69. Veli

Chapter sixty-nine

Veli

The healer's tent stood at the edge of the violent battleground. What would normally be a haven amidst chaos had turned into absolute madness itself. Sounds of the injured and dying erupted through the air, coming from all directions.

Horror and pure anguish clogged my throat as the scene of Madalae bursting into ash replayed in my mind, along with the sounds of devastation from her twin—who had abandoned us a moment later after blasting everyone near her into nothing.

Anger originally fueled me as I watched her flee, but I couldn’t blame her. Empri fled before she mistakenly erupted her entire rage on Elianna’s supporters, so it may have been better off this way. Even though we now had significantly less magic on our side, with only me and my already injured body to wield the sorcery.

I burst through the flaps of the tent, the scent of medicinal herbs and the tang of spilled blood stuffing my nostrils. A low table stood at its center, various vials, jars, and instruments sprawled out in disorder as the healers frantically grabbed items needed to save any of the lives they could.

Wounded soldiers lay on crimson-stained cots, their armor removed to expose injuries ranging from third-degree burns to severe stab wounds and missing limbs. The healers moved desperately from patient to patient, some stitching lacerations while others lathered salve atop raw, charred skin.

My breathing quickened as my eyes shot around in every direction, absorbing the overwhelming energy the others exuded as they flashed by me on all sides.

My eyes locked with Finnian from across the tent as he worked to stitch a soldier, and I raced toward him.

His stare held nothing but panic and sorrow.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Go back out there, Veli!” he snapped, and my eyes flared, never hearing the boy lose his temper before. “We have this handled.”

“I was sent here, boy. Use me while you can!” I ordered. “I am here to help while I heal myself.” I raised my palm before him, the hole from the arrow slowly stitching itself closed before our eyes.

His eyes flared as they landed on mine while he worked to stitch up a gaping wound in a soldier’s side, his needle holding firm in his grasp. Something resembling pride flared in me at the sight of the boy finding his mark.

I knelt next to the cot beside him, where another man was taking what seemed to be some of his last breaths as blood poured from his wounds and trickled from his lips. My focus narrowed in on the soldier's injuries, and my eyes cast their glow as I willed the injuries to heal from the inside out.

“Veli, should you be doing that as your body tries to heal itself?” Finnian asked warily.

“Hush, boy,” I quieted him. “There is much to do, but if I am to leave here and go back out there and fight, I need to leave you all here in a good place as well.”

He gave me a curt nod in response.

The man I was working on suddenly took in a shuddering breath—his last, making me realize I was too late.

My teeth were clenched in both sadness and anger at what our reality had become. My magic was already draining, and I could barely focus enough to heal others as I worked to do the same for myself. And there was still an entire gods-damn war raging outside.

I stepped away from the cot and fixed my face into neutrality. When I turned to the other healers behind us, all I found were desperate eyes locked on me, pleading for help without the words.

“I have this side of the tent,” Finnian stated. “Do what you can.”

Injured soldiers and unconscious bodies were piling in with each passing second. “Mother of the gods,” I breathed, then I went to work.