As Miss Brolignans stirred, Fini, Miss Audrey, and the cat all turned to look. Her eyes twitched, and then a deafening clap of thunder cracked outside the window. At the sa mont, a furious gale erupted, and the faint sound of an explosion carried from the distance.
The gas lamps inside flickered a few tis and then went out completely. The wind shattered the window latch and surged into the room. In the pitch-black space, as a brilliant fork of lightning tore across the sky, Jenkins saw Miss Brolignans’s eyes open.
Her eyeballs were bulging, making her look like a crone from a horror story. The veins on her face stood out in stark relief, and her entire being seed to have reached its final mont.
The maids shrieked as they entered the living room, struggling against the torrential downpour outside to force the windows shut. With a flick of his wrist, Jenkins produced a short candle with a cheerfully dancing fla and placed it on a nearby coffee table.
The living room, shrouded in darkness and helplessness, didn't imdiately grow warr, but at least an inexplicable sense of calm settled over everyone. Miss Audrey directed the maids to right the overturned furniture before quickly dismissing them from the room.
The wind and rain were shut outside, but the gas lamps remained dark. Jenkins suspected the gas company had run into trouble during the storm. Judging by the explosion earlier, it was highly likely that lightning had struck a gas furnace, triggering a chain reaction.
Gazing out at a completely blacked-out Nolan, he realized the entire city had lost its gas supply.
"Teacher."
Miss Audrey knelt on the carpet, taking Miss Brolignans’s other hand, which dangled limply from the sofa. She tried to et her teacher's eyes but realized with a wave of sorrow that this awakening was no sign of recovery. It was a final surge of life before the end.
"Audrey..."
The woman on the sofa’s eyes were exceptionally bright, as if trying to project all the spirit she had left in this life. She gripped Miss Audrey's hand so tightly that the knuckles on the back of her hand seed ready to burst through the skin.
"The future of our school... now rests with you."
Her voice was hoarse and low, but her words were coherent.
"Teacher, please don’t say that."
Jenkins knew Miss Audrey had finally begun to cry. Her voice, usually ethereal and magnetic, had lost all its enigmatic mystery.
"Audrey, I’ve spent my entire life pursuing... but in the end, this is where that pursuit has led . You were right. So things cannot be achieved simply through effort, nor do they fail simply from inaction... Audrey, you will surpass one day. I know you will..."
She began to gasp for air. Jenkins imdiately intensified his healing, but it was a futile effort.
"To be toyed with by my own divinations, only to et my end like this... it’s the greatest irony of my life."
In the final monts of her life, this woman, who had always been so harsh, finally revealed her gentlest side. She was actually quite beautiful, but Jenkins's poor first impression had always colored his perception of her.
"Teacher, you’re going to be all right."
Miss Audrey repeated the words. Jenkins couldn't bear to watch. Though he had always disliked Miss Brolignans to so extent, she didn’t deserve to exit the stage like this.
"I have already seen my end. Did you know, Audrey, that when diviners like us face an unnatural death, we can clearly see the final outco awaiting us? I have seen it. It cannot be undone."
Miss Audrey wanted to say more, but Miss Brolignans stopped her with a difficult shake of her head.
The poor, dying woman on the sofa turned her gaze to Jenkins:
"Williatte, I must apologize to you."
"There’s no need to apologize. You’ve never done anything to harm , and in fact, you’ve helped many tis... I am sorry that I cannot save you."
"Don't say that, young man. My death is my own doing. Only now do I understand that fate has long since assigned a role to each of us. Fate had already bestowed its favor upon many tis, yet I greedily sought more than what was mine. This is the end I deserve."
Her eyes were fixed on Jenkins, but a gentle smile graced her lips:
"Williatte, walk your own path. In this world, no one can guide you; only you know your destination. I know you seek the position of Savior, and I know you likely hold more than two qualifications. Did you know, Williatte, that long ago—long before you were even born—I knew that Nolan would be the final stage of this epoch? The attempt thirty years ago... cough, cough... not only cost the lives of those who trusted , but it nearly cost my own. Thirty years later, I failed to learn my lesson and tried again. This ti, fate has not forgiven . My end has co..."
The pieces fell into place. Jenkins understood that the diviner who had guided Rynsarm and his friends in their search for the Savior thirty years ago was none other than Miss Brolignans, who had co to Nolan by ship with Robert at the ti.
As if she knew what Jenkins was thinking, she whispered:
"The Stranger. The title of your book. Perhaps this is fate’s way of mocking . Thirty years ago, I ca to Nolan as a stranger and sacrificed my friends in search of ‘The Stranger.’ Thirty years later, I ca to Nolan as a stranger once more, and this ti, I sacrificed myself in search of ‘The Stranger.’ This is what I deserve..."
She began to gasp for breath again, and Miss Audrey squeezed her hand tightly.
"Williatte, in the future, could I ask you to look after Audrey? Don’t be fooled by the fact that she’s much older than you. In so matters, her understanding is not nearly as clear as yours."
The woman looked at Jenkins with pleading eyes, even letting go of Miss Audrey’s hand to reach out as if to touch his face. Jenkins’s lips parted, but no words ca out. He simply gave a slight nod. The woman whose life he held in his hands was about to depart.
Miss Brolignans took the hand of her most gifted student once more—the one she had co to see as a daughter. They had t many years ago. It was a warm and simple story, one about a young woman and a little girl who, out of curiosity, wandered into a fortune-telling tent at a festival. Back then, Miss Audrey had been about the sa age as Fini.
The woman simply looked into Miss Audrey’s eyes, her gaze unwavering. She offered no more words, no guidance for the road ahead. They just looked at each other, as if ti had rewound twenty years to that autumn afternoon, in that small tent, where they had gazed at each other across a crystal ball, just as they were now.
Then, the little girl had been immature. Now, the girl had grown into a woman.
Another flash of lightning streaked across the window. Miss Brolignans’s hand slipped from Miss Audrey’s grasp and fell limp. No matter how much life spirit Jenkins poured into her, the body showed no response.
Miss Brolignans was dead.
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