I’m reminded of Therion’s comment about her hexing us, but I shake it from my mind.
Kael sets me down gently, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he steps back. Mavyrn approaches, her hands surprisingly gentle as she examines the wound on my leg. Her stormy eyes soften, just slightly, as she mutters under her breath.
“This will not be easy,” she says, more to herself than to anyoneelse. “The venom is deep, and the infection worse. She’ll need more than salves and stitches.”
“Can you save her?” Seren asks, her voice trembling.
Mavyrn doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stands, moving to one of the shelves and grabbing a handful of dried leaves, a small vial of silvery liquid, and a stone pestle. “I can try. But she’ll need to fight, too. The Starborn blood in her is strong, and might just be stubborn enough to pull through.”
Kael steps forward, his tone low and urgent. “What do you need from us?”
Mavyrn glances at him, her expression unreadable. “Stay out of my way, boy. And pray to whatever gods you hold dear.”
The room hums with tension as Mavyrn begins her work. She moves with purpose, gathering ingredients from her crowded shelves, muttering under her breath in a language I don’t recognize. The flickering firelight casts long shadows across the walls, making the strange trinkets and jars appear alive, watching. Without looking up at the others, eyes firmly on my wound as she meticulously cleans away the evidence of my infection, the brusque yet warm woman says, “So I’m assuming she is the culprit for the dazzling light performance five nights ago, hm?”
“Yep, that’s our girl!” Ronyn puffs his chest out proudly.
She kneels beside me, her sharp eyes scanning my face before drifting to my leg. Her expression remains unreadable, but I sense the weight of her thoughts—calculations, plans, decisions made in moments.
“This will hurt,” she says simply. “And it will take more than my hands alone.”
Kael steps forward instinctively, his presence a steady force. “What do you need?”
Mavyrn doesn’t look at him, her focus fixed on a bundle of herbs she’s crushing with practiced precision. “Your magic. And his,” she says, nodding toward Therion, who stiffens visibly. “And hers.” Her gaze flicks to Seren, who looks startled.
“Me?” Seren’s voice trembles slightly. “I don’t have magic. I’m not Starborn.”
Mavyrn’s lips twitch, almost a smirk. “Not yet, perhaps. But there’s something in you—latent, hidden. You’ll do.”
“What about me? Need my help?” Ronyn chimes in.
“Not you, boy,” Mavyrn answers, and Ronyn folds his arms petulantly.
Seren looks to Ronyn, panic flickering in her wide eyes, but he nods, his humor replaced with quiet reassurance. “You’ve got this, Seren.”
Mavyrn’s attention shifts to Kael and Therion. “Your magic will provide the foundation, the raw energy. I’ll act as the conduit, transforming it into something that can heal. The girl’s body will have to do the rest.”
Therion crosses his arms, his jaw tight. “You want us to pour our magic into you? Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
“Of course I do,” Mavyrn snaps, the storm in her eyes flashing. “But the poison in her veins won’t wait for safer methods. If you’re too afraid, step aside.”
Kael places a hand on Therion’s shoulder, his touch firm but steady. “What exactly do you need us to do?”
Therion exhales sharply, his displeasure clear, but he doesn’t argue further. Instead, he moves to stand beside Kael, their postures mirroring each other—two warriors bracing for battle.
Mavyrn places a hand on my forehead, her touch surprisingly gentle. “Stay with me, Lightborne,” she says softly. “This will take all the strength you have.”
I nod weakly, the edges of the world blurring as the pain pulls me under.
She spreads her arms, her voice rising in a chant that feels both ancient and otherworldly. The air in the room thickens, charged with an energy that makes the hairs on my arms stand on end. The fire dims, its light replaced by a silvery glow emanating from Mavyrn’s hands.
“Place your hands on me,” Mavyrn commands, her voice resonant with authority. Kael and Therion hesitate for only a moment before doing as she says, their hands resting lightly on her arms.Seren approaches reluctantly, her small hand trembling as she places it on Mavyrn’s shoulder.
“Now—give me your magic,” she commands.
Kael and Therion summon their gifts with practiced ease and pass them smoothly through their hands. Seren concentrates with measured focus, trying to do something,anything.
“Relax, child. Breathe,” Mavyrn instructs. “Reach for the place in your body where your energy lives. It will feel like a gentle hum or buzz...a tingling. Reach for it and imagine drawing it to your finger tips.” She pauses for a moment, closing her eyes. “Yes. Like that.”
