THE APPRENTICE III

1

The air was hot, wild, and she was seeing...red. There was a trail of blood everywhere she went, sounds of groaning harmonizing with desperate wails. The walls were closing in on themselves and her senses were dialed up.

"Help me!" Hazel managed to sputter out, her legs jelly and her eyes blurry with tears. She could barely even stand on her own. There was a lump in her throat that wouldn't let her speak. "Please, please god! Please! Help me!"

She dashed through the halls with bloody hands that stained the marble floors of Pentadilune. Heskit perked up at the sound and rushed to meet the source. He managed to catch her as she was just about to swerve by a pillar.

"Hazel?" He's never seen the sorcerer like this. She was frantic, her eyes fighting horror with despair. There were red stains on her face and hands. "What's wrong?,"

"Heskit, I need your help! Bring all your healers, please!" She made a portal back to the sanctum and cocked her head violently to it. "All of them! I need you!,"

"Who-,"

"-Stephen! It's Stephen, please! We don't have much time!" She pleaded and stomped her leg. All her composure was nowhere to be seen.

"Okay. Keep the portal open." He gave a firm nod and his eyes filled with determination. He switched from casual to crisis-mode in two seconds, his posture straightening. "Gather all the healers, I want everyone from the south and the north. Tell them to follow us."

He commanded to the guard. In an attempt to run back, Hazel slid to the floor from all the blood on it, tripping over her own feet. Heskit looped his arm around hers to help her out and they entered the sanctum.

Heskit's eyes doubled in size at the sight. It was like all his blood left his body— this was probably the most gruesome thing he's ever seen in his entire life. His breathing turned shallow.

Stephen was laid out on one of the kitchen tables with Wong unconscious on the other. There were a few scratches on the sorcerer supreme's head, but nothing too serious. Stephen, on the other hand, was a different case. There was a huge opening on his torso, and anyone could have seen his organs from a few meters away. There was blood everywhere— on the table, on his clothes, on the floor. He curled his lip in horror— how can anyone possibly survive this? It looked like he was eaten by a beast.

"He- he's still breathing. There's hope." Hazel could tell what he was thinking, so she squeezed his arm and pulled him closer. "He was attacked by a creature. They both were, during a mission."

He simply gave a firm nod and took a deep breath. Instantly, minty colored mist flew from his hands to the man's wounds. The magic barely did anything. He let out a shaky exhale and turned to his healers.

"I need all of you to keep your hands on him, now!"

Heskit commanded to the healers who ran through the portal and did as he said. By this time, a community of mystics emitted a blueish light to concentrate on his wound. Hazel joined them with shaky hands, more tears falling when she saw his heart rate slowing down on the machine.

"Wh-why isn't it working?" Her voice broke towards the end of the question. She took shallow breaths. "We're healing him!,"

"It's...too big of a wound. He's lost too much tissue." He confessed with pain and leaned closer. He tried to hide his frown and shook his head. "Stitching won't help, either."

Hazel's stomach dropped to her feet. Golden light popped from her hair and skin, her tears turning gold. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be real. Now is not gonna be the time for him to die. He's lying, isn't he? But why would he lie? Stephen isn't dying— not while she's alive.