The troops finally arrived at the gates. Faces downcast. Wounded. Defeated.
They had failed the mission.
A rescue team had already been dispatched to sweep the forest plain and assist the injured. The general gave a firm nod and issued a quiet command.
"Take them to Acarias—the Caretaker."
The procession moved slowly through the streets. The soldiers, bloodied and bruised, were supported by the rescue team, tiptoeing carefully across the stone paths toward Carias' infirmary, the famed underground lab that doubled as a recovery bay.
When they reached the heavy door, someone knocked firmly.
"The General has something for you," one of the medics announced.
"Come in," came the calm voice from inside.
The door creaked open, revealing Z-12, the stoic and sharp-eyed Caretaker. His brows lifted slightly at the sight before him—fifteen injured soldiers, supported on all sides, some barely conscious.
Z-12's eyes scanned the battered group. "So many..." he murmured.
Could it be Gabby? he wondered silently. Did she do this?
Without saying another word, he stepped forward and began directing the rescue team. "Lay them down gently. Spread them across the benches. We'll work fast."
He moved from one soldier to another, his trained hands swift and precise. At one point, he paused and leaned in, peering closely through his magnifying lens at a deep gash on a soldier's side.
He frowned. No poison. No residue. Nothing foreign.
Just pain. Just blood.
Strange, he thought. I expected something... more.
Still, he said nothing out loud.
The healing had only begun—but so had the questions.
"I'll provide treatment for them in two days," Z-12 instructed, sending the message through the rescue team to the General.
When they left, he sat down in silence, his mind spinning.
What exactly happened out there?
He leaned back, deep in thought, piecing together what little he knew. But there were too many gaps, too many unknowns.
After a while, he exhaled sharply and stood. There was no time to waste.
He moved to his workstation, gathering what he needed—vials of medicine, bundles of herbs, sterilized tools, and his thick book of healing techniques. Tonight, he would begin. He had to.
There were problems everywhere.
Wounded soldiers in the cave.
More in the infirmary.
And no clear answer as to why.
But one thing was certain: his work had only just begun.
...
"Get me the colorless liquid in the box," Gabby ordered, her voice calm but urgent.
Skyler rushed to the box and started sorting through it. "There are three bottles here... which one exactly?" she asked, glancing back at Gabby.
Gabby thought for a second. "Bring them all."
"Here," Skyler said, handing them over.
Gabby opened each bottle, wafting the scent toward her nose with a careful hand. She sniffed, eyes narrowing in concentration. Finally, she nodded—she'd found the right one.
"Elsie, get me the cotton under that," she said, pointing toward a nearby basket.
Elsie quickly grabbed the bottles and passed them to Gabby. Then she bent to check under the basket. "It's not here. I can't see any cotton," she said with confusion.
Gabby frowned and looked toward Skyler. "Get it for me."
Skyler hurried over to the basket, where Elsie was already searching. She dug through the contents and pulled out a bundled roll of cotton.
"It's dusty here. Is it black in your place too?" Skyler teased lightly.
Gabby gave a short breath of amusement. "No, it's pure white."
"Here it is," Skyler said, handing the cotton over.
Gabby took the cotton and pressed part of it over the vial's opening, tipping the container gently until the cotton was soaked. Then, with practiced hands, she leaned forward and began cleaning Tony's wound.
Elsie and Skyler stood nearby, watching quietly as Gabby worked, the silence heavy with worry and hope.
She knew how painful that liquid could be. So she used only a little—just enough to do the job. Dabbing the cotton carefully, Gabby pressed it gently onto the wound.
Tony let out a sharp yell, his body tensing with the sting. The sound echoed through the cave, so loud that even he paused in surprise once it left him. When the cry died down, his eyes fluttered open—glassy, pained, but aware.
"Troublesome," Skyler muttered with a smirk. "Maybe a kiss would help numb the pain... or at least keep him quiet." She gave a playful shrug. "It's just a suggestion. I've read about that."
"I'll do it," Elsie replied softly, standing and swen towards him.
Elsie sat beside Tony, unsure of what to do. Her eyes darted around until they landed on Gabby. "Gabby, you're better at this," she whispered and slowly stood, backing away to give space.
Tony's gaze, previously blank, shifted. His head turned slightly—to the right. Toward Gabby.
Skyler leaned close and whispered in Gabby's ear, "He's looking."
Just then, Tony winced again. His eyes squeezed shut, a flicker of pain etched across his face.
Gabby turned to Elsie and Skyler. They exchanged looks.
Gabby nodded.
It was a quiet signal.
She stepped forward again, sat down beside him, and looked into his eyes. Searching. Hesitating. Her heart beat harder—not just because of the pain he was in, but because of what she was about to do.
Gabby didn't wait this time.
She soaked the cotton with the liquid, her hands trembling just slightly. She moved to his side again. Tony's eyes were closed, his face tight with pain, his breath shallow and uneven.
As she pressed the cotton to his wound, he screamed—loud, raw, and guttural.
But before the echo could settle into the stone walls… Gabby leaned in and kissed him.
It wasn't planned.
Her lips met his—soft, trembling, full of unspoken emotion. The kiss didn't last long, but it was enough to muffle his cry. Enough to give him something to feel besides pain. It wasn't just to silence him—it was a moment of connection, of something real in the middle of chaos.
His lips twitched beneath hers, not in protest—but in confusion, maybe even relief. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't speak. But his body stilled, like the pain had taken a step back.
Across the cave, Skyler had turned away, muttering something under her breath. Elsie was facing the other direction, digging through the supplies, missing it all.
No one saw it.
No one… but them.
When Gabby finally pulled away, her breath was shaky. She looked at him—his chest still rising and falling, his eyes still closed. She whispered, more to herself than anyone, "Just hold on."
Then she returned to the wound, the fire in her cheeks quietly smothered.
But something had changed.
And no one knew… except the two of them.