In the aftermath of Kyle Serian's encounter with a dark creature, he has been left poisoned by a fatal bite. His festering wound is what forced him to find a cure. In his search, he came to realize that he had no memory past the last month. He only...
Sitting in her room, contemplating whether or not to accept the sorcerer's offer, Ingrid stared at her grandmother's book. She gazed every nook and cranny. There was but a star shining in the midst, whose rays touched each corner. She searched the book as if her answer were there. It frustrated her the more she searched. With her contemplation going nowhere, she decided to go look for her brother.
She passed by the hallway, sauntering moodily, and emerged at the terrace. She reeled at the thought of when she told Aiden to go to Lôra. Briefly, she closed her eyes, reminiscing her words to him, then continued her search.
"Woman who can do no wrong, What ails you?" said a voice from behind her.
She faced him with a serious stare. It was Brum, in his suit of armor, wearing a cheery grin.
She couldn't help but smile at his attempt to please her. Her firm expression broke, but she was quick to be rid of her smile when she asked, "Have you seen Henry?"
"He's at the stables preparing to tag along in the brigade," replied he, looking at her admiringly.
She thanked him, maintaining a poised composure, and proceeded to march past him.
"Always happy to help, my lady," Brum put in as he watched her walk away, still with much to say. Teed off at a missed opportunity.
Ingrid disappeared into the corner and saw Henry in the stables brushing one of the horses. "I think they have people for that little brother," she teased.
"I don't mind, horses are always good company," responded Henry, who was combing the horse's crest.
"Better than people?"
"Better than most, I like their silence. They are not as complicated as everyone else with their thoughts and prejudice." Henry set the brush aside.
"That is so like you, I'm not even going to argue—listen, Henry," she patted his arm.
"Wait don't tell me your leaving," blurted out Henry. He twisted round to look his sister full in the face.
"No, quite the opposite actually. I might be here for a longer time. Alistair offered to make me his apprentice. If I accept his offer. I could possibly settle here," she said with great disdain.
"Is that what you want?" said Henry lowering his gaze to meet hers.
"I don't know, but I got the book." Ingrid gripped her satchel. She glanced at her feet. Uneasiness stirred in her chest.
"The Sorcerer's Spellbook?"
"Yes," said Ingrid trying to shush him.
"So you are considering it."
She looked at him grimly, blinking rapidly. "How are you feeling? Have the effects of the drugs worn off you?"
"They're almost gone." He said, looking at his arm where needle marks should be. "It does not seem like you at all. You always disliked these high and mighty things."
Ingrid smiled sideways, still pondering on the matter. Her gaze lost in thought.
"Whatever you chose, Ingrid, I'm here for you."
Her emotions get the better of her; realizing the weight of the responsibility, she bit her lip.
Henry hugged her. She snugged her chin against his shoulder. She brought the sleeve of her dress to her cheek to wipe her tears.
"What about you?" remarked Ingrid, her eyes started to well up again.
"I'll be fine, Ingrid."
She wrapped her arms around him tighter. He sensed a deeper conflict but didn't mention it.
. . .
She sniffled and brushed away her tears. Slowly composing herself, she looked at her brother one last time.
Henry tilted his head to gauge her state of mind. Ingrid gave him a smile.
She stormed off to the courtyard. She stopped for a moment; it was as if time had slowed. Breathing in deeply, nothing seemed to change her mind. Taking a step to the side, she made her way to the infirmary.
• • •
Hunched over a cauldron was Alistair brewing a potion, he uttered healing enchantments: "Ipodonda mabi". He knew she was in the room without looking at her and said, "Did you know that as powerful as these potions are, they cannot replenish lost blood."
"That whatever is pure, when lost, cannot be returned," replied Ingrid.
"Yes, that is what the mages say. It is common knowledge with those of power ... So does your being here mean you have taken up my offer?"
She lifted the flap on her satchel and brought out the spellbook. "Are those healing potions?" she asked.
"Ah! Yes, indeed they are." He glanced at the book. "Where did you get this?" Alistair looked at her suspiciously, carefully taking the book away from her. "Few copies were made other than those with the high sorcerers."
"It was my grandmother's."
"The mage," confirmed Alistair. He had curiosity in his eye. "Even if a mage had this, she wouldn't be able to use it. Where did she get it?"
"I don't know. It's been with her for as long as I can remember."
Alistair looked up at her after reading a few pages. "Perhaps an ancestor of yours was a High Sorcerer. What did you do before you came here?"
"I made a living as a healer," she said confidently.
"To be a healer is one thing, a sorcerer is another. There are more responsibilities and access to certain spells ... But let us hone your skills as a healer first—" Alistair set aside the book. "—your apprenticeship starts today."
![Vaehandre: Where The Stars Fall [Under Revision]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/222339959-64-k458428.jpg)