Mr. & Mrs Meropide

Chapter Twenty-Five: All the Things I Never Got to Say

Clorinde let out a gut-wrenching scream, her anguish echoing through the now-silent battlefield. If only she had been faster, if she had completed her mission sooner, if she hadn't sent him into battle alone. The regret and guilt tore at her, but she didn't allow herself to freeze. A second passed, then another, and she acted. Her Vision flared, the heat from her Electro power surging as she sent a pulse through his body. Nothing. She tried again, and again—still nothing.

Pain etched deep into her features as she manually started chest compressions, desperately trying to force life back into him. She leaned down, giving him air, her breath shaky with fear. Clorinde grabbed the communication device with trembling hands. "Sigewinne, I need you here. Vire will tell you the location," she said, her voice breaking, before it gave out entirely.

She returned to the chest compressions, her hands moving with a frantic rhythm, refusing to accept the reality before her. Another breath, another wave of electricity across his body, another attempt to jumpstart his heart. But still, there was nothing. Desperation clawed at her, but she didn't stop, didn't let herself think about what it would mean if she failed. All she could do was keep trying, keep fighting for him, even as hope began to slip through her fingers.

The sun slowly began to rise, casting light over the massacre around her. Silent tears ran down Clorinde's face, everything eerily quiet as she gave him another round of air. Her hands pressed down on his chest, but still no heartbeat. She sent another wave of electricity through his body.

No pulse. But she didn't stop, couldn't face what was right in front of her. Tears fell onto him as she pressed her lips against his, giving him another round of air. Another set of chest compressions. Another desperate attempt to restart his heart with a wave of electricity.

And then—a heartbeat.

She double-checked, her hands trembling as she felt for his pulse again. It was there—faint, but unmistakably present. His breathing was shallow, but it was there too. Relief washed over her as she gently repositioned him, making sure his airway was clear. She couldn't afford any mistakes now.

With steady hands, she began bandaging his wounds, stabilizing the arrows lodged in his leg and shoulder. She wrapped his hand carefully, noting how his knuckles were raw and bleeding. Every movement was deliberate, every touch infused with the urgency of the situation.

As she finished bandaging him, she noticed his Vision. It was glowing, but only faintly—a sign of how much he had pushed himself, how close he had come to the edge. She sat beside him, holding his hand, feeling the slight warmth of his skin under her fingers.

The sun's rays began to bathe them in light, tickling their skin with its warmth as it slowly rose over the horizon. Clorinde stayed there, silent, watching over him, having done everything she could.

Sigewinne arrived with Neuvillette at her side, their pace quickening as they approached the scene. The sight of Wriothesley lying motionless with Clorinde beside him made Sigewinne's heart tighten, but she immediately went to work, her small hands moving with the precision of an experienced healer.

As Neuvillette placed a reassuring hand on Clorinde's shoulder, they both stepped back, giving Sigewinne the space she needed. A soft rain began to fall, despite the absence of clouds, painting a beautiful rainbow across the sky.

Neuvillette's gaze swept over the battlefield, taking in the evidence of the Duke's fierce struggle. "I'm sure Sigewinne will be able to help him," he said softly, his voice calm but laced with concern.

Clorinde's eyes remained fixed on Wriothesley, her voice breaking as she whispered, "Then why is it raining?"

Neuvillette remained silent, the raindrops landing softly on his face and rolling down like tears. They both sat down on some nearby rocks, watching the sunrise and losing track of time. The world around them seemed to pause in quiet reverence for the man who had fought so bravely.