Chapter 23: Scars and Whispers

The darkness was cold and sticky, wrapping Gabriel like a shroud. Pain was a constant presence, a dull drum echoing in his broken bones and throbbing in his torn muscles. He floated in a void, the echoes of Fay's urgent voice – Two years... or die... – mixing with the cries of pain from the brutal assault and the cruel insults of his attackers. It was over. Defeated. Waiting for the nothingness that would follow.

It was a damp, scaly nudge on his face that brought him back, not to full consciousness, but to a hazy awareness of the outside world. Followed by a loud, anxious sniffing, the sound accompanied by a slight trembling of the floor stones under the newcomer's weight.

"Oh, dear! Oh, dear! Blood! A... a body?!" Oracio's loud, awkward voice echoed down the corridor, his large bronze wings fluttering nervously, nearly bumping into a frayed tapestry. He took a hesitant step back, his thick claws scraping noisily on the stone. "Could it... could it have been me again?! I swear I didn't see him in the hallway! I was just... practicing loop-the-loops! No, no... deep breaths, Oracio! (He puffed out his chest, letting out a small, involuntary puff of smoke) Think! Is he still... moving?"

With exaggerated caution, as if approaching a trap, Oracio stretched his long neck and gave another nudge with his snout, this time on Gabriel's good shoulder.

Gabriel groaned involuntarily, a weak, guttural sound.

"He groaned! He's alive!" Oracio exclaimed, giving a small leap of relief that almost made him hit his head on the low corridor ceiling. His wings beat once, stirring up dust. "Right! Help! I need help!" He looked from Gabriel to both ends of the corridor, undecided, shaking his large head. "Stay here, weird human! Be very still! Don't die! I'll be right back! Quick as a... as a dragon!"

With newfound (and probably misguided) determination, Oracio turned. Gabriel heard the heavy, clumsy sound of claws scraping on stone again, the uncontrolled flapping of wings echoing off the walls, followed by a series of dull thuds in the distance and a fading cry of "Sorry, Gargoyle! Didn't see you there!". Faytheria's clumsiest dragon had departed on his rescue mission.

Unconsciousness threatened to take Gabriel again, but the bizarre intervention had anchored him to painful reality. He was alive. And apparently, he had a bumbling dragon as a... guardian angel? The irony almost made him laugh, if breathing didn't hurt so much. Two years... Fay's sentence weighed on his mind again.

Not long after – though to Gabriel it felt like an eternity immersed in pain – he heard hurried footsteps approaching. A soft but steady light banished some of the shadows.

"By the ancestral stars... Oracio wasn't exaggerating." Akane Thaloria's calm voice sounded, but even semi-conscious, Gabriel could detect the note of restrained shock.

He felt gentle but firm hands quickly examining him. He heard Akane murmuring words in a language that seemed to vibrate with power – likely a diagnostic or stabilization enchantment.

"Multiple fractures... significant hemorrhage... severe contusions... and..." There was a pause, a hesitation heavy with concern. "...a residual mana signature... erratic. Intense. The Mark?"

More hurried steps. The voices of Greta and Lira, tense and worried.

"Professor Akane! What happened?! We found Oracio in a panic! He said... Gabriel?!"

"Oh, no! Not again! (Lira slapped her tail against the water of her portable tank with an alarmed 'splash')"

"Greta, Lira, calm yourselves." Akane's voice remained level, taking charge. "He's alive, but gravely injured. He needs to go to the infirmary immediately. Greta, your strength will be needed. Carefully."

Gabriel felt himself being lifted from the cold floor, Greta's strong arms holding him with surprising gentleness, despite the urgency. Pain exploded across his vision again, and darkness claimed him before they could leave the corridor.

The next time consciousness returned, it was gradual, like slowly surfacing from deep, icy waters. The pain was still there, a constant companion, but it seemed... distant, muffled by layers of healing magic that enveloped his body like a cocoon of faint light. He felt the gentle warmth of enchantments pulsing over his body, the familiar smell of herbs and ether from the infirmary.

He kept his eyes closed, just listening. The soft bubbling of Lira's tank somewhere nearby. The heavy sound of Greta's breathing, sitting on a stool. And a low, continuous growl, almost a vibrating murmur of contained fury, accompanied by the irritated rhythm of a foot tapping on the stone floor.

Seraphine.

He opened his eyes minimally. She was there, standing near the window, her back to him, arms crossed so tightly her knuckles were white. She wasn't crying this time. The sadness and vulnerability from the previous morning had been replaced by an aura of icy, dangerous fury. Her shoulders were tense, and she tapped her foot impatiently, the sharp sound echoing in the relative quiet of the infirmary. Greta sat on a stool, head in her hands, looking exhausted and worried. Lira undulated slowly in her tank, releasing bubbles that formed agitated, indecipherable patterns.

"...nearly fatal. The healers said they were lucky to stabilize him," Greta's voice was low and tired. "The magic that hit him... Lysandra... left unpleasant remnants. And the blows... broke three ribs, his clavicle, and his right hand is shattered. Not to mention the leg that was already injured. It's a miracle he's alive."

"I know who did it." Seraphine's voice was a low hiss laden with venom, but her fingers nervously traced the torn lace of her glove, a tic she only displayed when genuinely disturbed. "Vlad Incorpus. Ulric. That disgusting succubus. And the treacherous elf. I smelled them in that corridor when Akane called us."

"Sera, we don't have proof..." Greta began, but was cut off.

"Proof? I am the proof! He is the proof!" Seraphine whirled around abruptly, her ruby eyes glowing like live embers, but there was a shadow of fear beneath the fury, a vulnerability she desperately tried to hide with the intensity of her gaze. "When that worthless vermin wakes up, he'll tell me every detail. And then... oh, then they'll find out what happens when you mess with what's mine." She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms, her body taut as a bowstring. "They will pay. With interest paid in blood and suffering."

Lira released a rapid series of bubbles: "VENGEANCE!" "BLOOD!"

Greta sighed. "And what are we going to do? Invade their dorms? The administration is already investigating. Akane said there was a tense faculty meeting. They're even talking about removing Gabriel from the school to protect him."

"Remove him?!" Seraphine laughed, a harsh, almost forced sound devoid of genuine humor. She took a step back, as if the idea had physically struck her. "They wouldn't dare. He's mine. They wouldn't take him anywhere. Besides, where would he go? Back to that pathetic human world of his? Fay already said it's impossible."

The mention of Fay sent a shiver through Gabriel, even in his weakened state. Two years... No return... The fragment...

He must have made some sound, or perhaps the Mark on his hand pulsed faintly, because Seraphine turned towards him, the movement swift, almost defensive. The fury in her eyes seemed to waver for an instant, giving way to cautious surprise before she recomposed her mask of irritation. Greta and Lira also moved closer, their faces tense.

"Gabriel? You're awake?" Greta asked, genuine concern in her voice.

Gabriel blinked, his throat dry. He tried to speak, but only managed a hoarse croak.

Seraphine approached the bed, stopping at a calculated distance, neither too close nor too far. Her intense gaze fixed on him. The fury still burned there, but now it was mixed with something else... relief? Guilt? It was a storm contained within ruby orbs. She quickly moistened her lips, a nervous gesture she rarely made.

"Useless vermin," she said, her voice lower now, but still tense, avoiding direct eye contact for more than a second, her gaze darting to the bandage on his arm, to his bruised face, before meeting his again with forced defiance. "Managed to survive, apparently. Frankly, I'm surprised. You have the annoying resilience of a human cockroach."

Despite the usual insult, the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides, the way her breathing seemed too shallow for a vampire, all contradicted the coldness of her words. Gabriel met her gaze, the physical pain forgotten for a moment in the face of the transparent complexity of the vampire before him. Fay's sentence hammered in his head. He needed to get strong. He needed to survive. And looking at Seraphine – the fury on the surface, the worry and guilt leaking through the cracks of her Tsundere armor – he realized that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't completely alone in this desperate fight.

Meanwhile, outside the infirmary door, Oracio continued his awkward vigil. He scratched his head with a hind claw, nearly losing his balance.

"Are you sure you don't need anything?" he asked for the fourth time to an elven healer who was leaving. "I'm good at... at... keeping things warm? I can give his bed a very gentle puff! Carefully! Or maybe I can roar really loudly to scare away the... the... bad spirits that hurt him?"

The healer sighed, casting a tired look at the well-meaning but potentially destructive dragon. "We appreciate the offer, young Oracio. But for now, silence is the best medicine. Please try not to... roar."

Oracio visibly deflated, his wings drooping slightly, his thick tail sweeping the floor with a dejected swish.

"Oh. Right. Silence. Got it. Sorry." He moved away from the door, sitting down heavily in the corridor, his snout resting on his forepaws, letting out small, sad puffs of silent smoke, feeling terribly guilty and completely useless.