The crack arrived like a sigh; soft, but deep enough to echo through the armor, teasing the knight to the marrow. Across her plate ran a single fracture, thin and perfect, whispering as she moved. A vein of light bloomed through the wound, breathing life. The knight paused only momentarily to acclimate herself, hoping stillness could suppress the wound, but the maid turned at once, head pivoting on a perfect axis.

Approaching the knight, the faint hum that rested within her frame changed its note. Her steps were slow and certain, almost reverent, a pilgrim before an altar.

"Damage detected..." she said softly, hovering her hand just above the knight's chest. Something trembled beneath the static, something fragile, something tender, though her voice was calm. "Please, allow me..."

The knight brushed her hand to the side, gently, but the maid did not retreat. Instead, she bowed her head, before slowly lowering her knees to the dust.

As the knight remained still, the maid reached behind her shoulder, her fingers hunting for the seam of her own frame. As she moved, there was a slight unevenness, but she said nothing, for there was nothing to say. One could barely make out a faint click, comparable to the cracking of a rosary bead, and the hum of her chassis stuttered softly before steadying again.

The part came loose with a gasp of static, as though unwilling to part ways. Oil dripped along the edge of the offering, dark and gleaming like blood beneath nail. Fallen screws and bolts settled into the dirt, now comforted by the warmth of the soil, as though the earth itself welcomed them with its vast embrace. She held the piece for a moment, almost lovingly, then placed it against the knight's armor and began to fasten it in place.

When the knight shifted her weight, the armor gave a softer sound, a pale note, the tone of metal meeting metal. For the first moon in many, her armor felt alive beneath her touch, although the hidden ache of her lost crown still weighed heavily. The faint ringing was now little more than a gentle whisper, a silence that would finally settle. The wound that had once corrupted the metal had been rekindled to grace.

The knight moved once more, again testing her remedied plate, and the sound that spoke was soft and whole. The maid watched in stillness, sensors flickering with the faintness of a firefly. No words passed between them; there was no need.

When the knight turned her back and put a step forward, the maid followed a step behind, her rhythm faltering, the sound of her hooves limping swallowed by the hush of the mist.