David’s heart stopped. He scrambled to his feet, his limbs shaky and uncooperative. “Aura!” he cried, for once forgetting to keep in character, his voice breaking.

  She didn’t respond.

  His panic turned to action, adrenaline surging through his small frame. He stumbled out of the shed, tripping over the threshold, and bolted toward the smithy.

  “Help! She’s hurt!” he screamed, his voice shrill and desperate.

  The blacksmith must have heard the shockwave, as he was already rushing toward him.

  He passed David by, and the boy struggled to keep up as they sprinted back to the shed. When they arrived, the man dropped to his knees beside Aura, his hands trembling as he pulled a small purple vial from his belt.

  “Damn it, Aura,” he muttered, fumbling to uncork the bottle “Why do you always have to push it? Why can’t you just take it slow?”

  David hovered nearby, his chest heaving as he struggled to process what had just happened.

  Even in her failure, Aura’s skill was glorious.

  Where he had stumbled blindly, she had walked a razor edge with poise and precision—until the very last steps. He thought of the wave, the consequences, and shuddered. The pain must have been unbelievable.

  Yet, beneath the newfound fear of the strange power, something burned: the thrill of possibility. If this was what alchemy did, how far could he go?

  The blacksmith’s voice seemed angry, but tight with worry. The calloused hands moved quickly to administer the potion. As it reached her lips, Aura’s short, interrupted breathing stabilized and grew calmer – even though her body remained limp and unconscious, her pain was lifted.

  Seeing the blacksmith relax lifted most of David’s anxiety.

  Déjà vu. Again. The scene in front of him started to overlap with something his body had seen already while he was… dreaming.

  He felt a memory painfully pushing at his brain, trying to fit itself in. It was hazy, fleeting. He saw Aura, a few years younger, sitting at a workbench, working a pile of herbs. Frustration. Reckless attempt to speed up. A shockwave knocking her down. Sludge melting the furniture and the floor. Panicked Bert.

  And just like that, it was over. A few other, similar memories tried to force themselves on him, but he got the idea already. While Bert was busy, gently embracing Aura, David turned his attention back to the room.

  The white noise of the crafting district returned, the remnants of the ritual erased and if not for the shining vial and David’s memory, it might have had as well never happened.

  But the sight of Aura’s storm of colors, and subsequent failure, remained etched in his mind—a vivid reminder, a warning - miracle and catastrophe were separated by a precariously thin edge.

  Unable to stop his curiosity, David approached the vial in the middle. All that effort for… this?

  It would be a terrible shame to waste it.

  And if he could maybe take a closer look at it, nobody would mind. Before the blacksmith could turn around, he snagged a complimentary cork. Going back to the vial he hesitated, remembering the shockwave, his bones still aching.

  Looks stable… enough. He sealed it tightly. Aura might be furious but… I’ll just borrow it until she wakes up. Though as he tucked the vial away, one thought lingered a while… What if she doesn’t?

  Following a request by the blacksmith, David was coming back to the shed, carrying an armful of pillows and blankets he’d hurriedly scavenged from their house, only to find him arguing with an armored man near the doorway.

  “You’re wasting time, Bert!” the guard snapped at the blacksmith, his voice sharp with frustration. “Western barricades lack structure - we NEED. YOUR. HELP!”

  David’s heart jumped each time the loud guard shouted, so he decided to keep his distance and observe.

  Bert’s face darkened and he stepped closer to the man, his tone low but simmering with rage. “And you think I’ll leave her here? Just like that? That’s my wife you’re talking about.”

  The guard didn’t back down, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. “I’ll see you in 15 minutes at the gates. Don’t test my patience.”

  He turned on his heel without waiting for response and stomped away, his armor clinking as he disappeared into the blood-tinged haze.

  David froze at the avalanche of ominous information. With the scene clear, he approached the shed, watching Bert scowl at the retreating figure.

  The blacksmith muttered something under his breath before turning and heading back inside.

  David brought the bedding up to where Aura was resting and started spreading it out.

  Bert silently watched him for a while, “I know I’m asking for a lot here, Marco… But could you take care of her? I got things I have to do.”

  David instantly judged him, comparing Bert’s behavior to his own priorities regarding Marie, but ultimately nodded.

  Together, they moved Aura to the newly prepared bedding and Bert went towards the door. He stopped in the doorframe and glanced back, “I’ll be back in a moment.” He said, his voice full of regret.

  Once the blacksmith shut the door behind himself, David’s attention fully turned to Aura - Her body looked so small and fragile now, bruises and cuts starkly contrasting against her skin. The sight sent shivers through David.

  As time went on, David knelt beside Aura, carefully adjusting the blankets around her battered body. Every time he looked at her, his stomach twisted—a mix of guilt, awe, and helplessness.

  He dampened a piece of cloth with water from a small bucket Bert had left behind and gently dabbed at the cuts on her face, brushing away the blonde strands of her hair.

  She didn’t stir, her breathing shallow but steady. The rise and fall of her chest offered a faint reassurance, but it didn’t ease the tightness in his throat. He wouldn’t be nearly brave enough to speak with her frankly when she was conscious, but this seemed like a good moment.

  “You’re more impressive than I thought,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the increasingly distant yells of people outside. “Stronger than I could have ever imagined.”

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  In the emotional moment, David’s memories of Marie resurfaced. He could remember her crying into a pillow after a failed interview. Lack of talent, supposedly. And yet she had persevered long enough to succeed. She knew what she wanted, and despite her parents trying to bring her down, she wouldn’t settle for less.

  Both Aura and Marie shared that same kind of frustration. The same desperation to prove themselves. He had always understood Marie’s reasons… But Aura? She was already a talented and skilled alchemist. What could possibly push her that far? The answer could only lay in her past…

  So far, he’d only been interested in her knowledge, but that felt wrong now. What if he never had another chance to talk to her? Get to know her?

  His fingers brushed against the fabric of Aura’s sleeve. A brass vial peeking out from beneath the folds of his shirt made him pause. For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of what he’d taken heavy against his chest. Slowly, he pulled it out, holding it up to the slowly darkening red light filtering through the shed’s walls.

  The material inside changed soon after the ritual – once a sparkling liquid – it now toiled relentlessly in the unmoving vial, as if trying to break free. The ethereal substance reminded David of hell that tried to freeze over. Crimson flames constantly battled with permafrost and arctic winds – but neither side seemed to win, locked in an eternal struggle.

  He admired the impossible substance for a while before his eyes drifted back to Aura’s ravaged body. Even for such a miraculous creation, the cost felt disproportionate.

  “It must’ve been worth it,” he whispered, his voice trembling. The thought was meant to comfort, but it felt hollow.

  What could possibly justify putting herself through that much risk?

  Was she that certain of success – or had she simply accepted the cost?

  Yet, as he stared at the vial, his curiosity flared. What was it? What could it do? His heart quickened at the possibilities, but the pang of guilt quickly snuffed the excitement out. This wasn’t the time to indulge in wonder.

  Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the mythical creation and tucked the vial back under his shirt, resolving to keep it safe until she woke. If she wakes. A small voice in the back of his mind whispered.

  He clenched his fists, and as if to force the thought away, turned back to Aura, his words spilling out:

  “You’re amazing, you know that? What you did… It was art. I’ve never seen anything even remotely close to it. I don’t even know where to start, but… I want to understand it. I want to learn.” He allowed himself to feel slightly closer towards her. “Maybe... just maybe, next time I could help you.”

  His voice broke slightly, and he cleared his throat, while snatching away a stray tear that somehow made its way into his eye. “Just... Take better care of yourself, please.”

  Shortly after he finished speaking, Aura groaned softly – the loudest sound she made since collapse. David let out a nervous chuckle. He had once heard that people in comas sometimes remembered others talking to them. He hesitated, but softly hugged her arm anyway.

  Soon, everything was getting tightly enveloped in darkness, and save for the faint, flickering light of distant torches, everything could have been void. David’s heart raced as the door creaked open, revealing Bert’s broad figure silhouetted against the night. The blacksmith looked exhausted, his face smudged with soot and streaked with sweat, but his eyes softened as they landed on Aura.

  “Marco,” he said, his voice low but firm, “we need to move her, now.”

  David nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he removed the blankets around Aura. Bert stepped inside and crouched beside her, his calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face - a tenderness that felt at odds with his rough exterior. He lingered there for a but a moment, even though he knew they should rush. “She’s strong,” he murmured. “She’ll pull through. She always does.”

  Without wasting another second, he carefully slid his arms beneath her, cradling her battered form as though she might shatter. Despite his clear tiredness, his movements were deliberate and gentle.

  David trailed behind, watching his broad back.

  Silhouettes of Aura and Bert flickered in his mind, their forms overlapping with ghosts from a past he’d rather forget. A stern, sharp figure loomed in his memories—no gentle hands, no soothing voice. Just orders and judgment. He would’ve never shown such care. She would’ve never trusted him so. David shook his head, trying to dispel the unwelcome echoes.

  His gaze lingered on Bert’s careful movements. If only I had parents like those two. They reached the house quickly, Bert moving with surprising speed despite his burden. He nudged the door open with his shoulder and made his way to the far corner, where a small, unassuming trapdoor lay hidden beneath a rug.

  After a quick glance, David ran up, grabbed the uncovered iron ring and braced himself to lift the wooden panel. It was heavy – but David was determined to not let Aura wait – coordinating his whole body, he managed to open the trapdoor, letting it fall to the other side with a crash. Bert didn’t comment – whether he noticed the peculiarities in David’s recent behavior was a mystery.

  He shifted Aura in his arms and moved down the precariously steep stairs. David was about to follow him, but one look down the hatch made him pause – Is this something an 8-year-old would safely descend? He figured he was careless enough already and decided to wait for Bert to put Aura down.

  “Come on,” The large man said after a while, his voice strained but steady as he raised his arms to catch him. “Get inside.”

  David climbed down the first step, from which Bert immediately snatched him. He despised the dependence, but in this moment, the blacksmith’s raw strength was extremely reassuring.

  Once his small feet landed on cool stone, he looked around to locate Aura. The safehouse had a single candle lantern hanging from a hook on the wall. It was cramped but orderly, with shelves stocked with supplies—jars of preserved food, a barrel of water, and a small pile of blankets.

  Aura was already placed on a prepared cot, so David set out to adjust the blankets around her to provide the much deserved care. For a moment, Bert stood still, watching him warmly and with a hint of pride – a minute reprieve from the worry and the fear.

  “Good, keep her warm,” he instructed, his tone more tired than commanding. “She’ll need rest… You should get some too.”

  David swallowed hard, a realization settling like a stone in his gut. “You’re not staying?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Bert turned back from the shelves, a gleaming dagger in his hand. He expertly grabbed the weapon by the blade and kneeled to present it to David, handle first. It was much lighter than he expected… Maybe he could even wield it? In his hands it was basically a full-sized sword.

  “Marco, listen to me. Bad things might happen today. Once I leave, lock the hatch and don’t open it until I come back for you. Understand?”

  David’s multitude of questions caught in his throat. His grip tightening around the dagger’s hilt. “Bad things?” he asked.

  Bert shrugged. “Brenn has put everyone on full alert, I don’t know why.”

  David nodded. “I’ll protect her, then.” He despised the words coming out of his mouth – With short hands and a dagger he never used before. If push came to shove, could he do anything?

  The blacksmith’s gaze softened, and he placed a heavy hand on David’s shoulder. “I know you will. Be strong, for her.”

  With that, Bert climbed back up the ladder, his movements slower this time. He paused at the top, casting one last glance down at Aura and David. He stood still for just a second.

  He turned back up, each step carrying the weight of his reluctance until he was gone, and trapdoor closed. The muffled sound of the rug being dragged back into place informed of the finality of his departure.

  It gave David a short pause – yes, the rug hid the trapdoor, but what if, more importantly, it muffled the sounds? … the screams? David was no fool, he had quite a few ideas what ‘bad things’ could have stood for. The darkness around him grew deeper.

  David went up the ladder and fumbled with the iron spike used to lock the hatch.

  His small hands struggled with the cold metal, lacking both strength and dexterity. So, this is the extent of what I’m good for?

  David’s mood became increasingly self-derisive, but as he glanced at the unconscious woman laying below him, all thoughts gave way to making sure the one thing he actually was responsible for was done correctly.

  Once he finished locking them in, they were left in the suffocating quiet of the safehouse, with only their twin breaths to break up the stillness. He placed the dagger on the floor beside him, his hands trembling.

  He sat down, hugging his knees to his chest, his thoughts clouded with inadequacy. For the first time since arriving in this strange world, David truly felt the weight of his powerlessness. Yet when he occasionally glanced at Aura, vibrant colors seemed to swirl around her – a vision of what was possible. Just the tiniest bit of hope lingered, as fragile as the woman who bore it.

  Outside, in the final minutes before the Goddess slept, the village braced itself – but not everyone met the darkness with fear. For some, it carried an intoxicating thrill; A promise of a slaughter.