Willow's eye slowly opened, her vision blurry as she found herself in the familiar confines of her inn room. Like a ghostly mist, a soft light filtered into the corner of her gaze, dispelling the remnants of drowsiness. She attempted to push herself up from the bed, but the realization of her lack of reaction on her right side swiftly dawned upon her. There was no hand—she remembered.

 

She remained lying on the bed, lost in the contemplation of the events that had unfolded throughout that day. Most of it remained vivid in her memory, yet the why eluded her. Why had she fought so fiercely?

 

The Coldness of that time lingered in her mind, but What was it? The witch would have the answers. Willow cautiously maneuvered to the side, using her remaining hand to support herself as she sat on the edge of the bed. Clad in a simple, loose garb, her legs—strangely devoid of pain—made contact with the dusty floor. Even in her numbed state, she could perceive the grittiness beneath her feet.

 

Placing her left hand on the stump that once held her right, she acknowledged its absence. How would she continue to navigate this existence without it? The uncertainty blossomed in her heart like a haunting specter, casting a veil of horror over her thoughts.

 

The creaking of an aged wooden door being pushed open seized Willow's attention. She locked eyes with Lou, whose expression transformed from shock to exaggerated astonishment. "You puny human!" Lou exclaimed, her voice resonating with incredulity, before darting outside.

 

Deciding to follow, Willow struggled to prop herself up, her legs unsteady beneath her. A spectral ache brushed against the site of her earlier wounds, an ethereal pain that held no physical substance. She brushed it aside, refusing to acknowledge its presence. Slowly, she made her way to the door, relying on its frame for support as she surveyed the main hall.

The creaking of an aged wooden door being pushed open seized Willow's attention. She locked eyes with Lou, whose expression transformed from shock to exaggerated astonishment. "You puny human!" Lou exclaimed, her voice resonating with incredulity, before darting outside.

 

Deciding to follow, Willow struggled to prop herself up, her legs unsteady beneath her. A spectral ache brushed against the site of her earlier wounds, an ethereal pain that held no physical substance. She brushed it aside, refusing to acknowledge its presence. Slowly, she made her way to the door, relying on its frame for support as she surveyed the main hall.

 

Lou was nowhere to be seen, vanished into the shadows. Gideon, with a sense of urgency etched on his face, hastened toward Willow. The witch, too, had vanished without a trace. In the periphery of her vision, she caught a glimpse of a young boy seated on the counter, but her attention was swiftly consumed by the imposing figure of Gideon.

 

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, his voice devoid of its usual cheerfulness and joviality. Tension and weariness tainted his words, transforming the question into a veiled threat. This was not the Gideon she had come to know. Was he reverting to the Gideon of old, the one before he had sought solace within the confines of her inn? was she the catalyst for his transformation? An overwhelming sense of guilt washed over her.

 

"Y-yeah, I'm fine," she managed to stammer, her voice constricted within her throat. There were so many things she wished to express, to unravel, but the weight of her own actions stifled her. What had she done?

 

"That's good to hear," Gideon responded with a sigh, stepping aside to give Willow space to enter the main hall. Questions swirled in her mind about the young boy she had glimpsed, but before she could voice them, the witch emerged from the yard with Lou in tow.

 

"I'm so glad," the witch whispered, embracing Willow tightly. Her voice carried a mixture of relief and genuine concern. As the witch released her hold, Willow slowly made her way to the counter, settling into her innkeeper seat with deliberate slowness.

 

"Thank you... for saving me," Willow finally mustered, her voice tinged with gratitude and a hint of remorse. It felt insufficient, but it was all she could offer. She beckoned Lou to come closer, and the little demon lord leapt onto her lap, trembling slightly. Willow gently patted Lou's head, “I’m sorry” 

 

"You better be sorry, puny human," Lou retorted,

 

"I'm sorry, Vivi, Gideon," 

 

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I saw what you did, and you should be proud. That's what a disciple of mine can do," Gideon chimed in, his voice reverting to its boisterous and nonchalant tone.

 

"Of course there is," the witch interjected sharply. "A level three disciple does not pull off such daring feats without consequences. Young lady, be prepared for a long lecture. And remember, she did that because of my teachings."

 

"What did you say?!" 

"I said—"

 

"It was my dolls that helped her the most! Stop taking my share of the credit," Lou declared loudly,

 

"Of course, it is yours," Willow whispered in response, her words meant only for Lou's ears. A proud smile graced Lou's face.

 

The room fell into an awkward silence as everyone exchanged uncertain glances. Willow's attention was drawn to the young boy with blonde hair and piercing red eyes, his gaze fixed intently upon her.

 

"And you're...?".

 

"I'm—" the boy began, but Gideon cut him off, his voice tinged with unexpected animation and anger.

 

"He is Brian Reed, a Miracle healer," Gideon announced, his words carrying a hint of resentment.

 

"I know how to speak, regardless. Thank you for the introduction, Lord Dehian," brian replied in a pleasant and soothing tone, his words filled with polite formality.

 

Gideon offered no reply, and an undercurrent of animosity lingered between the two. Willow couldn't help but wonder about the source of their discord.

 

"A Miracle healer?" Willow queried, The term was unfamiliar to her.

 

"They possess the ability to save anyone who still possesses a sliver of life," Vivienne explained

 

"Thank you, Lord Reed," 

 

"I have not done anything deserving of gratitude, Miss Willow," Brian replied humbly, his words carrying a consideration beyond his years. "For the task you've accomplished, I would have been willing to sacrifice my own life to save yours. As a vessel of the Lily Empire, I am bound to do to everything in my power to help you."

 

"The person I saved was a... royalty?" 

 

"Second in line to the throne, to be exact," the boy confirmed.

 

"And you're her vessel," Willow stated, 

 

"I am the heir of the Reed House. My father currently holds the position of Supreme Commander of the Empire," Brian explained.

 

Curiosity tugged at Willow once more as she turned her gaze towards Vivienne. "How did you manage to find someone like him to our backwater city?" she inquired.

 

"By kidnapping him while he was engrossed in his tedious homework, and I must say, I am grateful for that," Brian answered nonchalantly, showing no signs of resentment towards his unexpected abduction.

 

"What?!" Willow exclaimed, her voice filled with disbelief. She quickly composed herself, clearing her throat. "Did the girl I saved... did she survive?"

 

"Yes," Vivienne responded. "However, she spends most of her time in a deep slumber,"

 

Gideon chimed in, urging Willow to share her recollection of the events. "Tell us what happened. If you’re comfortable recalling it" he encouraged.

 

Willow nodded, gathering her thoughts, and began to recount the harrowing events one by one. She spoke of the creatures, the masked figure, and the reasons behind her decision to sever her own hand.

 

"The masked figure, we will need to search for him," Gideon declared, his voice tinged with a hidden aggression.

 

"It's not necessary. As long as he doesn't come after us, we shouldn't actively seek him out," Willow interjected, attempting to placate Gideon. She didn't want their journey to be consumed by violence and revenge. She yearned for adventure, to explore the world, and to embark on a joyful journey.

 

Reluctantly, Gideon nodded, but the unwillingness in his eyes was evident. It didn't matter to Willow. She hadn't joined this quest for bloodshed or vengeance.

 

"And the coldness... What was that feeling? It was as if I could control my body differently, as if I could detach myself from pain," Willow turned her gaze towards Vivienne, seeking an explanation.

 

Vivienne met her gaze with a knowing look. "Focus, Seventh of basic spells. It is a state that can be achieved under specific circumstances. Very few actually tap into its power."

 

"I see. I doubt I'll ever be of use again," Willow's eyes fell to the loose-hanging sleeve that concealed her stump. Without her hand, she felt utterly useless, So utterly useless, incapable of contributing anything meaningful.

No, she wasn’t. 

Willow abruptly rose from her seat, startling Lou. she rushed forward with hurried steps, leaving the counter behind. Lou landed on her feet, “ you puny—” Lou's words caught in her mouth as she watched Willow's leaving hurriedly.

 

"How long was I sleeping?" 

 

"Half a month,".

 

"It's been so long... No one has swept the floor. I can feel the dust," Willow exclaimed, her words frantic and hurried. She made her way to the corner where the brooms were stored. Determined to take action, she decided to clean.

 

Gideon moved forward, intending to stop her, but Vivienne gestured for him to hold back, “let her be,” allowing Willow to proceed. Reluctantly, Gideon complied,.

 

With a one-handed grip on the broom, Willow attempted to sweep the floor. However, it proved to be a futile effort. The uneven surface and the hidden dust in the crevices resisted her attempts. She had done this effectively with both hands.

 

Frustration and despair welled up within her. The dust on the floor seemed to taunt her, a reminder of her newfound uselessness. Willow clenched her jaw, determination pushing her to try again. She attempted to sweep, tears streaming down her face.

 

No one moved to comfort her or offer words of solace. They understood the pain she felt, the loss of her capabilities. There was nothing they could say to ease her burden. They remained still, silently witnessing her struggle.

 

Despite the strain on her idle hand and the tears blurring her vision, Willow persisted. She refused to give up, even though the task seemed impossible. Each attempt only intensified her feelings of helplessness and frustration, but she continued to try, hoping for a different outcome.

 

A warm hand enveloped hers, its touch a soothing balm amidst her despair. A soft voice, as gentle as a summer breeze, whispered, "Let me help you." Willow lifted her gaze, meeting the eyes of someone whose depths mirrored the vastness of the ocean. Blinking away tears, she realized her rudeness in staring and attempted to speak, but her voice faltered and died in her throat.

 

"Allow me to take over," the kind soul offered, their voice carrying a warmth that resonated within her. "You should rest, dear savior."

 

"Savior?" Willow echoed,

 

"How can you be so kind? To endure such suffering, to give up so much, all without knowing the one for whom you have done so," the girl, a princess, questioned through tear-stained eyes. She gently wiped away the tears, her touch both tender and comforting. Willow tried to release her grip on the broom, but her palm remained beneath the princess's, held firmly in place.

 

"I do not know..." Willow whispered weakly, her voice but a mere breath. Uncertain of what was unfolding before her.

 

With a graceful movement, the princess relinquished the broom, freeing Willow from its burden. Instead, she placed a gentle hand upon Willow's back, urging her forward. "You have just awakened, dear savior. Please, do not exert yourself," she implored with utmost gentleness.

 

Willow could only offer a meek nod, her strength diminished. The princess led her back to the familiar comfort of the counter, opening a small side panel. Willow took her seat upon the inviting surface. The princess stepped to the other side of the counter, standing before her.

 

I am Rosaline Lilith, Second Princess of the esteemed Lily Empire," the princess introduced herself with a graceful bow, exuding an air of regal elegance. 

 

"I am Willow," Willow replied, her words filled with a sense of humility and uncertainty. Lou, ever the companion, leapt onto her lap once more. “the Innkeeper of the Whispering Willow Inn. I hope your stay here brings you joy and contentment, Princess."

 

"Please, call me Rose, Willow," 

 

"But..." 

 

"Please," 

 

"Okay..." Willow relented,. 

 

Rose's smile widened ever so slightly, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you again, for saving me."

 

"It was nothing," Willow attempted to downplay her sacrifice, not wishing to dwell on her lost arm.

 

"No, it was not," Rose countered, her tone firm yet compassionate. "You lost your arm for me."

 

Willow's gaze shifted, unable to meet the princess's unwavering eyes. Willow did not want to hear about it, she knew she lost her arm and there was nothing to be done about that and she did not need a reminder. 

 

"And as such, I hereby pledge, from this day forth until the end of my days, to serve as your arm."

 

Willow's heart skipped a beat, her breath caught in her throat. 

 

Willow wore a shocked expression. The air was thick with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, mirrored in the expressions of the people gathered around them. Each face bore the weight of the unexpected proclamation, their features etched with surprise and awe.

 

Trembling slightly, Willow managed to find her voice, though uncertainty laced every word. "P-please, Your Highness, do not jest about something so grievous," she pleaded, 

 

"I do not jest, dear savior," Princess Rose affirmed, her voice steady and determined. "You have paid a price for me, sacrificing your own limb to save my life. In return, I shall serve as your arm from this day forward."

 

Willow's gaze darted towards the Witch, seeking guidance or intervention, and to her relief, she received a nod of approval. "Dear princess," the Witch interjected gently, "we should discuss this matter further at a later time. For now, let us focus on the events that led to you to the predicament before meeting Willow."

 

Just as the words left the Witch's lips, a loud crashing, The heavy impact of a forceful kick reverberated through the shabby entrance, sending the doors flying open to crash in the center of the hall. All eyes turned towards the towering figure that emerged, clad in resplendent blue and white armor that shimmered in the ambient light.

 

Every step the armored man took resounded with a metallic symphony, the weight of his presence palpable in the creaking of the wooden floor beneath him. His face bore a striking resemblance to Brian, but the years etched deep lines upon his weathered features, emphasizing the passage of time. His long, flowing locks of blonde hair danced and swayed with each movement, adding to the air of authority that emanated from him.