Page 92 of Alchemised
She choked back a sob.
Think, Helena. She was a healer. Someone had an injured eye. She needed to work efficiently if she was going to preserve their sight. Focus.
“F-F-For a punctured sclera,” she said in a wobbling voice, casting her mind back, trying to recall the technique. She had no idea how to explain it to a novice vivimancer; she’d never taught anyone to heal.
It was pointless anyway. Ferron might be able to repair damaged tissue, but he wouldn’t restore her vision. She’d still be blind in one eye. She crumpled.
Ferron gripped her tighter, holding her firmly upright. “Come on. You know how you’d do it. Tell me.”
She swallowed hard. “The resonance has to be very close,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “You start at the deepest part and replicate the tissue exactly like the surrounding tissue; it won’t matrice the way skin will on its own. You have to regenerate each structure fully. Layer by layer.”
That answer alone would have been enough to deter any knowledgeable healer. Basic regeneration was one thing, but matricing tissue was technically taxing and mind-numbingly repetitive, like watching one’s skin being rubbed off. It made the brain itch, but concentration had to be maintained the entire time.
Ferron was ignorant of this.
He placed his hand over hers, their fingers aligning, and she could dimly feel his resonance through her own fingertips before it cut off at her wrists.
“Show me.”
Her wrists were ringed with bruises. Pain shot through the bones as she moved her fingers. She ignored it, focusing on the intuitive sensation that had been absent for so long, dimly feeling her eye where his resonance ran through her fingertips.
Transmutation always started with an initial touch to forge the connection. Once it was established, the alchemist could allow their fingers space to manipulate the channel.
Her fingers moved cautiously, prompting his, weaving invisible filaments of energy into a lattice of fragile tissue.
Ferron’s silver eyes were almost luminous as he imitated the motions.
A tug came from the centre of her eye.
She whimpered, trying to hold still.
It was like a needle being poked into the puncture, a thread pulled through, on and on.
It took all her willpower not to jerk away, to focus on the feeble sense of resonance, to keep creating the complex regenerative structure.
Despite how small the wound was, it took ages. Ferron didn’t stop even when Helena’s fingers cramped and failed and fell away, the sensation leaving her ready to scream.
“And now?” Ferron asked the moment it was finally over, not giving her even a moment’s respite.
She drew a deep breath.
“For—for a—a luxated eye,” she said in a voice far calmer than she felt, “you have to morph and retract it carefully or you’ll strain the optic nerve—more.”
The motion was like turning a dial. Her eye slid back, squeezing and morphing before settling back into place with a nauseating pop.
She blinked slowly. Her eye hurt; it had grown dry and sticky after being so long exposed.
“H-How much can you see?” Ferron asked, tilting her face up towards his, his fingertips pressed against her jaw, his thumb running along the place where Aurelia had sliced her cheek open.
She stared at him and covered her right eye with her hand. His face was mere inches away, but there was only a dark blur.
“I can’t—” Her voice cut off, chest constricting. Her hand slid from her eye to clamp over her mouth as she fought not to sob.
“What else do I need to do? How do I fix it?” He gripped her shoulders, still not letting her slump.
She shook her head, pressing her hands against her temples. “The optic nerve’s probably damaged. I can’t—help, though—it’ll be too—”
His fingers pressed around her eye socket, and she could feel his resonance moving along the nerve towards her brain. Her body convulsed violently at the sensation, but he held her still. She felt heat and the same agitating regeneration process as he found the damage hidden between her eye and brain. An animal-like whimper escaped through her clenched teeth.
