Page 122 of Alchemised
The nearly moonless sky loomed overhead as she stepped outside, bright with winter stars. She let out a harsh breath which rose like a fog, blotting them out.
She turned her eyes to the Alchemy Tower ahead, still and always illuminated by Orion Holdfast’s Eternal Flame.
Luc was the only Holdfast left now to keep that promise and sustain the fire, but after five years, the war had become a battle of attrition. No amount of healing, or fire, or paladins was enough to win against the ever-growing army of necrothralls.
She stared at the beacon of light, heart clenching at the thought that it might go out, that Luc would be the last because no one could save him from his destiny.
She looked down at her hands, curling her fingers inside the gloves and slowly opening them, drawing a deep breath.
“You promised you’d do anything for him.”
CHAPTER 23
Februa 1786
HELENA’S JAW WAS TAUT, HER TEETH GRINDING together as her fingers twisted through the air, pulling, tugging at the feeble connection threatening to melt away from her.
Her right hand was cramping, sharp pain shooting along the tendon to her elbow, but if she broke the connection, let her hand rest for an instant, her patient would die.
“Come on,” she said under her breath as her fingers spun through the air, refusing to give up. “Where is it?”
As if she’d needed to just verbalise her desperation, she found it: internal bleeding where the pressure was pooling.
“Got you. Got you,” Helena said with a little gasp of relief, her fingers moving faster now, manipulating the tissue, repairing the artery, drawing the blood away so that she could focus on the task before her: a rib cage which had been split apart.
She’d been transmuting regenerative lung tissue with one hand and maintaining the heartbeat with the other when she’d realised there was something else wrong, and now, finally, her resonance was not screaming at her that death was imminent.
She gave herself a moment to flex her right hand once before guiding the shattered bones back over the new lungs, knitting together the places where they’d broken, regenerating what was missing. She pushed the mangled skin back, repairing it as best she could. Finally, she rested both hands on the healed chest, drawing it up, making it rise for breath, letting out her own sigh.
There would still be weeks of recovery ahead, at least a month of convalescence at Solis Splendour. The lung tissue was new and delicate, the repaired bones fragile, but he would live to fight another day.
She let herself look at the face, now that she knew he wouldn’t die, checking the intravenous drip before she gestured for the medics to take over again.
He was young. She knew so many of the faces, but she’d never seen his before. A new recruit, or maybe newly of age. No, he couldn’t be of age. He looked barely fourteen.
She had no time to wonder. She had to wash her hands, douse them in antiseptic, and move to the next bed with a ribbon designating the need for intercession.
Don’t look at the face, she reminded herself as the medics and nurses scattered to make space for her.
She didn’t know anymore how long she’d been on shift. A day or two? It was hard to say.
It had been mostly battle injuries at first, cuts and gouges, stab wounds, broken bones. Then it became burns, charred-off limbs, scorched lungs, skin a charcoal crisp that cracked to ooze blood.
The hospital smelled like roast meat, blood, the stench of gut wounds, and the lavender oil they disinfected with.
Helena used to like the smell of lavender.
Her last patient, she lost. The organs failed more quickly than Helena could regenerate them. She was so tired that her hands trembled uncontrollably with every twist of her resonance. She wasn’t fast enough.
Her resonance rebounded on her, a pulse of energy like a blow straight through her chest. Ghostly cold rushed through her and dissipated.
Gone.
Helena slumped, breathing unsteadily, wanting to scream. A minute more and she could have—
She pushed herself up, hands shaking as she stepped back, looking at the face before she could stop herself.
The body was so badly burned, she couldn’t tell if it had been a boy or a girl. It was horrifyingly small. She looked around, searching for another ribbon, but finding none.
