A Brief Interlude Part 2 of 6
Healing
Read Part 1 Here This part is a direct continuation from part 1 in time.
A Brief Interlude - Part 2 of 6 - Healing
The howl lingered. Davi stared into darkness where the fae woman had vanished, ghost of wildflowers still haunting his senses. Her spell faded, leaving him alert to something far worse.
Another howl, closer now. A beast's call twisted by the human voice trapped within. Veterans who survived Carradon Ridge knew that sound.
Beastwrought.
Vexis's hunters. Beast and human fused by ritual. Relentless. Davi had seen their aftermath - soldiers identified only by insignia beside scattered remains.
He tested his wounded arm, sword in hand. Black veins throbbed beneath skin, each pulse sending acid through channels meant for blood. Like the wards at Carradon, his body's boundaries failed. Demon venom turned his magic sour, the once-warm flow now grating against his nerves.
His chest tightened. Each breath came harder than the last. The faces of his brothers and sisters flashed through his mind - scattered, hunted, maybe dead. Alone in these ruins, his thoughts went to dark places. If he fell here, who'd find his scattered brothers? Who'd stand against Vexis?
Where was he? He recognized the half-collapsed dome, the fractured pillars arranged in a perfect circle. Moonlight spilled over what remained of the Temple of Luminaris, once a training ground for his order, now just broken stone. The eastern altar where he'd taken his oath six years ago lay shattered. Familiar ground desecrated.
Cold bloomed in his bod, as his senses recognized corrupted magic, like hearing a song badly off-key. The warning came weaker than it should, venom muffling what should've been alarm bells. His powers once rang like temple chimes; now it rattled like pebbles in a rusty helm. Still, he sensed it: demon-tainted flesh paired with animal hunger, the unmistakable signature of Vexis's hunters.
Claws scraped stone to his left.
He slid deeper into shadow. Gravel shifted under his boot. Shit. He froze, cursing as tiny sounds betrayed him. Twenty paces to the courtyard. Open ground would at least let him see death coming.
It materialized. From shadow to solid form. A wolf's muscles stretched over a human frame. Patchy fur gave way to lesioned skin. Worst were its proportions, limbs too long, joints bending backward then forward. Its face merged the worst of both species: human cunning peered through a wolf's skull, teeth crowding a half-formed muzzle.
Don't look at the teeth. Don't focus on the teeth.
"Whitelighter..."
The voice sounded wrong, inhuman yet eerily familiar. Cold sweat prickled down Davi's spine. Hells, it knows what I am.
Nostrils flaring, it inhaled deeply. "My mistress remembers your scent. She savors the memory of your brothers' essences."
Bile rose in his throat. So many gone. Because of her. His grip tightened, palm slick on the hilt. "Your mistress will wait a long time for mine."
A noise escaped its throat: laughter broken into sound-shards. "She does not request your cooperation, only your power." It stalked closer on misshapen legs. "Return in pieces or whole. Your choice."
There. A gap in the stones behind it. A route to the courtyard if he could just...
He moved left, spun right. His blade cut an arc through moonlight. Too slow. Move, damn arm, MOVE! Poison made his muscles sluggish. The creature sidestepped with unnatural grace.
"The corruption spreads within you." Yellow eyes never blinked. "Your magic sours beautifully."
Can't run. Can't stand. Can't win. Running meant death. Turning his back invited teeth into his spine. Standing ground promised the same end, just slower. The cold feeling in his chest grew, just as his survival instinct kicked in.
It sprang forward. Davi blocked its claws with his blade. The impact shot through metal into bone. His wounded arm seized. Vision blurred. Not now. Please not now. The creature pressed harder, backing him until stone met his spine.
Trapped.
Its misshapen mouth twisted. "The last Whitelighter, cornered like prey. Vexis will sing when I bring you to her."
Last? Surely not the last. He pressed fingers against his chest, felt the weak pulse of his magic. Almost gone. One chance. Make it count.
As the creature gathered to strike, Davi summoned what little power remained. Light formed between his fingers, not blinding radiance, just the feeble glow of a dying star. He cast it outward, shaping it through will and memory.
A ghost-Davi formed from scattered light, running toward the temple courtyard. An imperfect illusion - transparent at edges, movements too smooth. But instinct pulled at the hunter.
The beastwrought hesitated, attention split.
Davi threw himself sideways. Muscles burning with venom-fire as he tumbled across broken stone. The creature recovered quickly, abandoning the illusion for actual flesh. It bounded after him on all fours, covering ground with sickening speed.
Gasping, Davi sprinted through the maze of fallen walls. Each heartbeat pushed more poison through his veins. His body fought itself.
The courtyard opened before him. Three columns stood among ruins of what had been Luminaris's temple. The southwestern column leaned badly, ready to fall with enough leverage. Soldier's eyes saw escape; Whitelighter's eyes saw opportunity.
His heart hammered against ribs, each beat defying Vexis. This wouldn't be his grave. Others had survived Carradon; his fellow Whitelighters scattered, hiding. They needed warning, reuniting if possible. Even the strange fae woman might be in danger, her power coveted by the same forces hunting them.
He turned to face his hunter, positioning himself with the leaning column behind. The stench hit him, of meat left too long in summer heat, mixed with brimstone.
The beastwrought slowed at the courtyard's edge. Predator's calculation in its movement, but with cunning no natural beast possessed.
"No escape remains," it growled, voice carrying unnatural harmonics. "Vexis will taste your heart before sunrise."
"She'll wait longer than she expects." Strange calm settled over him. If he died tonight, he'd die fighting.. If he lived, he'd find survivors and warn others. Either way, purpose.
"Your mistress miscalculates. Again." He shifted stance slightly. "She never understood our order."
It gathered itself, muscles coiling beneath misshapen form. Davi measured distance with quick glances.
It attacked - blinding speed. He twisted aside, using its momentum. Claws tore his shoulder as he spun away. Warm blood down his back. No time for pain. He staggered toward the column, the creature just behind.
Seconds left.
Both hands wedged his sword into the gap where the leaning column rested against its neighbor. Wounded arm screamed. The blade slipped between ancient stones with a sound like final confession.
Hot breath on his neck. Teeth snapped on empty air.
He threw himself against the sword. The column groaned. Stone scraped stone. Resistance gave way as the massive pillar shifted.
He rolled sideways. Tons of marble crashed down. The beastwrought realized too late. Its howl changed to something almost human as crushing weight pinned its lower body. Dust billowed, coating everything ghostly white.
When air cleared, the creature still lived. Its torso thrashed against immovable stone, claws raking uselessly at marble. Yellow eyes burned hatred.
"This changes nothing," it snarled through bloodied teeth. "My mistress knows your scent. Her hunger never ends."
Davi retrieved his sword from rubble. "Tell your mistress to look elsewhere for her meal."
A distant howl answered the trapped companion. The hunt would continue. He'd won time, not escape.
He walked away. His arm no longer just burned, it felt like someone had replaced blood with the caustic oil Whitelighters once used to consecrate weapons. The venom advanced with each step.
Survival meant more than avoiding death tonight. It meant finding scattered brothers and sisters. Defying Vexis's destruction of his order. Finding others who might stand against her - perhaps even the fae woman whose power affected him so deeply. Her face steadied him. A connection to something not yet corrupted by Vexis.
He couldn't forget her. Moonlight skin. Those eyes shifting like water over stones. Her touch. Her scent—petrichor and possibility. Whatever fairy-kind she belonged to, she carried danger with her grace. Yet perhaps she needed protection most of all
By dawn, Davi left the ruins behind. From a hillside, he surveyed the broken Imperial Road stretching toward horizon, stone fractured and half-swallowed by weeds. World felt quiet here, but not safe. Never safe.
He joined the flow of travelers - refugees, merchants, mercenaries. Hood low, face hidden, steps blending with the crowd.
Ahead, guards with Sir Caladan's silver phoenix checked travelers. Polished armor gleamed in morning light, flaunting neutrality. Caladan's men didn't fight wars - they taxed them.
"Papers or payment," a guard barked, extending a gauntleted hand. Two others lingered nearby, casual stance, sharp eyes.
"Payment," Davi replied, holding out three gold coins. The guard glanced over him briefly, pointed to the collection box.
"Road's clear for twenty miles. After Widow's Bridge..." The guard shrugged, indifference heavy as his armor. "Not our concern."
Davi dropped coins into the iron box. "Anything I should know?"
The guard hesitated, voice dropping as he glanced at companions. "Something's moving through these parts. Left a merchant caravan in pieces near the crossroads. Official word is bandits, but..." He leaned closer, almost whispering. "Bandits don't leave footprints that melt stone."
Davi's gut tightened. Closer than he'd thought.
Beyond the bridge, forest closed around him. Tall trees, dense branches forming a canopy that filtered light to green-gold haze. Underbrush rustled then fell silent as he passed. He walked until dusk painted the sky purple and blue, then made camp in a small clearing beside the path.
No fire tonight. Not with what hunted.
He ate cold bread and dried meat, washed down with water. Soon he heard rustling nearby. Drew his sword in one motion, blade catching starlight through leaves.
"Easy, Whitelighter. I mean no harm."
The voice came from behind him, musical and familiar. He turned slowly. Asra stood at the clearing's edge, form shimmering slightly like seen through running water. She looked different. Cleaner, composed. Her clothing changed to a simple dress that clung yet flowed with each movement.
"You're following me," he said, lowering his sword but not sheathing it.
"Watching," she corrected. "Different thing."
"Since when?"
"Since that creature hunted you in the ruins." Her gaze grew distant, troubled. "I saw your battle with the beastwrought. Few survive those."
Davi stiffened. "You were there?"
"Water moves unseen when it wishes." A smile flickered across her lips. "I thought perhaps I'd been too hasty in my judgment of you. A mortal who dares stand against Vexis... that makes you rare indeed."
Her eyes lingered on his arm where corruption spread beneath his skin. "Your wound troubles you more than you admit. I might be able to help. If you'll allow it."
Davi studied her face for deception. In the ruins, she'd fled rather than stay with him. Now she offered aid. "Why would you risk yourself for me?"
Something flickered behind her eyes—memory perhaps, or calculation. "Because what hunts you hunts me as well. And because I once watched my entire settlement vanish under Vexis's hand." Her fingers curled into a fist. "She harvests our magic to fuel her own. My family, my people... they're all gone." She paused. "The markings in your wound - I've seen them before. My nature might counter it."
Wariness battled necessity. The wound worsened; he needed strength for what lay ahead. After a moment, Davi sheathed his sword and sat cross-legged on the forest floor.
Asra knelt beside him, form shimmering like sunlight through crystal waters. "This will hurt," she warned. "And you may see things... fragments of my memory, perhaps glimpses of yours. The connection flows both ways."
"What connection?" Davi asked, suddenly aware of how close she sat, her face inches from his.
Instead of answering, she reached for his bandaged arm. Her fingers hovered above the wound, not quite touching. Moonlight caught in the hollows of her collarbones as she leaned forward. "Do you trust me?"
The question hung between them. For a heartbeat, Kenrick's face flashed in Davi's mind—the calm calculation in his eyes as he betrayed three hundred Whitelighters at Carradon Ridge. Trust. The word tasted bitter. Then there was the strange pull he'd felt toward this fae woman when they first met, a sensation he still couldn't entirely explain. How much of what he felt was real?
And yet... she had returned. Had watched over him. Had offered help when she could have simply observed his death from the shadows.
"I do," he said, the hesitation giving way to certainty. "I trust you."
Her cool fingers unwrapped the soiled bandages. The wound beneath pulsed angry red, its edges ringed with unnatural blackness that spiderwebbed through surrounding flesh like poison roots seeking his heart.
As she touched him, her skin changed, becoming clear as crystal. Light pulsed beneath the surface.
Her fingers met his torn flesh and turned to fluid. Primordial water flowing from her veins into his. The line between them blurred as her fingers became streams that retained their shape.
"I can feel you," he whispered, shock mingling with wonder. Her eyes flicked to his, pupils dilated despite the darkness.
"This connection..." Her breath caught as the process intensified. "It binds us."
Pain erupted, not the burning agony of demon venom but a different torment: ice-cold and absolute, penetrating to marrow and memory. Davi's jaw clenched against a scream. His free hand instinctively grasped hers, fingers interlacing with surprising intimacy.
Don't let go. Please don't let go. The thought wasn't entirely his own.
Where healing energy flowed, his skin mirrored her transformation. Becoming translucent, veins illuminated from within by borrowed light. A shared shudder passed between them, something beyond pain, beyond magic.
Behind his eyes, visions ignited. A crystal lake encircled by silver-leafed trees. A community of water-beings in living structures that pulsed with consciousness. A desperate battle between fluid warriors and creatures of shadow. A young Asra fleeing as her home evaporated around her, steam rising like the ghosts of everyone she had ever loved.
She gasped. Her pupils dilated as she witnessed his memories. His failures? His triumphs? Carradon Ridge? His abandoned hopes? Her presence inside his mind was invasive yet almost tender.
For one moment, her hand became pure water molded into the memory of fingers, a perfect sculpture of liquid light pressing into his flesh. The forest around them faded away, leaving only their connection between them, intense and undeniable.
When it ended, Asra withdrew her hand with visible reluctance. Droplets of her essence clung to his skin before being absorbed completely, like raindrops vanishing into parched earth. Where the wound had been, frost patterns spread in intricate whorls of silvery-blue, fading even as he watched to reveal a scar that resembled water frozen in mid-flow.
"It's done," she whispered, her voice strained, face closer than before. He could count individual lashes framing her otherworldly eyes. "The poison is... changed. It will no longer kill you."
She flexed her hand as if ensuring it remained solid, the momentary fluidity of her form again contained. A single drop of sweat, or perhaps something more elemental, traced the curve of her throat.
Davi flexed his fingers, finding them responding without pain for the first time in weeks. Inside him, something had changed beyond mere physical healing; as if she had left some part of herself behind, a cool current flowing beneath his human heat.
"Thank you," he managed, the words inadequate. His fingers still tingled where they had touched her essence. He resisted the urge to reach for her again, to confirm she was still solid, still real.
Asra nodded, then stumbled as she tried to stand. Instinctively, he reached out to steady her, catching her arm. Her skin felt cool and slightly damp beneath his fingers, as if she had just emerged from water.
"The process takes much from me," she explained, not pulling away from his touch. "I need to rest."
"Stay," he found himself saying. "The night is dangerous for both of us alone."
She looked at him. Weighing something. Judging if his invitation meant more than spoken. After a moment, she settled cross-legged on the forest floor. Her fingers twitched. A shimmer in the air. Then food appeared - bread crusted like mother-of-pearl, strange translucent fruits, fish still carrying scale-shine though clearly cooked.
Davi stared.
"Healing burns through more than magic." Her smile came tired. "Hungry?"
She looked pale. Too pale. "Will you be all right?" Concern welled up, surprising him..
"Soon enough." She replied. "Eat."
The food tasted like nothing he'd known, and made him feel stronger with each bite. He watched her color improve as they ate. She even laughed at his clumsy attempts to spear the slippery fish.
The conversation skipped like stones across water. Food. Weather. Nothing that mattered. A mercy.
"After all that food," he said, back against rough tree bark, "we need a drink."
She studied him, head tilted. Fingers traced air-patterns. Two crystal vials materialized, hovering. The liquid inside caught moonbeams, swirling like star-water. She emptied half his portion onto the ground. The earth drank it, giving off soft blue light where it landed. Her vial stayed full.
"Small portion for you," she cautioned, raising her drink. "What barely tickles me would knock you senseless."
He sipped. Cool sharpness. Like drinking mountain air and starlight. Warmth bloomed outward from his chest. The forest... changed.
His sight sharpened. Then softened. Tree bark breathed in and out. Leaves talked to each other in whispers. The ground hummed old songs beneath him.
What surprised him was seeing water everywhere. Luminous streams flowed up through trees from roots to leaves. Moisture hung in the air, connecting everything in an intricate web. Mist from their breath, dew on leaves, the distant sound of a stream—all pulsed with the same rhythm, circulating through the forest like blood through veins.
"The trees," he whispered, wobbling forward. The certainty of the thoroughly drunk. "They're alive. Like... really alive. They're drinking." He emphatically pointed at an oak. "That one's thirsty."
..
..
Asra laughed. Real laugh. Not the guarded thing from before. "All things are," she said after her mirth settled. "The drink just lets you see what's already there."
He leaned closer. Fascinated by how air shimmered around her. Moonlight passed through parts of her skin. Revealed currents beneath.
He reached toward the blue glow outlining her form. His fingers stopped short of her face. Hovering in the space between.
Her expression shifted. Curiosity to concern. She moved back. Set down her vial.
"What do you fear from me, fae creature" The drink loosened his tongue. Made him bold.
"Capture." Her voice went hard. "Death. For us, life and freedom are the same tide. From water I came. To water I'll return when I die."
"You become water?"
"Fairy-blood. Potent magic. Sought by those who can't use magic, and those who shouldn't."
He nodded. Understanding crashed through him. The memory of her hand turning to liquid during the healing. That kind of power—bottled, sold—worse than death for her kind.
They sat quiet. Night deepened around them. The forest hummed strange music. Neither spoke of the memories they'd shared. Too raw. Too close.
"You should know," she murmured as sleep dragged at him, "what you felt when we first met... wasn't natural."
"How?" He fought against heavy eyelids.
"Our magic, our scent affects humans. Strongest on those already touched by power, like you. Why those mercenaries hunted me. Why humans have tracked my kind for centuries. Our presence intoxicates. Enchants."
"The slap..."
"Broke the spell. Briefly." Her eyes caught starlight. "Humans have forgotten much about the fae. Or never knew." Vulnerability and strength mixed in her gaze. Her fingers traced air-patterns, conjuring water-spheres that split into droplets, then reformed.
"Never told a human this before." The water vanished into mist. "My grandmother spoke of water crossing paths with light-bearers." She hesitated. "I need to know if that's why we met."
He tried to ask more. Sleep pulled harder. His dreams filled with silver leaves and singing water flowing over ancient stones. And beneath those dreams, a voice not entirely his whispered of prophecies, vengeance, and choices waiting to be made.
The End
Dear friends, thank you for reading part 2 of a Brief Interlude. My offering for Swords and Saturday on the 10th of May 2025 -
andNo illustrations this time. I didn’t take into account the extra work required to split a completed story into a serial, which is something I have never done before. What works in single narrative doesn’t always translate well to partwork - the whole beastwrought scene was a new addition, one I didn’t factor in timewise. Now that I am aware I shall hopefully manage to avoid this problem with future issues - at least I hope so :)
Thank you once again for reading, and I hope you look forward to the next part on Wednesday.