A dull throbbing rumble rolled across the roiling world made for two, echoing through the great dunes to the edge of this pocket of the universe. The black mist that erupted from her foe's side gushed like blood as he fell backward down to the ground. He had not conceded the battle; Drake had given it his all from the very start all the way to his last conscious thought.
Darkness crept further and further into Jessica's vision; half falling, she sat down on the hard sand and laid her head on the ground. Silver clouds against a blue backdrop flitted across all the colors of the spectrum as her brain suffocated and strained to deal with the problem of a loss of life energy as well as the loss of her magical energy.
In a way, the strange man had killed himself. The Aether had refused to take on any solid shape until he started drawing it into his body. It was part chance and part luck that caused the Aether to align as it flowed from her hand to his. One last command finally snapped the amorphous threads into solid blade-like forms that just managed to pierce his side before dissipating. Her ears were ringing, but even that sensation faded as the last of her lifeblood pooled onto the sand.
Warmth... soft... comfort. Jessie opened his eyes slowly to the familiar sight of the Pagoda infirmary. One brown-clad figure nonchalantly walked between all-but-empty cots; so this was the section of the warrior's shrine dedicated to ensuring that their fighters could recover completely and without incident. Warm blankets fell away from a less than muscular torso as Jessie sat up, and then promptly laid back down. Looking to where his opponent's scimitar had gouged him open he saw absolutely nothing out of the ordinary, but moving and bending felt like something was tearing him apart from the inside.
“Oh, good. You're awake Jessie.”
“I'm not sure I want to be. I thought you monks were supposed to be the best at healing.”
“Ah, that. It seems that your Jessica form is developing some sort of resistance to our healing... or magic in general. We aren't really sure. We had to force a reversion back to your male body to close the wound; the others were just about to return to finish the mending.”
“Oh. That's news to me. Mind if I go back to sleep?”
“Not at all, Jessie. One last thing... It seems that your hazel eye is taking on a red tint. We don't know what is causing it, but some of the others think that Jessica is starting to take over your mind.”
The shuffling of cloth against stone and the slapping of sandals marked the entrance of at least three other Ai'Bron before they were even visible in the doorway.
“Good night, then. Hopefully I'll fall... asleep... be... fore...”
The soft hand of the caretaker on the Warrior's forehead was warm and brought him into a deep, restful sleep almost immediately. Once he was out, the four monks looked to each other and exchanged hushed words. He didn't need to know everything that was going on with his body. He would be happier in ignorance. The fact that he hadn't noticed that his hair was longer than usual was proof enough of that.
“Drake left you a message,” someone said, “Something about not making jokes about hitting a girl again.” It didn't matter who said it. He hadn't heard it, but the message had been delivered. The monks weren't liars, after all.