"Can't you heal yourself?"
Kael's voice was low, almost a whisper, but close enough to make Josselyn tense.
She did not answer right away. Her breathing was still heavy. Every small movement made her back feel like it was burning from the inside out.
"I asked," Kael repeated quietly, lowering himself slightly to meet her level. "You can't?"
Josselyn blinked slowly.
The memory came without warning.
Blood.
A blade.
And Yorick's calm smile.
She remembered clearly how he had once sliced her hand, deep, without hesitation. And how the wound had closed quickly, leaving almost no trace.
Josselyn swallowed.
"I… can," she murmured at last. "I should be able to."
Kael did not respond immediately. His gaze dropped to her back, though it was covered by fabric now darkening with blood.
"Then why not?" he asked again.
Josselyn shook her head faintly.
"I don't know either…" Her voice grew softer. "Maybe… the wound is too severe."
Or maybe…
She did not finish the thought.
Kael narrowed his eyes slightly.
"Or," he said slowly, "you've been using your power too much lately."
Josselyn fell silent.
"What do you mean?"
Kael did not answer right away. He studied her for a moment longer before speaking.
"Your mother used to be like that."
The words landed softly. Their impact did not.
Josselyn froze. Her chest tightened.
The more she learned, the more unfamiliar the woman she called mother became.
"My mother… was like this too?"
"Kael."
The voice cut in, cold. Like a warning.
Killian.
He stood not far from them, his gaze sharp as it fixed on Kael. His jaw was tight, clearly displeased with the distance between them.
"Step away from her."
It was not a request.
Kael raised a brow, but stepped back half a pace without protest.
"Seems you're very protective of your alchemist," he muttered lightly.
Josselyn swallowed, glancing briefly at Killian before shaking her head.
"He's just worried I won't be useful here," she said casually.
Killian did not respond to that. He simply moved closer, standing at Josselyn's side without a word.
But his presence was enough. It formed an invisible boundary around her.
"My mother… is inside," Rivan said bluntly. "Her name is Liora."
He did not invite them in directly. He simply opened the door wide, then stepped inside first.
Josselyn followed, with Killian behind her.
Rivan's house was small. Old wood, slightly crooked walls, and windows half-covered with worn cloth.
The air inside felt suffocating the moment they entered.
"Don't…!"
The voice broke sharply.
A woman in the corner flinched, her body recoiling as soon as the light from the open door reached her.
"Fire… don't… don't light it!"
Her hands trembled. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. Her breathing was uneven.
Rivan moved to her immediately.
"Mother… it's okay. There's no fire," he said quickly, trying to calm her.
But the woman kept shaking. She covered her ears.
"No… no… I don't want to hear it…"
Her sobs broke through, not just soft cries but tears streaming down her face.
Josselyn watched in silence. Her chest tightened.
This isn't hatred, she thought. This is a wound.
Rivan lifted his head and looked at Josselyn.
"I don't regret it," he said suddenly, his voice hoarse. "I won't take back what I did."
Josselyn did not answer. In truth, she did not mind. If this was the reason, she could understand.
She glanced at Killian.
This man was hard to read. Sometimes his actions needed no strong reason at all. As if everything depended on his mood.
"But…" Rivan continued, his jaw tightening, "I didn't intend to kill you either."
Tension filled the air again.
Killian stood behind them, silent. His expression unreadable.
Josselyn drew a slow breath.
"I know," she replied softly.
Rivan looked surprised.
Josselyn took a small step forward, though her footing wavered.
"She needs it more," she continued quietly, looking at the woman.
Killian frowned immediately. "You're not serious."
Josselyn did not turn. As if making it clear she did not care.
"If not now, she will never recover."
"You're injured."
"I can still try."
Killian had already opened his mouth, ready to argue again. Josselyn cut him off.
"That's not the answer you want, is it?"
She finally turned to him. Her gaze was tired, but firm.
"I know what I'm doing." Her breath hitched. "And I'm still going to do it."
Killian stared at her for a long moment. Then he looked away.
He did not agree. But he did not stop her.
Josselyn slowly lowered herself in front of the middle-aged woman.
"It's okay," she whispered gently. "There's no fire here."
Her gaze shifted to Rivan. "Please, cover her eyes for a moment."
Rivan almost protested. But Kael signaled for him to comply.
Reluctantly, he obeyed. He hummed softly as he covered his mother's eyes.
Liora clutched his hand. Her body trembled. But his other hand gently stroked her hair.
Slowly, her sobs began to subside.
Josselyn raised her hand. A faint glow appeared, like white fire. At first, it was steady.
She placed her hand over Liora's chest, as if guiding the light into her body.
Liora flinched.
"Hot…" she whimpered in panic.
Rivan shot Josselyn an angry look. But she ignored him. Her brow furrowed deeply as she focused her power.
Then her hand trembled. Her breath faltered.
"I…" she murmured.
The light flickered, then wavered. The heat turned against her, burning from within.
Josselyn clenched her teeth. Her breath broke.
Just a little more…
Liora began to calm. Her breathing steadied. The hand that had been clutching Rivan slowly relaxed.
But Josselyn felt her vision blur.
"Wait…" Her voice was barely audible. The tremor in her hand became obvious.
The light flickered once more.
Then it went out.
Her body swayed.
"Enough."
Killian's voice was sharp.
Before Josselyn could fall, she was already lifted into his arms.
"Your Highness…" she protested weakly.
"Quiet."
The tone was cold. Firm. Absolute.
"I'm not finished…"
"You won't finish anything if you die," Killian snapped. "And I won't allow that."
Josselyn wanted to respond. But her breathing was too heavy. Faintly, she heard his voice again.
"Call the best healer."
The command was short.
"Yes, Your Highness."
That was the village chief. Josselyn was sure he answered while nodding quickly.
"Make sure her wound is cleaned. No infection. And give her the best healing tonic."
"Yes, Your Highness."
The voice came again.
And then Josselyn's eyes closed.
~
Morning came slowly.
Josselyn opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was a wooden ceiling. The scent of herbs. And the pain, still there, but much lighter.
She took a slow breath. Still alive.
The door creaked open.
"Howarth?"
The silver-haired man entered with his younger brother, Sebastian.
"Ah, finally awake," Sebastian said lightly, a faint smile on his face.
Josselyn returned the smile. Her gaze shifted to Howarth beside him, about to greet him.
Then she paused.
"Your face…"
Howarth touched his cheek. A bruise marked it.
"A small problem last night," he said casually, as always smiling. Though Josselyn caught the slight twitch at the corner of his lips as he held back pain.
"A problem?" Josselyn asked.
Sebastian chuckled softly.
"Small? He almost lost his jaw," he added.
"Howarth."
Josselyn pushed herself up slightly, despite the lingering pain.
"What happened?"
Howarth fell silent for a moment. His hand brushed over his bruised jaw.
"His Highness…"
His smile was thin, almost mocking.
"…almost killed someone last night."