Morningstar

[CH. 0020] - The Chair

"Sometimes, silence says more than words ever could." - Nord

"What did I do?" Nord's voice trembled, feeling the tears of humiliation brimming at the edges of her eyes.

Sirona, stone-faced and stern, was unyielding. "Seriously? You have to ask?"

"I don't understand," Nord stammered.

"Inside that building, we have machinery that's powered by magic—light, water, gas—everything runs on it. I have two patients in there on life support, kept alive by iron lungs. Do you get what I'm saying?" Sirona's voice tightened, filled with a fierce urgency.

"I... I—"

"Stop," Sirona cut her off, rubbing her temples as if to stave off a headache. "You're so obviously out of your element it's painful. You march around in those clothes, ink all over your skin. You waltz into town, face off against the Sisterhood of Ravendrift, and suck away their magic. And then you think you can just come in here and mess with the Hallow? Are you mad?"

"I don't... I never said that," Nord was bewildered, lost in a labyrinth of misunderstandings.

"Look, if you need medical assistance, I can send someone. But I won't set foot in that house. You're crazier than Rosemary ever was, but at least she had the decency not to inflict herself on the whole town," Sirona hissed.

"Rosemary never left the manor?" Nord asked, a realization dawning on her, giving her a glimpse into the social chasm she had stepped into.

"Exactly. You're a parasite, feeding off our most vital resource. No one wants you here. And unless you get that, no one ever will. Now go. Send someone else to do your errands. I've got patients who need me." With that final statement, Sirona turned away, re-entering her community clinic, leaving Nord alone, wrestling with her thoughts on a lonely stretch of sidewalk.

At that moment, the walls of Nord's isolation closed in, the distance between her and the rest of the world stretching out like an endless chasm. It felt eerily familiar, a cold echo of her past. She wandered the streets, her gaze flitting over shop windows but never mustering the will to step inside. The weight of her defeat sank deeper into her with each step until it became too much to bear.

Unable to go on, she found refuge on a wooden bench tucked away between two buildings. With a heavy sigh, she folded her arms on her lap and buried her face in her hands, letting her tears fall freely. Each drop that hit the ground seemed to reverberate in her chest, a tiny drumbeat of surrender.

Just as she was about to succumb to complete despair, a shadow fell over her. Looking up, she saw Baal standing there, his face partially hidden by the wide brim of his peculiar hat.

"Bad day?" he asked, his voice tinged with a warmth that contradicted his gruff exterior.

Nord couldn't muster a reply; instead, she simply nodded and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.

Without another word, Baal sat beside her. He leaned in slightly, his arm subtly resting around her shoulders. He didn't speak, but the scent of mint and damp earth that clung to him wafted into her senses. It was calming and grounding as if he carried a piece of the Earth with him wherever he went. He made her feel like she was back home.

"Are you... Are you following me?" she finally asked, looking up into his face, half-obscured as it was by that odd hat, but she could see his cheek still red.