Chapter 25: Aftermath
Opening my eyes, I found myself in an unfamiliar room. Soltair sat slumped in a chair against the wall, hands folded together like he were praying. I took a breath and immediately winced as pain coursed through me, starting at my lungs and spreading outward. Fortunately, it wasn't the overwhelming punishment of the slave Crest, but a product of the countless small burns and other injuries inflicting my flesh. I stumbled out of bed, walking on shaky legs to a nearby mirror.
I wore a soft white gown, no doubt replacing the rags that had been ripped to shreds in the fight with the priests. I was torn and bruised all over, but most of the injuries were half-healed already. The grime and blood were washed from my skin, making me glance at Soltair suspiciously. There was no way, right? Yeah, it had definitely been a maid. For sure.
I frowned as I caught a glimpse of a particularly red area peaking above the neckline of my dress. Pulling the fabric down, I gasped and I gingerly touched the blistered skin surrounding the Slave Crest. They ached horribly, and were responsible for the pain I felt every time I took a breath. I quickly recalled the red jolts of magic which erupted from the slave crest during the worst of the punishment. Most of the pain had simply been stimulation of the nerves and mind, but it seems that changed when the magic intensified.
Fortunately, the worst of my injuries were gone, including the internal injuries caused by the priest's beating. Anything left over was surface damage, caused by the holy light. I doubted it was a coincidence the unhealed damage was all visual.
Soltair stirred, his eyes opening to slits. After a second, he jumped out of the chair, breathing erratically, and rushed over. "Xiviyah!" he cried. His eyes were red from lack of sleep, his clothes a wrinkled mess.
I gasped in pain as he swept me up in a hug. "Soltair, please," I said, trying my best not to aggravate the slave crest's wounds. I returned his hug regardless, grateful for the warmth and comfort I always felt in his arms.
"Oh, sorry," he said, quickly loosening his hold.
His worry was touching, but I didn't have the heart to so much as smile. As he looked me in the eyes, I couldn't help but reflect on the fires of the nightmares, in which his face so often existed.
"What happened?" I asked, sitting back on the bed. It felt like I was just waking up on the Divine Throne for the first time all over again. At least this time Soltair was here to greet me, instead of that old, prickly priestess.
His face fell at my question, causing my heart to sink a bit. "It's not good, but don't worry about anything. I'll take care of it all."
"Are they alright?" I whispered. Please, don't let them-