The Doctor reclined within the complex medical apparatus, locking her gaze onto Jeanne and Fafnir as if executing a final, conscious effort to engrave their visages deep into her memories.
Yet, as Jeanne and Fafnir stood in a tight semicircle around the open basin, peering down at the prone strategist, a sudden and vivid wave of déjà vu washed over Jeanne. It felt for all the world as though she were paying her final respects to a departed comrade.
And it wasn't merely a case of her imagination running wild! If you found yourself anchoring your boots beside a structure shaped precisely like a coffin, staring at a familiar acquaintance who was lying perfectly still with a thoroughly serene expression, you would also suspect you had accidentally stumbled into a funeral service.
To make matters worse, night had fully descended. The chamber was entirely devoid of illumination save for the faint, clinical white glow emitting from the machine and the pale moonbeams filtering through the high windows. That chilly radiance only served to make the Doctor's visage appear even more unearthly and bleached.
What truly sent a shiver down the spine was that the Doctor still kept her eyes wide open, her lips curled into a faint smile. Illuminated by that spectral light, her peaceful expression took on a thoroughly eerie quality. Coupled with her pale complexion, she resembled nothing so much as an ancient corpse hovering on the verge of reanimation.
Jeanne couldn't help but muse that if this identical sequence were unfolding on a cinema set, any competent director could easily stretch the tension into a highly successful, two-hour horror feature.
She had already formulated a perfect title for the production: The Vengeful Wraith of Chernobog!
The narrative would trace the harrowing journey of a thousands-year-old ghoul breaking free from its subterranean seal to terrorize the mortal realm, forcing a powerful saintly maiden—guided by divine revelations—to march forth alongside her loyal summoned beast to banish the demon back to the dark!
Jeanne felt certain that if she produced such a chronicle, it would become an absolute bestseller within the grand plazas of Laterano. She could even seek out a skilled director in Lungmen to handle the cinematography; she had heard whispers of a remarkably talented individual named Nian... Though, with a silent chuckle, she chose to stifle the ridiculous daydream before it could take root.
"I possess a distinct impression that you are harboring some thoroughly discourteous thoughts..."
Observing the slightly vacant, unfocused gleam in Jeanne's eyes, the Doctor instantly deduced that the silver-haired maiden was cooking up something absurd.
Though she couldn't pinpoint the exact parameters of the girl's imagination, her extensive history of orchestrating psychological warfare against her peers assured her that it boded zero good for her reputation.
"How could you think such a thing? You are letting your imagination run wild," Jeanne countered without a single beat of delay, offering a swift denial. Deep down, she offered a silent prayer of repentance for the blatant falsehood, though her features remained entirely composed.
My beloved, benevolent Deity, it appears your cherished Jeanne is steadily learning a few wicked habits. I wonder if such a transformation registers as a positive development or a tragic decline in Your eyes? It truly remains a profound mystery.
The Doctor maintained a highly skeptical gaze, though the faint shift in her expression was nearly impossible to read beneath the shadow of the machine.
Surrounded as she was by the rising aura of pale white light, she looked as though she were preparing to ascend to a higher realm, leaving her with little opportunity to focus on the nuances of Jeanne's expression.
Yet, the skepticism lingering within the Doctor's eyes didn't endure for long. She smoothly discarded the lingering doubts, adopting a rare, profoundly gentle gaze as she surveyed Jeanne and the young dragon.
She had genuinely grown fond of Jeanne over the course of their travels, counting herself remarkably fortunate to have crossed paths with such a unique individual during this final chapter of her current life.
After all, who could possibly harbor any distaste for a companion possessed of such striking beauty, an endearing temperament, and the unyielding loyalty to emerge at your side whenever a crisis demanded her presence?
Right at that moment, a rhythmic mechanical hum resonated from the core of the vault. It appeared the initialization sequence was finally drawing to a close, signaling that the hour to seal the heavy canopy was rapidly approaching.
The two women remained frozen in place, their gazes locked as an unbroachable silence claimed the room. Jeanne could clearly discern her own miniature reflection mirrored within the deep, azure depths of the Doctor's eyes, alongside a distinct, unmistakable thread of profound reluctance.
The Doctor was finally standing on the precipice of a hopeful future, unburdened by the crushing guilt of the bloody campaigns she had personally orchestrated. Yet, due to the total collapse of her physical frame, she was forced to surrender every single one of those hard-won recollections as the price of survival.
Naturally, a deep sense of sorrow lingered within her heart. Had it been otherwise, she would never have exhausted every available stratagem over the past few weeks simply to delay her arrival at this facility, all to contribute a fraction more toward the reconstruction of Kazdel.
But she was hardly the sort of fragile creature who would dissolve into tears, clutching at Kal'tsit's coat while weeping about her reluctance to depart.
Had she resorted to such a display, she would have thoroughly disgraced her reputation as the ruthless Ghost of Babel. Ultimately, her immense reluctance manifested only as a quiet, lingering shadow within her azure eyes.
The perimeter remained utterly still. Apart from the steady hum of the ancient apparatus gathering power, the chamber was quiet enough to discern the distant chirping of insects echoing from the streets far below. Even Fafnir maintained a perfect, watchful silence.
Ever since the Doctor had settled into the basin, the young dragon had remained anchored to the floor, her large eyes tracing her companion's every movement. The sweet treats that usually occupied her palms were nowhere to be seen; though the child uttered not a single syllable, she was undeniably offering her own silent farewell.
Beep—! Initialization complete. Commencing structural diagnosis of the occupant's biological equilibrium...
Breaking through the heavy tranquility of the laboratory, the automated voice of the machine suddenly blared to life. It appeared the agonizingly sluggish self-diagnostic protocols had finally concluded, clearing the path to initiate the intensive therapy.
"It seems our remaining minutes have expired," the Doctor murmured, recognizing that her window of communication with Jeanne had officially closed. She slowly allowed her azure eyes to drift shut, her features softening into a genuine, unburdened smile. "I must depart for a brief interval. I can only harbor the hope that when my eyes open once more, the world awaiting my arrival will be a far kinder place than the one I leave behind."
Though her profound physical decay lent a slightly fragile quality to the expression, Jeanne found herself offering a warm, reassuring smile of her own. She looked upon the slumbering strategist and replied:
"The world awaiting your return will undoubtedly be far better than the one you remember! However, you shouldn't anticipate too massive a structural upheaval. After all, you are merely settling in for a two-year slumber, not a vast century-long epoch!"
Jeanne dismissed the anxiety with a gentle wave of her hand, though a complex swirl of emotions churned within her heart as she surveyed the prone figure. Yet, as she stared down into the basin, a strange, persistent inkling tugged at the edge of her thoughts—a nagging suspicion that she had completely overlooked a critical detail.
Surely it is merely a trick of my imagination, she reasoned. Every single protocol regarding the Doctor's interment had been executed in strict accordance with Kal'tsit's explicit mandates. Furthermore, given that the strategist had maintained a completely lucid mind throughout the journey, any glaring oversight on her part would have surely been corrected by the mastermind herself.
Jeanne furrowed her brow, wrestling with the elusive thought for a brief instant before firmly casting it to the back of her mind. If the matter refused to surface within her conscious thoughts, it clearly wasn't of paramount importance; she could simply unravel the puzzle at a more leisurely pace once she returned to her quarters.
The silent farewell between the trio didn't endure much longer. Following another sharp, electronic chime from the console, the automated pneumatic systems engaged, preparing to seal the Doctor within the dark vault to initiate the long transition.
"Well then... see you down the road!"
"Goodbye!"
Jeanne and Fafnir raised their hands in a quiet gesture of farewell. Beholding the sight, a profound sense of fulfillment washed over the Doctor. She offered a final, weak wave of her hand, her voice dropping to a soft murmur:
"Once my eyes open anew... I fear the version of myself stripped of her memories will require an immense amount of your guidance and care."
The final syllable hung in the air as the heavy obsidian canopy slid shut with a dull, resonant click, sealing the interior completely. Jeanne was well aware that within the enclosure, the Doctor would immediately be subjected to an advanced gaseous anesthetic, maintaining a state of perfect suspension until the day an external hand activated the primary release mechanism.
"Jeanne... is the Doctor truly asleep now?"
Fafnir inquired, her large eyes fixed on the sealed machine with a look of pure curiosity. In truth, a faint anxiety lingered within the young dragon's thoughts; the concept of being locked within such a claustrophobic, dark structure without actually drifting into slumber felt thoroughly terrifying to her youthful mind.
"She is safely asleep," Jeanne answered softly, reaching down to gently pat Fafnir's head as a quiet sigh escaped her lips. "Once her ailments are fully cured, we shall return to escort her out of that chamber. Though... when that hour arrives, she likely won't preserve any memory of our bond."
Jeanne spoke with an underlying note of confidence regarding their eventual return, firmly believing that she would be the one to operate the release valves. After all, according to their grand design, the window for them to assume administrative control over the mobile metropolis was less than two years away.
As for the precise number of months remaining? Jeanne's thoughts had grown slightly tangled due to the chaotic pace of her recent travels, leaving her unable to compute the exact time. However, such intricate logistics were typically the domain of Talulah's calculations; if she herself grew careless, the dragon leader would undoubtedly maintain a flawless ledger.
Consequently, upon reaching the threshold of the primary exit, Jeanne hoisted Fafnir into her arms and executed a powerful, unbridled leap clear through the main entryway! Before her boots cleared the frame, she delivered a thunderous, intentional kick backward against the heavy iron barrier—a brazen, direct declaration to the garrison that an intruder had breached their domain.
This sudden outburst was a deliberate component of Jeanne's strategy. By generating such a massive disturbance, the lazy sentries would inevitably be forced to elevate their security protocols and reinforce their surveillance over the sector for the foreseeable future, thereby providing an indirect layer of protection for the buried sarcophagus.
When the bewildered guards finally scrambled out into the corridor with thoroughly hostile expressions, the sight that greeted them was a pair of massive iron doors that looked as though they had been struck by a rampaging behemoth, completely detached from their hinges and crumpled several yards away down the pavement!
Having delivered the blow, Jeanne sprinted away into the cover of the slums, cradling Fafnir tightly as they vanished like a streak of silver light. She remained entirely oblivious to the fact that her physical strength had slightly exceeded her intended parameters during the maneuver.
Yet, at that exact instant, a sudden jolt fractured Jeanne's train of thought, as the elusive detail she had completely forgotten finally surfaced within her mind with terrifying clarity.