The Healer ✔

Chapter Three

Mikhail's snores quietened down during the rest of the night, as though subconsciously he knew he had to keep quiet. Nothing else had bothered them, despite to noises Elora had heard from her post at the base of the tree.

When the sun had risen and Nyal had awoken she allowed herself to get a couple of hours while he practised. It was something he had been doing since they escaped the cavern and had healed up completely. He would gather the water from his flask, spinning it around himself like he was fighting an invisible monster. She had smiled at his show of strength as she'd drifted off to sleep.

The sun was still low in the sky when she woke, casting a warm orange glow through the forest. She couldn't have slept more than two hours. She caught a glimpse of Nyal's back as he made the water flow around the tiny clearing.

Standing up with a stretch, she could see that Mikhail and Ragen were still asleep, pressed against one another on a branch they shared high up in the tree. That was not what I created them for, a disgusted voice told her.

"And what did you create them for, father?" she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper, "Your own entertainment? So you could watch what happens when they are left to their own devices? Well, that's what happens."

Yararanje said nothing in reply, leaving her mind peacefully silent. She thought back to a week ago, he had yelled at her for hours, loud enough to keep her from sleeping. It took yelling from both her and Nyal to quiet him down enough for her to rest.

Elora shook her head, already angry and she had barely been awake ten minutes. Nyal noticed then that she was awake, stopping his new morning ritual and wandering over to her, water hovering in a ball behind him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, a common question she was quickly getting sick of hearing. She only nodded, not bothering to answer. He would probably be able to tell what was wrong anyway.

There was silence for a while, Nyal's eyes drifting up to Ragen and Mikhail and smiling at the pair. "Father doesn't approve," she told him, despite her thoughts.

"Who cares what he thinks," Nyal replied. He had grown bolder with his remarks about her father over the weeks they had spent together, even though he knew exactly what the powerful god thought about them. "If he can't even come down here and help his people, what gives him the right to judge what they do?"

Yararanje said something then, but Elora didn't care enough to pay attention. Over the years she had learned to ignore his remarks if they were quiet enough. Years and years with a voice in her head taught her how to push it away when she needed to. It wasn't like he was going to help her in any way.

"Elora?" Nyal called, pulling her away from her thoughts. "Did you want me to have another go at your wings?" He gestured at the sore appendages, worry pulling at his features.

She shook her head. "No, it's only a few feathers that need to fall out, and then I'll be alright," she said. "I can already fly properly again."

Nyal nodded, "Alright," he said. "If you're sure."

"I am."

"Okay." A silence lingered over them, not an awkward or uncomfortable one, but one that told each other that they were alright, that they were going to be just fine. She sighed, feeling relaxed for the first time that week. She stretched out her wings, raising her arms and yawning loudly.

They stayed like that for a long time, Elora becoming lost in thought. She found comfort in Nyal's presence, despite everything that had happened between them. Her mind took her back to Fiume, to the night where the kingdom's farms burned to the ground. The same night Nyal told her that he had seen the dragon and done nothing about it. She had been so angry at him, all her trust in him obliterated in the two seconds it took him to say the words. She had spent the night flying about, hoping for any sign of the hybrid and only seeing the orange flames dance against the dark ground, something that had only angered her further.