"Have you heard about that new Deathwalker?"
Apollo asked as he approached me, covered in blood and with his left arm chopped off but very much alive.
"Hm?" I glanced up at him and scooted a little to let him sit beside me on the blood-soaked boulder.
I was resting after a particularly intense battle against the daemons when he approached.
The appearance of Abnormal daemons had intensified lately, wreaking havoc and claiming the lives of many Deathwalkers, veterans included.
I lost my right leg below the knee after three nasty Abnormal daemons jumped me when I was cooking the fangs out of a wraith.
I killed the three Abnormal daemons that jumped me, of course, but losing a leg still sucked.
Fortunately, the remaining daemons retreated or got destroyed soon after my surprise amputation.
"New Deathwalker?" I furrowed my brow as Apollo settled beside me. "We get rookies all the time. Why the interest in one Deathwalker?"
"Cause she's a tall and ultra gorgeous lady with fiery red hair and eyes," Apollo pointed out with a grin.
I glanced at him skeptically. "Apollo, that sounds like the Incarnus of Ignis."
"No, he's right," came a voice, and Artemis appeared, somehow completely unscathed.
She moved like a shadow, slipping into our conversation with ease. "There really is a striking Deathwalker with red hair and eyes."
I frowned again. "And why are we talking about her again?"
"Because we've never seen her in the Shield before," Artemis explained, her voice thoughtful. "Someone of her beauty—and age—would stick out."
I rolled my eyes. "Again, why are we fixating on her?"
"Cause she's hot," Apollo declared with a smirk.
Artemis let out a long-suffering sigh. "He has a thing for mature ladies."
"No wonder you're always trying to flirt with Dorothy," I teased, a small smile playing at my lips.
Apollo's grin widened. "And it's working. She seems rather taken with me."
"You're delusional," Artemis countered, rolling her eyes.
A silence settled over us, punctuated by the sounds of the battlefield and the cries of injured comrades being tended to by Scavengers and healers.
"It's been a week,", Artemis remarked, her tone tinged with melancholy.
I cast my gaze over the field, observing the fallen and the wounded, as well as those standing with vacant expressions while the Scavengers and healers moved amongst them.
"She'll bounce back. I'm sure of it," Artemis offered, her voice carrying a note of hope. "She's our captain, after all."
"Yep!" Apollo chimed in, grinning despite his injury. "And when she wakes up, she'll immediately assault you upon seeing your devilishly handsome face."
I smiled. "Thanks, man. I feel a bit better now."
"You were especially vicious today, against the wraiths," Artemis pointed out, her gaze sharpening.
"Was I?" I asked, taken aback. Whenever I see a wraith, my vision tends to blur, and I don't remember much afterward.
She nodded, looking a little disturbed. "You eviscerated every single wraith that crossed your path. It was... intense."
"Ah." I clenched my bloody fist. "Whenever I see one, I remember what they did to Iris, and I..."
My voice broke and I gritted my teeth.
"I should've been there for her."
Artemis placed her own blood-soaked hands on top of mine.
"Don't blame yourself. I understand why you'd go berserk against those wraiths. But take a moment to think about it. It was all her brothers," she said softly.
Her words grounded me, calming the storm inside a little. I unclenched my fists and exhaled. "Thanks, Artemis."
"Speaking of her brothers," Apollo piped in. "I heard the outside world is in an uproar."
"Silas and Cyrus Karsus were found guilty of conspiring to compromise the safety of the Shield and endangering the lives of three members of the royal family," he explained, his expression darkening.
"And to make matters worse, evidence of illegal human experimentation was uncovered in the Karsus Estate."
Artemis shuddered. "They were doing those fucked up experiments under the nose of the Duke."
I raised an eyebrow. "And His Majesty's verdict?"
Apollo snorted. "Isn't it obvious? Death by execution."
"And the weird thing is," Artemis added, "Duke Karsus himself volunteered to execute them."
She crossed her arms. "Truly a coldhearted man."
"Interesting," I murmured and watched the healers approaching us.
*******
"It's been a week."
I said quietly to Iris, lying on the bed, still connected to life support systems.
Her face, peaceful in her slumber remained spotless despite the horrific injuries that once marred her visage. Dr. Haytham and his team had done an amazing job.
Using my blood, they were able to neutralize the wraith venom, reattach her severed hand, and heal her body completely in just two days.
"The Doc is really a miracle worker." I smiled, though the weight of my words pressed down like a leaden weight on my chest.
My hand trembled as I gripped the side of her bed.
The room seemed to close in around us, the silence broken only by the steady beep of the monitors tracking every shallow breath she took.
"Iris," I whispered, my voice catching in my throat, "Please... wake up. You told me to wake you up."
Nothing. Not even a flicker of her long eyelashes in response to my words, just as it had been for the entire week.
I lingered, the mechanical hum of life support machines becoming my unwelcome companions, their monotonous rhythm gnawing at me.
I couldn't remember the last time I slept properly. The days had blended into a blur of waiting and worrying.
The door slid open behind me, and I turned to see who had entered and blinked twice to register what I saw.
It was a tall and gorgeous Deathwalker with fiery red hair and eyes. She wore the standard Deathwalker uniform and looked very good in it.
Her gaze fell on me, and she smiled warmly.
"Mordred," she greeted, her voice a gentle reassurance amidst the tension.
I blinked. That voice...
I know that voice and she looked very familiar.
"Wait... Mother?" I stared in disbelief.
She chuckled softly and snapped her fingers. In an instant, the fiery hue of her hair shifted to familiar golden locks, and her eyes softened into her familiar sapphire blue.
"What's up with the disguise?" I asked, still confused but starting to piece it together.
"I needed to be useful if I was staying in the Shield for the week," Guinevere explained with a wink. "Turns out I still remember how to be a Deathwalker."
She flexed her fingers, clearly pleased with herself. "I haven't lost my touch."
"You went into battle like that?" I asked, raising a brow.
Guinevere nodded. "Of course. It wouldn't do for the High Queen to be seen battling daemons and wraiths, now would it? Had to get Kay's permission, but I twisted his arm enough."
I sighed, shaking my head. "You should've gone back with Gawain. You didn't need to stay."
"And leave you here, consumed by anguish and anxiety?" She gave me a gentle smile. "Not a chance."
Guinevere moved to sit beside me. "Gawain had to return to Avalon for his studies, but he would've stayed too, you know that."
Concern furrowed my brow. "What about Trinity? Won't she miss you?"
Guinevere chuckled softly. "Trinity will manage just fine. I suspect Arth will relish having her around a bit longer."
Her gaze shifted to Iris, her expression growing somber. "She hasn't woken up yet?"
I shook my head, the familiar knot tightening in my chest. "Not even a stir. I'm scared, Mother."
Guinevere enveloped me in a comforting embrace. "It's okay to be scared. But we must have faith. Fear not, my dear. She will wake up. I have faith in her strength."
I clenched my fist, trying to keep my voice steady. "Even if she wakes up, what if she..."
Guinevere pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. "Let's just hope that will never happen."
Then, with a mischievous glint in her eye, she added, "For now, you should enjoy the fact that my boobs are in your face."
I groaned and pulled away from her embrace, rolling my eyes. "Mother, you're married."
She couldn't suppress a giggle. "Oh, come on. A little humor never hurt anyone."
I sighed, brushing her off. "You should really get back to Camelot. Your responsibilities—"
"Oh, don't worry. Morgan can handle it." She waved dismissively.
I leveled a stare at her. "You're quite the lousy queen."
Guinevere shrugged with a grin. "I've always said your mum was a better queen than I'll ever be."
A soft, wistful smile crossed her lips. "She could go from fooling around in the training hall to commanding a room full of nobles like she was born for it."
"Mum was a Locus user?" I asked, surprised.
Guinevere laughed. "No, no. I just meant she was a natural leader."
Suddenly, a faint gasp broke the air.
I whipped around, eyes wide as I stared at the bed.
Iris's eyelashes fluttered.
"Mother, get the Doc!" I blurted, heart hammering in my chest.
"On it!" Guinevere was already halfway out the door as Iris's eyes slowly fluttered open.
I rushed to her side, watching as her body jerked upright, a violent cough racking through her.
"Whoa! Whoa! Easy there," I supported her, guiding her as she coughed harder, her body trembling.
Slowly, the fit subsided, and her eyes fluttered open, blinking in confusion. Her gaze wandered around the room before finally settling on me.
For a moment, hope surged in my chest.
"Iris..." My voice broke, a mixture of relief and anxiety washing over me.
Relief that she was awake, but anxious as I noticed her bewildered expression, as if she didn't recognize me.
She blinked at me, her expression blank. "Where... where am I?" she rasped, her voice fragile.
A knot formed in my throat, and I struggled to find the right words. "You're in Althea, Iris. You... you were hurt. Pretty bad."
I forced a nervous chuckle. "You gave me quite the scare."
My gaze shifted to her blue eyes and my heart froze.
Her eyes, usually so intense and filled with life, were vacant. Lost.
Her expression was blank, a void where her identity should have been.
She tilted her head in confusion.
"I'm sorry. Who is Iris?" she asked, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
The air seemed to leave my lungs, my heart seizing painfully in my chest.
"You... you're Iris," I replied, struggling to keep my voice steady.
This must be a joke. She must be messing with me.
But there was no flicker of recognition in her eyes, no spark of remembrance. She looked at me as if I were a stranger.
"Iris, it's me. Mordred." My voice cracked, desperation slipping in.
She shook her head, her brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. I don't know you."
Her words hit me like a blow from Asphodel. A knot formed in my throat, choking back the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.
My breathing became heavy, my vision blurred, and my hands shook as I gripped the edge of her bed, fighting to stay grounded.
I forced a smile, though it felt more like a mask.
"Oh my. Is that so? But I'm a friend," I spoke, my voice steadier than ever.
Iris looked at me with confusion and uncertainty, her eyes searching for something familiar in my face.
"A friend?" she echoed.
I nodded stiffly, the motion feeling mechanical.
"Yes. A friend. Now if you'll excuse me," I said, my voice trailing off as I turned away, my legs moving on their own as I reached the door.
As I reached the door, I stepped aside to let Dr. Haytham and the healers rush into the room.
Ignoring their presence, I stepped out into the cold, sterile corridor.
I leaned against the wall, my legs suddenly weak, the weight of my grief pressing down on me like a tidal wave
"Mordred?"
Guinevere's voice broke through the haze. She stood before me, her concern evident, but as our eyes met, the facade of her calm crumbled.
Tears welled in her eyes as she reached for me.
"Mother," I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I stumbled forward, the weight of my grief threatening to crush me.
Swift as the wind, Guinevere enveloped me in her arms as I surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotions that raged inside me.
I had expected this. Somewhere deep down, I had prepared for this.
But why does it hurt so much?
So I wept in Guinevere's arms, my crying echoing off the cold corridor walls.