6. Waking In the Infirmary

The dim light filtered through her eyelids as she stirred, her mind sluggish, body heavy. Slowly, she blinked. The sharp scent of antiseptic and herbs filled the air, grounding her in reality. Pain flared through her limbs like fire licking at her skin, a dull throb pulsing through her body. Her hands—her poor hands—ached unbearably, sending jolts up her arms, as though she had plunged them into a vat of bubbling oil. Even with the soft, cool wrapping, the pain remained sharp and unyielding.

A cold dread coiled in her chest.

The memory of golden magic flared vividly in her mind, searing through her like wildfire.

Fear seeped into her bones, an uncontrollable tremor running through her. The golden light had flowed through her, an overwhelming force she hadn’t been prepared for. A whisper had slithered into the depths of her consciousness when they had needed a healer.

“You have a spell for this.”

She hadn’t recognized the voice, but it carried the same eerie weight as the beings from the void that had dragged her away.

“You just need to activate it. When you’re ready, call upon ‘Luminous Restoration,’ child.”

And then the voice was gone.

She hadn’t expected the mana to burn like a star collapsing inside her veins, for it to surge uncontrollably. She hadn’t been able to stop the flow—

“She’s waking up!”

The voice cut through the haze of panic clogging her mind. Crow forced herself to focus, her senses sluggish but returning. Two figures loomed over her, concern written across their unfamiliar faces. She blinked, trying to piece together their features.

A tall girl with bright pink skin and wild, neon curls leaned down, her golden eyes warm with concern. “Hey,” she murmured, voice gentle. “Can you hear us, girly?”

Crow swallowed, her mouth impossibly dry, managing only a small nod.

The other figure was more familiar—long red hair pulled back into a ponytail, save for the front strands, two of which stuck up like little horns. He had looked so much smaller, unconscious on that table, but now, standing over her, she could see the true breadth of his frame. Beneath his simple clothes, muscle lined his form—earned through training and hard work.

He grinned down at her, exposing jagged teeth, letting out a relieved chuckle. “Wanted to be able to thank you when you woke up,” he said, laughter rumbling in his chest. “Don’t think I’d have made it without you, man.”

His easy warmth helped her relax—if only a little. She gave him a faint smile in return, but as she shifted, pain flared. She couldn’t hold back the wince.

Their eyes widened.

“Gar, go find the healer. They should be back by now,” the pink-haired girl ordered, worry deepening the crease between her brows. “I’ll get the guild master.”

Gar—so that was his name—hesitated, concern flickering in his eyes. “You just rest, alright? We’ll take care of everything.” His large, rough hand ruffled her hair gently, a kindness she wasn’t sure she deserved.

They disappeared into the hallway, leaving her alone. Just as she exhaled a breath, the door creaked open again.

The air shifted.

Rowan.

She recognized his presence before she even fully registered him. A small sense of relief bloomed in her chest. He carried medical supplies in one hand, a cup of water in the other, a napkin wrapped carefully around something he had brought with him. His expression was soft, but something else lingered beneath it. For a blink, she saw his mana, no longer violet but a green that matched his worry-filled eyes.

And the inky blackness that curled through his arm like a living shadow.

“Crow?” She shook her head, not hearing him speak.

“Sorry,” Her voice raspy, throat sore and dry.

The worry in his eyes softened as he placed the items on a small side table.

She studied him, and realization struck—he looked exhausted. His green curls were disheveled, dark circles hung under his eyes, and his usual energy had dulled to something muted. Had he slept at all?

A pang of guilt twisted in her gut. Had he been worried for her?

“Hey,” He caught her gaze as he pulled a chair closer, exhaling a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. A small, tired smile tugged at his lips.

"You gave us quite the scare."

She swallowed, “I…” The words died in her throat. Panic coiled in her chest, tightening like a vice.

He must have seen it in her eyes. “Here, let’s sit you up.” He cut her off, leaning over her, and with a touch so gentle it surprised her, he carefully lifted her by the waist, easing her upright. She barely had time to register the movement before he was offering her the water.

“Small sips.” His tone was strict, though still kind.

Crow obeyed in silence, her mind still reeling. Fear clawed at her—fear of what had happened, of what could have happened had she not been stopped.

Once she finished drinking, she swallowed hard. “I couldn’t stop it.” Her voice was barely a whisper, hands trembling against the sheets. “The magic—it felt like it was consuming everything.”

Rowan took her hand, hesitating only briefly before carefully unwrapping the bandages. “You’ve been out for almost a week.” His eyes flickered to hers.

Her breath hitched. “A voice told me to use it. That it would save them. But the mana… it wasn’t mine. It was too much—I thought it would consume me. If I hadn’t stopped— whatever it was that spoke would have taken over–and I was going to be burned away.”

His hands stilled for half a second before continuing, voice steady.

“Crow,” his voice firm but caring, “You used a spell your body couldn’t handle yet. It’s okay. You’ll just need to train your body’s capacity for mana. Relax, okay?” He attentively treated the wounds on her hands. She hissed as he cleaned the burns as gently as he could.

“Sorry,” He tried to comfort her, “Something about your magic won’t let us heal these with potions. So, old-fashioned methods until you can heal yourself.” his soft voice soothed her. Her heart clenched.

“Have you been taking care of them this whole time?”

He rubbed his head sheepishly, “The burns are pretty bad so they need to be cleaned and redressed daily. They might not look like it, but they’ve actually been healing nicely.” He spoke quickly, causing her to shake her head.

“You’re too kind,” she murmured, guilt thick in her throat.

“You healed me.” His thumb brushed over her uninjured fingers. He opened his mouth as if to say more—

BANG.

The door slammed open, making Crow flinch. Rowan tensed beside her.

A furious blond stormed inside, his crimson eyes sharp enough to cut. His spiky hair stood on end, and his expression twisted with irritation. His anger was palpable, like a storm ready to break.

“I didn’t ask you to heal me, got that?” His voice was loud, graining.

Crow blinked at him. Who?

He was the boy Rowan recognized that day. He was…rude. Extremely rude. What was his name? Kitty?—looked moments away from spontaneous combustion.

“Listen,” her voice betrayed her, sounding far weaker than she wanted to, “I just didn’t want you to stain the guild’s table, bleeding to death on one will do that, you know?”

Rowan snorted beside her.

“I don’t know what you're on, but I did not almost bleed to death,” he stomped over to her, causing her to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh, so you wanted me to let you die? I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” she tapped her head with the tip of her index finger that peaked out from the bandages.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Rowan’s shoulders began shaking with silent laughter, knowing something she didn’t.

She thought steam was going to blow out of the blond’s ears as he angrily reached for his belt.

“There won’t be a next time, you damn idiot. I don’t need a backfire medic to be a liability around,” He reached for something at his belt—

Gold spilled onto her lap as a pouch hit the blanket.

Crow blinked. Then, with careful precision, she shoved the gold back into the bag and tossed it right back at him.

“I wouldn’t be your healer even if the gods forced me,” His irritable mood wore on her nerves, “I don’t work for feral cats.”

Rowan lost it.

“What did you call me?” The loud blond moved closer, grabbing her by the shirt and yanking her forward.

Rowan’s laughs were quickly snuffed out; he snatched the blond’s hand away from her.

“You only know how to be ungrateful, don’t you?” His eyes lit up under the shadow of his good, anger palpable.

“Who do you think you are, loser?” he snatched his hand from Rowan’s grasp.

“You should settle down, Kitty Cat.” Crow rolled her eyes, his yelling giving her a headache.

Rowan snickered and raised an eyebrow, the blond fuming as if she had insulted his entire bloodline

“Kitty Cat?” Her green-haired companion asked.

She shrugged, “You called him Cat when you saw him bleeding to death,” She raised her voice when talking about his injury, pointing out the fact he had nearly died, “And he seems to act like a feral cat, all hiss and no bite.”

Rowan laughed but pinched the bridge of his nose, “I called him Kiki Crow, not Cat.”

Her cheeks heated but she shrugged, “I think I like Kitty Kat better.”

The fact they weren’t paying attention to him, or maybe the fact that Rowan used the name he did, seemed to set him off further.

“Oh you idiots are just hilarious, aren’t you? I could kill you both right now if I wanted.” He snarled. Rowan’s face dropped, anger seeping into his expression.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you, Kiki?” There was a growl to his voice, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

“Who do you think you are, runt?” He snapped again, this time grabbing Rowan by his cloak. The force of the yank tore his hood from his head. A dark growl ripped from him, his wolf-like ears pinning back.

“Flint?” the blond blinked, a flash of guilt passing through his features before the anger rushed back, overtaking it. He shoved Rowan away from him, glaring.

“Stop it,” her voice was firm but strained. What history did they share?

“Shut it, Backfire Medic.” the blond snapped, both were glaring, mana so intense in the air that she could see it without even focusing.

“Why can’t you just thank her for helping you, Kael? She saved your miserable life and you’re acting like that means she is trying to take away your manhood or something.” Rowan snapped.

Kael.

That must be the name he actually went by. She could feel tensions rise in the room.

“Oh, useless little Flint thinks he's all big and bad now because he had an unveiling,” Kael’s tone was cold, malicious. “That will never change anything, you’ll always be weak–”

“Shut up,” Rowan snarled, the two moving closer to one another.

“I guess you found someone just as useless as you.”

Rowan moved before Crow could stop him, lunging at Kael. The two went rolling, a storm of fists and claws. They flung each other to opposite sides of the room, furniture breaking, glass shattering.

Crow’s heart pounded as she watched the fight, and then she saw it. No, she felt it. The disturbance of mana. The raw, volatile heat radiating from Kael’s fist, the cold silver light gleaming on Rowan’s claws. That amount of mana colliding…it wouldn’t just hurt them. It would cause a major, destructive afterwave.

For just a moment, it was like her body knew what it needed to do, instincts outweighing panic. The pain subsided long enough for her to fling herself between them, moving with a speed that matched theirs. They didn’t get a chance to process what was happening.

She caught Kael’s fist in her blistered hand, snatching Rowan’s wrist out of the air with her opposite one. It was like something had snapped into place, even though her hands burned with blistering pain, but there was power—darkness, fleeting and swift—that surged through them. A strange, instinctive skill suddenly unlocked for her. The darkness absorbed and disrupted whatever attacks they were using, she could feel their mana flood into her, fueling her body for just a brief moment. Giving her just enough strength to hold them in place.

Neither had realized exactly what happened, that her untrained ability disrupted their mana, nor how volatile their attacks were.

“Enough,” She snapped, when she let them go their mana left her, her own energy spent.

“What the hell?!” Ignis looked at her, something else in his expression. Surprise, maybe. He looked her over for a moment.

“Crow,” Rowan’s voice had lost its edge, staring at her in disbelief.

Her body finally betrayed her, her vision blurring and her limbs threatening to collapse under their own weight. Her head lolled and she stumbled, Kael managing to grab her before she could fully slump.

“Tch. You really are a backfire medic, what healer is too stupid to realize they’ve already been pushed past their limitations.” the heat had drained from his words, his hands firm against her hips, steadying her.

“Sorry, Kitty cat, next time I’ll let you both destroy the entire infirmary and whatever is below it.” Sarcasm seeped into her words despite her ragged breaths. She watched as his jaw tightened.

“I could throw you on the floor right now if I wanted, you do know that don’t you?” He had moved his face closer to her ear to growl out the words.

“I don’t care,” She glared at him, but her features were weak. He would simply have to let go and she’d fall, and she’s sure he knew that.

“Tch.” He only moved to readjust his grip on the girl. She was surprised.

“Are you okay?” Rowan finally spoke, gently grabbing her hands. They hurt like hell, blood starting to stain the wrappings. Guilt crossed his face, “I’ll re-wrap them later,” He said softly.

She wouldn’t get a chance to respond before footsteps thundered down the hall. The guild master, the pink-skinned girl, and a man who moved with quiet menace, all pushed into the room.

Guild Master Fujimura stood stiffly, his expression dark, while the dark-haired man beside him looked equally unimpressed. Behind them, a girl hovered uncertainly, eyes widening in shock at the sight of Crow.

Fujimura’s voice cut through the room, sharp with irritation. “Kael Ignisl.” His gaze burned into the blond. “Why is it always you in the middle of chaos?”

“And why the hell is she out of bed?!”

Kael scoffed before he glared at Crow, “It’s not my fault your idiot medic doesn’t know her limits.”

“I’m not a medic,” Crow muttered. The words barely left her lips before her legs gave out. A sharp gasp escaped her as exhaustion swallowed her whole.

Before she hit the ground, Kael moved. His arm shot forward, catching her mid-fall with a grumble. “Tch. Always surrounded by idiots,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. With surprising ease, he swept her up, his hold firm yet careful.

She shuttered at the heat that radiated from it. She wondered if he was some kind of mage instead of a martial type like her. She didn’t realize she was leaning into him until her back hit the cold sheets.

“We’re even,” his voice was low, his warm breath causing her to shutter when his lips touched her ear. He shoved something into her hand, “Don’t come askin’ for any favors.”

Crow’s face heated from the closeness. She started to speak, but he leaned in just a fraction more, murmuring something too soft for anyone else to catch.

“Though I guess if you wanna follow me around, I could always use a fangirl.”

A flush crept up her neck. Annoyed, she weakly went to push him away. He caught her hand.

“Your hands are hurt, moron.” He said as he pulled away from her.

“You’re unbelievable.” Rowan’s glare snapped Kael’s way, his voice laced with exasperation.

Kael, smug, held his gaze for a long moment before rolling his shoulders. “Do I have to be here, old man?”

“You’ll be questioned later,” The tired dark-haired man sighed, “I can only handle so many noisy children at a time.” His eyes flickered to Crow and Rowan. Rowan looked away in order to not laugh. The man studied them both before stepping forward.

“Riven Duskbane,” the man muttered, his voice rough. “I’m from the adventuring guild’s central branch. There have been some... magical disturbances in the area. I’m here to investigate.”

“Later, losers.” Kael left, herding the pink-skinned girl with him.

The guild master offered an apologetic glance. "Sorry about all this," he muttered, but Duskbane simply brushed it off as Fujimura closed the door.

“Now, I need you two to explain what you’ve seen in the last few days, in detail.” His tone left no room to argue.

Crow and Rowan shared a glance, neither willing to go first.

Duskbane’s eyes narrowed. "Fine," he said, irritation creeping into his tone. "The Church is also interested in this. You can talk to me, or deal with them."

The weight of those words hung in the air as Rowan sighed.

“Where do we even start?” His voice was distant. Crow didn’t know what was worse, telling a higher-up in the guild she had been somewhere deemed off limits, or the church finding her unveiled.

She swallowed, going back to the church, going back to her family? She shook her thoughts away.

“I can start but you. You can’t turn me into the church.” Her heart hammered in her chest.

Duskbane looked her over, “I can assure you, the church doesn’t want to get caught in guild business,” she felt as though she had seen him somewhere before.

She let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

“I need to examine your codex,” he said tiredly, “Then I’ll ask questions.”

Rowan tensely handed both of theirs over, she guessed it was because of the warning they’d been given earlier.

Duskbane scanned over his first, sending questioning glances, but not saying a word.

When he held Crow’s, however, he nearly dropped it upon opening it. His face unreadable before speaking.

“Your name…” He stood rigidly, “You’re not Callister’s daughter, are you?”

Crow’s jaw tightened, “I. I am, sir.”

The dark-haired man’s grip tightened on her codex, Rowan and Fujimura sharing a confused glance.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration evident on his face, “Evander’s youngest sister?”

Her eyes flickered away in guilt, “Yes.”

“So, explain why I attended your funeral four years ago.” His tone was sharp.

“They held a funeral?” Her voice was small, angry tears threatening to spill. Of course, they did. Her father said she was dead to him, why tarnish his representation further?

“You’re the duke’s daughter,” Rowan said, shocked, “They said you were killed by that colony of the dark unveiled.”

A knife turned in her stomach. They had used her ‘death’ to justify a slaughter. Of course her father did, he’d do anything the church asked, even disowning his own flesh and blood.

Duskbane exhaled, long and slow. “Of course, I’d get such an irritating case,” he muttered. Then, looking back at Fujimura, he shook his head. “I need to call my partners in. This is going to be a long night.”