Sia:

I looked on in fear as Faustus fought with the silver rank, blood flying in all directions as he took cuts and slashes that almost opened him up to the bone.

Woozily, I tried getting up, but my temples throbbed and I felt nauseous and almost threw up.

Then suddenly, I tightened up as I saw Faustus being forced back to where Ares and I were. Ares, gritting his teeth, stood in front of me protectively and I wanted to cry out, “Move!”, But I couldn’t.

And then it happened. Faustus stood in front of Ares as the sword descended and Faustus realized he had been played.

I knew the choice he was facing and with a fierce burst of pride, pain, and sorrow - I watched as he took the blow with no hesitation and fell to his knees, his shield in splinters and his arms limp.

I scrabbled on the floor, trying to move past Ares and toward Faust.

I watched in a daze as Faust stabbed forward clumsily with his dagger that was knocked away by the silver-rank.

Then I screamed as Faust spat and the silver knight, grinning, lunged with his sword and ran Faust through, the red tip of the blade emerging from his back that faced me.

My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

Still shakily making my way past Ares, I watched as the silver rank’s face changed as he tried to draw his sword back, and then the silver rank’s head was flying through the air and Sir Aaron stood behind the enemy knight’s falling body.

For a moment, I thought things were going to be alright, but then I saw the horror-struck expression on Sir Aaron’s face and I guessed, no, I knew.

That Faust was hurt. Hurt badly.

Finally, making it to him, I held him just as he fell back.

Hands stained with his blood, I watched - as horror-struck as Sir Aaron - at the wound and the sword that lay in his heart.

I watched as he gasped for breath, his eyes unfocussed.

I screamed out, “Help! Somebody! Faust is hurt, please!”

Soon Sir Galen and the rest had mopped up the rest of the battle and they came, forming a circle around us.

Sir Galen’s fingers danced as needles made of warforce flew in the air and into Faust, who convulsed again and again.

Then Viscount Jacob Drayke was there, and he shoved a potion into my hands, which I uncorked and poured over Faust’s heart immediately.

Then he was coughing, and he asked me in a broken voice with a broken body, and Falka bless him, for he was asking whether we won the battle.

“We won the battle,” I answered, tears streaming down my face.

I watched agonized as I saw him relax and despairingly; I held him as the light from his eyes began fading.

I began murmuring frantically, “No, no, no, please - No! Faust! You can’t! Not like this!”

Then, as his head fell back, I screamed out, “Don’t you dare die. You promised us that no one dies or you’ll haunt us as a ghost. Don’t break your promise, Faust!”

In a haze, I could hear him say cockily as he does, “Die? I meant it. No one dies today!”

Screaming out still, I squeezed out the words, “Come back to me then!”

I felt his hand twitch, ever so slightly.

I saw Sir Galen rise with sorrow in his eyes.

But I, filled with hope and determination, slowly said, “Faust... If you die, I will follow you.”

Continuing serenely, I palmed the dagger that had dropped out of his hand and said softly, “Faust... if you want me to live... then you will have to live forever as an immortal!” and then closing my eyes, I took the dagger and before the surrounding knights could react, it was against my neck and I could feel the dagger pierce the skin and white light surround me.

Before I was wrenched back to the metallic smell of the battlefield and the boy whose hand was clenched around the dagger, preventing it from moving any further.

Tears now running down my face, I sobbed in anguish as Faust caressed my face with his other hand and said, “If I have to live forever, then so be it. For you Sia, I will become an immortal.”

Squeezing out the words, I said unwaveringly, “I know you will. I believe you will be an immortal!”

And then the light seemed to go out of his eyes fully and his hand that was on my cheek fell limply while the dagger clattered to the ground between us.

Watching Faust’s hand fall away, I desperately grabbed it and held it back against my cheek.

His body, warm enough to emit steam when he triggered his warforce, was now becoming colder at a rate that was noticeable.

Fumbling, I grabbed the cloak that Teacher threw at me and tucked it underneath his head.

Meanwhile, Sir Galen was muttering obscenities directed at Viscount Jacob Drayke, that Balakash who led the attack on us - the same attack which has put Faust in this condition - while examining Faust carefully.

I looked at Sir Galen hopefully, as his needles again materialized in the air and flew inside the wound. I began feeling less hopeful when I saw the beads of sweat coating his brow and his twisted expression.

But then I thought of his words, “For you, I will become an immortal!” and I had hope again, fiery hope that blazed within me.

Softly, I murmured, “I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes, but you better make it back.”

Then, clutching his hand, I watched as his body began convulsing again and the beads of sweat around Sir Galen’s brow multiplied.

Nervously watching despite the hope within me, I glued my eyes to Sir Galen’s actions and when he moved back on his haunches with a sigh of relief, I urgently called out, “Is he going to be okay?”

Both shaking his head and nodding it at the same time, Sir Galen gave a mixed answer before he threw up his hands as he shrugged and said, “I don’t know. By rights, he should be dead. He has a blade in his heart for Bal’s sake.”

Then, mussing up his hair, he continued, “But he lives. I don’t know how long he will live for, but he lives.”

Falling silent, I looked at him before I looked back at Faust’s pale face. Taking out my handkerchief from inside my armor, I gently wiped his brow and forgot the knights and soldiers who were clustered around, conversing tersely.

Then I heard a line that made me frown. “I don’t know if we should take out the sword or not. It’s possible if we do, he might die within a few moments. But keeping it in will cause the wound to become worse unless we can treat it.”

Hesitating for but a moment, Viscount Jacob Drayke took out another potion and then, pushing everyone aside, he walked up to Sir Galen and handed the potion to him, and whispered a few words.

Eyes widening, Sir Galen said something and receiving an answer, he nodded his head furiously before he walked over to Faust and me, and then gently prying me apart from Faust, he gripped the handle of the sword and in one quick sure movement; he pulled it out in a spray of blood amidst the gasps of the onlookers and quickly; he poured the potion over the wound.

There was no sizzling sound. There was no sound, actually.

All we could see was the flesh around the wound knitting, but the wound itself that the sword had left behind stayed stubbornly open.

Gritting his teeth, Sir Galen’s needles flew in the air once more and they sewed together the skin but you could see Faust’s breath slowing down visibly as his chest stopped rising and falling as far it was before, which was pitifully less even then.

Falling to his knees and placing his ear on Faust’s chest, he furrowed his brows for a long time before they relaxed imperceptibly.

Rising, He said, “He lives but his heartbeat is incredibly weak and the wound is just held together by my needles. I’ll have to replace the stitches again soon but for now, He’ll live.”

Rushing forward, I hugged the man, who was startled for a brief second before he patted my head gently.

Then, turning to Faust and looking back at Sir Galen, I asked in a small voice, “What can I do to help him?”

Looking at the fallen boy and at my tear-stricken face, Sir Galen heaved a sigh and said, “We can only pray that he pulls through.”

Fiercely, I interrupted him and said, “He promised he won’t die. So he won’t die. He’ll come back, wait and watch.”

Sadly, Sir Galen, Gold rank Knight, and doctor looked at me with cloudy eyes before he forced a smile and nodded.

Turning back to Faustus, I knelt beside him again and stroked his long hair, stained with the dirt of the battlefield, sweat, and flecks of blood.

I leaned forward and lightly kissed his brow and murmured, “I’ll wait, but you better not make me wait for too long.”

Then Ares was beside me, holding me as I wept and wept as he looked down with an expression that was even more wretched than mine.

The circle of Knights moved apart and scattered, tending to the other wounded and the dead.

Viscount Jacob Drayke, on the other hand, pulled aside Sir Leonidas and rapidly spoke to him, gesticulating wildly.

I ignored all of it, though, and so did Ares. Damon came by to see Faust - limping from a nasty cut to his leg. He left after a short while, his head bowed.

We stayed beside Faustus until Sir Galen came back to shift him to a tent inside the camp.

I was about to rise but Ares rose and pushed me back down and, shaking his head at me; he left for the camp. Where he came back from in a while with a makeshift stretcher made of the remains of a repurposed tent.

Moving Faust gently onto the stretcher, the two of us placed him inside another tent and held vigil over him the entire night.

It was a long night.

A black night.