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Player comes back to her senses slowly.
Light streams in from a stained glass window, low and warm, pressing against her eyelids until they flutter open. The ceiling above her is unfamiliar; vaulted stone, veined with old mortar and lined by antique wood. There’s a faint water stain from some old leak nobody’s bothered to fix.
The first thing she notices is that there’s a thin blanket draped across her. Not the soft, cottony kind you’d expect from a proper bed, but the coarse, sad type of sheet you’d be provided at some two-star inn. The second thing she notices is that everything hurts in a very specific, nauseating way. Her whole being aches, and when she tries to sit up, her body refuses to obey.
The room is quiet except for the muffled sound of distant talking. There’s a sterile smell in the air she can’t quite put her finger on, mixed with the lingering scent of flowers. If the decorative architecture is anything to go by, she must still be in Trinity.
She turns her head, trying to get a better angle, and spies Shedletsky propped up in the chair beside her bed. He’s staring at the floor, elbows on his knees, seemingly unaware that she’s awake. He looks tired in a way that has nothing to do with sleep.
“Hey,” Player calls, her voice coming out rougher than she expects. She swallows thickly, suddenly realizing just how much she craves a glass of water.
Shedletsky’s head snaps up, and the surprise that passes across his face is quickly replaced with an easy grin. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
"Hey, yourself." He leans back in the chair. "You look terrible."
Player can’t help but smile at his remark. "How long was I out?” She tries to sit up again, and Shedletsky braces a hand against her shoulder.
"Since last night." He glances toward the window as he eases her back down into bed. "Cassie's Emerald Knights patched you up.”
Player jolts upright again when Shedletsky says Cassie’s name, and he flinches back in surprise. Pain lances sharp and hot through her shoulders. Her wings are cinched tight to her body, held firm by a row of bandages around her midsection. It almost makes her feel like a Christmas present, complete with a neat little bow to hold all her damage in.
Shedletsky squeezes her shoulder. “Kiddo, I need you to relax. Cassie’s fine. Everything’s handled, alright?”
She sinks back into her pillow. Cassie's fine. The memories come back to her in pieces— the Seventh Sanctum. The Windforce. Frostmaw's shadow blocking out everything else.
Player remembers reaching for the Ice Dagger, relying on the familiar swell of sword energy only for it to come up dry. She remembers thinking very clearly: well, that's that. Then she'd stepped in front of Cassie anyway, wings outstretched, holding the princess defensively in her arms.
She's not sure exactly what she'd been expecting. There's a part of her that would've appreciated a little more dramatics and fanfare. Instead, what she got was an impact that knocked the breath clean out of her and the brief, fading sound of Cassie's voice calling her name before it was lights out. There’d been a gross crunch as something in her wings bent a way they shouldn’t have.
Player exhales slowly, staring at the water stain on the ceiling. It's shaped vaguely like a boot. "She used the Windforce,” is all she says.
Shedletsky's hand drops from her shoulder, but he doesn't move back. "Yep, all on her own."
The muffled voices from somewhere down the hall drift in and out. She becomes aware, gradually, that there's light moving in the stained glass above her. The colors shift slowly across the stone floor as the sun climbs.
She swallows again, and her throat is just as dry. "Is there, uh… water?”
Shedletsky glances at the bedside table, then back at her, appearing faintly embarrassed like he’d meant to think of that already. “Give me a sec.”
He steps away from the bed and she realizes just how much bigger the room feels when someone is walking through it. There’s a soft click as he pulls the door shut behind him.
Alone at last, she makes a face at the ceiling. The boot-shaped water stain stares back at her.
Cassie's fine, she thinks again. Player lets herself feel that, finally. Really feel it. It settles into her chest warm and certain, and some of the tension she's been holding on to since she woke up finally starts to bleed out. Everything hurts like hell, but she’d make that stupid, split-second decision a hundred more times if she had to.
Her wings twitch, pulling at the bandages, and Player suddenly finds herself rubbing self-consciously at the wrap decorating her abdomen. She was never a flier— her wings were barely capable of creating a draft, let alone lifting her off the ground. Knowing they’re currently tied flat against her back, however, leaves her feeling hopelessly landlocked. Somewhere in the back of her mind she prays that the feathers aren’t damaged beyond salvation.
The door swings open. Shedletsky steps in, carrying a glass of water, and Cassie follows like a shadow.
She looks wrecked, like she's been awake all night. Her eyes are red-rimmed and there's a groove in her cheek from whatever she'd been leaning against. The clothes she wears are from yesterday, creased and streaked with dirt. She takes one look at Player and her face twists.
"You're awake," Cassie says nervously.
"Little bit," Player replies with a grin.
Cassie's jaw works for a moment, her eyes already going glassy. "I told myself I wasn't going to….”
"Well, you’re doing great so far.”
That's apparently all it takes, because Cassie's face crumples, and she crosses the room in three quick strides. She sits herself on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle anything, and buries her face in her hands.
Player reaches over and pats her on the back. Once, twice. She's not the most natural at this kind of thing, but she means it, which she figures counts for something.
"Hey," she says. "I'm not dead yet, Cassie…."
"I know," Cassie manages, muffled behind her palms. "That's… that's the thing. You're right here, and last night you weren't.” She pauses, then presses her hands harder into her face. "I'm sorry. I told myself I was going to be composed about this."
Player smiles at that. “Who told you you had to be?”
Cassie laughs, wet and involuntary, and drops her hands into her lap. Her eyes are red but her chin has mostly stopped wobbling. “You protected me… thank you.”
From the corner of the room, Shedletsky clears his throat. He'd been standing there the whole time holding the glass of water, apparently unsure of when to intervene.
"Do you want this," he says, "or should I come back in another five minutes?”
Player reaches out her hand toward him. He strides over and deposits the glass into it without further comment, though she catches the way his eyes cut briefly to Cassie. She downs half the water in one go, keenly aware of just how hoarse her throat is.
A knock at the door follows shortly after. Cassie straightens up and scrubs quickly at her face with the back of her wrist.
“Please enter,” she calls, and squares her shoulders. The transformation is subtle but immediate: the distraught girl from a moment ago disappears, and what's left is closer to a queen.
Robur steps in without ceremony, his armored silhouette completely filling the frame. He surveys the room once, bows to Cassie, and crosses to the foot of Player’s bed.
“I’m glad to see you hale and whole,” the High Councilman states. His expression is unreadable behind his helmet. "The Emerald Knights informed me that your injuries, while significant, are not beyond remedy. Trinity's healers are among the finest in the Heights. You are in good hands.”
He glances briefly at Cassie, who gives him an approving nod.
"I will be direct with you,” he continues. “The Trinity Council convened this morning to discuss the events of yesterday’s invasion. What you did in the Seventh Sanctum is not something the Council takes lightly. Trinity has a long memory for courage, and a longer one for sacrifice made in her name.
"By unanimous decree of the Trinity Council, the Windforce is to be released into your custody, under the terms the Queen has outlined." He inclines his head. It's not the same bow he offered Cassie, exactly, but close. "It is the least Trinity can offer."
Player glances at Shedletsky, desperate for backup, and he shrugs his shoulders. "Thank you," she manages lamely. It feels like an underwhelming response in comparison to his flowery words.
"No, thank you.” The High Councilman straightens his posture. “Trinity does not forget the names of those who stand in her defense. Rest, recover, and when you are well enough to travel, know that the gates of Trinity will always be open to you."
Still by Robur’s side, Cassie chimes in. “While you won't carry the title of Wind Walker, you will be welcomed as any other Guardian would. Please, accept this honor.”
Player looks between the two of them; Robur, immovable as the stone walls behind him, and Cassie, composed and sincere despite the red crease still on her cheek. She turns the half-empty glass in her hands. “Of course. Thank you.”
“Allow me to leave you to your recovery, then." Robur turns to Cassie, lowering his voice slightly. "The Council awaits when you are ready."
"I'll be along shortly," Cassie tells him.
Robur’s gaze settles on the Roblox Administrator tucked forgotten in the corner of the room. Shedletsky, apparently realizing he's been noticed, raises his hand in what can barely be considered a wave.
"Hey, Robur."
“...Shedletsky.” He says the name like it’s a bad taste in his mouth.
A beat of silence passes between them.
"See that she rests," Robur says finally.
"Sure thing, dude."
Robur scoffs behind his helmet, abruptly turns on his heel, and takes his leave.
Cassie lingers, worrying at the sleeve of her shirt. "I have to go. There's still a great deal to see to, but… I'll come back."
Player can only imagine the planning it’ll take to put the city back together. The cleanup effort alone would be tremendous, considering that the streets had been a warzone less than twelve hours ago. "Don’t worry about me. I'll be here," she says. "Apparently."
That earns her a laugh. Cassie reaches out and squeezes Player's free hand once— quick and firm— then lets go. She slips out the door without looking back, and it closes gently behind her.
The room seems to settle. Somewhere down the hall, the distant murmur of voices tapers into nothing. She can’t tell if the sterile smell has mostly faded or if she’s just gotten used to it.
Shedletsky takes his chance to drop back into the chair beside her. “She did good, don’tcha think?”
He extends an empty hand, prompting Player to pass him the glass, and he sets it on the bedside table.
“Yeah,” Player agrees. “She grew up pretty fast….”
“Well, she had you there to help her out.”
Player doesn’t say anything, running her thumb along a crease in the sheet. She did make for a pretty good human shield. She’d also acquired the Windforce, moving them one sword closer to their goal. So why did it feel like such a bitter loss?
She keeps reversing back to the moment before the impact. Wings out, arms around Cassie, the shadow of Frostmaw looming over them. She'd had half a second to think and she'd spent it not thinking at all. If Cassie hadn't pulled through, then Player’s “grand plan” would've amounted to the two of them dying together. The Windforce would have been lost to the Korbloxions. Or worse.
She wonders, not for the first time, if things could’ve gone differently. Maybe if she’d managed her sword energy better. Or if Telamon hadn't gone down when he did—
Player gawks at Shedletsky like she forgot if she left the stove on. "What happened to Telamon?"
Shedletsky sits up a little too fast when she asks. “Oh, him…? Heeeee uhhh… dipped out. Busy guy, y’know?”
“He was right there and then he just… disappeared.”
“Hmm.” Shedletsky clicks his tongue sympathetically. “Weird.”
“Do you think he’s okay?”
Shedletsky’s mouth twists like he wants to laugh, and he presses the side of his fist into it before anything can escape. “Don’t even bother yourself with that guy, kid. It’ll take more than that to keep him down.”
Player gives him a wary look. What could he possibly find so funny about his friend getting slapped around? “If you say so….”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and laces his fingers together. “Speaking of, you know what else is weird? Running headfirst at a dragon.”
There it is. His tone sounds like that of a disappointed father, and Player suddenly finds herself unable to meet his stare. Whatever’s displayed in the stained glass window appears far more interesting. From her spot in the room, she’s pretty sure it’s a silhouette of Kleos holding up the Windforce.
“I didn’t run!” she clarifies. “I just… stepped in front of her.”
"Oh, my mistake. Very dignified of you." Shedletsky fixes her with a look that could’ve melted even the Cruel King. "What were you thinking, kid? You could’ve gotten yourself killed!”
“She was going to get hurt! You would’ve done the same thing,” Player argues back. Even though he’s right, she can’t help but feel offended at his statement. She’d had the situation under control— up until the end, at least.
“That’s not the point! You can’t just use yourself as a crash mat when things go wrong.” He raises his voice, not quite yelling as much as trying to command her attention. “You scared the hell out of me!”
The words hit her harder than the dragon did, in all honesty. They sink into the pit of her stomach and stay there like a bad meal. Player thought she’d been ready for the lecture. She’d been bracing for it since she woke up, arguing with herself in her head like she could predict what Shedletsky was going to say: Kid. Kiddo. What the hell is wrong with you. There is a strictly enforced “no-getting-flattened-by-dragons” policy that I definitely just made up but is nonetheless very real and binding. You're supposed to be collecting swords, not becoming a pancake—
“Look… I’m not mad at you, alright?” he says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.
Player doesn't say anything. She's not sure she should right now even if she wanted to.
"You did good. Just… play it safe next time.” Some of the intensity leaves his expression. “Do it for me, okay? We can afford to lose a sword if it means you come back alive.”
"Okay," she says quietly.
His shoulders drop, and he sags back into his chair. "Jeeze, kid, you’re gonna give me gray hairs….”
“You’re going gray already.”
"Because of you!”
“That’s not true! I’ve only been on the job for a couple months,” she needles back.
“Yeah, a couple of very long months.”
Player laughs, and her ribs twinge uncomfortably. She settles back carefully into the pillow and exhales, slow and deliberate, until the ache subsides into something more bearable. Above her, the silhouette of Kleos holds the Windforce aloft in perpetual, frozen triumph. She wonders if Cassie finds it comforting or just sad, having her father's image rendered in colored glass everywhere she looks.
The room is quiet and warm, and Player allows herself to relax with her eyes closed. She cracks one open, peering over at Shedletsky, who’s busy staring out of the same window and drumming against the arm of the chair with his fingers.
“Are you staying?” she asks curiously.
“The council might ask me to help ‘em out later, but for now, someone’s gotta babysit you.” Shedletsky looks up and flashes her a grin. “Get some sleep.”
She closes her eye. “Weirdo.”
Player almost leaves it at that— it would be easy to. Her eyes are already heavy, the warmth from the window pressing against her face, and Shedletsky is busy pretending he's completely absorbed in whatever's on the wall. The words are already forming in her throat, however, and she's never been particularly good at leaving things unsaid.
"Hey, Shedletsky."
“Hmm?”
"Thanks for, uhm… showing up."
For a moment, his fingers stop moving. He doesn't look up, but his expression softens, just barely, at the edges. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it, kid."