Seeing my approach, all three knights did a double take before snapping to attention. They certainly seemed to have been caught off guard; had they thought nobody would dare to bother with them?
It was a fair assumption. A competent healer could handle three or four blue- or white-level wounds in the time it took to treat a single red one. Treating one red bracelet was undoubtedly less time-efficient—but what about three red bracelets at the same time?
“Stay still,” I commanded the knights, brusquely communicating my intentions. With the energy already amassed, more potent than any I had summoned so far, I extended my palms and let it flow outward in an overwhelming surge. Blood thrummed in my ears, accompanied by a high-pitched ringing. It seemed to be the sound of every cell in my body violently ripping itself apart in protest...yet for all that, the magic took hold.
As the flow of power ebbed and the knights opened their eyes, a dawning realization crossed their faces—they felt different, healed. One knight gingerly flexed an elbow. “It doesn’t hurt...” he said wonderingly.
Another tested his leg with a tentative kick. “I can walk!”
The third, moving all four limbs, exclaimed in disbelief, “I was told only a master healer could mend my wounds!”
As the paladins hastily unwrapped their bandages and shed their casts, reveling in their restored mobility, I found myself unable to share in their jubilation. Instead, I succumbed to a violent coughing fit. I had known that casting more potent magic would cause further deterioration to my body, but the actual toll was beyond my darkest predictions. I struggled to draw breath; my lungs felt as though they were being crushed by a leaden weight. My heart raced in an erratic pattern, my stomach churned, and on top of everything else, my hands had gone completely numb.
The very idea of a tomorrow now seemed like an overly optimistic prediction. I feared there was a good chance that my death was imminent. My body, already taxed by the purification magic during the trial of the towels, felt like its last dregs of life were being wrung out by this ordeal. Furrowing my brow, I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, and the pale skin came away stained with bright specks of blood. The taste of iron in my mouth grew stronger, sparking a real sense of panic within me for the first time today. My body was disintegrating rapidly, much faster than I had anticipated.
How much longer will I be able to stand?
How many more spells can I cast?
How many more hours, minutes, seconds do I have left?
These anxious questions haunted me, not out of a fear of dying, no—but with the possibility that I might expire before I completed my mission. Please, God, let me live—until I’ve at last repudiated Carolina’s very being in its entirety.
With my fate left (in)securely in God’s hands, I accepted the red bracelets from the three rowdy paladins, all of whom still couldn’t quite believe their luck. I had no time to spare them even a word of thanks, for I was already on to my next target. I drifted from one paladin to the next, healing them in turn, enduring incessant searing torment for the remainder of the allotted half hour.
“Cease your spellcasting, candidates. That is time!” the host announced. “Stay where you are. Someone will come by to collect your bracelets, after which you may return to your positions.”
A nun approached, holding out a dowel-like object upon which I could see that I was meant to slide my collected bracelets. After I handed them off, she bowed her head in thanks and scurried off the stage.
As the only one who had taken on the challenge of the red bracelets, I knew that I was poised to be a strong contender for first place. Everyone else had settled for whites and blues, and even then, they hadn’t secured a significantly greater collection than mine. Unless Carolina managed a repeat of her first trial performance in the second half, I knew that I should be secure in my eventual victory.
The host’s voice cut through the air again. “While we tally up the points for the first group, we shall get the second half of the trial underway. Candidates now upon the stage, well fought. You may now rest.”
Following his directive, those of us on the stage began to file off. As we crossed paths with the incoming candidates, I locked eyes with Carolina. Her brow was furrowed, her expression tense as if she were about to speak to me. She even parted her lips to say something, but she was quickly silenced by the host’s call for her group’s entrance. Hastily, she closed her mouth and headed towards the stage, though not without casting furtive glances back at me.
Rage boiled inside me. Just what is her problem?! I wanted to scream. Clearly, she thought so little of this competition that she could still afford to worry about her competitors. The rest of us must have looked like fools to her, little court jesters dancing a jig to a prearranged tune, exhausting ourselves while she effortlessly waved her hand and overwrote all our hard work with divine intervention.
Horrid, horrid woman. You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve any of it!
My teeth clenched in sheer loathing. After cleaning the blood from my hand with a purification spell, I turned to face a wall, hoping to still my mind.
But it was futile. My fury only intensified, the image of Carolina’s gloating smile burning vividly in my mind, as if etching itself into the blank wall before me.
The pain had faded. I was now sustained solely by spite. If my death was to be imminent, I was determined to ensure Carolina plummeted alongside me into oblivion. I would show her just how powerless and pathetic she really was.
With no fear of death to temper my actions, I continued unabated on this perilous path, barreling towards my certain doom.