Helena awakes to that disconcerting darkness again. A clothe hugs tightly around her forehead and across her eyes. Wary of the fact that she may not be alone in the room, she opens her mouth in an effort to speak. A dry, croaking sound scratches its way up her throat and into the room, breaking the silence more like a dying animal than an attempt at intelligent communication. Her back stiffens in embarrassment.

"Oh hello," the somewhat started voice of the young woman from before says. No doubt the croaking alarmed her just as much as it frustrated Helena.

"Wait just a second," the woman's voice is followed by the creaking of a chair beside the bed as the she moves around, "Mother Timbre said to make sure you drink more if you wake again."

Water splashes in a bucket nearby, followed shortly after by the sponge being pressed to Helena's lips. Albeit in a slightly less gentle manner than the last time. Still, she's grateful for it and relieved to find that more water reaches her throat this time.

A door opens nearby, interrupting the young woman mid sponge re-wetting. To Helena, nothing matters more than getting water into her parched body and a small flicker of annoyance lights in the back of her mind at the woman's distraction.

"Mother, she's awake," the young woman reports as a pair of footsteps approach the bed. The sponge still does not return to Helena's lips, the young woman clearly preoccupied by whoever has just entered.

"The water, Mathilde," the voice of the older woman from before chides the younger, who then hastily places the damp sponge back to Helena's lips with enough force that Helena flinches.

"Carefully, dear. She's in enough pain as it is."

"I'm sorry, Mother." The sponge disappears from Helena's mouth just as quickly, followed by the sound of footsteps and a chair creaking next to the bed which she can only assume is the two woman switching places.

Before long, the sound of water wringing from the sponge fills the room and within a few seconds it's brought back to her lips. Thankfully, this time with the same gentle care as the first time Helena woke. The older woman has evidently decided its best to handle things herself. Helena certainly instead complaining.

"Thank you for watching her, Mathilde. Why don't you go rest, you've been up late the last few nights. I'll care for her a little while."

"I was actually going to help Sister Evans with the preparations for the Bishop's delegation-"

"Evans can handle it fine. She needs the opportunity to stretch herself a bit. You rest."

A deep sigh from the younger woman comes from further in the room, followed by footsteps head away from the bed. A door opens, shuts, and then there is only silence filled by the sound of water being rung from the sponge every few minutes. The older woman keeps to herself until Helena's mouth is thoroughly wetted and the sponge is put away.

"Can you speak yet, dear?"

Helena opens her mouth, willing her tongue to make something other than the horrible croaking sound from before. It releases a struggled moan, and she sighs in defeat.

"No matter," the woman pats her hand. "But you understand me clearly, yes?"

Helena nods her head, despite the pain raking up the side of her face.

The woman squeezes her hand gently. "Good. Then I'll do the talking for now and you can take your turn later. First things first, let me properly introduce myself. I'm Timbre, the Abbess of this abbey which sits just a few hours north of Verndale. Your home town, yes?"

Pieces of Helena's memory begin to fall together as Timbre speaks. At the mention of Verndale her body tenses, as if readying to fight. Or run. It's hard to discern which.

"Ah," the Abbess sighs, "I see you remember. We found you in the rubble of that town. Some of our sisters were on their way home from a nearby town and saw the smoke from a distance. It's a miracle they found you at all. The building you were tied to had collapsed and you were half buried in the smoldering debris."

Helena's jaw tightens, anger roiling in her blood as the memories run through her brain. She sees Redern's face in her mind's eye, as well as the backs of all her so-called compatriots. They had abandoned her to die. No one, not even Sarai, had even looked back.

The Abbess pats Helena's hand again. "I don't know why they left you there to die," she says, her voice empty of suspicion or blame. "Regardless of what you did or did not do, I don't believe anyone deserves to die that way. You will find no further retribution by our hands. Whatever your crime, I think you've suffered plenty."

Helena struggles with the muscles of her mouth, trying to speak. There was no crime! She has committed no atrocity! The only thing she is guilty of is trusting a traitor and blindly placing her faith in the wisdom of fools.

But of course, all she can get out is an angry groan.

"Don't rush yourself," the Abbess cautions. "There will be plenty of time for you to tell your side. You focus on healing. I will wait."

***

Two days pass in this manner, Mathilde and the Abbess taking turns at Helena's bedside. Nursing her slowly back to health with a variety of ointments and plenty of water.

During her shifts, Mathilde hardly speaks a word other than to warn Helena of when she is about to change a bandage or place the water to her lips. She can't tell if the young woman is naturally quiet, or just timid around Helena in particular. If what the Abbess tells her is true, she must be a horrifying sight. The Abbess broke the truth about Helena's condition to her soon after their first conversation.

According to the Abbess, Helena's body is a patchwork of burned flesh. The bar fell while she was still there and she had been caught under the rubble. The Sisters found her before the smoke and burns had a chance to kill her, something the Abbess calls a miracle, but the damage had already been done.

"Your uniform helped to defend against the worst of the burns," she told Helena, "but your face wasn't protected. A large amount of embers fell and scorched your right eye. I'm afraid it will likely never heal completely."

The whole thing still feels like a nightmare to Helena and her brain can't seem to decide whether to have a breakdown or remain numb. She manages to find some small comfort in the regular visits from her caretakers, while keeping the intrusive thoughts and memories of a few days before at bay for now. That won't last forever, though.

The sound of the door opening interrupts her thoughts. Its time for the changing of the guard. Beside the bed, Mathilde stands from her seat. "Good morning, Mother," she whispers.

"Good morning," the Abbess whispers back. "How are things?"

"Fine. She had nightmares again, most of the night in fact. But she seems to be sleeping soundly now."

"Good. Now, off to bed. You've had a long night."

The door shuts quietly as Mathilde leaves the room. The chair beside the bed slides across the wood floor. The Abbess takes the seat next to the bed and sighs deeply. Helena can feel the weight of the other woman's eyes on her.

"You're not sleeping. Haven't been for hours, I presume."

Helena opens her mouth to speak and to her surprise a rough "No" leaves her lips.

The chair creaks a little as the Abbess sits up straighter. "Ah, now there's a surprise. Let's get some water in there and see if we can't loosen you up a bit more."

She places the glass, which she graduated Helena to yesterday, to Helena's lips and after a few swallows she sets it back on the side table.

"Alright, let's start with your name. Can you manage that?"

The sound is still rough, labored, but it comes. "Helena."

"Good." Helena can practically see the smile in Timbre's voice. "Helena. It is good to finally be introduced." She stands and walks across the room all the while continuing to talk. "Since this is a day for firsts, I think it's time we remove that head bandage and see how things are coming along. What do you say?"

Helena finds she can't move her mouth to answer. Not because of fatigue or vocal pain, but because of the creeping fear that has just risen at the back of her neck. She is acutely aware all of the sudden that once the bandage is off there'll be nothing left to shield her from it all. She'll have to face the truth of the damage to her body and to her sight. She'll have to face the unfamiliarity of the room around her and the woman she only recognizes by the sound of her voice.

Up until now, it's all felt surreal in the darkness of the bandage. Oddly safe.

That will change once the bandage is removed and the world is let back in. There won't be any going back.

The Abbess returns to her side and places a hand on Helena's arm. "It's alright. We'll take it slow and we can talk as little or as much as you need. But it has to be done. I need to care for the wound. Are you ready?"

Helena takes a deep breath and then nods once.

Moments later the Abbess's hands are gently lifting Helena's head up from the pillow as she begins to unwind the bandage. With the removal of each layer a yellow glow begins to show from the left side. The right, however, remains as dark as ever. Fear creeps further up the back of Helena's neck and her breathing quickens.

"Close your eyes," the Abbess says. "You are not used to the light and will need time to adjust."

Helena closes both eyes as instructed and moments later there is no longer any fabric against her face. Her left eyelid glows a deep pink as the light presses against it, but there is still no light out of the right. She can see only darkness.

The fear at her neck grows stronger and it squeezes tight. A sudden choking sound comes from her throat as she gasps for air.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Calm now." The Abbess's hands fly to Helena's shoulders, gentle but firm. "Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It's alright. Tell me what's wrong. Voice it."

"It's...it's dark. My eye. It's only darkness."

"Shh. Take a deep breath."

Helena takes in a deep, shaky breath and the tension around her throat eases slightly. There's another deep breath and another until the tension is gone altogether, but the other woman's hands still remain on Helena's shoulders.

"Now tell me," she says. "Is it just the one, or do you see only darkness out of both?"

"Only one." Helena responds, her voice a child's. "My right eye. It's..."

The Abbess's hand moves to caress her left cheek softly, like a mother comforting a child. "I'm sorry, Helena. Take your time, but when you are ready I want you to open your eyes. Both of them, if you can."

Helena hesitates, but only briefly, before slowly easing her eyes open. The right one doesn't respond, or perhaps it is so ruined that she can not even feel it move, but the left one lets in the full brightness of the room. She is temporarily blinded by it all.

As her eye adjusts to the light, a silhouette comes into focus directly above her. First the form, and then the details of a woman's face. Her eyes sharp as they take in Helena's reaction, a smile playing at her lips. The signs of age are written around her eyes and mouth, but the Abbess looks younger than Helena would have guessed her to be. She's wearing a simple pair of glasses that are nearly falling off her nose as she looks down at Helena.

"Well done," she pats Helena's cheek lightly and steps back.

Now the entire room is in full view and she is surprised to find herself very underwhelmed. The walls are a light gray and there are only a few very unassuming items hung here and there on them. It's...drab. Neat and well kept, but altogether quite boring.

"Still nothing out of your right eye?" the Abbess asks, twisting the lid off a jar.

"Nothing."

She nods. "I'm afraid I did expect that. It's possible, once fully recovered, you may gain some vision back. Maybe see light or colors. But only possible, not probable." She holds the jar out for Helena to see. "I'm going to put some of this on it to help with the healing process. It will sting a little."

"Alright."

She scoops some of the white gel out with her fingers and begins to spread it across the right side of Helena's face. It does burn, but the feeling is a relief. When she's done, the stinging is already wearing off and the area feels refreshingly chilled. It's a good feeling.

"I'm going to leave the bandage off. The wound needs to breath."

"How bad does it look?" Helena forces herself to ask.

"Better than it used to, I can tell you that much."

She nods, understanding. "Thank you for your kindness and hospitality, Mother."

The woman chuckles. "Please, I'm not your Abbess. Call me Timbre. Otherwise, I should probably start calling you lieutenant, yes? You are a Scout, are you not?"

"I am." The words leave her mouth before she has a chance to second guess them. Is she a Scout of the Watch anymore? She's not sure.

Timbre clearly senses the tension in the silence. There's a hint of sadness in her eyes now as she looks at Helena. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

"I'm innocent." The words come out like a dare, but Timbre doesn't blink.

"Of what?"

"I didn't lead those beasts to the town. I didn't even know they were nearby until it was too late."

"Who said you did?"

Helena's jaw tightens. The name comes out more like a growl than a word. "Redern."

"Redern?"

"Atticus Redern. My squad captain."

Timbre sits back in the chair, crossing her arms. "What reason would he have to believe you were responsible if you clearly weren't?"

Helena chuckles. "None. None whatsoever. He was just covering his own ass. He's a lying traitor. The beasts were there because of him."

"They came for him?"

Helena shakes her head slowly, the skin flaring in pain where the burns stretch. "He called them there. They attacked Verndale because Redern told them to."

Timbre remains silent at this accusation and a sinking feeling fills the pit of Helena's stomach. This is what got her in trouble the first time - trusting information to people that weren't ready to hear it. What if Timbre decides she's lying to save herself, just like the Scouts had? Would the Abbess turn her over to Redern?

She shouldn't have started talking about this.

"Firebeasts are historically independent creatures." Timbre appears to consider her own words thoughtfully with each sentence. "As far as anyone knows, they attack purely out of an internal drive to kill. If your captain is commanding them in any way, that would bring a lot of things into question."

Helena only nods. Better late than never to start being silent on the matter, right?

"Do you have any proof that he's using them?"

Yes. Of course she does. She wasn't dumb enough to go after a commanding officer in the Watch without proof. However, she isn't about to blab her mouth about that, yet. If Timber does turn her in, the last thing she needs is Redern to know exactly how he had been found out.

So she shakes her head, despite the pain. "Just a feeling. Intuition. Observing certain interactions, mainly."

Timbre nods, but her eyes appear to weigh Helena carefully. She knows Helena is holding something back, Helena's sure of it, but thankfully she doesn't press further.