyes watching him, he simply stayed there next to her, not moving, waiting through the night, until the healer finally came.
****
It's been a few days now since I've been confined to this infirmary bed, something I hate with every fibre of my being.
What's worse is that both Nox and Damian have been here. Every. Single. Day.
Nox lounging like a bored demon who owns the place. Damian is sitting in a chair, glaring at him with the look of someone mentally filing a restraining order. Apparently, after that night, Damian can see Nox now which is obviously great, because it means now they can glare at each other openly and ruin my peace.
They won't leave me alone. Both of them are acting like guards. Watching me breathe. Every hour.
I like Nox, I'm used to him but Damian hovering this much…it's almost suffocating. No matter how comfortable I'd started to feel around him before, this level of attention is too much.
He placed a bowl of soup in my lap.
"Eat," he said in that stern, kind lecture-voice.
"I am," I muttered.
"You've had three bites in ten minutes."
"I'm savouring it."
From the corner, Nox snorted. "Translation: she has no energy to lift the spoon."
I glared at him.
Damian ignored him and turned to me, politely. "If you're struggling, I can help feed you."
"That's okay," I said, then looked right over at Nox, who was smirking lazily. "Nox can help me."
His grin immediately stretched across his face like a dark victory. "Gladly."
Damian's expression soured immediately.
They started glaring again.
I sighed and slumped miserably into my pillow. Someone please let me out of here before I commit murder.
Nox shifted closer to the bed, took the spoon from my weak grip, and like the menace he is, scooped up some soup with a smug flourish.
"Say 'ah,'" he said with a slow grin.
"I can eat by myself," I replied flatly.
He still held the spoon to my lips. I opened my mouth, just barely, and he fed me like I was three years old yet I enjoyed it.
"Hurry up," I muttered.
"You're adorable when helpless," Nox purred.
Damian's jaw visibly clenched. The air temperature might have dropped.
"If you're enjoying this that much," Damian said through his teeth, "then by all means, keep going. But if you spill one drop of that on her, I'll—"
"You'll what?" Nox cut in lazily. "Write me a detention slip?"
Damian's eyebrow twitched. "I'll turn you to ash."
"Try it."
"Please," I growled, rubbing my temples, "both of you stop fighting over my suffering."
Damian looked mortified. "We're not—! I'm not—!"
He smirked and gently fed me another spoonful, dramatically wiping the corner of my mouth with a napkin like some smug butler.
Damian looked like he had aged five years in rage.
Lux floated by my shoulder, giggling behind his tiny wings.
I sighed and resigned myself to my fate: being stuck in bed while a demon and a headmaster argued over how to hold a spoon.
Winter break wasn't over yet, but I had finally been released from that wretched infirmary. No more stitches. No more soup. No more "stay in bed."
I stepped outside into the courtyard and lifted my arms toward the grey sky like someone being reborn.
"Finally... freedom."
My breath misted in front of me in the cold air. Snowflakes drifted down quietly, soft and slow. It was a heavy winter, but for the first time in days, it didn't feel suffocating.
"So," Nox said behind me, his tone amused, "now that you're free, what's your grand plan?"
I turned to him with a grin. "Let's go to town."
"You sure?"
I nodded once, firm and certain. "Definitely."
He raised a brow he looked different now. Ever since he'd absorbed his core, everything about him had sharpened: taller, leaner, his eyes burning darker than before. Even the way he carried himself had changed. Stronger. Complete.
The best part? He could make himself visible to others now. No more people thinking I was insane for talking to thin air.
Lux fluttered around my head happily. "Shopping trip! Shopping trip!"
I had already gotten dressed before the idea even finished forming in my head. Coat on, boots laced, scarf thrown around my shoulders.
By late morning we reached the outskirts of town, just beyond the academy's frozen gates. The snow was falling gently, covering rooftops in a soft blanket of white. Wooden signboards were frosted at the edges, icicles hanging from lampposts like glass fangs. Smoke curled from chimneys, and warm golden light flickered in shop windows, taverns, bakeries, and little bookstores with frosted panes.
Children were throwing snowballs in the street. A street vendor poured hot chocolate into tin mugs, steam rising up into the air like magic.
It felt… alive here. Warm, even with all the snow.
"Winter doesn't feel like death here," I muttered
Nox looked sideways at me, maybe because I sounded almost at peace for once, but he said nothing, just walked beside me as the snow drifted into his hair.
Lux zoomed ahead, leaving little trails in the snowbank. "Let's get sweets! And more sweets!"
I exhaled into the cold and felt almost content.
Winter might still be cruel. But at least today, I wasn't alone.
We spent the entire day wandering a snowy town that looked like something from someone else's life. We ate roasted chestnuts, tried pastries Lux nearly exploded over, browsed old book stalls, and even found a quiet bridge where the river had frozen clear like glass. It was… peaceful.
For someone like me and Nox, days like that were rare. We usually spend our lives surviving, fighting, hiding or killing. But that day, there was nothing to fight.
By the time night fell, the street lanterns were glowing like amber orbs behind curtains of snow, and the sky was velvet-black above the rooftops.
"Let's head back," I said, pulling my scarf tighter.
"Fine," Nox replied, his breath fogging in the air. Lux was asleep inside my coat pocket, exhausted from too much sugar.
We were halfway through the town square when someone collided with me from around the corner.
I went rigid immediately.
" I-I'm sorry!" The person stepped back quickly with their head lowered. They were wrapped in a heavy travelling cloak, hood pulled low. The voice was soft, shaky. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
That brief moment, a simple bump on a winter street, was the beginning of our misfortune.
We didn't know it yet.
But everything peaceful about that day…ended right there.
To be continued.