I come upon a house, on the edge of a district, on the edge of the city. The house, along with every other structure in this long abandoned corner of the city, is run down, and in utter disrepair. I can't help but sigh every time I take in the depressing sight of my current home. If they weren't so populated, I think I would find the slums preferable… I push open the door and step inside. The echo of the creaking floor is deafening as I make my way through the darkness towards the stairs.

My nerves take hold of me, just as they always do when I descend these stairs. A cold hand grips my spine, and an ever growing lump forms in my throat. Despite this, by the time I reach the bottom, I manage to take hold of my feelings. Strong. Confident. Relaxed. That's how I need to look in front of her. I take a deep breath as I find the one door in the basement behind which a dim light is noticeable.

However, as I reach for it, the door opens on its own. A girl I've never seen before, with wings, much like my own, sprouting from both her back and head, stares at me in wide-eyed surprise. I cock my head at her, now noticing the small box and candle that she carries.

"Oh, Remi," says a voice from behind her. "You're back." I see Patchy send me an unenthusiastic wave. "She's the one I told you about. Get moving, little devil."

"Yes, Mistress Patchouli," the girl says, timidly. She walks past me as I enter.

"And she is?" I ask.

"A familiar I summoned to help out," Patchy replies. "With Meiling out searching and you out hunting…" She sighs. "Well, it hasn't been easy, to say the least."

I stare at the ground, and my fingers begin fumbling with themselves. "I… I'm sorry."

"Don't say that." I look up, and notice a small smile on her face. "If I didn't want to be here, I would've left already." And I thank you dearly for that, friend… "So, how'd the hunt go?"

I pull the numerous vials I gathered during the night out from under my dress and set them on a table. The same table that contains a variety of books, flasks, crystals, and other strange objects and tools. "A rather fruitful night, if I do say so myself."

"A bit more than usual, yeah…" Patchy says, slowly pouring some into a bowl.

"I got a bit of a head start around noon. I had quite an easy time finding healthy, young candidates, this time around. Perhaps fate really is-"

"Idiot…"

Patchy stares at me intensely, and for a moment, I'm silently dumbfounded. "…E-Excuse me?"

"You're paler than usual. Eyes are darker, too." She tosses me one of the vials. "You need some of this too, you know. Drink up before you go see her."

I catch the vial. "B-But Flan needs-"

"What she needs is a sister who takes care of herself. If you keep starving yourself, all of us are utterly doomed. If not from a lack of extra hands, then…"

"I… Yes, I understand…" I really didn't drink much today, did I? Aside from that noon snack from the officer… I open the vial and sip slowly, savoring the taste. Ah, this was that girl… Late teens, athletic, virgin… Such a rich, yet sweet flavor… "So, Patchy, does that familiar of yours have a name?"

"No," she replies. "I'll probably get rid of her once we leave this place. Besides, she seems to respond just fine to 'little devil'." The door suddenly opens. "Ah, speak of the… Individual."

"Mistress Patchouli," the girl says. "And Mistress… Um…"

"Remilia," I finish.

She clears her throat and starts walking towards us. "The supplies you wanted?" In the previously empty box are several medicine flasks, medicinal herbs, bowls, and other tools.

"Yes, thank you," Patchy says, taking the box. She seems to struggle a bit with it's weight. "Remi, some help over here?"

"…Of course," I reply.

At the back of the room is a bed. The nicest one in the entire house, in fact. As I walk towards it, that familiar cold hand caresses my spine. I move closer to Patchy, and the feeling starts to dissipate. As she sets the supplies on a nightstand, I walk to the other side of the bed, turning my attention towards the sheets.

A mess of blonde hair surrounds a face resting on the pillow. The young girl looks peaceful. Serene. Blissfully unaware of her condition, as if it being hidden beneath the blanket makes it vanish entirely. For a moment, I let myself day dream. A dream where every part of her is brimming with life and joy. I almost instantly regret it, as the pain in my chest intensifies.

Patchy gently places a hand where the girls shoulder would be, and jostles her slightly. "Flandre, it's time to wake up."

Slowly, her eyes open, but only slightly. I crouch down, so that my face is in front of hers. "Big sis…?" Says her small, weak voice.

"Yes, Flan," I say. "It's me. I'm here."

A small smile creeps onto her lips, and her eyes seem to light up slightly. A hand crawls out from beneath the covers, and I gently grasp it. It's cold. Colder than the glass vials I've been touching all day and night. Colder than the lifeless corpses I had personally sucked dry. And I did those things all for you, Flan.

Patchy pulls off her covers, and as she sits up and I remove her shirt, I see the many bandages wrapped tightly around her torso. Slowly, carefully, agonizingly, we remove them, revealing raw skin and bloody scabs where Flan's wings once were. It is a sight that is forever burned into my mind, and it haunts me more than any ghost or monster ever could.

Whenever I see my baby sister like this… It hurts. It hurts in a way I can scarcely even describe. A crushing weight, as if the being to which that cold hand belongs is wrapping it's arms around me, threatening to pull me down. I don't want to look at her like this. I don't want to see her like this. I want to run away. I want to vomit, and cry, and pray to whatever deity is willing to listen to creatures like us.

But I don't have any right to do that. I don't have the luxury of showing weakness or letting myself be consumed by emotion. Because I'm the one who still has wings.

As Patchy lays out a towel on the bed and Flan lays back down on her side, I reassure myself of one thing. Flan… You will be fine. It's odd, really. Such a simple, almost naively optimistic notion. And yet, it fills me with an odd sort of energy… Or, is that energy leaving me? So strange, this feeling…

"Big sis…"

I kneel at Flan's bedside. "Yes? Do you need anything?"

"It… It still hurts…" she says.

"…Yes…" I sigh. "Yes, I know it does." She holds out her hand, and I grasp it firmly. "But you're strong, Flan. You've been through so much… You can get through this." You will get through this.

"Big sis?"

"Yes, Flan?"

"…Will my wings ever grow back?"

I nearly choke on the question, and have to divert my eyes to the side. I glance towards Patchouli, who seems to have nearly finished her preparations, with the help of that little devil.

At first, I assumed they would. Our kind have been known to regenerate entire limbs in a matter of days, or even hours. But that was before the world started to lose it's magic. Now, It's practically impossible to heal from anything other than minor wounds. Our only saving grace is Patchouli's medical books, but even so, none of us specialize in the field of medicine. If Patchy wasn't both a good friend and my only realistic option, I wouldn't dare trust Flan with someone so inexperienced.

Of course, even if the world was still filled with magic, the process wouldn't be quick. When Patchy, Meiling, and I took our first look at the wounds when they were fresh… I shudder, and my heart pounds against my chest as the memories threaten to return. The fact that Flan is alive is practically a miracle…

"Okay, Flandre," Patchy says. "It's time for us to start."

"Big sis…?" Flan tries to pull me closer, but her weak grip slips from my hand. "W-Will my wings ever…?" I press a finger to her lips, silencing her. She looks at me with wide, expectant eyes.

I take a deep breath, lean so close that her face is the only thing within my vision, and look directly into her eyes. "You will be fine, Flan. I promise." For a fleeting moment, the pain in her eyes seems to vanish.

Patchy sighs and clears her throat. "Remi, Flandre…"

"Yes…" I lean closer to Flan. "Are you ready?"

Her lip quivers for a moment, before she bites down on it. She nods, and it seems to use all the strength she can muster.

We close our eyes and I hold both of Flan's hands so tightly that I worry they may be in danger of having blood circulation halted. Patchy begins her work. The wounds are so deep… Flan squirms and twitches. The chemicals, torn, sensitive flesh, scalpels and needles, held by unprofessional hands… It isn't long before she's screaming. I can't imagine what this feels like… But I wish I did. I wish I could feel all of it in your place, Flan. My wings twitch and my skin crawls as the pseudo operation continues. But all I can do is hold your hand. Whisper empty words that get lost among your own, shrill screams… But you will be fine.

You. Will. Be. Fine.

"Okay…" Patchy finally says. "Bandages." I open my eyes and see Patchy looking at her familiar. The look on that little devils face as she stands there, motionless and pale, is one of pure shock and horror. Patchy snaps her fingers. "Bandages!"

"Y-Yes, Mistress Patchouli!" She reaches into the box and brings them out.

"…Sis…"

Flan's voice is even weaker, her eyes are barely open, and her shivering is far worst than before.

"Help her sit up," Patchy says.

The little devil and I do as we are asked. "You're so strong, Flan…" I say. "I'm sorry that you have to go through this." Flan doesn't respond, but some semblance of a smile seems to form on her lips.

Patchy is dragging the bandages through a mixture in another bowl. "Remi, help me with this."

I see that the look on the devils face is still horrified. Obviously, she is in no condition to assist further. "Of course."

We wrap the bandages around Flan's torso and dress her. I give her a vial of blood, and she sips it slowly. After she hands the empty vial back to me, I help her lay down, and when her head touches the pillow, her eyes close without a word.

"…Why'd you have to say that?" Patchy mutters.

"Come again?"

Patchy's eyes don't meet my own. She lets out a mildly frustrated sigh. "It's nothing." She glares at me for a moment, before turning away and walking back towards her desk. …No. I know exactly what it is. I begin to head towards the door.

"Don't leave…"

I turn back. Flan's eyes are open, and she's slowly moving to a sitting position. I quickly rush back to her side. "Flan, what is it? You should be resting after-"

"Don't leave," she repeats.

I glance over at Patchy, who simply shrugs her shoulders and returns to her books. "Let me guess…" I say, turning back to Flan. "You want to sleep together?" She nods. I smile. Well, that settles it, then. "Let me change into something more comfortable." I walk away, and Patchy raises an eyebrow at me.

"Don't you have to make preparations for your next hunt?" Patchy says as I pass by.

"Oh, please," I reply, sighing. "I am not deaf to your concerns, Patchy."

Her eyes remain stern, and the volume of her voice lowers. "We'll talk later, Remi."

I grin at her. "I look forward to it."