>>6054953You have probably asked a few too many questions all at once. Now it’s better if you proceed orderly. While Salicera leads you across the inner square and its channels and streets surrounded by boughs and trees, you make up your mind.
“Where is Rubida?” You ask. “And what about Soralisa? Is she safe?”
Salicera chuckles.
“Just like you to make sure the others are safe. Even before focusing on something more personal, like your wound,” she points her free hand towards your chest.
The—
<span class="mu-i">hook piercing through your skin and flesh and poisoning your soul with winter—</span>
— wound.
It’s in the past. The fate of your companions is more important.
The fate of your friends.
“Rubida got all scared,” Salicera gives you a sheepish grin. “She was alone for far too long, poor thing. Apparently what to us lasted only a few minutes lasted much longer to her. Just like how it felt to Astoria and the martial chaplain — when we managed to escape the well, it was as if hours had passed. And the moment the entire structure fell, the stones grew all worn-out.” She scratches her side of her neck, suddenly nervous. “I came back there to check on something when Astoria finished healing you. The stones look old, Argia. Consumed by time, and overgrown by roots.”
“The Night is patient,” you mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing. Please go on.”
“So, Rubida was scared, and she tried not to show it, but she was mostly fine. I got a few bumps from the falling stones. And you had an ugly one on your shoulder… that was my fault. I missed a floating stone while I carried you down.”
You don’t really care.
“So… Rubida is fine?”
“Her pride got bruised the worst. You know how she is.”
“Yes— I suppose I do. I do now.” You let out a sigh while you cross over the final channel, reaching the inner gardens to the Temple of Flame. The pavilion shines in the sunlight. You feel the warmth kissing your skin — so welcome after everything that happened. “Did Soralisa recover?”
“Well—”
“That is not for us to tell yet—” interrupts her the Priest, still holding the cup of burning oils. “Your friend shows progress, but it is not up to us to decide whether she ever properly recovers the use of her arms.” The man shakes his head beneath his veil. “The Blessed Blind shared the news with me. To attempt something like that— she is lucky to be alive.”
She just got scared in the forest. If you had been there for her, maybe she wouldn’t have fallen to despair.
[cont.]
