Two emerald eyes slowly opened, scanning the unfamiliar roof above them. As feeling began to crawl throughout her body once more, the Phoenix, her metaphorical wings still recovering from the figurative clipping they'd been dealt the precious day, awakened. The hospital room was silent, the EKG having evidently been shut off after she'd stabilized. Similarly, the bandages around her had been remotely loosened through magic, most having been removed during the night. Even the cast on her shattered arm was gone, and she could feel and move it again. Healing magic was, she supposed, rather convenient. But no amount of healing could undo the deepest wound she'd suffered in her last fight, she thought, a gloom instantly falling over her thoughts, an emotion that slowly turned into a simmering anger and hopeless hate. That's right... she'd been bested at long last, outmaneuvered in every possible way. And she'd lost everything because of it. But, on the other hand, if she no longer had any power left to be taken from her, she had nothing left to lose. Without power, her life was meaningless. Essentially, she was already dead. Although that had its own consequences that came with it, there was at least one upside to the whole situation. No matter what happened to her, it couldn't get worse from here. Either she'd be killed and put out of her misery after, at worst, a week of intense suffering, or she'd win and reclaim her power and her life. In either scenario, she didn't lose anything more than she already had. In that case, the only thing to do was to soldier through even this great misfortune, to act through every possible means, and, if necessary, face her death by losing the very least possible.
That's right... This, too, shall pass. Even this, She thought with a somewhat phony and impotent optimism as she slowly rose, giving a quiet grunt of exertion as her body, still weak, struggled to remain upright as she rose slowly from the pillows upon which she'd lay limp through the previous night. She grimaced, feeling the tell-tale wetness of tears near where her head had lain. Had she really been so weak as to cry? And even in front of a boy... She flushed angrily. Well, she'd be dealing with him, the one who'd gotten her into this whole mess, soon enough. But first, there were three more pressing enemies she had to eliminate.
And, before that, there was an even greater issue. Namely, now that she'd recovered, she'd be expected to attend class. That could grow problematic if she was called upon to demonstrate a technique, as, with the way she was now, she couldn't hope to muster enough power to keep on her current level. If she was found to have lost her abilities, then she'd lose both her status, and her safety. To be dethroned after having made so many enemies would be as though she'd been thrown to the wolves, so to speak. She'd be torn to pieces by those she'd once been able to easily defeat. But if she attended class, it was only a matter of time... She grimaced. Naturally, the first response she could think of was to cut class, but if she did that, she'd be allowing her newfound enemies the perfect opportunity to spread rumors about how pathetic she'd actually become. With nothing to cast doubt on those claims, she'd just be painting a target on herself. But what, then, could she do...? The only way she could reach levels of power like those she'd held before would be to use her third spell, but that would take such a toll on her as to be almost completely impractical if she also wanted to deal with her enemies.
Thinking back to her schedule, she realized that at least one circumstance was on her side. Today, she was only lined up for general classes. There would be no taxing demonstrations. She was safe, for the day, at least. That would give her a little time to work on manifesting a new Caladbolg, and on preparing to deal with the three bastards who had done all this.
.....
"Leaving early I see, as usual." The clerk behind the hospital's reception desk didn't seem to bat an eyelash, which was a little odd, considering one of the patients was currently limping out the front door, having already reclaimed her belongings and dressed herself in a more comfortable outfit than the gown she'd been given. Her trademark scarlet jacket draped over her usual black vest, she was nonetheless having some difficulty walking due to the many bruises that still stung all across her body.
"Of course. If I can walk, I'm well enough to continue my training," Tieria hissed, sounding rather displeased. The man gave a slight, sardonic grin, shuffling through some papers without even looking at the girl to whom he spoke.
"Well, you're certainly doing a fine job of that." Tieria grimaced. She hated to say it, but he had a point.
"Well, you're certainly not helping," she shot back, heading for the door once again as the receptionist sighed, going back to his work. The doors swung open before her, and, painstakingly, she limped out into the sunlight.
It was going to be a long, long day. Week, too, for that matter, as well as month, and perhaps even year. At this moment, Tieria Arcander really, really hated her life.