The following day, as her eyes fluttered open, she discovered the heavy metal door of her imprisonment stood wide ajar. Despite this newfound opportunity for escape, an overpowering fear clutched her soul, rendering her unable to leave the confines of her room. Thus, she abstained from partaking in any sustenance, waiting for hours upon end for someone to deliver her customary meals outside her chamber's threshold. As the night descended upon her, she knelt weakly upon the floor, anticipating her tormentor's arrival, her frail body enfeebled by the absence of nourishment. She knew she must endure, for fainting would only invite an even greater punishment, yet her physical form, devoid of sustenance, refused to comply.
Beside her, since the previous night, the Alder, the beast that had infiltrated her body, struggled to maintain a semblance of control over its human vessel. Recognizing the arduousness of the task, it resorted to poisoning her human spirit with mistletoe, hoping to weaken her resolve.
Within her helpless frame, she remained uncertain of her course of action, but the Alder vowed to do whatever it could to aid her. It issued the command to leave the door ajar, yet she chose not to emerge. As nightfall arrived, consumed by worry, the Alder ascended to her room, only to discover her unconscious form sprawled upon the floor. In haste, he summoned one of his subordinates, who promptly carried her away from the dismal chamber and placed her in a room on the uppermost floor, where ailing men were being tended to.
"Doctor!" he bellowed with urgency, prompting the man he sought to emerge from within his office.
"What has transpired?" the doctor inquired immediately, closely examining her condition.
The doctor regarded him with concern, but there was no time for such sentiments. "Bring her inside without delay," he commanded.
Alder nodded in acknowledgment and followed the doctor into his workspace. Inside the physician's office, they gently positioned the slumbering woman upon the examination table. Her skin bore the marks of trauma, with bruises and cuts marring her visage. Observing her in this pitiable state stirred a tempest of anger within Alder, directed solely at himself. He bent down to study her face, her pallid complexion framed by long, delicate eyelashes. A small scar marred her left eyebrow, while her mouth remained slightly ajar, as if caught in the throes of a snore.
"She is weak but will recover," the doctor assured him, retrieving an item from a nearby drawer. "Ensure she receives proper care and abstains from alcohol, although she does not strike me as the type. Additionally, provide her with regular meals; I suspect her metabolism necessitates such sustenance."
Alder's gaze lingered upon her slumbering form. "When will she awaken?" he whispered, his voice barely audible. Even in the depths of her sleep, she exuded a timeless beauty.
The doctor shrugged, responding in a hushed tone, "If her body still possesses the ability to react, it is possible she will awaken tonight."
That evening, Alder found himself alone by the window, his surroundings cloaked in darkness. A solitary candle burned beside him, casting flickering shadows across the room. After some time, he rose from his seat and approached the door, intending to peer into the outside world. However, before he could take a single step, the faint sound of stirring reached his ears from behind. Whirling around, his body instinctively reacted to the sudden movement of her form. Slowly, she pried open her eyes, her gaze alighting upon him with an air of surprise, prompting him to scrutinize her for a few fleeting moments before uttering, "Hello," his voice raspy from disuse.
"You... you..." she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "What...?"
Alder closed his eyes, releasing the breath he had unknowingly been holding. His body slumped ever so slightly, a weariness overtaking him, before a gentle smile graced his features. "Do not speak," he beseeched her.