Chapter 75

Light rays peeked through the curtains and onto my eyelids. I yawned from exhaustion, trying to stretch my arms. Pain shot through my body; it was excruciating. I tried to sit up but was instantly pushed back to the bed.

"You can't stand up just yet; you're not strong enough," a voice said, calming and melodious, almost as controlling as a siren. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand in a circular motion, trying to reduce the blurriness. After a while, a woman I had never seen before came into view. She had black hair that flowed down her back, with a few strands glued to her forehead as her skin glimmered in the sunlight. I wondered what strenuous activity she had done to make her sweat so much. Her eyes were an odd shade of yellow, a color I had never seen before. Another thing that caught my attention was that she was dressed in clothing I had only ever seen on Keira's maids. Was she a maid? Was Keira here to see me?

I realized I had held my gaze on her too long, so I blinked and turned to face the window.

"What happened to me, and why are you here?" I asked.

"You had a fever yesterday. Miss Keira thought it was rather serious, so she sent me to look after you and help reduce your temperature before bringing the doctor," she replied, her words laced with honesty.

"I had a fever yesterday? Why can't I remember? Why can't I remember anything?"

As my brows furrowed, I noticed that the lady in front of me appeared rather anxious.

"What did you say your name was again?" I asked sternly. Her eyes widened like saucers, and her lips quivered as she tried to get the words out. Keira ran in almost immediately, arms waving as she exclaimed, "Lyra! Oh my goodness, is she awake?"

"Yes, she is, and her temperature has reduced an awful lot," Lyra remarked.

Lyra... why was she finding it so hard to say her name?

Keira rushed toward me with a doctor by her side and checked my forehead.

"You're right, Lyra," she said gratefully. "Thank you, really—I don't know how to repay you."

"It's just a bowl of water and a cloth; I didn't really do much," Lyra replied with a shy smile that danced on her enchanting face.

"But you stayed up all night with that bowl and cloth while I looked for a doctor," Keira insisted, taking her hand.

"It's really not a bother, miss. It's what I'm paid to do," Lyra said jokingly. Keira simply smiled and asked her to go and rest. Lyra threw me a rather odd glance before leaving the room; I would have to check on that later.

The four-foot-tall doctor casually checked my pulse and other essentials for a regular check-up. Elves were the best doctors around after the witches went rogue. After escaping the witches' wrath, they had taught each other everything they knew about healing. This not only bonded the elves but also increased their status in the community. Being professional healers earned them the respect they rightfully deserved. After working as slaves under the witches for years, it was only fair. I was a little excited because this was my first time being checked by an elf. My mother would never have sent an elf to treat me—not even in my wildest dreams. At first, I thought I was just really lucky not to die from one sickness or another, until I found out that the only thing keeping me alive was my prophecy.

What happens when the prophecy is finally over? Will everything go back to how it used to be? Will I even live to see what happens next?

"Do you feel any discomfort, miss?" the doctor asked, snapping me back to my current situation.

"I can't feel my legs, and I'm sore all over," I revealed, adding to Keira's worry.

"Well, why didn't you say that before?" she yelled.

"You never asked," I replied casually.

Keira's hand met her forehead, and I could hear her mutter with a deep sigh, "What am I going to do with you?"

"Not to worry, Miss Keira. She'll be fine; just a little of this potion should bring her back to herself," the elf assured, fully confident in the contents of the little golden bottle in his hand.

"Thank you, Mr. Scruff," she chirped, bowing slightly. He bowed as well, placing the bottle in her hand.

"Two drops a day in a beverage or tea," he instructed before leaving quietly.

I sat up, ignoring Keira's banter, and tried to move my hands. My arms were still hurting, and I could only move my big toe.

"What's going on with you, Luciana? You left in such a hurry yesterday, and now I find you practically lifeless in your room. What happened?"

"I left because my dearest Lincoln's spell stops working once the clock strikes twelve," I revealed.

"Like Cinderella?" she chuckled.

"Exactly like Cinderella," I echoed.

"Well, you grew quite popular at the event. Jeremy couldn't stop talking about you, neither could Damon, and honestly, we all want to know where you learned how to dance," she said excitedly, her eyes glimmering as she recounted everything that happened while I was away.

"I don’t even know when I learned to dance; I can just do it…" I muttered.

"Maybe that was one of Lincoln's spells—"

"Or maybe you just don’t remember," she countered, cutting me off.

"My mother would never use her money to take me to a dance class. Ever." I was certain of that.

"Is she here?" Duncan exclaimed as he barged into the room.

"Who?" Keira asked.

"Luciana, where…?"

"Hi," I greeted, waving awkwardly.

"Oh… hi…" he said hesitantly. "I was told you weren’t feeling well, so I just thought I’d check up on…"

"On me?" I asked, bewildered, and he nodded slightly.

"Yes."

"Wow, well, I’m alright," I assured him quickly.

"Alright," he simply replied.

"Don’t you have somewhere to be or something?" Keira asked, a little agitated.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. So… I’ll be leaving," he said, storming out of the room as swiftly as he had arrived.

"What’s up with your uncle?" I chuckled.

"Maybe he likes you," she replied casually.

"Impossible," I retorted.

"Never say never, princess."

I smiled at the odd title and laid back down. An oil lamp by my bedside table caught my attention.

"What’s that on the floor?"

"It looks like a really old lamp…" she said, picking it up. She immediately wrinkled her nose and squinted in disgust. "It smells rancid. It could probably cause a fire—I’ll throw it out," she said and left with the lamp.

I let out a breath and thought long and hard about what really happened last night and why I couldn't remember anything after coming back.

"Could start a fire" rang in my head, and a flaming room came to view.

Fire!