Three days.
Seventy-two hours, seventeen minutes, and forty-three seconds since Winter collapsed in my arms, her body burning with prophetic energy so intense it had singed my sleeves. The medical wing's antiseptic smell had long since faded from my awareness, replaced by the acrid scent of fear, my own, though I'd never admit it aloud.
I adjusted my position in the uncomfortable chair beside her bed, ignoring the protests of muscles that hadn't been used for too long. My tablet lay abandoned on the side table, reports half-completed and forgotten. What use were protocols when faced with this?
Winter lay unnaturally still, her skin pale except for the blue markings that now covered nearly half her body. They pulsed with their own rhythm, sometimes gentle, sometimes violent enough to make the monitoring equipment spike in alarm. The medics had been baffled, muttering about "unprecedented prophetic integration" and "spontaneous symbolic expansion."
I'd filed seventeen reports in the first twenty-four hours. By the second day, I'd stopped counting.
A soft groan drew my attention immediately. Winter's eyelids fluttered, her fingers twitching against the white sheets.
"Winter?" I leaned forward, my voice embarrassingly unsteady. "Can you hear me?"
Her eyes opened slowly, unfocused at first, then gradually sharpening as they found my face.
"Fenric?" Her voice was rough from disuse. "What happened?"
Relief washed through me with such intensity that I nearly reached for her hand. I caught myself just in time, straightening my tie instead, a nervous habit I'd never quite overcome.
"You've been unconscious for three days," I kept my tone clinical, professional. "After making contact with the breach, you collapsed. The medical team has been monitoring your condition."
"Three days?" She tried to sit up, wincing immediately. "Everything hurts."
"Please remain still," I reached for the call button. "Your body has undergone significant stress. The prophetic markings have expanded."
Winter looked down at herself, eyes widening as she took in the blue symbols that now covered her arms, chest, and part of her neck. They pulsed in response to her attention, glowing brighter.
"I remember," her voice was strained in fear. "The Harbingers. They were trying to rewrite the prophecies. I stopped them. I took the fragments."
I frowned, making a mental note to include this in my report. "You encountered entities claiming to be Harbingers? The same group mentioned by the cultists?"
She nodded, then immediately regretted the movement, closing her eyes against apparent pain. "They said my prophecy wasn't theirs. That it was rewriting all the others."
Before I could question her further, a medic entered, summoned by the call button. She was a stern-looking dryad whose bark-like skin creaked as she moved to Winter's bedside.
"Finally awake, I see," she began checking Winter's vitals with brisk efficiency. "How's the pain, scale of one to ten?"
"Seven," Winter winced. "Maybe eight when I move."
The dryad nodded, unsurprised. "Your magical pathways are essentially burned into your physical form now. Like having your veins replaced with live wires. The pain should subside as your body adjusts."
I watched as she administered a glowing potion, noting with concern how Winter's hands trembled as she took the vial. The blue markings flared briefly as she drank, then settled into a steady pulse.
"Where are the others?" Winter asked after the medic left. "Horrace? Frank?"
"Your pet fish is being cared for by Milo," I informed her. "As for Horrace, he's been difficult to manage in your absence. He's currently in a specialized containment area designed for inter-dimensional entities."
"Containment?" Winter's eyes narrowed. "You locked him up? No!"
I shifted uncomfortably. "It was necessary. After you lost consciousness, he became volatile. Destroyed half the storage facility before we could calm him down."
"He was worried about me," she pushed herself up again despite my protests, the blue markings flaring with her agitation. "You can't keep him locked up. He needs me."
"The Bureau has determined he has to stay there."
"I don't care what the Bureau has determined," her voice stronger now, annoyed. "Horrace stays with me. That was the deal."
I should have cited regulations. Should have explained the containment protocols for unstable inter-dimensional entities. Instead, I found myself nodding.
