We gathered in the waiting room, joined by Earlston and Cecilia who had finished their check-ups. Though only half an hour had passed, each minute stretched like hours as tension filled the small space. None of us spoke, each lost in private hopes and fears.
The door to Lilia's room finally opened. Master Thalos emerged, his expression unreadable yet somehow troubling. Smith immediately rose to his feet, tension radiating from his rigid posture.
"What's wrong?" he demanded, voice tight with concern. "Is—is she okay?"
Thalos couldn't meet his eyes. Instead, the healer studied the floorboards at his feet before answering.
"She wishes to speak to you all."
We stood as one and filed into the room. Lilia lay propped against pillows, gazing through the window to her left. Morning light bathed her face, highlighting her pallor despite the small smile that curved her lips. She turned toward us as we entered, her eyes finding Smith first.
While the rest of us hung back near the door, Smith rushed to her bedside, dropping to his knees beside her.
"Are you okay? How do you feel?" The questions tumbled from him in a desperate rush. "You had me so worried, Lilia."
She regarded him with such tenderness that it seemed to fill the room with warmth. Her hand, still bearing the blue residue of healing enchantments, rose to touch his cheek.
"Oh, Smith," she murmured. "You're such a good person. I'm more grateful to you than you could ever realize."
A single tear escaped her eye, then another from the other side. Smith's expression shifted from relief to renewed alarm.
"W-what's wrong? Are you okay? Does something hurt?" His gaze frantically scanned her body as if searching for some visible source of pain.
"Smith." Her voice was soft but firm, drawing his attention back to her face. "It's not your fault."
Confusion contorted his features. "W-what are you talking about?"
Lilia's carefully maintained composure crumbled. Tears flowed freely down her face, and the warmth that had suffused the room seemed to leach away, leaving only a heavy darkness in its place.
"My legs..." she whispered.
Smith glanced down at her legs, covered by a thin blanket, then back to her face. "Your legs? What about them?"
She struggled to continue, each word clearly costing her. "I sustained a severe injury to my spine, and... and..."
We all stood frozen, holding our breath as she forced herself to finish.
"I can't feel them… Mr. Thalos says he doubts I'll never walk again."
The air seemed to vanish from the room. Smith's face transformed into a mask of horror and denial.
"Th-that's not possible," he stammered, rising to his feet. His voice grew louder, edged with desperate anger. "T-THAT'S BULLSHIT!"
He whirled toward the healer who stood silently by the door. "You don't know what you're talking about! She's fine!"
His shouts reverberated through the small room, raw with grief and rage. But before he could continue, Lilia reached out, catching the fabric of his pants.
"Lil—" Smith cut himself off as he turned back to her, the fury in his expression crumbling at the sight of her tear-streaked face.
"It's okay, Smith, really," she said softly. "I'm okay."
Something broke in Smith then. The anger dissolved into anguish, and tears spilled down his face. With a strangled sound, he turned and bolted for the door.
"Smith!" Lilia called after him.
Cecilia tried to intercept him, her own eyes brimming with tears, but he brushed past her without slowing. Earlston made no move to stop him. Instead, the man approached Lilia's bed, tears streaming unashamedly down his weathered face as he knelt beside her. Cecilia joined him a moment later, clasping Lilia's hand in both of hers.
The intimacy of their grief made me acutely aware of our intrusion. This wasn't our moment to witness. They needed time alone—the original party, bound by all of there shared adventures and now this devastating loss.
"Maya, Rowan, let's go," I said quietly. "We've got things to do."
"What?" Maya protested, fighting back tears of her own.
Rowan placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, giving her a look that conveyed what words couldn't. After a moment, Maya swallowed her objection, wiping roughly at her eyes before nodding.
We slipped from the room silently, leaving them to their private grief. As the door closed behind us, I caught one last glimpse of the three of them—Lilia in the bed, Earlston and Cecilia kneeling beside her, their hands clasped together in a circle of shared sorrow.
Outside, the morning sun seemed inappropriately bright for such a dark moment, its golden light at odds with the heaviness in my chest.