Turns out I was wrong. I wasn't saved by Ronlerb. Or Zharathuun. Or divine mercy, because who would waste it on me?
It was Mary.
Yes, Mary Stonesworn. The quiet one in black who flings fireballs like she's trying to erase the sky. She pulled me out. Dragged my smouldering, twitching corpse out of the ashpit I backflipped into. Gave me a potion. Said nothing. Looked away. Haven't looked back since.
Can't blame her.
I'm not exactly... stable anymore. Helmets do things to your head when you can't take them off. Especially ones haunted by what I now think might be a committee of whispering gods and/or me.
Mary's hot objectively. That's not me being a creep, that's just physics. She's the sun in a dress, and I'm a moth with brain damage. But she avoids me like I'm contagious. Which, to be fair, I might be.
So I'm doing the next best thing: I'm taking care of Ella.
Ella's gone. Not dead, not undead. Just... cracked. Talking to rocks, staring at trees like they owe her something. Used to be our tank. Now she's a walking cautionary tale. I figured if I keep her safe, maybe I'm getting better. Maybe this is redemption. Maybe I'm healing.
I'm not.
The voices are worse now. They hum under my tongue. They rewrite my dreams. One of them told me last night that Ella's faking it. That she's watching me. That she's waiting for me to drop my guard. Another one laughed. Same laugh I heard when Priestess stabbed Rabbie through the spine.
So I joke about it. I call myself "Helmet Dad" now. I make up lullabies for Ella when she won't sleep. I boil water even though none of us drink tea anymore. I'm pretending. I know it. But pretending is better than remembering.
Besides, Mary's gone. And I'm still here.
So I'll take care of the mad gal.
Until one of us blinks wrong. Or the fire comes back.
Whichever happens first.