Healing

5. stab wounds

I haven't talked to Hunter in weeks.

It turns out the leader of the emperor's coven wouldn't want to associate with me, the ex-apprentice of a known traitor after I suggested that we should ditch our coven responsibilities and run away together.

Oops, I guess.

I suppose I should be grateful. While his avoidance hurts, it's better for us if he just elects to ignore my existence rather than sentence me to petrification.

I would be a prime candidate for it, I'm sure. It would both serve as a punishment for my deeds and as a message to Lilith— "look, this child is being robbed of their life because you dared to betray us.''

It would be a work of true dramatic irony:

Being punished for something you weren't able to accomplish and dying by my own confidant's hand.

But there's the thing: The empire can't rob me of my life. They stole that away years ago.

In truth, I'm tired.

Exhausted.

The type of weariness that can't be fixed by a good night's sleep, that wears you down slowly, until you notice there's nothing left.

I have tried to justify it to myself, but there's no amount of lying to one's own reflection that can explain what I am still doing here after it was made clear that I'm no saviour.

Hunter doesn't need me.

Deep down, I know that I don't need him either.

Maybe it's just pathetic pining. Maybe it's pure, unfiltered desperation or just plain stupidity, but I still cannot force myself to leave after all we've been through.

So I stay exactly where I am, pretending like his clear avoidance of me doesn't mean anything. I throw myself into work and try to get back to the same mind space I was in months prior, long before I got myself into this mess.

If I don't do that, the only thing I'll be left with is the feeling that my entire life is crumbling apart.

The upside of all of this is that I now have no distractions.

My talent for healing is the only thing I have left, after all, so I might as well put it to good use.

I don't doubt that there are other people here who also want to leave. Who wish to return to their families one day and leave this all behind— so If I'm not doing this for myself, or Hunter, I'll do it for them. I'll help as many people as I can so that they might survive another day.

My job has been chaotic, though. Memorising new spells and keeping up with my new responsibilities has been immensely tiring, but the insane pacing and chaos of late-night shifts don't allow me much time or energy to wallow in my own misery.

In a way, I like it.

It makes me feel useful. Helpful. I'm able to detach from my emotions and focus solely on my job, and at the end of my shift, go back into my room and pass out to another dreamless night of sleep.

Things are like that, and it's okay.

As the weeks go by I slowly get used to my new normal. I stop expecting late-night study sessions in the library or notes tied to red cardinals.

I don't cry anymore.

I don't feel guilt or shame or regret.

It doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt, but there's a point where I realised that there are certain things that cannot be fixed, and certain things that aren't meant to last.