The room was unbearably quiet.
I sat by Dragonir's side, my hand resting lightly on the edge of his cot, my fingers tracing the frayed stitching of the blanket beneath him. I wanted to reach out and touch him, to offer him some kind of comfort, but it felt wrong. He was unconscious, after all—completely unaware of everything around him—and yet there was an intimacy to the moment that I couldn't shake.
His breathing was steady, though shallow, and every rise and fall of his chest seemed to echo in the stillness of the infirmary. The healers had done what they could, but they couldn't give me any real answers. Now it was just a matter of time. Waiting. Watching. Hoping.
I hated feeling this powerless.
I shuddered, pulling my cloak tighter around me, even though the room wasn't cold. My thoughts drifted to the fight—if you could even call it that—and the way Dragonir had thrown himself into danger without hesitation. I knew he had a sense of duty, a need to prove himself, but I hadn't realized just how far he was willing to go until that moment.
And now… now he was paying the price.
The door creaked open behind me, and I stiffened, half-expecting a healer or one of the academy's staff to enter. But instead, it was Gwen.
I barely had time to brace myself before she stormed into the room, her footsteps loud and purposeful. She didn't even glance at me—her eyes were fixed on Dragonir, wide with shock and something else, something that made my chest tighten.
"What happened to him?" Her voice was sharp, demanding, and it cut through the stillness like a blade. She crossed the room in a few strides, standing over Dragonir's unconscious form with an expression of disbelief, as if she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing.
I didn't answer right away. I wasn't sure what to say. How could I explain something that I barely understood myself?
Gwen turned to me then, her face twisted in anger. "Seraphina, I asked you a question. What happened to him?"
I opened my mouth, but the words caught in my throat. I wanted to tell her everything, to explain the fight, the injuries, the way Dragonir had pushed himself too far. But the look on her face stopped me. She wasn't just angry—she was scared. And I realized, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn't about the fight. This was about something deeper, something that had been simmering between us for far longer than I'd acknowledged.
"He… he was injured during training," I lied, my voice barely above a whisper. It sounded weak, even to me, and I knew it wasn't enough. Not for her.
Gwen's eyes narrowed. "Training? This looks a lot worse than just some accident during training."
"It wasn't an accident," I replied, trying to keep my tone calm, though it was getting harder by the second. "There was an attack. He was defending—"
"Defending what? Or who?" Her voice was rising now, a dangerous edge creeping into it. "Because it sure seems like every time something happens to Dragonir, you're involved. Isn't that a little strange, Seraphina?"
I flinched at the accusation, even though I knew it wasn't fair. I hadn't asked for any of this. I hadn't wanted to be dragged into whatever mess Dragonir had gotten himself into. But that didn't matter to Gwen. All she saw was me—always there, always at his side, even when she wasn't.
"It wasn't like that," I tried to explain, but the words felt hollow. Gwen didn't care about the details. She wasn't here for the truth.
"You don't belong here," she spat, her voice low and venomous. "You don't know him like I do."
I looked away, my chest tightening with an emotion I couldn't quite name. Gwen was right, in a way. I didn't know Dragonir the way she did. They had grown up together, shared memories, experiences, and bonds that I could never touch. I was an outsider in their world, no matter how close I thought I'd gotten to him.
But that didn't change the fact that I cared. That I was here, now, when Dragonir needed someone the most.
"I'm not trying to take your place," I said quietly, my voice trembling with the weight of everything I wasn't saying. "I'm just trying to help him."
Gwen's laugh was cold and bitter. "Help him? Is that what you think you're doing? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're the reason he's in this mess."
My heart clenched painfully in my chest, and for a moment, I couldn't breathe. Was she right? Had I somehow caused this? I thought back to the fight, the moments leading up to it. Dragonir had been reckless, yes, but he was always reckless. He had always been protective, always felt the need to throw himself into danger for the sake of others. Had I pushed him too far this time?
"I never wanted this," I whispered, more to myself than to Gwen. "I didn't want him to get hurt."
"Well, he is hurt," Gwen snapped, her eyes blazing with anger. "And you can't just stand here and act like it's not your fault."
I bit my lip, fighting the urge to argue with her. It wasn't my fault. Dragonir had made his own choices, just like he always did. But I knew that trying to convince Gwen of that was pointless. She had already made up her mind.
"You should go," she said, her voice cold and dismissive. "You've done enough."
The words stung, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. I had done everything I could, and now… now I was just waiting. Waiting for Dragonir to wake up, waiting for something to change. And maybe Gwen was right. Maybe my presence here wasn't helping anyone.
But as much as I wanted to leave, I couldn't make myself move. Not yet.
"I'm not going anywhere," I said quietly, forcing myself to meet Gwen's gaze. "Not until I know he's okay."
Gwen's jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought she might actually hit me. But then she turned away, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. "Fine," she muttered. "Stay. But don't think for a second that this is over."
She stormed out of the room without another word, leaving me alone with Dragonir once more. The silence that followed was suffocating, and I felt the weight of everything pressing down on me all at once.
I sank back into the chair beside Dragonir's bed, my head in my hands. Gwen's words echoed in my mind, taunting me, making me question everything I had done.
Was it really my fault? Had I somehow caused this? Or was Gwen just lashing out, trying to find someone to blame because she couldn't face the truth?
I didn't know. And that uncertainty gnawed at me, leaving me feeling more helpless than ever.
I glanced at Dragonir again, my heart aching at the sight of him so still and vulnerable. He had always been so strong, so confident. Seeing him like this… it was wrong. It didn't feel real.
I reached out, hesitating for a moment before letting my fingers brush against his. His skin was warm, but there was no response. No flicker of recognition, no movement. Just the steady rise and fall of his chest, as if he were lost in some distant dream.
"Please wake up," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the quiet room. "Please. I need you."
The words felt strange on my tongue, like a confession I wasn't ready to make. But it was the truth. I did need him. Not just because of the danger we were in, not just because of the mess we had found ourselves caught up in. I needed him because, somehow, he had become important to me. More important than I wanted to admit.
And that terrified me.
I sat there for what felt like hours, my hand resting lightly on his, my thoughts spinning in circles. The room grew darker as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the stone floor. The healers had come and gone, checking on Dragonir's condition, but offering no new information.
Finally, just as I was beginning to lose hope, I felt it—a slight twitch of his fingers beneath mine. My heart leapt in my chest, and I sat up straighter, my eyes fixed on his face.
"Dragonir?" I whispered, barely daring to hope.
His eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, I thought I had imagined it. But then, slowly, his eyes opened, unfocused and bleary, but open.
Relief flooded through me, so overwhelming that I had to bite back a sob. He was awake. He was alive.
"Thank the goddess," I breathed, leaning over him, my hand tightening around his. "You're okay. You're really okay."
Dragonir blinked, his gaze slowly focusing on me. "Seraphina?" His voice was hoarse, barely more than a whisper, but it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
I smiled through my tears, nodding. "Yes,
It's me. You're safe now. Everything's going to be okay."
He looked confused, his brow furrowing. "Where am I?"
"You're in the infirmary," I explained gently.
Dragonir frowned, his eyes flickering with something I couldn't quite read. "The fight… I remember… I was protecting…" His voice trailed off, and he winced, as if the memory was too painful to recall.
"Don't worry about that right now," I said softly. "Just focus on getting better."
But even as I said the words, I knew that this wasn't over.
And next time, I wasn't sure we'd be so lucky.