Author's Greetings: I can explain.

Hey it's your dead boy rising from the dead. Hey yeah the last time I updated this fanfic was one year ago. Wow yeah let's just jump into it guys!

The air had gone cold, Sucy notices this and looks around. The strands of sunlight seeping from above had vanished, but not because of the canopies, the sky itself had gone cloudy, windy, unpleasant even for her. Normally she enjoys this sort of weather; it's the perfect setup for undisturbed potion making.

A fleeting leaf enters her vision. She ignores it at first, but after she notices its peculiar shape, she stops and her eyes follow the falling leaf. She extends her hand and the leaf lands on it. Something about this leaf makes her stop to think. Hannah's laboured breathes didn't manage to take Sucy's attention away from the leaf.

Sucy expects the pompous girl to lecture her again on wasting time not running, despite Hannah herself always being the one out of breath after just a few seconds, mainly because she still stubbornly carries Jerry's backpack. But complains are not what Sucy hears, instead, she hears Hannah's panicked voice cutting through the cold wind.

"S-Sucy! Something's not right".

Sucy looks past Hannah and her eyes immediately widen when she sees the boy's unconscious body sweating and trembling. She immediately places her hand on his chest and her expression takes a twists grimly.

"This is bad, his pulse is racing. He's fine just now, but… something made his heart race".

Jericho's skin is now terribly pale. His lips had lost its healthy red colour, his clothing and hair is soaked with cold sweat, and his breathing is erratic, his chest raises every time he takes sharp, painful breaths. Sucy touches his hand, it was the coldest. She chews on her lips as she tries to think of something, anything.

Hannah doesn't want to ask, she doesn't need to ask. The look on Manbavaran's face and her stressful silence speaks more volumes than she could possibly say.

Hannah swallows. "D-don't tell me…"

Hannah's eyes drift to the boy's pitiful face but she couldn't bear holding it for long, she fears something terrible will suddenly happen and she'll be witnessing it if she keeps looking.

Sucy suddenly stands up and walks away from the boy, her back turned to Hannah who shoots her a questioning look. The clinking of bottles and vials tells Hannah she's up to something.

"What are you doing?" Hannah asks.

"If I can get poison to run in his blood, then maybe it'll kill the monster".

"In his blood?! You'll kill him before it kills that thing!"

"Do you have any better ideas?" Sucy barks. She hates that Hannah still has time to be hesitant in this emergency. Sucy regretted telling her that this is poison, she could've lied and said it's a cure or something; it would've saved them from the pointless bickering.

Hannah quickly understands that Sucy already has her mind set, and that she won't listen to her advices. Hannah looks up and looks to the openings found in the thick canopies. They're wide, but not wide enough. Its width and distance from here would take phenomenal dexterity to fire a flare spell through, something she doubts any of them could pull off. She looks around, but the thick canopies still stretches on for miles, too far for any of them to find the end and fire off a signal for help.

Hannah chews on her lip, she honestly have no idea what to do.

Eventually Sucy breaks her silence, her tone now fitting her usual calmness, "I'm making a poison to kill the thing, not him. The dose will be just enough to kill something of that size but give only discomfort on humans".

Sucy pauses, grimly, before continuing, "Major discomfort".

Hannah shudders at the girl's phrasing, but she's grateful nonetheless—she'll take that any time of the day compared to death.

It takes long gruelling minutes for Sucy to finally finish preparing her poison. She slides beside the cot that the boy rests on and prepares to apply her poison. She slides her hand under the boy's neck to support his head, and she could feel the cold sweat running down her fingers. It's completely soaked his hair and the back of his collar.

An odd silence ensues as Sucy suddenly pauses, not continuing to do anything. She eventually looks up to Hannah and asks, "Do you have a syringe?"

Hannah's flabbergasted. "Do I have a syringe? Do I look like a person that carries a spare syringe wherever I go?"

Sucy shrugs and dismisses the thought. She says nothing else. Without a syringe, she'll have to apply the poison through his mouth. This will take longer for the poison to take effect.

Seeing Sucy about to apply her poison, Hannah grimaced and had to look away.

Sucy brings the poison close to the boy's mouth. In this crucial moment, for all the abilities she has in potion making, Sucy finds herself hesitating. 'Did I make the dose right? What if my ratio was off? What if my ingredient wasn't right? What if it's too potent?' Sucy keeps repeating these to herself, not daring to say this aloud. She's never one for hesitations, especially not in this realm of expertise of hers.

Everything that she sees is enough to convince Sucy that this is not the time for hesitations, but as she sees her vial of poison hanging just above the boy's mouth—its content ready to spill out with just the slightest move of her hand—she couldn't help but realize the weight and risk she holds in her hands. Sucy lingers in this position for what felt like hours to her, her hand suspending what could possibly be the death of Jericho Franklin Jr.

Swallowing every bit hesitation she has in her, Sucy forces her hand to move. The poison now flows into the boy's mouth.

Finished, Sucy gets up but lingers next to the boy for a while, looking at her handiwork and wondering if she did the right thing. Hannah glances at Sucy but doesn't say a word.

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My eyes gradually open. They're greeted by a bright light, white and sterile. I cover them as they're obnoxiously bright, it makes my head spin. But even closing my eyes I still feel my head spin, I realize it's not the light.

"You're awake" I hear someone say from across the room, it's the young nurse. She stops beside my bed, she doesn't look happy—she has a scolding look.

"Good grief, you're really troublesome, aren't you?"

My mind can't quite reach what she's referring to, nor do I understand why she's addressing me like she knows me well, but the words are already out before I could even think of them.

"It's nice seeing you again".

The nurse says nothing and keeps staring at me, her frown not leaving. In contrast, I know a smile is creeping up my lips, but what caused it exactly? Joy? Amusement? Challenge? Gratitude? I've no idea. My body just knows it's time to smile.

Eventually, the nurse says. "I should inform your parents, they should want to hear this".

I lose my smile immediately. The transition must've seemed obvious as the nurse easily picks up on it. Her expression eases, I'll never get to know what she wanted to say to me then because she's interrupted when the door to the infirmary opens and in comes two girls. I know neither, but I know I feel my chest easing the moment I saw their faces. One of them, the red haired one, immediately rushes towards me and pulls me into a tight hug. She eventually let's go but now takes my hands and squeezes them.

The girl cries, "What were you thinking?! That was dangerous and oh my gosh I'm so glad you're awake!"

I've no idea of what she's talking about, nor do I know her, but before I knew it, the words already leave my mouth with a smile.

"Nice to see you again, Chariot".

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My eyes gradually open. They're greeted by a bright light, yellow and aged. I cover them as they're obnoxiously bright but I immediately feel a sharp pain on my right hand as I try to. The light makes my head spin, but even closing my eyes I still feel my head spin—I realize it's not the light.

What a bizarre dream I just had.

I try to sit up but feel almost no energy in me. My movements are slow, my body lethargic, the same feeling you get when you wake up after too much sleep, the same irritable feeling it entails also present in me now. My throat feels sore, even without trying it I know how much it'll hurt to speak. My right hand feels numb and cold, they're so bad I feel nauseous. My clothes feel uncomfortably sticky, dried sweat clinging onto it, and my hair matted and dirty. I don't feel good at all.

I can hear voices, loud yet indistinct, they ring in my ears. Aside from my hearing and mind, my eyes are blurry as well. It takes a second for the world around me to become clear, and the first thing I see is red hair in front of me.

"How many fingers am I holding?" Amanda's American accented voice is distinct, if not dizzying in my state.

I continue blinking and just staring into nothingness. I do get what Amanda's saying, but I don't want to reply just yet—my throat is too parched to say anything.

I stay in this passive state until I feel a great slap across my cheek—it brings me back to earth. I could hear loud gasps following right after the slap landed.

I rub the stinging sensation away. Despite being on the receiving end, I'm not the one that confronts Amanda about this first. "What the hell are you doing, Amanda? He just woke up!" A voice, I think its Hannah's, yells.

"What? I was just helping him!" Amanda shouts, not a single drop of guilt in her voice.

My eyes begin to regain focus and so do my hearing, and soon the world around me settles. I could feel the familiar cracked leather of the bus seat beneath my fingertips and I could hear the rolling wheels on paved roads—we're on the move. The sky outside is already darkening, approaching dusk. I'm on the back-most seat of the bus, my friends gathered around me, some more distant but their gazes are equally on me. I spot Hannah sitting with Barbara farthest on the front row seats. She's on her feet, looking back at me from her seat, her upset expression is directed to Amanda and not me. Hannah says nothing else. She rolls her eyes and groans obviously before returning to her seat, never to look back here for the rest of the trip back.

I rub the last stinging sensation away. Amanda has some sort of grin, she seems happy to see me awake, but that grin disappears when I glare at her.

"Don't hit me again", I say, my throat hurts just saying that. It might've come off too rude for my liking, but right now I just don't care. My head is throbbing like crazy and Amanda's little joke isn't helping.

"You fell unconscious and we backpedalled hard", Sucy says. Just then I realize she's sitting right next to me. "We got the flower, though".

I sit upright and look around. Sitting near the backseat of the bus and gathered around me are Jasminka, Constanze, Sucy, and Amanda. They all have their eyes on me although with varying degrees of worry.

Jasminka looks worried the most but she seems considerably happier now that I'm up. She offers me something, a water bottle. "Want some?"

I take the bottle without another word, at this point it tastes like sweet nectar made in heaven. While I drink, Amanda continues. "Good thing we ran into you man, you were pale as a ghost when we found your team. Also if you're wondering, my team got the assignment to grab some Devil's Crowns, man it was hard even for me…"

Amanda's words trail off. Alongside the others, she stares at me speechlessly as I gulp down the entire two litre bottle in one go. I hand the empty bottle back to Jasminka before slumping back on my seat. I stare at the ceiling, "My head hurts".

"You did lose blood, must feel like some sort of terrible hangover", Sucy says.

I lost blood? I didn't remember any blood from the bite.

I give Sucy a sidelong gaze. Even without me saying it, she should know I want her to explain more, but she doesn't try to meet my demand. She even looks away, something I don't often see the girl do.

I sigh quietly. Right now I couldn't care less on what happened, the only thing filling my mind is how absurdly uncomfortable my own body feels. I close my eyes. "I feel like shit".

I unbutton a bit. My dirtied clothes make me damp and uncomfortable. If no one's around I would've taken off my clothes completely. Funny how even in this moment of great discomfort I have my limits.

My mind tries to rest but I couldn't make it rest. I can't describe it well, I don't want to, I feel in pain, I just want to rest and be rid of every feeling. It's hard, but I eventually drift to slumber.

—

It's already dark by the time we arrive at school. The crowd of student disperses from the busses, but they linger on the courtyard where the busses are parked, talking to friends about their experience during the fieldtrip. I couldn't join them, and even if I do, I doubt I have anything nice to say. Instead, one of the school nurses has been summoned here to treat me right away.

"How do you feel?" the old nurse asks.

I say nothing and direct my tired glare at her, profanities would've followed if my throat is comfortable enough to speak them.

"I'll take that as terrible", the nurse says. She hands me a glass filled with liquid that not at all looks delectable. "Drink that. I can't promise it'll taste good. After this, make sure you eat lots, and I mean lots. You can't afford to have an empty stomach after what you went through".

I just hum my response before I drink the potion; I have no problem ignoring the disgusting taste if it means I'll be rid of this banging sickness.

One person separates herself from the group to see me, only one person comes to see how I'm doing (I later know this is because the fieldtrip participants' work isn't done yet. Regardless, my currently clueless self feels ignored). It's the young Professor Ursula, she says, "Michelle's currently occupied, she sent me to look after you in her stead. How are you feeling, dear?"

'Dear'? That's surprisingly nice to be addressed as.

I don't even glance at her. Again, I hum my response before diligently continuing drinking the potion.

Professor Ursula sits next to me. I don't need to look to know her expression is one of worry. She glances at my arm and says, "Thankfully the wound didn't fester".

My right hand, it's now bandaged from my elbow to my palms that it spares no skin to be visible. It's hard to describe the pain there. It's cold and it feels like my hand is about to fall off at any moment.

Two right hand injuries in one week, it's as if the whole universe is on a competition on who can fuck my right hand up the most.

"Cold, I feel cold", I finally mumble. I press my lip to the mouth of the glass but don't drink. I don't look up to meet her eyes. "Is this normal?"

"You lost blood", the nurse says. "It's very normal. As for your direct wound, you're bitten by a tunnelling Chequemaker, native to the area. It's not uncommon that victims of their bite have their wounds fester from all the bacteria their insect diet gave them. You're one lucky kid".

There they go again with the blood loss. I don't remember having my blood lost.

"What young Manbavaran did was no less heroic" the nurse adds, surprising me. "I heard she didn't tell you you're in danger, her decision actually saved you. If she hadn't lied to you and you panicked, we might not be having this conversation right now".

I stop. I look to the nurse.

The nurse, understanding my confusion, adds, "You got your blood sucked, kid".

Blood sucked, blood sucked… Sucy didn't tell me this. She completely lied about the bite not being harmful, then, and it's a good thing she did? My mind tells me that is the right thing to do but my body screams against it, it's like they're desperate to find someone to blame for my situation, it is always easier to deal with pain when there's something to blame, after all.

Unfortunately there's no one to blame. But while I'm grateful of Sucy's help, I also hate her for lying—I feel like I should blame her.

Wait what am I saying? Use your head, she's a hero!

But she lied, it hurts my heart!

Man, feelings are hard.

The nurse adds, "You're going to be alright kid, they've already transfused some blood for you when you're out".

Perhaps noticing my discomfort at the topic, Professor Ursula promptly says to the nurse, "Please, now might not be a good time to talk about the details".

The nurse looks surprised. "Right, sorry".

Without warning, the professor places her hand on my forehead. She looks directly at my eyes. "You're cold", she says, gently. This gesture makes me indescribably warm inside. A soft smile eventually shows on the professor—it overwhelms my already overwhelmed heart. "The cafeteria should be closed at this hour, but I've asked the chef to prepare a special dish for you, you'll need it", Professor Ursula says, the nurse nods in approval.

Warm food, I didn't realize my body's been craving for it. I don't realize the smile making its way to my lips as the thought of warm food passes my mind. I look back to my drink once the professor's warm hand leaves my temple. Feeling grateful at the relatively simple gesture, I thank the professor.

I don't think much of what to say, it just rolls out of my tongue naturally. "Thank you, Chariot".

I don't hear any reaction from the professor. She makes no reply to my thanks. Curious, I try to see her face but she's already up before I could. Barely meeting my eyes, the professor eventually says, "W-well, it's time for me to go, I think. Get well soon".

The professor smiles briefly at the nurse before she leaves, she doesn't spare a moment to look back at all. There's a silence after she left, the nurse and I don't share any words for a minute or two as I, to the nurse's amusement, continue drinking the potion diligently.

"What's this?" I ask after taking another sip.

"Chicken liver, spinach, egg yolk, raisins, papayas, chilli, beans, and a bit of cooked lamb".

I take another sip. "It tastes good".

"You have problems", the nurse says. I smile tiredly at my drink.

After that is the cafeteria. I sit alone in the dark room, only one light, the one directly above my table, shines. It's quite a depressing scene, there's this indescribable feeling when you're alone in a place that's usually crowded.

I spent the entire first half of my dinner alone, swallowing two portions of food to the chef's delight. The goblin chef, either amused or sympathizing, comes up to me in my quiet dinner. The conversation that ensued was quite one-sided—I absolutely didn't mind. He tells me of his story as a goblin chef just like his father and grandfather before him, serving as cooks to many happy stomachs throughout ages. His story is simple and straightforward, but they make me comfortable tonight.

After that is my bed, I was born for it. With a full stomach, I drift into an undisturbed sleep.

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The crackle of fireworks immediately disturbs me out of my sleep. I open my eyes, beyond surprised, only to shut them again as another firework pops.

Why would there be a firework going off in my room? Unless... its a dream. I have to be dreaming, but why is it...

I promptly move my hands over where I'm laying. I feel a stone's surface, rough and cold instead of my soft bed sheet's warmth, and I could hear sounds surrounding me-the chirping of insects and the rustling of leaves and grasses-ones that I shouldn't be hearing in my bedroom. I finally found the courage to open my eyes, and sure enough, I find myself not in my room anymore but one an open grassy field, where I sit on a stone fence on top of a rolling hill. It's nighttime.

I glance around, confused beyond belief. I know this has to be a dream, but how am I perceiving this dream so vividly?

I move my hands in front of me, studying it briefly before bringing them to my face, I can feel with them properly.

This is like my last dream, the one I had when I was out at the bus, this feels very real.

However, no matter how strong my senses are, I couldn't feel my body. I can't move my body, not an inch. When my body moves, like I just did with my hands earlier, it wasn't me that wanted it to do so: my body seemingly moved without me telling it to, and won't move when I tell it to. It... feels like I'm a pilot without its steering wheels.

Case in point, when I feel my mouth open to a yawn, my hands already rush to cover it without me ordering it to. Before I could wrap my head around this bizarre phenomenon of a dream I'm experiencing, a girl's voice, upset, appears in front of me.

"You're sleeping, i-is it that boring?!"

I'm broken out of my drowsiness upon being addressed. I'm surprised to find a red haired girl standing in front of me. I recognize this girl; I saw before in my previous dream. She puffs her cheeks at me and doesn't look pleased at all.

Before I knew it I feel guilt—I've no idea why, my body just feels guilty. I have no idea what this girl's referring to as well, but the words already leave my mouth before I could even think of them. "No! Totally it was amazing".

Ah! It happened again! My body moved on its own and it even makes me speak out of my will this time!

The red haired girl doesn't believe what 'I' said at all. She continues puffing her cheeks at me, though no one can take her seriously at how adorable she looks that way.

"Just accept that your flashy performance magic aren't cool, Chariot". Another voice says from beside me, foreign to me. But once I turn around, I find a girl I could recognize on my own. It's the other girl I saw in my last dream, she sits beside me on the stone fence, her lilac hair flowing with the night breeze.

"Croix!" Chariot directs her pout to the girl I knew now to be Croix, it makes her smile smugly.

Croix shrugs, "What can I say? I'm not the only one that's bored".

Before I knew it, before I even made the order to, my head already moves to a nod and my mouth already moves to a chuckle. "That's true".

It happened again! Why did I say that? Why am I doing things I didn't ask my body to do?

What in the world is happening? What is this dream? However lucid it is, I feel like I'm a foreigner in my own body: however strong I could feel my own body, I have no control of it. While my mind is my own, my body feels like it isn't. I feel like a spectator inside of... someone else, seeing through its eyes just as clear as I would normally through mine and know what its thinking as clear as I would with mine.

As the dream progresses, things suddenly become even worse. What started as me having some semblance of control over my mind-being free to think of anything-I begin to lose hold of it, if that even makes sense. Just like my body, my mind begins to be more and more out of my control—I suddenly think what I don't usually think, I say what I'm not even intending to say, and I know things that I'm not supposed to have any knowledge of—my thoughts are not my own.

Slowly, I lose any sense of my 'real' self as I slowly begin to feel the mind of whoever I'm residing in overpowering me. Soon, my mind is completely not my own-it no longer bears the ideas and memories of Jericho, but someone else's. It whispers to me memories, ones that I shouldn't have, and makes me feel like I've had it since forever. Like a film where all I can do is sit and watch, 'my' mind shows me 'my' memories, myself just an audience as my mind shows me memories that I shouldn't have. It tells me that I've always loved Chariot's fireworks. That while they're not spectacularly distinct from any other fireworks, its the creator that is.

'My' mind tells me that this place, this feeling, these friends, hold a special place in my heart. It tells me that I never said it to these two but being here with them, in this quiet rolling hill like it's our secret base, always reminds of the first time I saw them.

My mind remembers, I was crying. I just ran for hours, farther than I thought I could ever run. I felt terrible then, cold, but I didn't let the cold bother me. I felt dead inside anyway—no amount of cold air can freeze me.

My mind remembers, the stars were pretty that night but I didn't look up to see—they look too pretty for a night this terrible—it's as if they're just there to mock me, to mock my misfortune as they glimmer brilliantly, indifferent to my black feelings. They're up there in their endless splendour, laughing at me down below who has no light.

My mind remembers, I had no idea what I was doing there. I had no idea what to do. I was so clueless I even thought of spending the night here—it would've been times better than back home. Depressing as it was, I was prepared for a quiet night here accompanied only by the cold howling wind and the laughing stars, that's why when a firework crackles not far from me it completely took me by surprise. The stars couldn't do it, but the firework could, I look up just in time to see the firework itself, bright red and beautiful, its light manages to overpower the stars'.

My mind remembers how another firework followed, and another, and another. I couldn't take my eyes off them, I'm as charmed by them as I'm irritated—I didn't expect nor want anything to bother me right now, especially if it's cheerful. Nonetheless, as another firework climbed up the night sky, my legs took me forward, to where I thought they all originated from.

My mind remembers how I met a small rolling hill and saw there two girls in school uniforms—my school's uniform. One of them was on her feet, heartily waving her wand around and with each swing she sent another one of her marvellous fireworks. The fireworks were one thing, but the girl was special in a different way. The way she had her smile, how passionate she looked when she casted her spell, was captivating for me. My mind remembers how befuddled I was looking at her, how at that time I'm surprised that I never knew someone could look so happy when using magic—no one ever taught me it could be like that.

My mind remembers that the firework girl was speaking with her friend. This second girl was seated, watching the performance alone like a single devout audience. They're talking, their quips and jokes got to me—they're funny.

My mind remembers that they're completely unaware of my presence then, I'm after all still a distance away from them, observing them quietly, finding joy in my heart in just doing that. Their happiness is infectious, my mind remembers that before I knew it, my tears had stopped.

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My sleep felt short, I didn't expect the sun to already be up when I open my eyes. As I lay on my bed, too lazy to move, I can't help but think of the bizarre dream I had. However bizarre my dream was, for now I convince myself that the odd situation I found myself in there was something close or related to lucid dreaming, but that doesn't answer the second part of the mystery.

Those two girls, why do I have two dreams with the same people in both?

I stir on my bed, and in that moment I realize most of my malaise had been broken, some portion of my sickness stays alongside the sharp pain on my right hand.

I stretch my body as best I can with my injured hand as I walk up to the mirror, what I see there is the physical manifestation of mess—my hair looks dishevelled like a bush, eyes red and barely open, clothes unbuttoned at some parts, and dried saliva coats my chin. But as disturbing my looks may be, they're the least of my worries.

Consecutive dreams, are they normal? No, what even is normal in this nonsensical world of magic?

What I remember from the dreams is vague, but two names keep ringing in my head ever since I experienced the second.

Chariot and Croix. Why do I feel like I miss them?

Author's Exit: Hello, my hand hurts a lot two days ago. It was so bad that my stomach hurts and eventually I got a fever and I literally couldn't do anything but rest for two days. At least it served to make me better illustrate Jerry's hand injury. Silver lining where there is I guess.

Anyhow, like I said on my last author's notes (that came out like last year), I was busy revising/reworking the old chapters (1 to 5), and I did, I finished doing that. They're also the reason for this very slow update but since they're completed and I'm still on my vacation days, expect more chapters soon!

Like always, like review comment subscribe what?

P.S. if you actually want to read what I reworked, you should just read chapter 3 and 4, they're the ones that's super different and I think is enjoyable but just like my previous reworks, they don't have any affect on the present story so you can entirely skip them if you want to!