Aurelia's body didn't just collapse.
It gave out, like something inside her finally snapped under the weight of everything she'd been forced to endure.
Her vision blurred, her breath cut short—
and then she hit the floor with a hollow, lifeless sound, limbs slack, head rolling to the side.
Maybe this is what she needed —a shut down.
She didn't even twitch.
The guards didn't hesitate.
They grabbed her like she was nothing more than discarded cloth—one by the arms, one by the ankles—and dragged her across the stone. Her legs dragged uselessly behind her, knocking against every step, every crack, every uneven tile.
By the time they reached the Valetudinarium, she looked barely human nearly dead.
This place was where pain was recycled, traded, stolen.
Where healers came to die slowly.
The door creaked open, and the smell hit first—
old sweat, old sickness, old despair that clung to the walls like mold.
The figures stood in the shadows, and even they seemed afraid to breathe too deeply.
Their skin was pale, stretched thin.
Their eyes dimmed—like candles almost burned out.
Their body trembling just from standing.
Every scar on their arms wasn't a story—
it was a wound they'd taken from someone else.
"Put her on the slab," the healer said.
The guards obeyed immediately.
Aurelia's body hit the stone bed with a dull thump—her arm flopped off the side, her hair sticking to dried sweat on her cheek.
These were the healers.
Humanoid, yet not fully human—pale-skinned, eyes dim with exhaustion, hands marked with faint, ghostly scars that didn't belong to them.
Dark humans born with healing power carried a cruel gift: They could take another's wounds into themselves, absorbing pain, sickness, damage—
but every healing stripped away more of their strength,
making them weaker, more mortal, more fragile…
until their power burned out entirely
and they became no stronger than the humans they once healed.
The healer looked at Aurelia—broken, unconscious, trembling even in her sleep.
The healer approached slowly, each step heavy, each movement a battle. They hovered a hand over Aurelia's ruined leg and flinched even before touching her.
"This will drain us," a healer whispered, voice hollow. "Perhaps more than I have left."
Still, they pressed their palm down.
A jolt ripped through their body—
their spine arched, their jaw clenched so tightly their teeth nearly cracked. Their breath came out ragged, shaking, their knees trembling as if they might split under the strain.
The healer coughed sharply, catching themselves on the table as pain leapt up their arm, into their chest, down their ribs. Their own skin began to tremble violently, their strength bleeding away with every second.
Aurelia didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
She was too far gone for that.
The healer's voice broke into a strained whisper:
"She has more damage than she shows… and we cannot take much more."
"You better shut up," one guard hissed, gripping the healer's shoulder as their body convulsed from the strain. "Or Tenebrarum will hear the words you just said."
The healer bit down on their tongue, swallowing a cry that still trembled through their throat.
But they couldn't stop.
Their fingers stayed pressed to Aurelia's skin, shaking violently as the last threads of their power burned through them like splinters of fire. Their knees buckled. Their breath rattled. Sweat dripped down their spine in thin, trembling lines.
Still—they kept going.
Because in this place,
the suffering of others was not a burden—
it was an order.
-------------------------------
Soon her whole body was healed, no marks, no stripes.
But was her heart healed…
She was still in the Valetudinarium.
Her eyes opened slowly, glassy and heavy, blinking against the light of the unfamiliar room. They darted around, taking in the walls, the floor, the quiet emptiness.
Her legs trembled as she pushed herself upright, muscles weak from days of pain, forcing her to steady herself against the edge of the bed. Her hands shook slightly, fingers curling around the sheets before letting go, testing her strength.
She felt no pain—but she didn't care. Her mind was still screaming.
Felicia… she didn't deserve to die.
I should've protected her… I should've done something.
It was all my fault… all my fault. All my fault.
Tears rolled bitterly from her eyes, hot and blinding.
Her fingers trembled as she wiped them away, smearing the wetness across her cheek.
Aurelia shouldn't have collected the food, just because of a bread and water Felicia is dead. Tenebrarum is so heartless but why didn't he kill Aurelia?
She pushed herself upright again, her legs unsteady beneath her, wobbling as if the ground itself rejected her weight. Her breath hitched. Her hands reached down for balance—
—and brushed against something cold.
Her eyes snapped toward it.
A knife.
Left carelessly on a low table, metal glinting like a cruel reminder of everything she'd survived.
Her hand hovered above it, shaking—
not with intent, but with fear, with anger, with a storm that had nowhere left to go.
Her chest rose and fell too fast.
The room spun around her in sick, dizzy circles.
Her memories crashed into her—
her father falling in the chaos,the war tearing her home apart.
Felicia's blood still warm in her mind.
It was too much.
Too much for her small, exhausted body to hold.
Her fingers closed around the knife.
For a heartbeat, she wasn't thinking—
she just wanted something to stop the noise in her head, she wanted to end this.
Her arm trembled as she lifted it,
not with a clear purpose,
but in the frantic, blind desperation of someone drowning in her own thoughts.
The blade shook in her grip, catching the dim light.
Her breath hitched.
Sometimes pushing forward feels like torture. I don't know how much more I can take.
I can't continue...
She raised the knife to her throat.
What was she trying to do,end her life?
It took three days for the healers to help her, and now she's trying to end it.
"Don't you dare."
The voice sliced through the room.
Aurelia froze, the knife slipping from her weak grasp and clattering against the floor.
From the darker corner of the Valetudinarium,
a figure stepped forward—
shadow first, then the cold shine of his eyes.
It was Tenebrarum.
"You're not going to do that," he said,
his voice low, dangerous, and uncomfortably calm.
"Are you?"
--------------------------
To be continued...