𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗛𝗔𝗗𝗢𝗪𝗦 ──── fourth wing

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗡

"It is my opinion that of all the signet powers riders provide, mending is the most precious, but we cannot allow ourselves to become complacent when in the company of such a signet. For menders are rare, and the wounded are not."

—Major Frederick's Modern Guide for Healers

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

Dain immediately rushes to my side when he sees Violet's injury. His hand touches my bare shoulder, and he says something I can't quite make out over the roaring din of my thoughts. Wordlessly, I hook my arms under Violet, preparing to lift her.

"Get the doors open," I bark at Dain, the urgency raw in my voice. He nods and bolts ahead, clearing the way for us.

We hurry out of the gym with swift, determined strides. Sgaeyl's presence tries to break through the storm, clouding my mind, but I can't let her in right now. I can't let anyone in. Not when my thoughts are clawed fields of pain and anger—because if Sgaeyl sees, so will Xaden.

Xaden. Just the thought of his name sends a ripple of unease through me. I glance briefly to the side and catch Onyx's eyes following me, but that's all I can afford before refocusing on the task.

Dain holds the gym door open, a beacon of calm amid the chaos. I push through, carrying Violet as gently yet swiftly as possible. Her face contorted in pain fuels the fire within me, but I force it down.

The corridor ahead seems to stretch infinitely, each step a test of my resolve as the urgency to reach the healers intensifies. The rhythmic thud of my footsteps blends with the rapid beat of my heart, each echo a reminder of the stakes.

"Sgaeyl, stay silent for a moment longer," I mentally plead, feeling her restrain herself, her concern palpable.

Finally, we burst into the healer's wing. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the low hum of magical wards are a stark contrast to the raw, chaotic fear inside me. Healers rush forward, their faces masks of focused determination.

I set Violet down gently. "She's hurt... please, help her," I manage to say, my voice breaking slightly.

As the healers take over, I step back, my legs shaking with the effort to remain upright. Dain turns to me, his face a mix of shared anguish and determination. "She'll be alright. They'll take care of her," he assures, squeezing my shoulder.

I nod, hoping he's right and this place will not claim another piece of my heart. In the sad quiet of the healer's wing, I face the reality of our training, knowing that every decision we make, in battle or the classroom, echoes far beyond ourselves.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, Nolon arrives. He kneels beside Violet, speaking to her softly as he tends to her wounds. I tune out most of their exchange, unable to bear the sound of her screams, the grunts of pain, and the sickening crunch of breaking bones.

But my attention snaps back when Dain's voice cuts through the chaos. My head jerks up, eyes narrowing into slits. "What? We can't bring her back to the scribe quadrant now, Dain. Are you mad?" I snap, the words coming out sharp and accusatory.

Dain meets my gaze, his expression rugged. "Do not take this with me now, Emberlyn, please," he replies, his tone steady but firm.

I snort, crossing my arms defiantly. "You are the one who brought up this topic in the first place," I snarl, shoving his chest with a finger to emphasize my point.

"Yes, because I don't want her hurt, Emberlyn. You know how much she means to me," Dain says, his voice thick with emotion. His eyes soften as they meet mine. "How both of you mean to me."