The Angel Fell Twice

Chapter 4. Not of Aether Blood

Marina had settled in, as a healer. She used the parchment and ink to document her experiences here at the Order of Karma. She had a small nurse's room in the top floor of the guild hall, easily accessible by all. Next to her, a man named Floris healed the guild members' heavy gash wounds with magic spells. He was known to be the best source for big wounds, while she was toe go-to for minor injuries. She hadn't yet revealed her ability, as she utilized simple materials such as bandages and medicine to aid members. Arthur watched her smile and wave off yet another minor injured member. From the other side of the hall, Floris smirked mockingly, his golden medal gleaming under the torch lights as he turned back to a new guild member.

Arthur and his men returned from a mission, one of whom was grievously injured. The wounded knight whimpered in pain, limping towards Sir Floris. "Floris. This injury is like none we have encountered before... We faced a shadow traverser, and her weapon is a dreadful force. Behold, it has caused a dark blue hue to spread over his flesh like poison," Arthur explained softly, his eyes clouded with worry. The injured knight breathed heavily, clutching his wound.

"Fear not, sir. I am well-versed in healing; you have not ranked me the highest healer in the guild without cause," Floris replied confidently. He seated the man and began chanting a spell, a ball of green energy forming in his hand. He pressed it against the wound, but it dissipated into nothingness. "W-What sorcery is this?" Floris stuttered. He attempted the spell again with greater focus, the ball of energy growing far larger. He pressed it down once more, but to no avail. Over and over, Floris drained his mana, unable to halt the spread of the dark magic.

"Ughh..." the knight groaned, lying back in despair. A crowd had gathered, fellow guild members whispering prayers for their stricken comrade.

"Agh... A-Am I to perish here?" the man mumbled, his voice tinged with fear.

"Nay, we shall not allow it. We have another healer among us," Arthur declared, turning his gaze to Marina, who watched intently from the crowd. "Marina! Come forth!" Arthur called out.

Marina clenched her fists, as she looked up at Arthur. Silently, he nodded. She did not wish to attract attention to herself. Yet this emergency demanded it. She tightened her grip on her Raven's Veil hood, and ran over, her head bowed shyly.

"Please, Marina. Heal this man," Arthur implored, desperation in his eyes. "He has been struck by a blade infused with dark energy. Floris could not counteract it. Can you try?"

Marina took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. "I shall do my best," she said, her voice steady. She knelt beside the injured knight, her hands glowing with a golden light as she began to chant an ancient healing spell, angelic letterings appearing around her. The onlookers watched in shock. "I-I will," Marina nodded, her voice barely a whisper amidst the oppressive silence of the chamber. The eyes of the gathered throng bore down upon her, a weight that made her hands tremble with unbidden nerves. Yet, with a deep, steadying breath, she placed her hands over the grievous wounds of the stricken man before her.

"Ugh..." he groaned, eyelids fluttering shut as consciousness slipped away. Marina's focus sharpened, and a golden aura began to flicker around her like the first light of dawn breaking through the night. Her hands, trembling no more, glowed with a radiant gold as she intoned an ancient, arcane chant. Ethereal letters, shimmering like ghostly fireflies, materialized and circled her form, coalescing with each uttered word.

As the final syllable left her lips, the golden letters blazed a brilliant white, illuminating the dim chamber. A burst of verdant energy erupted from her hands, enveloping the man in a radiant glow. The dark energy that had festered within his wounds was transformed, dissipating into the air as delicate, white speckles. Before the eyes of the astonished onlookers, his injuries knit themselves together with miraculous speed.

Marina's hair lifted gently, caught in the ethereal glow of her power. The golden aura around her intensified before gradually fading as the spell reached its culmination. She exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Turning slowly, she met Arthur's gaze with a triumphant smile.

"SHE HAS DONE IT!" Arthur's voice rang out, a call of victory. He seized her glowing hand and thrust it skyward. The room exploded with applause and cheers. Floris stood frozen, eyes wide in astonishment.

Amidst the jubilation, comrades and well-wishers surrounded Marina, offering pats on the shoulder and words of gratitude. She smiled awkwardly, bowing her head in humble acknowledgment of their praise. Turning back to the healed man, Marina felt his hand grasp hers, his eyes filled with profound relief and gratitude. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice a soft rasp. "I owe you my life."

"No, that is unnecessary," Marina replied, her smile gentle and warm.

Amidst the congratulations and kind words, she saw the piercing stare of a sharp-featured woman, who spoke to Arthur silently. The two walked away suddenly, as he waved her off. Yet she could not shake off the feeling of discomfort.

In a large room, there stood a table with a massive map, on it the massive world tree of Stormfell drawn along with the city's architecture and structure. It was surrounded with thrones, the largest one of which, he sat down upon. The woman who pulled him in angrily slammed her fist on the desk infront of him, stood beside him in a dutiful manner. "Arthur, who the hell is that?"
"Who do you speak of, my love?"
"That healer! She doesn't use Aether, the magic that runs through our veins, through the blood of the people of Stormfell." she glared at him.
"My love, I can explain."
"Explain what, that you've brought yet another outsider into our guild?"
"Look, she can be useful to us. Her heart is noble, and—"
"Have you learned nothing?" the raven haired woman's voice rose with exasperation, and she swept a large blue flame lantern off the table, the crash of shattered glass echoing through the chamber. The flames shifted colors, painting a chilling image of a jagged armored figure grinning amidst destruction and fallen knights impaled with steel chains. Arthur swiftly dispersed the illusion with a wave of his hand, his brow furrowed in regret.
"Isabel, she is not like him... And if she poses a threat, I can intervene. I have given her the Raven's Veil, infused with the Aether of the world tree. I can neutralize her if necessary."
Isabel clenched her fists, her eyes burning with intensity. "Being cautious isn't enough," she retorted bitterly, her gaze fixed on Arthur. "We cannot afford another betrayal."
"I understand, my love. Yet she possesses the power and will to restore Stormfell to its former glory, as it was three centuries past. To dismantle our threats, to stop the likes of him..." Arthur's voice softened as he gently took Isabel's hands in his own.

"Or to destroy it."

"That shall not happen," Arthur assured her tenderly. "Even if she were to turn against us, she is no match for our guild."

"No match? She wields healing prowess that eclipses the greatest living healer of Aether, and you claim she is no match for us?"

"That is precisely why we must embrace outsiders as our own, lest they become the very foes we fear. That's what happened to him."

"You are insufferable," Isabel scoffed, turning to depart, her steps echoing in the chamber. Arthur sighed softly, his gaze shifting down to the massive elder tree drawn on the map.