Amidst the raging storm outside, Millie had already prepared a warm bath, steam rising in the soft glow of the room. Fragrant rose petals floated idly atop the steaming water, their delicate scent meant to soothe.
"My lady, the bath is ready," Millie said softly, stepping forward to help her undress.
Rosellene submerged herself in the comforting warmth of the water as Millie poured soothing water over her shoulders, the heat seeping into her chilled skin, attempting to chase away the numbness left by the cold.
"It's a dreadful storm," one of the maids murmured, carefully setting down fresh towels.
"Storms in the mountains are always unpredictable," Millie, kneeling beside the tub as she waited on Rosellene, frowned slightly. "One moment, the skies are clear, the next, the heavens tear open."
Rosellene listened in silence, her fingers trailing absentmindedly through the warm water.
She felt a dull throbbing pain behind her temples, her breath catching faintly in her throat, a telltale sign of an impending illness.
The heaviness creeping into her limbs spoke of an entirely different storm brewing within her.
By the time Rosellene finished her bath and wrapped herself in fresh layers, the maids brought over a steaming cup of ginger tea, along with other remedies meant to chase away the cold.
"My lady, please drink this," she urged gently. "It will help warm your body."
Rosellene took the cup between her hands, the porcelain warm against her chilled skin. She brought it to her lips, the sharp scent of ginger and honey filling her senses before the liquid burned down her throat.
But even as she took small sips, her vision swayed momentarily, and a wave of dizziness swept over her. Her head buzzed as though submerged in water.
"My lady!" Millie murmured, lowering herself to kneel beside Rosellene. She noticed the slight flush on her lady's cheeks. Too pale, yet tinted with unnatural warmth.
Millie exchanged a glance with one of the other maids, Elise.
"She looks feverish," Elise murmured.
"She is feverish," Millie whispered back, her voice tight with worry.
Elise hesitated before stepping closer. "My lady, may I check something?"
At Rosellene's nod, Elise gently pressed against her thigh, only for Rosellene to inhale sharply, pain flaring at the slightest touch as she instinctively flinched.
"My lady," she said, startled. "Your muscles are incredibly stiff... does it hurt?"
Rosellene exhaled slowly, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "A little," she admitted, though in truth, it was nearly unbearable.
"It's strained," Elise confirmed, worry knitting her brows together. "The climb must have been too much. It's worse than I thought."
Millie immediately retrieved a warming balm, carefully rubbing the remedy onto Rosellene's aching muscles.
"You should've told us earlier, my lady," Millie said, a rare trace of reprimand in her voice.
Rosellene let out a faint chuckle, though it was breathless. "I didn't notice until now."
Millie pursed her lips, her worry deepening. "We should call for the temple's physician before this worsens."
But as she turned to look outside, her heart sank.
The sky erupted into a violent flash of lightning, followed by a deafening crack of thunder that rattled the very foundations of the temple.
Lightning illuminated the dim room for mere seconds before being swallowed by darkness once more, and another torrential downpour struck the roof, so heavy it drowned out all other sounds.
Rosellene, already feeling the weight of fever pressing upon her, hesitated before glancing at the raging storm.
It was impossible to send help in such conditions.
"Not in this weather," she said, her voice softer than before. "There's no need to risk anyone. It's just a fever… it will pass."
Millie pursed her lips, unwilling to accept such words, but the temple was vast, and the physician's chambers were not close. To send someone out in a storm like this would be reckless.
Rosellene leaned back against her pillow, exhaustion weighing down every limb.
"My lady," Millie whispered, dipping a fresh towel into cool water before pressing it gently against Rosellene's burning forehead. "Just hold on until the rain lets up. We'll get you help you soon."
Rosellene hummed, noncommittal, but her body had already begun to betray her.
The fever rose gradually, her body coated in a thin layer of sweat, her breathing growing shallow as waves of heat spread across her skin. She swallowed thickly, a painful dryness clinging to her throat.
Her throat burned.
She coughed once. Then again.
It wouldn't stop.
Her body trembled beneath the layers of blankets, her delicate figure now disheveled, her damp hair clinging to her fevered skin.
The sound of rain crashing against the temple grew deafening, almost as if it meant to drown out her quiet suffering.
Millie wiped the sweat from her forehead, silently praying for the storm to end.
But against the unyielding force of nature, all they could do was wait.
And hope for the best.
As the night deepened, and though the storm had lost its earlier ferocity, the rain had not ceased. It fell in an unrelenting drizzle, drumming softly against the rooftops, soaking into the muddied earth below.
Inside Rosellene's chambers, the air was thick with fevered warmth.
She lay motionless beneath layers of thick blankets, her complexion had turned unnaturally pale as sweat clung to her skin, her breathing shallow, each cough rattling in her chest.
The soft candlelight flickered against the walls, casting restless shadows as her maids worked tirelessly around her.
Yet, despite their efforts, her condition worsened.
Millie sat by the bedside, wringing out a damp cloth to press against her lady's burning forehead. "She's burning up. At this rate–"
"We have to call for the physician."
The voice belonged to Elena, one of the maids who had accompanied Rosellene on this trip. She stood by the window, peering into the rain-drenched darkness outside, her brows drawn in determination.
Millie immediately turned to her, shaking her head. "The storm hasn't fully passed. The roads are a mess—you could slip, or worse."
"I'll be fine," Elena insisted, turning towards her. "The physicians are available at all hours... they have to be, considering the number of knights that come here injured. If we wait any longer…" She glanced toward Rosellene, whose shallow breaths filled the silence. "We can't take that risk."
Millie hesitated, torn between reason and concern. The temple halls were vast, and the roads had turned into rivers of mud. But Rosellene's condition had already spoken for itself.
With a reluctant sigh, she nodded. "Fine. But you are not going out there unprepared."
Without wasting another second, the maids hurriedly wrapped Elena in a thick cloak, fastening it securely and gloves to shield her hands from the cold. The rain would soak through soon enough, but it would offer some defense for now.
"Be careful," Millie instructed firmly.
Elena gave a small smile before stepping into the night. "I will."
Millie watched as her figure disappeared into the darkness, swallowed by the cold rain. Only when she could no longer see her did she close the door and return to Rosellene's bedside.
The once-solid path had long since turned into a thick layer of mud and puddles, the rainwater pooling in uneven patches along the stone pathways, sucking at Elena's boots as she pressed forward.
The cold rain seeped through her cloak, soaking into her dress, but she barely noticed. Each step was hurried and fueled by urgency.
By the time, she arrived at the Physician's Hall, her breath was uneven, her fingers trembling from the cold.
The warm glow of lanterns spilled through the arched windows. It was a place where knights came to tend to their wounds, where injuries–both minor and severe were treated at all hours.
As she stepped inside, she was immediately met with a familiar face.
"Elena?"
Camille, Celestine's maid, stood near the entrance, carefully folding a fresh set of linens. At first sight of Elena, her brows lifted in mild surprise.
"Camille!" Elena exhaled in relief. "Thank the heavens—you're here."
"What are you doing here at this hour?" Camille stepped forward, setting aside the fabric.
"Lady Rosellene has fallen ill," Elena explained quickly. "She has a fever, and it's only getting worse. I need to see a physician immediately."
Camille's expression shifted into seriousness. "Follow me. I know someone."
She led Elena deeper into the hall, passing rows of cots occupied by resting knights, until they reached a physician she knew well.
"This is Physician Alden" Camille introduced. "He's one of the most experienced here."
"Greetings, sir," Elena respectfully nodded.
The Physician was a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and steady hands. He listened attentively as Elena explained Rosellene's symptoms.
Alden nodded without hesitation. "I will gather my things immediately." Without wasting time, he asked his assistant to grab his medical kit and gestured to Elena to lead the way.
Behind them, the soft glow of the oil lamps illuminated the hall, their flickering light stretching long shadows across the floor as the group hurried out into the night.