The demonic dust still floated in the cave air, mixing with the smell of ozone and scorched stone. With the threat eradicated, the silence that followed was almost more oppressive than the demon's roar.
"Is there anyone else?" asked Emi, her voice echoing in the empty chamber. Her light spear had vanished, but her eyes still glowed with the residual energy of the fight.
Alex, leaning against the wall to hide the trembling in his legs, scanned the darkness. Every muscle screamed from the effort of channeling so much power. Then, he heard it: a faint moan, almost a sigh, coming from a corner where the shadows refused to yield to the broken torches.
He shuffled closer. There, among debris and the tatters of a torn cultist robe, lay a figure.
It was a young woman. Porcelain-pale skin, almost translucent, violet hair that shone as if you were seeing the universe in person, tangled and stuck to her sweaty face. Her breathing was a tenuous thread. But what made Alex catch his breath wasn't her condition, but the shreds of blue silk peeking out from under the rags, embroidered with silver thread that still glowed faintly. They were far too fine for a random captive.
"Emi!" he called, his voice more urgent than he intended. "Over here! There's one! She's in bad shape!"
Emi was at his side in seconds. She knelt, and for a moment, her carefree expression vanished, replaced by clinical focus.
"She's not one of them," she murmured, gently touching the blue fabric. "This is Veridia silk. Costs more than my entire gear. What was a noble doing here?"
"Whatever it is, it can wait. She's bleeding," said Alex, already unfastening his own cloak to press it against a superficial but persistent wound on the girl's side. His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone who'd just been in a fight.
"Right, you carry her. I'll handle the others," declared Emi, standing up.
"Alone?" asked Alex, looking up, surprised.
"Worried about me? How sweet," Emi offered a tired but genuine smile. "The cultists left are more scared than a rabbit in an armory. I'll pile them up like firewood and wait for the guard. But you..." she pointed at the unconscious girl. "She doesn't have that luxury. Hurry."
Alex nodded, too breathless to argue. Carefully, he slid his arms under the young woman and lifted her. She was light, unsettlingly light, as if life itself were slipping from her. Every step toward the cave exit felt like dragging an anvil. Magical exhaustion hit him in waves: blurred vision, a ringing in his ears, the sensation that his bones were made of jelly. He had pushed his ability beyond its limits for Emi, and now the bill was arriving with interest.
The walk back to the village was a fog of pain. Night had fallen completely, and only the faint light from cottage windows guided him. He arrived at a small house with the symbol of an herb carved on the door: the healer's house.
He knocked with what little strength he had left. The door opened, revealing an older man with a face lined with wrinkles and eyes that lit up sharply at the sight of the girl's state.
"By the heavens..." murmured the healer, his gaze going from Alex, covered in dust and bruises, to the pale young woman in his arms. "Inside, quickly!"
Alex crossed the threshold and laid the girl down with infinite care on a cot. As soon as the burden left his arms, his knees buckled and he collapsed onto a wooden bench, gasping.
"What happened to her?" asked the healer, already examining her pupils and pulse with expert hands.
"We found her in a cave... to the south. Cultists. She was... a prisoner," Alex managed to articulate between gulps of air.
The healer nodded, his expression grave. He worked in silence, applying salves and bandages. The smell of medicinal herbs filled the room.
"Will she live?" Alex finally asked when the ringing in his ears subsided enough.
"By a very slim margin," the man replied without looking up. "She lost a lot of blood, and there are traces of... something in her system. Dark magic, weak but persistent. However, she has a strong constitution. With rest and proper care, she will wake up."
The relief that flooded Alex was as physical as the exhaustion. He closed his eyes for a moment.
---
The door burst open.
"Situation report!" announced Emi's voice, as vibrant as if nothing had happened. She entered like a storm, covered in a fine layer of rock dust, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Cultists: neutralized and handed over to the guard. Prisoners: six, all safe and weeping with gratitude. Cave: sealed with a nice big rock, just in case. How's our...?"
Her gaze fell on the girl on the cot, then on Alex, slumped on the bench.
"...And you look like a ghost who lost its sheet. Did you overdo the 'support' thing again?"
"Not the time, Emi," Alex grunted, though without real force.
"It's always the time," she retorted, but the joking tone left her voice. She approached and offered him a waterskin. "Drink. It's water, not magic, but it helps."
As Alex drank, the healer finished bandaging the young woman. Then, he washed his hands slowly, his expression heavy with new concern.
"Young ones," he began, his voice low. "There's something else. I recognize this girl."
Emi and Alex exchanged a look.
"From the proclamations that come from the capital," the man continued. "The youngest daughter of Duke Alaric. The queen's right-hand hawk. One of the most powerful men in the realm."
The silence that followed was absolute. The only sound was the crackling of the fire in the hearth.
"A duke's daughter?" Emi whistled softly. "What in the world was a little duchess doing in a cultist pigsty on the frontier?"
"That is a question worth a duchy," murmured the healer. "But one thing is certain: when she wakes up, and when her father finds out, this won't end with a simple 'thank you'."
CRASH!
Alex, trying to stand up too quickly, knocked the waterskin to the floor. The noise made the girl twitch in her sleep, a faint whimper escaping her lips.
"You see?" said Emi, regaining her mischievous smile, though her eyes were serious. "You're already making noise, Alex. Your shadow is getting very, very small."
Alex looked at the young noblewoman, then at his own hands, which still trembled slightly. They had won the battle, they had done the right thing. But a cold feeling settled in his stomach.
They hadn't closed a problem.
They had opened the door to a much bigger one.
"And now what?" asked Emi, crossing her arms. But her gaze wasn't one of annoyance; it was one of anticipation. The kind of look she had before leaping into the abyss.
Alex swallowed. The answer was obvious, inevitable, and profoundly undesirable.
"Now," he said, with the resignation of one who sees the tide approaching, "we wait for her to wake up. And we prepare."
"For what?"
Alex looked at the door, as if he could see through it, past the village, to the high walls of the capital.
"For the problems."