The end of the raid was drawing near, with only five casualties amoungst those who attended. It was the first time in history that this had happened. On average each nation was expected to lose at least twenty men each. However, that usually only happened because of the healers guilds unofficial rule against mana exhaustion, leaving people on the brink of death when they felt the slightest bit feverish. Myself in the other hand, I would deal with the fevers and the vapors to the point I seemed like I was tipsy constantly. To me it was sad that they would abandon those in need because of a dizzy spell. Because of my lone help, the knights and soldiers were much more cautious than in previous raids to make it easier for me and I wouldn't have to be as bad as I was the first day I was here. We had two other large scale weekly raids that had severe injuries, but not even close to the amount I had on my first day. Three of the unfortunate five people who had died so far were eaten by monsters and the other two were killed instantly during an attack making me feel helpless. I still mourned those deaths, and even though deep down I knew that there was nothing I could have done I carried their names with me in my heart. I had gotten so sentimental that I had written their names and origins on a scrap of paper I stole from Jayce's desk and carried it with me in my bustier. The pain of those lost that I carried in my heart was buried right next to the pain that Jayce had been giving me during these past weeks as well. After the incident in the tent, he no longer sought me out or spoke to me. He wouldn't even enter the tent if I was in there. I didn't know where he was sleeping because if this problem. He never looked at me or breathed in my direction and if he did see me for a moment, he would leave briskly or ignore my existence. My chest hurt from his actions, and it had come to the point that I couldn't bear the pain of it anymore. I had silently moved myself back to the infirmary tent I was supposed to sleep in three days ago. The bales of straw I was using as a bed wasn't nearly as comfortable as the one he had let me use and the thin blanket was useless and scratchy but I was able to make due. The area they originally prepared for me to sleep in was blocked off from the rest of the open by a sheets hanging from the rafters of the tent to create a sort of fabric room. The material used for the infirmary tent was a grade used similar to those the royal knights used from their tents. White was an unfortunate colour to use as all the dirt, dust and grass stains were visible. It was also very thin, so on a night like tonight the chill in the air was settling into my bones. I was sitting on that hard straw bale, watching figures walk past my pathetic and empty tent like wraith leaving only shadows dancing across my face. I was wearing only a thin shawl that did nothing for the chill and my classic undergarment chemise. It was thin and battered, and the stained blanket rested on my lap. I had no energy go converse and became quite distant with everyone in recent days. All I had the energy for was looking at my precious scrap paper, looking at the names.
"Yulian of Prion. Risha of Jora. Kingsley of Redrock. Muirel Thistlewood. Alecas Inglid." My voice was barely over a whisper that the wind roaring outside swallowed it. My heart ached for Jarlsvic and the simplicity of it. I missed the rural feel and friendly villagers. I missed the monestary, the orphans and the guards. I missed Donatellos shimmering scales in the sunlight. I missed Mother Meredith. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest as names and faces flew through my head, and I didn't notice I was crying until the tears rolled down my cheek and fell on my paper. It soaked in and stained the paper but thankfully missed the ink. I rubbed my eyes with my stained blanket, wetting the fabric through. I felt waves of grief and embarrassment, as well as sharp pain in my chest. I felt like everything was falling apart in my life. I made a fool out of myself in front of the male lead and made him despise me. I made connections with people that may be hurt because of me. I had gotten comfortable and forgot that I was in hiding from the Count, and that any relationship I made put the other person at jeopardy. I should have accepted my destiny of being alone, but now I was buried in my own depression, sequestered silently from the world. I had already felt my mental health slowly crumbling throughout the past little while but i didn't take the time to try and fix it. I used to do the same thing in my previous life. I worked and ignored that nagging darkness in the corner of my mind until it became too much to bear and I became almost catatonic. I would had crying fits and fatigue, snd my entire body felt like stones were wearing it down. It made it difficult to move, and my chest would sting like I was being stabbed. I used to drown myself in sweets and distractions, but all I could do here was cry. I had to be quiet because I didn't want to draw attention to me. In my white fabric tomb I let out a few desperate sobs, clutching the paper in my hand. The cold night air gave me goosebumps and made me shiver. I threw the blanket over my shivering body, laying down on the straw that stabbed into my skin. I had no pillow so I brought my arm up to act as one. I brought the piece of paper to my chest, keeping my mouth shut but allowing my tears to fall freely from my face. I closed my eyes as the tears still ran down my face and took in a deep breath. This was the first time that when I had come here that I regretted it. In the Count's estate I wished I could escape, but the thought of escape made me eager and gave me purpose. In Jarlsvic I had a makeshift family and friendly neighbors. Here, I couldn't tell what anyone was thinking anymore. My heart was broken and my confidence shattered. I knew that I didn't deserve to even attempt to gain Jayce's affections, but some stupid part of me told me that it would have been okay to reach out to him. My fangirling and adoration from threading the novels could be recognized and I could save him from the vile Agatha and her scheming. As I felt my consciousness drift away, the cold settled on my face and exposed skin. My cold fabric tomb engulfed me as I slipped I a slumber with nothing but nightmares lurking.
The sunlight was invasive in my eyes as I hoped them and my entire body felt heavy and gross. My head felt like an ice pick was being stabbed into my brain. My body felt heavy, my sinuses were blocked and my throat was sore. I barely managed to lift my hand up and touch my head feeling a feverish burning without using my powers. This body was frail and fragile, that the cold I developed was assaulting my being so much I felt like I was glued to the straw. I had released my paper at some point and it was on the edge of my straw. I grabbed it and it crinkled in my hand. Even that small movement and sound made my headache explode.
"Ohhhhh god..." I moaned, putting my arm over my burning eyes. It was hard to breath with my nose so clogged. I was panting through my mouth trying to catch my breath and keep the sun out of my face. The noises outside didn't help, all the clattering making my head words. My throat was dry and scratchy making my voice cracked and hoarse. I wanted to go get something to wet my throat but every muscle in my body was sore. I was sweating profusely, and my brain was fuzzy and dizzy. It was probably a miracle I hadn't been sick so far. In the monestary I was blessed regularly which helps drive away disease. The Counts medicinal tea for me as well seemed to help stave off disease, but in all the commotion there was a day or two I did not take it.
"I haven't had my tea..." I muttered to myself, wiping my palms against my cheeks to try and snap myself from this feeling. It was unsuccessful, my fatigue overwhelming me with the pain and heaviness.
"I need... water..." I gasped, but it was too late. My consciousness was already sliding away, darkness coming over me as the heat overcame me. Those terrifying nightmares I just escaped from came back with a vengeance to haunt me once more. I had never felt so trapped, reliving my brutal murder over again in my head while my sick body refused to let me escape.