the angels hidden blade

TEN

Nefeli felt herself being pulled under, submerged in a suffocating deluge of boiling water. 

The liquid seeped into her throat, a relentless force that crushed her body in its scalding embrace. 

Light burned her eyes, stabbing through her skull like a thousand needles.

Suddenly, she was awake. Or at least, she thought she was. 

The world around her was a blur, and her entire body convulsed with shivers. 

The air was thick with the scent of herbs and fire smoke, a strange mixture that lingered in her senses.

Her teeth chattered uncontrollably within her head as she attempted to move, to sit up from the cocoon of discomfort. 

A gentle hand pressed against her, pushing her back down.

"Don't," a deep voice resonated through her mind, a comforting warmth in the midst of confusion and pain.

"It hurts," a voice echoed, and she realized it was hers. It sounded small and frightened, a reflection of the terror coursing through her.

"I know," the voice assured, and her body trembled uncontrollably. 

She sensed the presence of fire nearby, its warmth mingling with an unsettling coldness. 

Flickering light and shadows danced over her closed eyelids, adding to the throbbing ache within her skull.

She shut her eyes, attempting to shut out the assaulting sensations, swallowing the metallic taste that clung to her throat.

"It will go soon," the voice reassured her again, and she felt something hard brushing sticky hair away from her face. 

Sweat dripped from her skin, a tangible manifestation of the fever's relentless assault.

"How do you know?" she managed to ask, her words tinged with pain as colours danced over her mind and before her closed eyes. 

The agony forced her mouth to move, almost beyond her control.

"I've seen it before," the deep voice replied, and something cold swept over her eyes. 

The sensation was so biting that it burnt her skin, a paradoxical touch of relief amidst the searing pain.

"Did they die?" Nefeli's voice emerged, fragile and distant, lost in the haze of pain. The cold sensation on her skin momentarily retreated.

"No, you didn't," the comforting deep voice reassured her, a balm to her distressed senses. 

It resonated like rain on the stone roof of Ker Morhen, a familiar and soothing sound.

"Hm," she murmured, her attention fleeting as the pain overwhelmed even the simplest acts, like breathing.

"Sleep, Cupid," the voice urged, and this time her eyes fluttered open. 

A silver wolf stood before her, its gaze glinting with recognition. She knew that wolf. A small smile tugged at her lips.

"Thank you, Wolf," she whispered softly, expressing gratitude to the creature that had become a symbol of protection and solace. 

With that, she closed her eyes again, surrendering to the pull of sleep, allowing her mind to fade away into the temporary refuge of sleep.

"Is she going to die?" a voice, a symphony of booming thunder and velvety caresses, echoed around her fevered skin as she writhed and groaned in pain.