Ghirahim grumbled, pushing back at the blue magic that enveloped his mind. Being put to sleep by her magic was becoming dangerously close to being a trend. His head pounded as the blue aura fought against the fire that had been raging in his mind since that night with the beast. It hissed off to the left.

Well, now...here we are again...

Ghirahim grimaced as the fire arched back, and he suddenly became aware of the procession. Two hulking figures dragged him along like he weighed nothing. Their fingers dug into his forearms, and the shudder of chains stung his ears. He could taste cold metal against his tongue, but whatever was in his mouth was firmly in place. Looking up, the demon could see Impa was leading the group with Fi just behind her. Did they look...odd? Odd was the only word Ghirahim could place. They seemed almost shrouded in a smoky haze. He tried to push back against the blaze; it would not win, for he would not allow it. The inner flames crackled and popped as the pain in his head worsened. Letting his head drop with a jiggle of his restraints, he exhaled through his nose. Ghirahim decided it might be wise to take in a moment of respite lest things get further out of his control. The fire wanted his attention, nay demanded it. It sought to make a moth of him, but without him, it was merely a candle, not a fatal attraction.

Bringing his eyes front again, Ghirahim expected to see the songbird fluttering before him, but instead, there was a pale-skinned man not unlike himself. He seemed... familiar somehow. The height of his stature, bouncy crown of loose curls, and that scar. A scar that trailed down his spine. His Dct'is splashed his back, leaving inky marks on the page, but he never covered that blemish. Ghirahim remembered he had earned it after a heated sparring session.

Shaeinim?

Ghirahim's eyes widened. How was that possible? Shaeinim had fallen in battle centuries ago. What was he doing here now? He called out to his brother-in-arms, but the metal muffled his voice. Shaeinim looked over his shoulder. His expression is sad but resolute. Ghirahim could not read the man's eyes like he usually could. Those golden pools always betrayed Shaeinim's true feelings, but now they were as still as the rain pools. This could only mean one thing.

Ghirahim shook his head. There was no way, no way this could be happening. Not again. He jerked against the hold of the soldiers beside him, but their grip held firm. He blinked hard as the color of their armor wavered, flowing between a silvery steel and cold ebony glass. No! No, no, relax. This was all just another trick by the flames. It had to be! He could beat this if he tried. Ghirahim pulled again, this time hearing distant yet somehow ear-splitting yells of protest from those dragging him along. Ghirahim felt their grip loosen, and his struggle caused Shaeinim to turn to face him. The demon lord regained some footing and used the newfound strength to break free from his captors, lunging forward into his comrade's arms.

Shaeinim did not embrace him. In fact, he went out of his way to avoid touching Ghirahim. Shaeinim felt colder, harder, and smaller...than Ghirahim remembered. He fell to his knees, but he craned his head to beseech with his eyes some form of intervention by his friend. Shaeinim did nothing. Said nothing. But, there was deep contemplation in those eyes. The group had stopped, and the one leading the group had turned to face them. It was hard to tell who they were behind the dark armor they wore.

Ghirahim closed his eyes, feeling bloody tears threaten to rise unbidden to them. No. Not that...just steady yourself. Regain some control. Do not give in. The demon was wrenched away by the faceless behemoths once more. The leader stepped forward, barking something that he could not make out. Ghirahim huffed as the procession resumed its march.

Does this seem familiar?

The fire sizzled into his ear. Ghirahim shook his head violently. He was losing ground faster than he could afford, fluttering too close to the flames and mere breaths away from burning up into nothing. Heat flushed across his skin, and magic followed, rushing to his fingertips, ready to be used if its master bid it.

Yes...it does...

The shadows purred in reply, and Ghirahim felt fingers lift his chin, but the others had returned to their places. He tossed his head and growled. This conflict was between him and the flames. The rage shrunk away, leaving behind a sharp pain in his limbs. Hyrule castle shimmered back into view. They were climbing an impressive set of stairs now. Where were they going anyway? Ghirahim never took a moment to figure it out. He mustered the strength to reach out and prod his fellow sword spirit with his aura, hoping it would get her attention.

Ghirahim.

The darkness chided, stopping that idea in its tracks. His brow knotted, and another rumble rattled in his throat. How dare the shadows scold him? The flames surged back, roaring against the void.

No! He's mine tonight!

Ghirahim felt the magic shift. It darkened, leaving an acidic taste on his tongue. He snorted as it pressed down on his chest and mind. A barrage of coughs overtook the demon.

Only because I allow it...

Curse magic was something he had grown used to over the years, but no matter who used it, it could easily overtake the user forcing them to taste the effects. Ghirahim knew this, but the window to stop it had long since closed. The blaze rose to his defense, and the darkness rallied, clashing against all the fury. Both were fueling the other, trapping Ghirahim in the middle. He could have sworn he saw Fi look back before her visage caught fire and was scorched away.

Shaeinim came back into view. The others beside him. The one leading them had vanished. Ghirahim recalled having been captured just outside of the human settlement in the Farone providence. He practically staggered into camp, distraught and wailing, but that did not matter. Ghirahim had been AWOL from ranks for almost a year, and he stunk of humans and their influence.

Ghirahim could not blame them, nor would he...until he fell, that is.

No trials or formal appeals were waiting for Ghirahim at the end of the dank tunnel. No, he had committed treason in their eyes, and there was only one punishment suitable for such an act.

Ghirahim felt the atmosphere grow heavier with each step, with each shove of the Dark Guard beside him. A cold chill ran down his spine as not even the mountain heat penetrated this deep into the earth. The bioluminescent lichen that lined all the tunnels of the mountain began to dim and fade, becoming sparse and patchy the closer and closer they got. The sand covering the floor was kicked up from their steps. Near the end, the lichen shifted from soft blues and greens to a malicious purple.

The darkness at the end of the tunnel drifted in wisps before it opened its mouth wide. When they passed under those jagged teeth, Ghirahim instinctively jerked. He dug in his heels and threw back his head.

Now, now...

Pain shot down his legs, willing them to move against his guidance. He gritted his teeth as his gaze was forced forward. The room was massive. His demonic ancestry allowed his eyes to adjust quickly in this place light refused to go. Stalactites poured down from the ceiling overlooking a cavernous depth with a thin, crumbling outcropping stretching its way to the center, cringing like a frightened child against the expanse. At the base of the outcropping sat two stones marked by a circle drawn in salt.

Ghirahim coughed against his bindings. The air stung his nostrils, and the shadows pawed at his form with misty tendrils.

I knew...

The voice purred and hissed.

I knew why they had brought you to me. I knew what they were about to do.

It chirped and sang in his ear as his brothers pulled him to the circle before forcing him to his knees with a swift kick. The coarse sand stung against his skin, and the Dark Guard stepped back, then retreated to an indent in the wall. Shaeinim remained standing before him. A dark shadow danced around his friend, who opened his mouth to make the declaration. But it was not his voice that fell from his lips.

"Ghirahim of the Dark Guard. Soldier for the Daesh Tiris. You have consorted with the enemy and have betrayed the people. Therefore, you shall pay penance in the form of your afterlife and be fed to the Dct'saeis of the mountain, never to bask in Srna again."

The darkness cackled. Shaeinim raised a hand, and the others quickly lit the braziers beside them. He donned his helmet as the fires spread along the wall into scones. The shadows seemed to shriek and retreat into the shelter of the pit. Ghirahim squinted against the introduction of light. He let his head hang; there was nothing he could say now if he wanted to.

"Wait!!"

There was a distant voice crying out to stay the action which was followed by the heavy slam of wooden doors. Ghirahim's head shot up, and his eyes darted in all directions, desperate to find the source of the sound. He could feel the shadows snarl, rumbling the earth. There was light from a distant place unseen, and Ghirahim could not help but recall the light that came to wake him up.

Ghirahim gave an almost hysterical laugh muffled by his binds. The illusion wavered. The scent of the castle made his nostrils flare, but he did not care. That was real, and he needed real. He could feel the cold stone and the soft carpet beneath him.

NO!

The void howled, and the twisted visage of his brothers returned to wrench him to his feet. They pulled him down the narrow path to his end. Shaeinim gripped the fabric across Ghirahim's chest and dangled him over the edge. His heels trembled as they teetered, but Ghirahim cast his gaze up and back, keeping his eyes locked on the twinkling light that sparkled on the ceiling above. Time slowed to a crawl.

"We can't do this! Not now..."

The voice trailed off before coming back into focus.

"We need Link to return! Only he can remove the Master Sword from the pedestal. Besides, look at him. What can he do in this state?"

Link? What would we need Link for? Who...who was...Oh! Yes! The boy! The color green flooded his imagination at the thought of the skychild or at least his descendants.

"Very well, my daughter, you make a valid point."

Another otherworldly voice replied. This one is gruff but regal, not sweet or pleasant like the other. They both began to speak, but their words faded with the speck of light, the scent of the castle, and the feeling of the carpet.

The darkness rushed in where the light had died. It shook like a ravenous beast, and Ghirahim did his best to restrain the fear crawling along his skin. Willing some bravado, he lifted his head and matched his brother's glare with his own, daring Shaeinim to cast him down and be consumed by the shadows. Distant laughter tickled his ears from somewhere in the depths, and Ghirahim recalled the first he faced this pit. Every guard member tasted the shadows at least once, it was a part of their training, but only those who faced capital punishment ever saw the bottom of the chasm.

Ghirahim kept his eyes on his friend, memorizing every detail of his face before he felt Shaeinim's grip loosen. Wispy tendrils shot up, curling around Ghirahim's ankles, waist, and neck, and, with a toss, he felt the darkness pull him into its embrace, and Ghirahim slipped from the outcropping and disappeared into the void.

Fi just received word that the doctor needed some assistance with treating the wounds of a beast he hoped never to meet in his lifetime. Fi had been with Zelda while she spoke through the details of what they were going to do with Ghirahim once Link returned and how they needed to be careful that no supporters of the demon tribe were able to cause any issues. The King seemed barely appeased, but that was all Zelda needed. Zelda won Ghirahim a couple more days to live, and she also decreed that this time should be used to treat his wounds. It is only right that he is at least somewhat aware of what is happening to him, even if he himself would never extend such a kindness. Fi found herself smiling at Zelda's ability to make do in any situation, no matter how dark, especially considering Fi found the princess in tears over it all just a last night. She was dismissed and hurried off to aid the doctor. Emi would be up as soon as she received word that it was safe. Fi passed through the door and internally cringed at the cacophonous chorus of voices that greeted her.

"WATCH THOSE WICKED TEETH!" a human dressed in doctor's garbs hollered.

"I KNOW!--By the goddess--WHY did YOU take the bit out?" Another, possibly an assistant, cried while she pinned a swiping black hand to the bedspread.

"It. Was. In. The. WAY! And he was very docile before!" The doctor snapped, dodging another snap of demonic jaws. The two guards that had hauled Ghirahim to the throne room earlier were now only able to hold down a leg each to keep the thrashing demon even remotely still. Their auras gave off a sense of wounded pride.

After she put Ghirahim to sleep and took him into custody, Fi pondered what Emi had said and how she acted towards the demon. It was rather odd that Ghirahim found a friend in Emi. What did she see in him that Fi had missed? The thought of her missing any details was frightening.

The doctor yelped as he was pulled this way and that way with the attempted flailing of Ghirahim's arm. The demon howled and snarled as he fought against his perceived captors. Fi noted how Ghirahim's aura was frantic; it danced about, lashing out and snapping like a cornered beast. It was more focused throughout his body but hazy around his head, suggesting he was acting more on an animalistic instinct than anything else. His conscious mind was somewhere else. The stress also seemed to have shifted Ghirahim to his authentic appearance. A black crystalline surface with deliberate, jagged diamond markings to match his aesthetic. White pools for eyes, gemstone-encrusted forehead and chest, and a sleeked-up hairstyle complete the sword spirit look that Fi herself shared. Granted, his demonic lineage also provided sharp claws and a mouth full of fangs, but Fi did not find herself feeling envious by any account.

The doctor regained control and looked up. His snarl softened with relief.

"Oh! Fi, there you are. I am so glad you're here. We need your help! I don't even know where to begin on treating him now. He did not look like this before, and you're the only person who comes even close to this...I hoped you would know what to do!" The doctor's eyes wobbled, pleading for intervention.

"It shall be done. However, I suggest that you both stand down as much as you can. There is a 75% chance that this will allow Ghirahim to feel less threatened and, by extension, calm down enough for me to scrutinize the wound effectively."

"But that's just it, Fi. He was calm until we tried to move on to help the shoulder. He doesn't want anyone to touch it."

"I will refrain from touching him."

Fi stated, floating over to study the situation laid out before them. Fi could see dressed some of Ghirahim's more minor injuries. Bandages wrapped his forearms and padded a spot on his forehead. She could make out the subtle imperfections on the diamond lattice that made up his outer layer or skin in organic terms. The only spot left to treat was the wounds on his shoulder and upper back.

The outer layer was cracked, gone even where the vire had sunk its teeth in. Fi expected a soft orange glow to his internal figments, but it pulsed with a malevolent violet. She felt the chaotic nature of the cursed mana, which was just as vivid as she remembered all those years ago, but never before had she seen it attack itself.

Fi tried to lean a little closer but had to pull back to avoid getting bitten.

"See? Just the mere suggestion, and I'm afraid if I let go, even a little, he will kill one of us."

"Ghirahim will not harm anyone in the room while I am present."

The doctor seemed to think over her words before he nodded to his assistant, and they both eased off a bit. Fi did so as well, and, just as she calculated, Ghirahim relaxed. His chest heaved, and he sagged back against the pillows, though not wholly. His legs and arms occasionally twitched in anticipation.

Fi shifted closer, but she was sure to keep her movements slow and steady. He moved, turning his head to keep her in his sight. Ghirahim growled and bared his teeth but did nothing more. Fi turned her eyes back to his shoulder.

She could make out something underneath the inner structure. Were they claw marks? The dark magic pooled around them, allowing the lattice expanse to give away the position of such an old wound. The vire had not done this. Whatever that beast did with whatever magic Ghirahim used to create it agitated this scar. Was this wound visible on the surface? Fi could not recall any apparent markings on the outer layer, but that top he wore when he pulled his power back...that top covered this side. Was that on purpose? Ghirahim's clothes were already a very niche choice for anyone bold enough. Maybe it was more than just a fashion preference. Fi watched the magic behave. It swirled and slithered about, and Fi noticed whenever it moved a certain way, the demon cringed. Ghirahim was in no state to be subtle or withhold his genuine expressions, so Fi could see it plain as day. Regardless, whatever this was, no standard medicine would work.

"I have completed my study of the wound," Fi spoke, moving back after extending a nod of gratitude toward him. Ghirahim looked puzzled, but he seemed satisfied enough to stop snarling at all of them.

"It appears this one is of magical origin and can not be healed by any traditional means of medicine. Considering the magic in play is black magic which is evil in nature, it may be possible to cleanse the wound by use of light or some other holy source. Perhaps a purifying incantation or sacred spring water."

Ghirahim stiffened, and the doctor beamed.

"See, I knew Fi would be able to figure it out. So...holy water could do it then?"

"Holy water from the temple could suffice as a suitable replacement considering springs of that kind are not easy to come across nor time efficient to journey towards at this time."

Ghirahim suddenly lurched forward with a cry. He jerked his right arm free and grabbed the assistant by the neck before throwing her clear of the bed. She clattered to the floor, and chaos erupted. Fi rushed to make sure the nurse was ok. Thankfully her aura glowed with life, but she was merely knocked unconscious. The doctor held back the clawed hand that attempted to slash him, but he would not be able to hold one down and the other off for long. Even the guards holding his legs were fighting to hold on against a barrage of wild kicks. Fi leaped into the air. Her form rippled as she pressed her heel firmly into his chest, pushing him back against the bed, which allowed her to snatch his right wrist in her hand and pin it to the bed. He fought against her as she planted herself firmly in his lap. Ghirahim roared in her face, and, in a blind move, Fi howled back. The demon looked stunned, and, taking advantage of the moment, Fi cracked her head against his, summoning her magic to the gemstone placed there.

Everything went black as their gems collided, and Fi found herself pulled into an endless expanse. She was overtaken by the sensation she was falling. Fi gasped, unfurling her shawl as she tried to summon the power to float, but nothing happened. Her magic failed to respond. Fi's mind raced through thousands of calculations and outcomes in a matter of minutes that all came to the same dead end. Fi let out a rare but genuine scream before she struck something she thought was the ground. The sword spirit looked around, not that she could see much. There was a thick, oppressive darkness that draped everything in a silhouette. Fi could feel it pressing harder and harder upon her chest with each breath. She could not bring herself to stand. Cold stone chilled her legs below, and she could make out walls if she focused. Fi was about to speak with a horrible cackling shook the silence, and a figure rose from the black mist. It shook with insane laughter as it rocketed back and forth, and Fi shrunk down. The figure whipped around, and fangs glistened in the darkness, along with a pair of terrible eyes. They had no color and burned into Fi's very being, but they simply started past her. More laughter went on, and she thought she recognized the monster, but the floor gave away again, and whatever vision that was there vanished without a trace.

Fi tumbled, but this time she was descending upon light. She sucked in a breath and braced for impact. Fi jolted awake in a chair of all places. She let her senses adjust to the sudden change before a strange room came into view. A long table--that practically stretched the length of the room--was lined with at least a dozen or so ornately designed chairs on each side, with a grand and mighty one marking the table's head. It had dark black leather upholstery and wicked spikes sprouting up from the top of the backrest—crimson stitching throughout. Candles burned along the walls, and the table itself was draped in a massive map of ancient Hyrule before it was even called that. Small figures and pieces marked forts, outposts, and regiments of soldiers. Fi paused, shaking her head in an attempt to stop this illusion. When her vision cleared, every chair gained an occupant. They all looked like Ghirahim, with their fair skin, white hair, and sharp eyes. All except one, Demise, sat in the chair at the head. His fiery hair spilled over the back of the chair, and his fingers scratched at his chin. All eyes were upturned towards something across the table to her left. None seemed to notice her. Her gaze followed theirs, and she gaped.

Ghirahim stood, his arms crossed neatly behind his back, and he looked younger. His staple bangs were slicked back atop his head, and though his signature mantle rested on his shoulders, it looked different somehow. Perhaps it was how it was sitting. It seemed more...open. He held himself straight and tall, ridged and perfect as a proper soldier drilled accordingly would. She made eye contact, and fear flashed in Ghirahim's eyes as he appeared to be speaking but hesitated. Within seconds, he regained his composure and continued, giving what Fi presumed was a report on the front lines in the Lanayru region. Demise's eyes narrowed, but he made a gesture with his hand.

His dark voice rumbled, and Ghirahim gave a bow before taking a seat. Fi watched him for the rest of the meeting. Sweat beaded on his brow as he kept his eyes down, though she could tell he was still listening. The meeting went on with further reports and then a discussion on their next moves in the war effort. Fi listened; they spoke a language she did not understand. She wondered not only where but when she was. Was this memory brought forth by Ghirahim's conscious? It was obvious this was the demon tribe's war room, at least one of them, but the humans never got eyes on such things despite their best efforts too. The demons always knew they were there. However, from what she could glean, this was later in the war when the demon tribe started losing some ground. Fi recalled assisting in some of the recaptures of strategic outposts. Once the meeting concluded, everyone rose to take their leave.

Demise spoke again. His commanding voice declared, and all those present rose and departed, but Ghirahim remained seated in his chair. Fi remained in her seat, but something whispered in her ear.

Let me help you, sweet thing...

A cold numbness shot through her skull and sunk into the rest of her body, stiffening her limbs and making her lose feeling in her feet. With the chill came understanding, and she comprehended their language. Demise rose from his chair and strolled over.

"Quite the report on the Lanayru region. Detailed but to the point. Something I have come to expect from you, Ghirahim."

Fi watched Ghirahim flounder for words before he responded.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Ghirahim spoke simply. Demise 'mhm'ed and nodded, placing his hand on the demon's left shoulder. Fi felt icy realization hit her, and she watched, captivated.

"Yes, but it makes me wonder...You obviously know the material...Why do you hesitate?--" Demise continued.

"I-I..." Ghirahim mouthed, his eyes darted back and forth, and his brow knotted.

"Have I been too easy on you?" Demise added, and Ghirahim jerked up.

"NO! No! Your Highness! That's not--"

"You dare defy me now?" Demise growled, and his grip on Ghirahim's shoulder tightened. "I. Will. Not. Accept weakness in my ranks, Ghirahim."

Fi wanted to intervene, but her limbs were dead weight, pinning her to the chair and stopping any hope of her assisting him. She watched Ghirahim gulp and cringed against whatever came next. Fi yelped when Ghirahim cried out as Demise racked his claws down the demon's shoulder before yanking his chair out from the table and tossing him aside. The wound would glow with malice, as did Demise's claws with the blood that now stained them.

"Now, get out." Demise turned away to look over the map and small figures covering the table.

Ghirahim quickly scrambled to his feet. Fi watched him do a sharp bow before hurrying from the room. Fi felt the ice lift as the scene before her melted away, but she could still feel Ghirahim's presence close by. She stood up, climbed over the table, and followed the demon out the door. He had fled down a narrow hall to the right that wavered in and out of being, and other demons made their way down the hall walking to where they needed to go. None seemed aware of her existence. She followed the droplets of blood as the hallway morphed and moved as she walked down it. It was strange to be mindful of how the ground felt beneath her shoes. As she rounded a bend, she could suddenly hear yelling and the distinct sounds of a scuffle. Fi came into view of four men. One was familiar, and he tried his best to keep the others at bay.

"Laepashim, stop this now!"

"Come on now, Ghirahim. You know this in the only way. The King's curse will fester and worsen the longer it stays unchecked." the tall one pouted.

"That is a lie! Our healers have ways--"

"But they won't, Ghirahim! You know, when anyone bears that mark, it is a punishment. We are just trying to help." The one Fi presumed was Laepashim cooed; he held a jar of clear liquid in his hand, twirling it slowly.

"Be reasonable," Laepashim added, his cat-like eyes flickered with amusement, and Ghirahim weathered the onslaught with his own harsh look. "Just a few seconds of pain and that magic will lift. You'll regain full use of your arm, and everyone can move on from this unpleasantness."

"I don't want your 'help,' Laepashim." Ghirahim retorted. Laepashim shared an amused look with his companions. He opened the jar with a pop before responding.

"I wasn't asking." Laepashim flicked his hand, and he and the other descended on Ghirahim. Fi watched the vision warp and blur. The duel sped up, and Ghirahim was able to fend them off at first. Still, Laepashim was able to overpower him, and everything drifted back into focus with each lacky holding one of Ghirahim's arms and Laepashim grappling him into a headlock.

"You know, I have always wanted to watch the curse get burned off. The healers say the skin will sizzle and pop, releasing a terrible smell. Those afflicted feel pain like no other while the spring water works its magic. They have to get the stuff from across the flat, you know—no easy feat. And when you were told to stay back, I just knew. I knew this was my chance to teach you never to look down your nose at me again."

Laepashim hissed into Ghirahim's ear. Ghirahim growled and jerked against his captor. Laepashim raised the jar and chuckled, presenting it in almost a mock toast. He then poured the contents on the fresh gashes. The vision rippled with Ghirahim's screams, and Fi fell back, covering her ears as she looked on horrified, but nothing could have prepared her for what was coming next. What was this hell she found herself in? She watched resolve, then fury come over Ghirahim, and he lurched back, catching Laepashim off guard at the sudden strength and ferocity the demon he had put on his knees moments ago. Without hesitation, Ghirahim killed the two on his right and left after breaking free from his captor's grasp with a swift arm break. Laepashim cried out as he tried to flee, but Ghirahim was already upon him. With a sickening crack, Laepashim fell to the floor, limp, and joined his companions.

An eerie silence fell over the room, and from the shadows of the hall, Demise appeared, seemingly having watched the whole ordeal. Ghirahim wore a steady frown. His eyes wandered over to where Fi was huddled. Fi suddenly felt seen from all angles, and the hall drifted out of focus, leaving only her and him suspended in a black void. Fi felt a firm pressure pressed into her chest. She wheezed, and moments before Ghirahim fell upon her, he vanished into particles. The voice returned.

You've seen enough...

Fi's vision blurred, and she was lost in the darkness again.

"Fi?! Fi!? Fi, are you there?"

Fi gasped as the west wing guest room came back into view. She was lying off the side, and Ghirahim seemed still like he was asleep. Her shawl was removed and draped down for her to lie on. Fi sat up, nearly bumming the doctor as she did so.

"What-What happened?" Fi questioned, looking around the room. The assistant was awake and seemed well, as did both guards. They all were on her side of the bed now.

"When you struck him, there was a flash of light, and it cleared, and you both fell unconscious. I am so glad you appear to be ok," The doctor explained. "We were hoping you could tell us what happened?"

"I...I-" Images of everything that she witnessed flashed across her memory, and a sharp pain shot through her skull.

"Nothing happened. There was merely more magical feedback than I expected, and I found myself overcome." Fi replied, pushing the images back to be studied when she had a moment.

"Oh, ok. Well, we got the water for whenever you are ready. I was--" The doctor started.

"No." Fi interrupted, raising a hand.

"What?"

"No. My earlier analysis was incorrect."

The doctor gave her a quizzical look. "It is not like you be wrong."

"I am completely capable of error."

Fi said, turning her gaze back to Ghirahim. The doctor nodded in understanding, but he squinted at Fi as everyone waited for further instructions. Fi glanced down at her hands, and an idea flickered to life in her head.

"I do have an alternative. However, I require your continued assistance with Ghirahim's restraint. The odds of success are 65% rounded up, but that is only after factoring in some knowns that are beyond my current knowledge."

The doctor gestured with a hand, and everyone slipped back into place. Ghirahim mumbled something incoherent, tossing his head amongst the pillows.

"I will place my hands upon the wound. It may take some time, and Ghirahim, no doubt, will struggle against it. Do you're best not to let go."

Fi spoke, shifting closer to the demon. The others signaled they were ready, and Fi pushed a bit more magic into her hands, causing them to glow a striking blue and purple, respectively. Normally, her bare touch was enough, but she needed to ensure success, and this was the only viable option.

As she brought her hands closer, the evil within hummed, lashing about as it scattered, desperate to find a place to hide from the light that drew near. The outer layer sparkled and shimmered, seeming to realign itself in an instant. Was it adjusting to the light level in an attempt to guard against it? Fi watched the inner layers dim and felt the heat pull back, leaving the malice behind to face judgment. Fi took a deep breath before she clasped her hands down on the wound. ghirahim lurched and gnashed his teeth. The wound sizzled and popped; smoke wafted up from her fingers as she pressed down. He thrashed against their hold and tried in vain to pull away. She felt his aura paw against hers, pleading, begging for her to cease this torment, but Fi held on until she could no longer make out any dark aura besides Ghirahim's own. Once she let go, Ghirahim collapsed back onto the bedspread, his body racked with shaking. His aura dulled but also seemed to sigh in relief.

"There, it is done." Fi declared, moving away so the doctor could come in behind her and properly dress the wound.

"Well...it is then. I am surprised how well he handled that." The doctor said, twirling the bandage in his hands as he worked. His assistant helped lifted the demon so the doctor could get access to his back.

"I don't know if I'd say that." She deadpanned before laying Ghirahim back down. The doctor shrugged as he placed a hand on Ghirahim's forehead. He winced and pulled away, nursing his palm as he spoke.

"Ok, well, I will return once I get a tea mixed for him. That should help the pain and get this fever under control."

"Use herbs meant to calm and soothe." Fi declared.

He nodded again, and they departed with the guards. Ghirahim stirred, and Fi waited. He shifted his gaze to her but said nothing. His expression was still as if he did not know what to say or even what had all happened.

"I couldn't let them use the water...I know, though, that what we ended up going with was probably not much better."

Fi felt the words bubble over and cascade off her tongue like the last drop in a full glass. She cleared her throat to regain whatever had slipped in her composure. Ghirahim stayed quiet, and his head flopped back against the pillows. Fi found her eyes lingering on his shoulder. If what those men said was true, the curse would only fester and get worse. But...how did such a wound even still last? They poured the spring water upon it. Was that not enough? Had he been dealing with lingering pain for centuries?

Fi cursed herself; why did she care? Ghirahim was a terrible person, but after what she just saw...it was hard...difficult to even fathom what else he had gone through in his long life. Fi never considered he had a proper existence outside of the daily show he put on when he was around her. Fi always understood that Ghirahim was a relatively shallow man, and anyone could decipher that after one interaction. Still, for a moment, she got to peek behind the curtain and see that there was really more than meets the eyes with him. Now, this was by no means redeeming, but Fi found herself curious all the same. Had her analysis been wrong? Did she complete her assessment far too soon without considering all the data? Each passing moment made her initial analysis rudimentary, and that only made the seed of doubt sink in deeper.

Fi stepped off the bed and hovered in the corner. Emi should arrive soon since she volunteered to help, ad Ghirahim seemed to like the servant enough, so it was only natural that she be called in to help after Emi was declared innocent after thorough questioning.

"I can't remember..." Ghirahim mumbled, shifting over in the covers with a groan. Fi gritted her teeth and silently hoped the doctor and Emi would not long. She needed to get away from everything if she was to process everything she had seen and felt accordingly.

How would she even begin?

Thankfully, after only some moments longer and another whisper from the demon lord, there was a knock at the door. Fi was spared from having her mind stolen by another spell of wild speculation.