50. Chapter Fifty

A brief moment of distraction was all it took for me to fuck up.

I had paused just a second too long, my attention diverted by the scent of smoke. I dropped my shields on her for a fraction of an instant, my reckless attempt to redirect my arcana and catch the Leshy’s gnarled arm as it flew towards Arken—but my daggers just barely missed their target.

Too slow. Too godsdamned slow, trying to strike from my blind side.

But where had the smoke come from?

My heart was pounding with adrenaline and Shadow as they surged through my veins in tandem, mind racing—desperately trying to make sense of everything that was happening all at once. Words could not describe the depth of the fear, or the fury that rose up like bile in my throat the moment I heard her scream. My hair stood on end, something primordial and fiercely protective stirring at the sound of that desperate, blood-curdling cry.

“Kieran!”

Immediately, without even thinking, I released the damper I typically kept on my Shadow. Consequences be damned, now was not the fucking time to hold myself back. I didn’t have much time. Ten minutes at most. Shit. Shit.

We were too deep in the Wyldwoods to get her to an infirmary in time, and I didn’t even know if the clerics carried what she would need to heal. I had to get her out of here, and fast, but first I needed to restrain this son of a bitch.

“Arken? Hang on! Breathe— breathe slowly!” I shouted, praying to the Source that she was still lucid. If she could slow her own heart rate down, the poison would take longer to disperse.

All I heard in response was a weak whimper, and I bit down hard on my lip, willing myself not to panic. She was still conscious. I still had time to save her, but I had to fucking focus. This was not the first daemon I had encountered alone, but I wasn’t about to gamble on my strength versus Arken’s constitution.

Restrain it. Save her first.

With a sharp inhale, I drew from every single element I could find in my vicinity. The Air, the moisture in the soil, the Earth itself, pulling it into my chest. With a flick of my wrist, thick bands of Shadow shot out and encircled the corrupted creature’s arms and legs, binding it in place. The dark tethers wouldn’t hold for long, not for a monster of this size, but they’d hold long enough for me to get her out of here.

I sprinted over to where Arken was now lying on her side, moaning in pain. The sound threatened to pierce my heart and tear me to shreds. You should’ve focused on the shields, you dumb bastard. But I could ruminate later—we needed to get back to the city, and fast. As I picked Arken up, cradling her as delicately in my arms as I could, I realized with horror how deep the Leshy had struck.

There was no way I could run her back into Sophrosyne without making those wounds much, much worse. If the poison didn’t kill her, the blood loss very well could. Her eyes had already fluttered closed, and she could barely speak—though that didn’t stop her from trying.

“Kee-reh? Eh hurts…” she whimpered, her tongue thickened by the ichor.

“I know, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you home and all fixed up, I just need you to hold on to me, okay?”

“Kay,” she mumbled, resting her head against my shoulder. The weak grip she had on my coat was the best I was going to get from her in this state.

Fuck.

I had no other choice.

Briefly propping Arken’s body up with my thigh, I lifted one hand to my mouth and bit down on the flesh of my palm, drawing blood to the surface with a single sharp incisor. Prioritizing speed over perfect accuracy, I smeared two fingertips in the blood, and with a quick gesture, tore a dark, shimmering cut into the very fabric of reality.

“Hang on tight,” I reminded her, locking my arms around her body before stepping through the rift.

The nausea hit immediately, followed by the immense, head-splitting pressure that came alongside traversing the space between the planes. I hated putting her through this, but I could handle her pain if it meant saving her life.

Even so, this was reckless, stupid of me to do—and I knew I would pay for it, one way or another. It didn’t matter. I had to save her. With a deep breath, I located the other side of the rift and pushed us both through.

Oh thank fuck. We were just outside the gates, and nobody was within a close enough radius to have seen that ripple in reality before it dissipated.

“Rorick! Hans!” I bellowed, moving as quickly as I could without jostling Arken in my arms.

The latter came running immediately, and I was flooded with relief to see my second-in-command had arrived early to his shift tonight.

“Leshy. Northwest. It’s wounded, but not down. I just barely got her out—but she, the claws—the poison, I have to get her healed. Grab Jeremiah, Hanjae—whoever you can spare. I’ll meet you as soon as I—”

“Understood, Captain,” he cut me off before I could promise to join them. “We’ve got it covered, get the girl to a cleric.”

I nodded once, and then took off. Not to the infirmary, but to Mugworts—the closest apothecary, where I’d met with Arken earlier.

The old man behind the counter was having a quiet conversation with a customer as I burst through his doors with my bloodied companion in tow.

“Willowsbane,” I demanded, panting and out of breath. “I need a poultice with willowsbane and whatever else you have on hand for fresh wounds, now.” I could apologize for being a jackass later, but Arken was running out of time. “I also need red ivy extract in water—hot.”

“Er, yes, right—one moment,” the shopkeep stammered awkwardly, but quickly sprung into action, gathering the ingredients and heating his kettle. The other customer took one look at Arken’s gruesome wounds and quickly left the shop.

“What on Aemos happened to her?” he asked as he poured a splash of hot water over the ingredients, grinding them into a paste. He poured what remained of the water into a mug and pushed it towards me with a dropper bottle of the extract. “Use whatever you need,” he added.

“Leshy. In the Wyldwoods.”

“Good gods! But they—they’re extinct!” the old man exclaimed.

“Not extinct. Just rare. But please, don’t be alarmed. The Guard is dispatched, and the damned thing is likely already dead. I can assure you, we’re safe here. Can you apply that poultice to some strips of cloth for a dressing?”

“Yes, sir—one moment.”

While he worked, I hastily added the necessary extract to the mug of water, hoisting Arken up against me so that she was more upright in my arms. She groaned in protest, but was thankfully still conscious—barely, but conscious.

“Arken, honey, I need you to drink this, okay?”

She nodded slowly and reached for the mug. I let her grasp the handle, but held on to the base. By now, the toxins had left her significantly weakened. The extract would stop it from spreading, and the poultice would help draw them out while the clerics did what they do best. This particular antidote was uncommon, nearly forgotten with time as it had been decades since we’d last seen a Leshy anywhere near this part of the continent. I only knew how to make it because I was taught… a long time ago.

I couldn’t help but wince at the grimace on her face as she drank. The taste was not pleasant, I remembered that much. Still, she followed instructions and finished the makeshift tincture.

“Good girl,” I said under my breath, pushing her hair out of her face. Her skin felt clammy and feverish, but I could already see some color returning to her cheeks. Thank the gods.

The shopkeeper wrapped the wound dressings in some waxed cloth, and I promised to return with payment the next day—double whatever the cost of labor and ingredients. He tried to assure me that it wasn’t necessary, that he was happy to be of service to the Guard, but I would return with the Lyra later regardless.

I ignored the few meandering townsfolk who stopped to stare as I carried this woman a few blocks east, to the nearest infirmary. I’m sure we were a ghastly sight to behold—clothing torn up and covered in blood, dirt, and ichor from the fight. Arken’s breathing had steadied a bit, but she was still in rough shape. My own body had started to ache as the effects of my arcana faded, but those pains were easy to ignore.

Finally, we made it to the infirmary where the clerics—Water Conduits who specialized in healing arcana—immediately flocked to attend to her. I gave them a brief, terse explanation of what had happened and how to apply the poultices, directing them to change the dressing every half-hour.

I meant no disrespect to their staff, but this remedy was not from Pyrhhas or Sophrosyne—it wasn’t even native to Atlas. Leshen were so rare that I had to make certain they would not attempt to close the wound before the ichor was out of her system.

I was relieved to find that High Scholar Helvig, arguably one of the best healers Sophrosyne could offer, was on duty tonight.

“Well, well, Captain Vistarii,” she murmured after getting Arken situated in an empty bed. “It’s usually your men that I’m fixing up. Who is this one?”

“A friend,” I said. “Her name is Arken.”

A noticeable flicker of surprise passed through her expression, and I could see the ghost of a smile forming on her lips, though she simply nodded and said nothing. Was it really that surprising that I had a friend outside of work?

“We’re going to give her a sleeping draught now so that her body can focus on removing the poisons,” she said softly. “We can’t draw these out manually, I’m afraid.”

“I know,” I said. Another flicker of surprise. Yeah, that one was fair.

“Once we confirm her blood is clean again, we’ll help get those wounds closed and she’ll be significantly recovered by morning.”

“Good. You and your team have my thanks, Fen,” I said with sincerity, preparing to head out. “I need to debrief with my men and make sure the Leshy was taken care of, but I’ll be back soon.”

“Oh. There’s really no need, we can send for an escort when she’s ready to go home, Captain.”

I tossed a glance back over my shoulder at the familiar cleric.

“I’ll be back soon,” I repeated.

Fen raised her eyebrows, but nodded, barely holding back the smile now. Ridiculous.

I rolled my eyes and offered her a lazy wave as I left, making my way back towards the East Gate to find my men and ensure the daemon had been taken care of.

It was only after my debrief with the Guard that I felt the adrenaline begin to fade, leaving my system in shambles.

What the fuck just happened?

As I’d told Hanjae, I had absolutely zero explanation for the arrival of the Leshy.

One of the reasons that the Elder Guard kept active, daily patrols throughout the Wyldwoods was to search for residual weaknesses. Pockets of space where the veil between realms still ran too thin after the Cataclysm. Any time we found one, it was immediately reported to the Convocation, and one of the Aetherborne would come out to repair it.

Our guards were well-trained, they knew how to catch those weak spots in the veil well before any creature could feasibly pass through. And I, more than anyone else, should have been able to detect if something was amiss.

It didn’t make any fucking sense.

That flood of dark, tenebrous aether as it snapped through the void had come out of nowhere. It was immediate, almost as if…

But no. It was too early for that. And even if it wasn’t, they would never be so reckless as to leave a rift wide open and let a daemon follow.

And then there was the smoke.

The only explanation my mind could parse was that Arken’s Light was so intense, so searingly white-hot that the carapace of the Leshy had caught fire from the inside. These beasts were borne from rotting wood and ichor, so it was reasonable enough to presume that it had caught fire from the inside out once Arken had shoved her aetherblade into its chest… Right?

Except everything I knew about arcana suggested there was no way that a first-year Conduit could be that powerful, that precise. Sure, Arken was exceptionally advanced—she had passed tests for courses two years beyond expectations—but for her Light to burn?

I sighed heavily, running one hand over my face.

Stranger things had happened in life or death situations. It wasn’t exactly well-studied, but there had been reports of similar phenomena in the past.

What mattered was that she survived, and she was safe now.

Logically, I knew that I could do very little for Arken except wait for the clerics to get her system stable. As I left headquarters, I knew that the reasonable thing to do would be to go home, and visit her in the morning.

But I had almost lost her, and we were past the point of reason. If I wanted to get any semblance of sleep tonight, it would have to be in a shitty armchair in the infirmary, by her side as she slept.

I woke up the next morning to a glaring scowl from Scholar Helvig.

“Shoo, Vistarii. We need to work on her injuries before she wakes up. Go make yourself useful somewhere else. You’re in my way.”

Begrudgingly, I left the room, casting a pained glance over my shoulder. I knew she was recovering, but Arken’s skin was still so pallid, slick with sweat as her body fought off the foul toxins of the Leshy’s claw.

I wasn’t expected back at work for at least the next few days. Hanjae had made himself clear that he’d much prefer I make sure the only Light Conduit in Sophrosyne made a full recovery—and so instead, I made my way back over to Mugwort’s with a pouch full of funds and an apology for being such a blunt, demanding prick last night.

He tried to refuse me, at first, but I was persistent. The old man was as stubborn as a mule, but so was I—and I wasn’t leaving that shop until he accepted what I owed him.

“Seriously, Maxwell, just take the Lyra.”

“No, no. I couldn’t possibly accept this. It was my honor to assist, Captain. I trust your wife is recovering well?”

My fucking what now?

The slack-jawed expression on my face must’ve given me away, because the herbalist immediately stammered out an awkward apology.

“Oh! I. Well, I apologize, sir, I had just assumed. I, erm… Oh dear. I meant no offense,” Max stressed.

“It’s fine. She’s just a friend,” I explained calmly, though I was still flabbergasted. “But yes, Arken is recovering well. I cannot thank you enough for your assistance in that.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” he replied, though he wouldn’t meet my eyes.

Seriously though? What a strange assumption to make about two strangers. He didn’t even say girlfriend, or partner, just went straight to wife? A bit old-fashioned, though I guess the shoe fit the old man.

Me. Married. I snorted to myself, disguising it as a cough when the man raised an eyebrow.

But because I was apparently a fucking masochist, the image of Arken in a wedding gown was briefly conjured in my mind—and I shut it down, groaning internally.

Yeah, can we not?

I really could’ve done without that image. That was the last thing I needed to be thinking about when my next stop was to check on her in the infirmary.

Your wife.

For fucks sake.

I was usually much better at compartmentalizing, but as I made my way towards the infirmary, I was still reeling at the old man’s assumption. Every time I thought I’d shoved the thought out of my mind, I found myself revisiting the night prior, trying to overanalyze my actions and determine what Maxwell could have possibly interpreted between us that suggested matrimony, of all things.

Was it my clear panic? She could’ve died, of course I was panicked. Sure, I had rushed into his shop with the woman cradled in my arms, but again—she was fucking dying.

Between Maxwell and Fen’s cheeky little smirks… Gods.

We were just friends. Close friends. Why was everyone else assuming there was more to it than that?

I mean shit, even Hanjae had questioned if Arken and I were dating last night. I was accustomed to quips from my lieutenants, but from my commander? Godsdamn.

“No. I was just following protocol, sir,” I had answered. “We know her safety is of the utmost importance to the Studium.”

Commander Ka had seemed skeptical at best over that excuse. Most of the guardsmen who worked in close quarters with me saw past the charismatic front to an extent, and Hanjae in particular knew that I was more solitary in nature. Not to mention my reputation for being spectacularly brutal against any threat to our city.

I supposed I could see where they were coming from, though. To prioritize one woman’s life over dispatching a larger threat was… unlike me. Me, the man without commitments beyond his oath. Me, the man with no interest in commitments beyond my oath. Or at least, I used to be.

It didn’t matter, I reminded myself. It was human nature to gossip, and half of the people in Sophrosyne just liked to hear themselves talk.

That’s what I kept telling myself, at least. But as I entered the infirmary to find Arken sitting up in her bed, with color in her cheeks again, I was so flooded with relief that I nearly staggered.

And when she saw me approaching and immediately broke into a smile, practically beaming at the sight of me? Something in my chest tightened. I felt my own cheeks heat under her gaze.

Gods. That fucking smile.

Fen walked past me and said nothing, just gave me a knowing smirk as she carried a stack of linens into the next room.

Ah, Hel.