Roland knocked on the door and entered the room after hearing Nightingale's response.
The room was draped with thick curtains, only opened to ventilate in the early morning and evening. At other times, they were closed to keep out the cold and light.
The only light source came from two candlesticks at the foot of the bed, the candles burning quietly, casting two intersecting shadows of the room's furnishings.
He walked to the bed, looked at the woman buried in the soft velvet pillows and bedding, still sleeping, and sighed softly.
"How is the situation on the border defense line?" Nightingale stepped forward and handed him a glass of warm water.
"Everything is going smoothly," Roland took a sip casually and handed the cup back to her. "Since that day, we haven't encountered large groups of demon beasts. After the injured militiamen returned safely, everyone's fighting enthusiasm has become...somewhat high."
"What about the damaged parts of the city wall?"
"Karl used logs to move the carapace of that hybrid demon beast to the breach, and he also used a winch and wooden frame to hoist it up, making it part of the city wall," Roland knew that Nightingale was asking this to distract him, to prevent him from worrying too much. But as soon as he stepped into this room, all his attention would involuntarily converge on the sleeping woman on the bed.
If the last large-scale invasion of demon beasts could still be considered an impressive victory, the biggest contributor was undoubtedly Anna. Without her using flames to block the breach in the city wall, the consequences would have been unimaginable.
However, after she fainted in his arms, she never woke up again.
"It's been a week," Roland said in a low voice.
In theory, if a person is in a coma for a week without eating or drinking, and without direct external nutrition (such as injections), their bodily functions will begin to fail, and the brain will gradually die in shock. But Anna showed no signs of weakness or critical illness—at least she looked much better than when she first collapsed. Her cheeks were rosy, her breathing was steady, and her forehead felt like a normal person's temperature. All the signs indicated that Anna was in a healthy state, but...she couldn't wake up.
"This is the first time I've encountered such a situation," Nightingale, who was standing beside him, shook her head. "The magic power in her body was completely exhausted in that battle, but now it's almost saturated, even more concentrated than before. If my calculations are correct, midnight tonight is her adulthood day."
"Are you saying she will come of age in a coma?"
"No, she will die in a coma," Nightingale said bluntly. "The pain suffered on the day of adulthood must be overcome with willpower. Once resistance is abandoned, the backlash of magic power will irreversibly damage the witch's body."
Roland moved a chair and sat down by the bed. "But I remember you said that when the Demonic Bite occurs, no matter how painful, consciousness will always remain clear, either to get through this stage or to choose to end one's life."
"That's right. In the Mutual Aid Society, some people have tried to use coma to get through the Demonic Bite, and that wasn't even on the day of adulthood...just the annual torment that must be endured," Nightingale hesitated for a moment, then continued, "She relied on alchemical drugs to put herself to sleep, but that was meaningless...she woke up instantly when the magic power backlashed and lost the ability to resist."
"Isn't this kind of pain supposed to increase gradually?"
"Not really. When that moment arrives, the pain will descend like thunder, but how long it lasts varies from person to person. My sisters were not unresilient, it's just..." Her voice lowered.
Roland understood her meaning. This indefinite sentence itself was a kind of torture, not knowing how long one had persisted, not knowing how long one had to persist - like a lone boat drifting on a turbulent sea, it was easy to make people give up the desire to survive.
In the silence, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"In the years of displacement, I have seen too much death. Witches are treated like livestock, hanged, burned, or tortured to death little by little by nobles as amusement. The witches who are lucky enough to escape can only stay away from the crowd and live a secluded life. And the Holy Mountain, which is located somewhere unknown, is just an unattainable luxury in their hearts," Nightingale's voice was softer than ever. "But Anna is different. Besides the sisters of the Mutual Aid Society, I have seen for the first time someone who cares so much about witches. She is needed, she is valued, she is treated like a normal person...Your Highness, even if Anna doesn't make it through adulthood, she has already found her own Holy Mountain."
But this was not the ending he wanted. Roland closed his eyes and recalled the scene when he first met her.
She was barefoot, her clothes were ragged, she was in a cage, but there was no fear on her face. Her eyes were like a lake that had never been polluted, clear and calm.
She was fire, but not as jumpy as fire.
The scenes rotated one by one, like a revolving lantern.
"I have satisfied your curiosity, my lord, can you kill me now?"
"I have never used it to hurt anyone."
"I just want to stay by Your Highness's side, that's all."
"The Demonic Bite won't kill me, I will defeat it."
"Are you dreaming? I'm not going anywhere."
...
Roland suppressed the surging thoughts and said in a low voice, "I will be with her until the last moment."
"Me too, and...thank you."
After dinner, NanaWawa also came. When she heard that Anna was about to pass adulthood, she insisted on staying. Roland had to arrange an extra room on the second floor for Tigui. Paine, who came with her, to spend the night.
Thus, Roland and two witches sat around the bed, quietly waiting for midnight to arrive.
For Nightingale and NanaWawa, they also had to endure the pain of the Demonic Bite this winter. Fortunately, the day of awakening was not the same for everyone, otherwise, three witches would have to suffer the test of life and death at the same time, and Roland estimated that he would not be able to stay in the room pretending to be calm.
There was no bell tower in the town. In the dimly lit room, the passage of time became blurred. The cold wind beat against the windows, and from time to time, the whistling sound of the airflow passing through the window seams could be heard. Just as Roland felt a hint of sleepiness creeping into his heart, Nightingale suddenly said, "It's starting."
Only she could see that the magic power in Anna's body was beginning to become restless. The green flame团 was becoming more and more concentrated, and the central part changed from incandescent to dark. The manic magic power gathered towards the center, as if it was being pulled by something. It struggled, rolled, but to no avail.
Roland couldn't see these changes, but he also noticed something was wrong.
The flame at the top of the candle shook, but there was no wind in the room. The light from the flame became darker and darker, as if it was being swallowed by the surrounding shadows, and then the color of the flame tip changed - the orange-red light became a ghostly green flame.
He looked at the woman in the bed. Anna was still sleeping, her face unchanged, as if all this had nothing to do with her.
At this time, the candlelight was almost completely hidden - not because the flame was extinguished, but because the green flame was swallowing the orange-red part bit by bit, until the light completely disappeared and everyone was plunged into darkness.
But soon, the light lit up again. But this time, the flame on the candlestick turned into a pure emerald green. The three of them were illuminated in a green light, staring at each other, a little unable to understand what was going on.
At this moment, a groan from Anna drew the three's attention back to her.
She slowly opened her eyes.
"Anna..." Roland was stunned. She woke up?
The woman blinked, smiled at him, then stretched out her right hand, opened her palm, and presented it to the prince.
A ball of green fire leaped from her palm, burning quietly.
For some reason, Roland felt that he understood what the other party meant. He hesitated for a moment and slowly inserted his fingers into the flame. The expected burning sensation did not come. Instead, there was only a gentle warmth, as if being wrapped in warm water.