Riven's head snapped toward the opening door, his heartbeat hammering faster than usual. Deep down, he held onto a fragile hope, that it would be Ashtoria stepping through. That she would enter with that cold yet calm gaze of hers, ready to offer him answers to the chaos that had swallowed them whole.
But that hope shattered instantly.
The one who appeared was a middle-aged man, bald-headed, dressed in a long brown robe lined with pale cloth. His face was clean-shaven, his eyes kind, his smile warm. In his hand he carried a clipboard, and around his neck hung a thin ivory stole, the unmistakable mark of a healer.
Riven rolled his eyes and cursed silently.
'Of course… a healer. Just as I thought. This is a fancy hospital, and this is going to be a fancy check-up. Damn it.'
The man stepped inside unhurriedly, closing the door softly behind him. His gaze drifted first to Riven, who sat stiffly upright on the bed, then to Melly, still fast asleep at his side.
"Good afternoon," the man said, his tone calm and polite. "I'm glad to see you awake, son."
Riven only gave a slight nod, watching him with guarded, skeptical eyes. He kept his silence. For now, he needed to gather information.
"My name is George," the man continued, walking closer. "I'm the physician here. Don't worry, I just need to check your condition for a moment."
George pulled a small chair from the corner and sat by the bed. He flipped open his notes, scribbled briefly, then looked at Riven with the kind, fatherly expression of someone who truly cared.
"How are you feeling? Any pain in your chest or head?" he asked.
"A little… dizzy," Riven admitted. "But my wounds… they've healed?"
George smiled. "Your injuries were severe, especially the one on your chest. You nearly bled out. But a woman brought you here in critical condition. Had she been a little later, you might not have survived. Fortunately, we had enough potions to accelerate your recovery. Your body responded remarkably well."
'I almost died? From wounds like that?' The thought struck Riven hard. He suddenly remembered how fragile ordinary humans truly were. He wasn't a Mage like Ashtoria, nor that white-haired man with his inhuman body. Then it hit him. Wait!
'Potions? High-grade healing potions? How many bottles? How much gold? Gods above…'
"And your sister… she never once left your side," George added, glancing at Melly's sleeping form. "That girl was stubborn. She wouldn't even let us take over her role in caring for you."
A wave of warmth surged in Riven's chest. He looked at his sister with a mix of guilt and affection. But the tenderness was short-lived, because George's next words made his breath catch.
"Oh, and about the cost of treatment, don't worry. The woman already handled everything."
Riven muttered softly, "Ashtoria…" Relief washed through him the instant he realized the bill was already paid. Half the weight crushing his chest vanished in an instant.
'So I… don't have to pay?' he thought, half relieved, half bewildered. He exhaled deeply, then looked back at George with sharpened focus.
"Where is she now? Where exactly are we? How long was I unconscious? And what about that beast tide? And…" he hesitated for a moment, doubt flickering in his eyes before he finally asked, "Is she… all right? She wasn't hurt, was she?"
George's eyes remained calm as he slowly nodded.
"She's fine," he answered with a gentle smile. "She stayed with you through the first day. Sat right at your bedside without moving, simply watching over you. It was as if she wanted to make absolutely sure no mistake would be made in your care."
Riven released a quiet breath, relief softening his features. He waited, silently urging George to continue.
"She left about eight hours ago," George went on. "She looked uneasy and departed in a hurry. She hasn't returned since."
Riven turned toward the window, as though half-expecting her silhouette to suddenly appear at the doorway.
"Right now, you're in the city of Glimfell. Not too large, but peaceful and safe enough. She brought you and your sister here two days ago, and since then you've been unconscious. Nearly two full days."
Riven nodded slowly, absorbing the information one piece at a time. Glimfell, the very destination that should have still taken them two days to reach. Yet here he was. The answer was obvious: she had carried them both here at incredible speed.
"And about this… beast tide?" he pressed.
George shook his head gently, his expression honest yet puzzled. "I don't know what you mean by 'tide.' There have been no reports from the city guards or border patrols of any large-scale beast attack. But… I did hear about a dragon. One that rampaged and destroyed villages near the frontier."
"A dragon?" Riven repeated, eyes narrowing with curiosity. He hadn't had the chance to see it himself before blacking out.
"A true calamity," George said solemnly. "Perhaps the beasts you saw were driven by that dragon's fury. But none reached here. Maybe the dragon slaughtered the beasts you mentioned during its rampage."
Riven struggled to digest it all.
George rose, setting his notes aside. "If there are no further complaints, I'll return later this afternoon for another check-up. But if you need more answers or have anything to ask, you can come find me."
Riven gave a faint nod, though his mind still swirled with questions. "Thank you, healer."
George smiled once more, then left as calmly as he had entered. The door shut behind him, leaving the room in silence again.
Riven let out a long breath, staring up at the pristine, peaceful ceiling—though his heart was far from calm.
Who are you, really, Aria? he wondered.
Aria was gone.
From the start, they had agreed: once they reached Glimfell, they would part ways. No promises of reunion, no bonds to tie them together. They were simply two strangers who had shared the same road for a fleeting while.
She had saved him, and he her. Their debts were settled. Nothing remained.
And yet, though his logic accepted it, his heart resisted.
They hadn't known each other long, just a handful of days. But that brief encounter had left something behind. Not a wound but a hollow ache, pressing at the corner of his heart, slowly growing into an unfamiliar restlessness.
He hadn't thanked her. He hadn't said a proper farewell. He had no idea where to even start looking if he wanted to see her again.
Placing a hand over his chest where only scars remained, Riven exhaled once more. "Well… life goes on, doesn't it?" he muttered.
He rose carefully from the bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb Melly's peaceful sleep. He dressed himself, gathered what belongings he still had, and strapped Riftmaker securely onto his back. Most of his gear was gone, but this weapon alone gave him a sense of security.
Even if the cost of his treatment had already been paid, he knew better than to linger here too long. The longer he stayed, the higher the risk of being slapped with extra charges just for occupying the bed.
With one last glance at Melly, making sure she was still breathing softly in her dreams, Riven stepped toward the open window and let the outside breeze brush his face.
The sun hung high in the sky that day. Below it stretched Glimfell, calm, orderly, and unfamiliar.
As he prepared to leave the room, a heaviness tugged faintly at his chest. But one step forward would be the beginning of finding his own answers.