VISION ✔️ || The Keepers of Astraela #1

37.0 || Of Illness and Letting Go

MYSTIA

MYSTIA COULDN'T STOP STARING at Bobbi. Even when they emerged back in the common room, the darkness surrounding her new friend lingered. No matter how many times she averted her eyes, hoping that she would forget its presence without the crystal shard, it was as if the aura had its own gravitational pull.

They had to get to the bottom of it, and with her rejuvenated strength, she was determined to find its source—with or without Bobbi's knowledge.

Mystia's mind whirred with probable causes, but her thoughts continually rounded to the same place: the aura cast no pulse or vibe in a non-visual form. It was unreadable to an eye unscorched by hellfire.

The spinning theories had consumed her to such a degree that she never noticed the silence until she paused in front of the fireplace. While Bobbi wasn't a panic-talker like Eva, she'd filled the space with light conversation ever since their trek to the tavern. Mystia turned, only to find Bobbi's expression unwell. A light sweat had broken on her forehead, and an ill look plagued her eyes when she came to a stop beside Mystia.

"Are you all right?"

Bobbi blinked, eyes almost unfocused. "I need to sit down."

With a curt nod, Mystia put a hand on her back and guided her toward the couch. Bobbi took a seat gratefully.

Mystia patted her shoulder. "Lie down, and I'll fetch you some herbal tea." She let out what she hoped sounded like a consoling chuckle. "Maybe you've had too much excitement for one day."

Bobbi nodded, lying back against a plush throw pillow and bringing her legs onto the couch to recline. As her eyes fluttered shut, her forehead still creased from whatever ailed her.

Mystia's well-practiced smile faltered. As she rounded the couch, a patch of black fur caught her attention. Skell snuck quietly along the furniture, but stopped just in time for his owner to snatch him by the scruff of the neck. He let out a short squeak in protest.

Once in the kitchen, Mystia paused, holding Skell in the palms of her hands. "You're never wrong, love. Something's off with that girl."

Skell chittered in response, as if to say "I told you so," while she placed him on the counter.

Crossing the kitchen to her kettle, her mind swarmed with thoughts of Bobbi's condition. While she recalled illness being common on Earth, from constant plagues to something called a "cold," she wasn't convinced her companion's sudden state had anything to do with a virus.

Mystia pulled open an upper cabinet that held jars of dried herbs. There had to be something that would aid her in finding the root of Bobbi's problem—though she wasn't sure she wanted to waste the proper remedial ingredients for illness just to rule out what she already knew.

A loud crash emanated from the common room.

She whipped around to share a horrified look with Skell before slamming the cupboard shut. But as soon as she pushed through the doors to the common room, she ground to a halt.

Every Nectar bottle had been knocked from the mantle, along with the perfectly-stacked pyramid of tumblers. Glass and luminescent liquid littered the carpet and furniture.

Bobbi was nowhere in sight.

Mystia lifted a hand over the dagger tattooed along her collarbone, materializing the weapon from its enchanted ink. She took a careful step into the room and immediately stopped as she heard the subtle rustling of fabric. The noise began again, this time above her. Whirling around, Mystia caught a shape moving above the swinging kitchen door.