Eight of Hearts: The Vision - Book 2

Chapter 27

Shyla watched Flora walk away, then her eyes fell to the towel in her hands. She didn't have any experience dealing with magic, but she had studied the HDSF's records about them extensively during her years of training.

Harbingers.

The name brought chills to Shyla's spine, but she pushed the idea from her head. Harbingers were even more secretive than an HDSF agent; they only revealed themselves to people who had untapped potential for magic. They were recruiters, basically, scouting the worlds for candidates to join their cause. They were also exterminators, should their offer be refused.

Flora had likely tapped into some untrained power within her; especially considering the raw mana she had infused the water with. Shyla had read of healers who would pure their own life force into water--whether or not it was formed by magic didn't matter--to purify it, and grant it healing power. But that was considered an incredible waste of mana, since it drained the healer faster than a simple curative spell would. The greatest proof of mana-infused water was that it would not become tainted, as long as mana remained in it.

"She's a sweet girl," the woman Shyla had been tending said.

"She is," Shyla agreed. She could see Flora, kneeling over the bucket, pouring water from her cupped hands little by little. "She's too soft-hearted for this line of work, though."

With the woman's shoulder reset, Shyla began working back through the serious injuries with the purified towel in hand. She unbound and carefully cleaned each wound, and watched with a mix of trepidation and amazement as Flora's mana-imbued water did its work. Dirt and infections were cleaned away; skin reformed, closing up cuts and gashes; the relief from pain was nearly instant. Soon everyone was whispering about the incredible miracle being performed by the healer with the towel.

"It's not me," Shyla told each one as she worked. "That girl is the one who made this possible," she said, pointing to Flora who continued to fill the bucket, one handful at a time. I'm your enemy, she wanted to say. You wouldn't thank me if you knew who I really was. You would kill me if you found out my identity.

When she finished with the last, she slumped back against a locker, exhausted. Flora seemed worn out too, likely having reached the limits of her mana. But she smiled happily as she allowed the freshly healed Lost drink the clean water she had worked so hard to provide.

Shyla couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy as she watched.

"It's remarkable what a difference there is in treatment between the blessed and the hardworking," a voice spoke from beside her, startling her.

Shyla turned to see Cecil, watching the people crowding around Flora. "Cecil! What are you doing here?"

Cecil shrugged. "I also elected to stay behind; I wouldn't be much help in a fight, and I am ill prepared for a difficult climb."

Shyla nodded in understanding. Cecil had revealed himself as a fellow HDSF field agent, though a strictly non-combatant one. "I didn't even see you standing here," Shyla commented.

"Years of practice in the field," Cecil said with pride. "I must say, I admire you, truly. You have experience and skill for treating the injured, yet you give credit to your companion, even though she has none."

Shyla shrugged, trying to ignore the private sting his words brought. "She has a gift, and it's that gift that made the difference."

"And again, you pass all the credit to her," Cecil said with a smile. "You are truly a saint, miss Shyla. Most people I've met are vile creatures who favor base emotions like pride and jealousy. If only everyone was as good and kind as you."