Caleb’s eyes softened briefly as he noticed the faint glimmer of a tear in Celestia’s eye. His concern flared for an instant, but it quickly hardened, shifting into a sharp frown. “Lady Pendragon…” His voice was steady but cutting. “Are you experienced with the Dungeon, or was this just a bad decision?” His tone bordered on disbelief, as though he couldn’t fathom an adventurer like her being in this condition.
Celestia’s gaze faltered for a moment before she looked up, her voice steady despite the weakness in her eyes. “I was told I’ve been diving for at least ten years. Before that, I was a mercenary—out in the field hunting monsters,” she said, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips, as if trying to convince herself more than him.
But Caleb’s expression remained hard. “It doesn’t matter how many years you’ve spent in the Dungeon, Lady Pendragon.” His voice dropped low, frustration simmering beneath his words. “Right now, you’re nothing more than a fool. Reckless. You’re risking everything—your life, your future—for what? To prove you can do this alone?”
Before Celestia could respond, Caleb grabbed her arm, his grip unyielding. “Heal yourself, now.” His command was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.
Celestia flinched at the sudden touch, but her jaw set in stubborn defiance. She raised her hand over the gash on her arm, focusing on the familiar incantation. The words slipped past her lips, but the magic flickered, weak and feeble, like a dying ember. Caleb’s eyes narrowed as he watched the weak attempt. His disbelief turned to frustration, and his voice surged with anger. “You’ve been in the Dungeon for ten years and you can’t even cast the simplest healing spell? What the hell is going on?” His voice was tight with confusion and disbelief. “How is this possible?”
Celestia’s teeth clenched as she tried to focus, but frustration bubbled within her. “I don’t know why I can’t heal,” she bit out, her voice barely controlled as her hand shook. She attempted to summon more power, but the spell sputtered out once again, leaving her trembling, exposed.
Caleb’s face twisted with growing frustration. “Try again. NOW!” His command was like a crack of a whip, sharp and demanding.
Celestia’s eyes locked onto his, her chest tight with fury and desperation. Her breath came in ragged gasps as the voices in her head began to rise, drowning out Caleb’s words. The voices mocked her, urging her to push harder, to use every last drop of mana she had. The more they spurred her on, the more her thoughts twisted, her self-control slipping.
“Of course, my Lord. Forgive my insolence for trying to take charge of my life,” she spat bitterly, the words laced with a dark pride and a hint of defiance. The voices in her head only grew louder, drowning out the world.
Her body trembled violently as she called upon the remnants of her magic. Her hand flared with dark sparks, crackling violently over her wound. The pain exploded within her, a molten dagger cutting through her veins. The wound pulsed, sending waves of agony coursing through her. Her hand jerked back from the force, but she fought against it, forcing herself to refocus, to push past the suffering. She could not stop. She couldn’t.
“Is that what you wanted to see, Lord Nightglen? That I am reckless? That I’m a fool?” she spat out, her voice breaking under the weight of both anger and sorrow. Her eyes burned with unspoken frustration, her words tumbling out before she could stop them. “You couldn’t understand,” she whispered hoarsely, the burn beneath her skin intensifying as dark veins crept up her neck, spreading their twisted path across her flesh. “This—this pain—will never stop. I’m trying, I’m TRYING to end it...”
Her breathing came in erratic bursts, her body trembling violently as she poured all her mana into the wound, the magic tearing at her insides as it ripped through her veins like fire. The wound throbbed, glowing with a sickly black light, an oppressive aura pulsing out from the wound. The pain surged again, overwhelming her senses, and the voices in her head giggled with cruel delight.
Her hand jerked back, a violent wave of nausea crashing into her, but she was too far gone, too desperate to stop. She placed her hand back on the wound, forcing more mana into the spell, determined to heal herself, to make the pain end.
“You’re wasting your time,” Caleb’s voice shattered through her, harsh and raw with frustration. “Stop this. You’re not going to heal yourself like this.”
But Celestia could barely hear him over the gnawing pain in her head. She swallowed hard, eyes burning with frustration. “I’m not trying to prove myself,” she muttered, her voice sharp despite the pain. “I need to find it. End this—this affliction that’s taken everything from me.” Her words trembled with the weight of her desperation.
The hallucinations were starting. Dark shadows flitted at the edge of her vision, whispering in voices she knew all too well. A cold laugh echoed, and she turned her head, almost expecting to see Ryker standing beside Lord Nightglen, mocking her every move. Her hands shook violently as she forced herself to focus again. But before she could complete the spell, Caleb reached out and grabbed her wrist, stopping her with a forceful grip.
“You’re going to kill yourself if you keep going like this,” Caleb’s voice was low, full of warning, but there was no escaping the raw tension that thickened the air between them.
He held her wrist firmly, his gaze hardening as he studied her, his jaw clenched in disbelief. “You can’t even perform a simple healing spell, and you think you’re going to end something? You can’t even stop yourself from falling apart,” he growled, his frustration swelling to a boiling point.
Celestia’s breath came in shallow gasps, her skin burning under the strain of the spell she had tried to force through. Black veins crawled up her neck, and her heartbeat thudded in her ears like a war drum. She could feel the darkness closing in, but it was nothing compared to the void that had been gnawing at her soul. She didn’t care about the pain, the hallucinations, the exhaustion.
“I don’t care how reckless it is anymore,” she spat through gritted teeth, voice breaking. “I’ll do anything——to end this pain. To stop this never-ending horror that’s become my life.” Her body trembled, but there was no stopping her now. She would find it. No matter what.
She turned away from him, anger and despair radiating from her. With a hand gesture, she threw open her notebook and tossed it at him. The pages fell open, and the words scrawled in a frenzied hand caught his eye—Cursed. The word repeated again and again, etched onto every line of the worn pages.
“I know it’s reckless, Lord Nightglen! I know it’s insane to go alone. But this… curse… it’s eating me alive! I wake up, and I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Her voice dropped, shaking with the pent-up anguish she could no longer hold back. “Voices whispering in the shadows, this constant burning under my skin, a watchful eye that’s never there, draining me every day, taunting me… the 10th Level was the last place I was whole! And I’m going back… I have to go back!”
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The force of her words was a blow to Caleb’s chest, leaving him stunned. His eyes held a glint of horror as he took in the desperation scrawled across her face, the haunted look that even her fury couldn’t conceal. “The 10th Level…” he echoed softly. “You think you’ll find answers there?”
Celestia’s voice rose in fury, a raw edge cutting through her words. “Yes! The last time I could heal, remember… feel normal… was down there. But what good is that?” Her face twisted with bitterness. “Who would trust a cursed woman, especially one as reckless as I am?”
A pang of guilt struck Caleb as he heard her words, images of the past swirling in his mind. He remembered when Celestia had come seeking help, desperate and vulnerable. He had tried to lighten the mood, to make her more comfortable in his presence, not realizing how his attempts to ease the tension had been misunderstood.
“I didn’t mean for… I never wanted that to happen, Lady Pendragon,” he murmured, his voice strained. “I was only trying to—”
“Help?” Celestia’s laugh was cold, humourless, with a bitter edge to it. “A funny way of showing it. Instead, you humiliated me. When I came to you, desperate, seeking a way out… you dismissed me like a bothersome fly.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed in confusion, his breath catching. She couldn’t tell if these memories were hers or if they were shadows, twisted by her curse. He saw the pain in her eyes, the confusion in her voice. It dawned on him just how deeply this curse had ravaged her mind.
“That wasn’t me,” he said quietly, kneeling beside her. “It was Zara. I would never—” His voice trailed off, as he realized just how much this curse had done to the woman before him, to her very perception of reality.
His gaze softened with regret as he watched her slump, sweat beading on her forehead. He reached out tentatively, brushing his fingers against her feverish skin, his heart tightening.
“Lady Pendragon… let me help you now,” he said, his voice dropping to a gentle plea. “How did you… how did you end up cursed?”
Celestia’s breath hitched as she exhaled, the weight of her exhaustion pressing her down. She barely met his gaze, her voice barely a whisper, raw with hopelessness. “I don’t even know why or how, but I live with it every day.” She paused, eyes welling with tears she fought not to shed. “You wouldn’t understand,” she muttered. “What it’s like to be haunted, every step, every moment… seeing shadows dance in your vision, feeling eyes watching you, listening to voices whispering… all the time.”
Her voice cracked, and Caleb could see the torment etched across her features. She broke then, her body shaking as the weight of it all crushed her. “I just want this to end,” she whispered, her words tremulous, desperate. “I can’t take it anymore... Even death would be better than this.”
Caleb’s chest tightened as he watched her unravel, his hand still resting on her shoulder. He knew, with painful clarity, that the agony she was in went far beyond physical wounds. The curse had hollowed her out, torn away any sense of peace, of safety.
“Please, Lady Pendragon…” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Let me help you. Let me heal your wounds. Let me do something.”
Her gaze flickered up to meet his, and there was a weariness in her eyes—one that spoke of surrender, of exhaustion. She closed them again, her shoulders slumping as if she were ready to relinquish the fight. “Alright…” she whispered, her voice hollow, as though speaking to the air more than to him. “I just… can’t do it anymore.”
Nodding, Caleb’s hands hovered above her injuries, his magic flowing through his fingertips in a soft, green glow. “I will make this quick,” he murmured, his tone steadying as he focused. The magic pooled around her wounds, and she exhaled slowly, her body relaxing under the warmth of his touch. For a moment, the pain seemed to subside, her muscles unwinding as if the world had briefly turned kinder.
But then, as Caleb finished the spell, he saw it. The black veins that had crawled up her neck and arms faded back beneath her clothes, but her pallor remained, the sickness in her still evident. Her breath was slower, but still ragged. Her exhaustion hadn’t left her.
He exhaled softly, a frown forming as he looked down at her.
“Nothing’s changed,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.
Her eyes fluttered open, and Caleb saw something softer in her expression as she looked up at him. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice faint, almost a whisper. Caleb offered her a small, tired smile, his hand lingering on her shoulder for a moment before he gently pulled it away.
The room settled into a quiet stillness, and Celestia met his gaze again. “I wasn’t… I was never angry with you,” she admitted, her voice carrying a rare, vulnerable sincerity. She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly as if trying to grasp the right words, but the frustration she was trying to explain evaded her. “I just… I don’t know why, but it felt like I was… I was angry. At you.”
Caleb blinked, her words catching him off guard. “Never… angry?” he repeated, his gaze narrowing slightly as he tried to understand. He knew she was trying to apologize for how she had lashed out at him, but the curse’s twisted grip on her memories made it harder for her to make sense of her feelings. Still, it was clear to him that her anger had been more about the situation than about him personally.
He studied her face, his heart aching at the vulnerability she was showing. For the first time, he felt a strange heat rise to his cheeks as her eyes traced his features, lingering on the patch over his right eye, his golden gaze faintly illuminated by the lingering magic.
A heavy silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken understanding. It was a fragile moment—one that Caleb would have normally been quick to dismiss—but here, in this dim light, the weight of her words settled deeply.
After a beat, Caleb shifted, his gaze dropping to her hands, which rested lightly in her lap. The faint traces of blackened magic still lingered on her fingertips, a reminder of the curse she bore. He reached out, his usual confidence wavering as a hint of uncertainty flickered in his golden eyes. Gently, he lifted her hand, his fingers careful around hers as he examined it.
“Your magic,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “The way it falters… it isn’t just exhaustion, is it?”
Celestia’s gaze fell, a shadow crossing her face as she pulled her hand back slightly—not enough to escape his grasp, but just enough to create a distance. “No,” she replied, her voice heavy with a tired bitterness. “Every spell, every breath—it’s all… tainted now.” Her fingers trembled in his grasp, and when her eyes met his again, a flash of anguish flickered in her violet gaze.
Caleb tightened his grip just slightly, trying to ground her, to offer her some sense of stability in this storm of despair. “You don’t have to bear this alone,” he murmured, his words heavy with meaning. “Sometimes… we all need a tether.”
Her breath hitched, and for a fleeting moment, she looked startled. The warmth of his concern seeped through her walls, and she felt a brief, aching flicker of something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time—hope. But the weight of years alone, the isolation, pulled her back, and her expression hardened once again.
“I’ve been alone long enough, my lord,” she said, her voice carrying a fragility that betrayed the strength she tried to project. “It’s all I know now.”
Caleb watched her for a moment longer, his eyes searching the depths of her torment. Finally, he nodded, a quiet, resigned softness overtaking his expression. He wanted to do more for her, to help her find some peace, but in this moment, he could only offer words. Yet, even as he spoke, the words felt inadequate, even as they were the truth.
“For what it’s worth, Lady Pendragon,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “the burden you carry is not invisible.”
A small, almost wistful smile flickered across his lips, and he glanced away, stirring the fire to fill the quiet that had settled once more. His words hung in the air, an offering of understanding, of recognition. But in the silence that followed, it was clear that both of them knew—this wasn’t the end of the pain. It was only the beginning of learning how to navigate it together.