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2. Aerith
Aerith had never been more frightened in her life. She bit down hard on her lip to keep from screaming. She was alone, she could smell smoke, and the world seemed to be ending outside. She peered out from beneath reams of paper.
Around her, Healer House lay in disarray. Shelves of medical books and scrolls, lovingly preserved over hundreds of generations, had been overturned and scattered. Some were blackened where dropped candles had touched them; others were crumpled and torn from being trampled. Students and mentors had both rushed for the exits when the Heartless came.
All except the smallest student. Aerith had been knocked aside by an older novice struggling with a Heartless and flung under the falling shelves. Luckily, the shelves hadn't crushed her, instead wedging between the wall and a desk too solid to break under the strain. She had been left, unconscious and forgotten beneath everything that had fallen off and covered her.
She crawled out, amazed to still be alive. Her heart thumped against her ribcage and her breath came in quick gasps, as though she had run a marathon. Looking into empty rooms as she went, she staggered to the front door, hoping to see someone she knew.
Leaving Healer House usually meant a trek across the courtyard to the main castle. The healers liked to keep their affairs private and separate from the rest of court, so they had built their home into the giant gnarled roots of the ancient trees at the very edge of the castle grounds. The roots were taller than the nearby stables and thicker than most walls, which made them better than roof-beams and kept everyone toasty warm in winter time.
When the trailing branches were in bloom with blossom in spring, or green with summer leaves, they shielded Healer House and its dormitories almost entirely from sight. Lord Ansem allowed this fierce privacy because no other kingdom had such a prestigious set of healers, let alone those willing to apprentice local kids and pass on their craft to the next generation. After the civil war, Radiant Garden, along with every other kingdom involved, was constantly looking for new ways to establish its place in the new world order. Being home to the most talented healers in the land went a long way to rebuilding the tattered reputation of the once-named 'Strong Bastion'. Though Lord Ansem had renamed the place and spent years revamping it, many people still remembered the way things used to be.
The courtyard was on fire. Flames licked the tree roots, which stood tall and proud against them, but it was only a matter of time before they caught fire too. Nobody was around to put out the blaze. Aerith stared in horror at the destruction. What had happened? Where was everyone? The healers had a tiered system. In an emergency, any White Mages not already at the royal ball would have gone to help in the castle – they were the best, after all – but the Red Mages would have stayed with their students. Someone should have been here to stop their home burning down.
How long was I unconscious? Panic rose in Aerith's throat and made her chest feel tight. "What's going on here?" she asked aloud, as if giving voice to the question would make someone magically appear with an answer. Nobody did.
Not knowing what else to do, she set off to look for her friends and teachers.
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