The night was supposed to be serene. The streets were supposed to be empty. The Fountain of Lucine's waters were supposed to be clear.
Yet, it all happened so fast.
The night was engulfed in darkness. The streets became engulfed by a spectre. The Fountain's waters became a black ink-like substance.
Screeching. It was the screech of the cat that brought Furina's consciousness back to reality. She had heard the whirr, the whistle and the horrific sound of something metallic ripping through flesh. It was all a blur. She did not identify each sound until the cat fled and forced her to turn around.
A mixture of fear, horror and trepidation choked Furina's response, seizing her expression into one of unhinged terror. An assailant had suddenly appeared in the dead of the night, set on murdering Focalors. The blood on their hands frightened Furina so much that she believed herself to be critically injured. Her knees buckled as she hugged herself, searching for blood and pain. There was none.
Only a second had passed, but it took her that long to notice the body between herself and the assailant. An unholstered pistol, a broken rapier, a lost hat. They were all objects Furina recognised, that's why she refused to believe the scene unfolding in front of her. Her eyes were playing a trick on her, or this was a prank, or a dream, or all of those at once. All a lie. Even Focalors would never dare of scheming such a horrifying scenario.
The fear that had locked her up was quickly overpowered by the need to continue her eternal acting, but it never developed. Nothing had prepared her to improvise in this scenario. Not when her bodyguard, her personal champion, Clorinde, laid in a pool of blood in front of her.
A flurry of emotions overtook Furina's thoughts, ranging from Fontaine's impending doom, her own imminent demise and Clorinde's apparent death.
Not a moment was wasted as the would-be assassin moved. Her paralysing fear was overridden by the flight or fight instinct. It decided to fight. Her hands scrambled to pick up the pistol which was crudely pointed towards the assailant. She might have said something along the lines of "stay back" or "don't move", but the frantic moment didn't even let her mind register those words. An eternity passed. And then, the assailant either snickered or clicked their tongue in disdain. They suddenly shifted, and Furina tried to pull the trigger. Her fingers were too weak to actually do so. By the time she readjusted her grip on the gun, the assailant was gone. Hectic and on the verge of a panic attack, the Archon looked around to see if she was about to be sneak attacked. But the Opera's exterior was empty. Whatever that assassin wanted, they were gone as soon as they appeared.
She was safe, at least at the moment, though her body refused to believe so.
A moment passed. Silence returned to the street.
And then Furina broke down into tears and sobbing. The night returned her wailing with a biting breeze that only served to further break her spirit. Her body, still alert and on edge, screamed at her to run away as soon as possible. Her mind refused to do so.
Though she feared death, she feared more what her own death would entail. If she died, if the façade broke down upon her demise, Fontaine's fate was sealed. Focalors's plan would fail and the water would cleanse the nation away. Her 500 years of suffering would have been for nothing. All because Furina wanted to unwind a little bit, to let go of the mask for an instant. Now someone was dead because of her selfishness. At the very least, with no witnesses remaining in the nightmare, her act could go on.
The wind stopped suddenly. Her mind snapped into action once again. Someone was looking at her.
Bloody, defeated, but unwilling to die, Clorinde had managed to hang onto life. Her eyes were hazy, teary but focused on Furina herself. Her slow, paced breath contrasted heavily with Furina's hyperventilation.
The Archon felt no joy or relief. She had no idea what was going on through her bodyguard's mind at the moment. Fear over her imminent death? Anger at Focalors for not defending her own self? Confusion at why the God of Justice was not healing her? All of them made sense for Furina. All of them spelt trouble for her.
But Clorinde's eyes were undecipherable, except in one regard. The will to live.
And that turned into a gutwrenching wave of fear for Furina. If Clorinde lived, if she made it through all of this, then she'd tell everyone. Everybody would know that Focalors was a coward. That Focalors did not heal her. That maybe, she wasn't even the real…
Barely half a second had passed since Furina noticed her bodyguard was alive. And so her head lowered towards the gun in her hands.
If Clorinde lived then Fontaine would be doomed. But if she didn't…
Furina once again shakily raised the gun, this time aimed at Clorinde's head. The latter offered no reaction as her blood seeped into the cold street floor.
Was shooting her not a mercy? Was it not better than dying alone and cold on the ground? A quick shot and her suffering would stop. Only one pull of the trigger and her troubles would be over. People would be sad, but Focalors would endure and save Fontaine.
In the greater scope of things, Clorinde's life did not matter.
Tears, whimpers and shivers overwhelmed Furina's ability to speak. She wanted to say many things. Callous words. Comforting words. Yet there was no sentence uttered. Even if they could make a difference, there was no point.
Both of their eyes met again. Clorinde's lips moved, but no voice came through either. Perhaps her wounds were deep and her lungs were hit. But Furina saw more than a dying bodyguard.
Those eyes flickering between life and death were that of her saviour. Clorinde had saved her from that assassin. The very reason she was alive was because the champion duelist rushed in to defend her. Her life was indebted to the taciturn bodyguard who treated Furina with nothing but respect and loyalty.
Was she ready to snuff out her life just like that? Even though the very existence of Fontaine was at stake? Even if she couldn't pull the trigger, running away to let her bleed out was the same as killing her champion. Those were the only options. Because Clorinde could not live through this, lest Fontaine be doomed. Either option was heartless but necessary. It was a hard choice. The most important choice of the century.
But it was a choice she could not take.
The gun fell from Furina's hands and she hastily crawled next to Clorinde.
"I'm here," Furina muttered before yelling in desperation. "Don't die, that's an order! Do you hear me?! Your Archon is ordering you, and I'll be very disappointed if you don't comply!"
Her gloves were immediately stained as she touched the bloody ground next to Clorinde. Her body had been slashed diagonally, from her right shoulder down to her left floating ribs. That was the main gash, where blood poured out and completely tinted her clothes. It was a very deep cut. One that was deadly. Her other injuries, a parallel cut on her collar and another one in her abdomen, looked trivial in comparison.
Though Furina had no idea how to perform first aid, she knew that the only way Clorinde would survive was if the bleeding stopped. That's what they did in theatre plays and whenever duels occurred.
"It's alright! My tears are going to heal you, but only if you stay awake!" Furina brusquely undressed her own jacket and tried to cover the main injury. Applying pressure was the second step, though how much she didn't know.
"See? It's going to stop now, you'll be fine." Her jacket only covered the main wound, so she also removed her vest to cover the smaller cut on her abdomen. The jabot was the next thing to go, covering the wound on the collar. "D-Does it hurt anywhere else?"
Only a gasp escaped the champion's lips.
"No, please don't talk. That's an order, too." Furina's makeshift bandages slowly started to become stained with blood.
Looking left and right, the exterior of the Opera Epiclese was empty. A blessing and a curse. Nobody would see the pitiful state of Focalors. And nobody would help her moribund bodyguard either.
"I think… I think there must be some bandages or alcohol inside the Opera." Furina whispered to the wind under Clorinde's drowsy eyes. "Hey, what did I say? No sleeping! You hear me?! I'm going to get ointments or bandages, or whatever there is inside! But I have to make sure you don't bleed."
Furina intersected the vest with the jacket and then lifted Clorinde's torso, just enough so that she could make a tight knot with her bandage-jacket. Doing so forced a loud groan of pain from her impassable bodyguard.
"It's done. Don't cry, okay? It won't hurt soon." The Archon's teary eyes did not help her words. "I can't leave you out here with that assassin." She picked up the pistol and clumsily took a few seconds to holster it inside her shorts. "I…I'm going to drag you inside."
Adrenaline was still pumping high. That proved enough for Furina as she stood behind Clorinde and lifted her shoulders.
The scent of iron became more and more noticeable the more they moved. Furina's gloves were red with Clorinde's blood. A type of blood she had only seen a few times before. Bright red. The kind of blood she had only seen in duels to the death. The kind of blood that signalled that a vital spot had been cut open and that death was imminent.
"Then, if we follow the doctor's assessment,"Furina recalled a court case that occurred not too long ago. "You dragged his body out of the street, which prompted an excess blood loss leading to his death. Though your intentions were benign, you did play a role in his death."
Dragging her was dangerous. But what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't let her saviour die. Even if later on she revealed that Focalors hadn't done anything to protect her… It didn't matter.
The more people knew of this, the worse it would be. She could not bring Clorinde to a doctor, or any miracle worker for that matter. They would grow suspicious. For Fontaine's future, nobody could know that her bodyguard was gravely injured. Nobody could know this event had ever happened. If it was only Clorinde's words against the Hydro Archon's, nobody would believe her.
Furina was snapped out of her thoughts as she tripped. She managed to stay upright. Clorinde was becoming heavier and heavier, it was clear her bodyguard could not aid her dragging for much longer.
"We're almost there." She tried to reassure her. "My tears… My tears must be aiding this bout of strength you are showing. Keep going, you are my chosen champion after all. Please, keep going. I, the Great Focalors, only want you to endure until we enter the Opera. So please..."
Macabrely, this was not so different from their usual conversations. Clorinde took her job seriously, not making much idle talk besides necessary. Usually, her bodyguard was too focused on possible threats to be any kind of chatty. And Furina preferred that. Chatty bodyguards were a plight to be with. The more they talked, the more Furina needed to play pretend.
But Clorinde wasn't like that. Much like she knew that she wasn't some serious, callous bodyguard either. Her conversations were mostly Furina thinking outloud about a certain topic, or the curious question here and there, but Clorinde always answered kindly and thoughtfully. She only took her job seriously, that was all.
And as the person she swore to protect dragged her bloody broken body towards the Opera Epiclese's side entrance, perhaps she took the job too seriously.
Furina could only wonder as to why Clorinde was even there, way past her designated schedule.
"We're leaving a blood trail… Please rain…"
Even if it did rain, the blood inside the Opera would not flow away.
Though it barely took a minute to reach the side entrance, the amount of blood loss was not in any way small. Furina had to stop, heavily panting, to search for the master key she owned. In doing so, her grasp on Clorinde was lost and she fell to the ground. Her eyes were closed a bit too long before she slowly opened them and looked reticently at Furina.
"Oh goodness! Give me a…" Furina opened the single door, maintaining it open with the back of his foot. She tried to lift Clorinde, but balancing was hard and Furina fell backwards with Clorinde on top of her. If any part of her clothing had escaped the blood, now it was all lost. "T-The use of my tears on you has weakened my strength, that's all!"
It took a bit of extra bumping and acrobatics, but she managed to stand up and restart their journey. Finally inside the Opera Epiclese's endless back corridors, Furina slowly realised that Clorinde's body became harder and harder to move.
"Clorinde?"
Her eyes were closed. The face completely pale. There was no strength on her neck. Blood was still seeping out of the bandages, and it didn't look like much remained inside it.
Just like Furina had ordered, Clorinde stayed awake until they entered the Opera.
Furina immediately threw her weight against a nearby backstage room and forced itself open. It was unused, with white blankets covering all furniture. Among them, there was a small sofa that was slightly shorter than her bodyguard.
Nevertheless, Furina took Clorinde into the room and barely managed to place her on top of it. The Archon's arms felt like jelly, unable to stop shaking from both panic, fear and excessive exercise.
It was with those shaky hands that she'd have to stitch those injuries close. Either that, or Clorinde would be gone for good. And Furina was not one to give up.