Page 103 of Crimson Promises
“Okay,” I muttered.
She disappeared from my peripheral vision for a few minutes with a piece of soft, buttery material. A quick glance at her outfit showed one of her leggings was torn right under the knee while the other reached her ankle.
“You didn’t have to?—“
“Shut up, Ben.”
I didn’t have the energy to verbally spar with her, so I did as she said and shut up.
She guided me so I was lying on my back. Gingerly, she moved my arm away from her stomach. She soaped up my blood with a scrap of the material.
Aurora gasped.
“It’s bad, isn’t it.” I propped myself up on my forearms, wanting a better look.
Aurora’s hand held me down. “You need to stay lying down.”
“Pretty sure his blade was poisoned with demon essence.”
“It’s a deep diagonal gash from under your ribs to your navel and then back to your hip bone. Looks like two sides of a triangle. I cleaned it up as best as I could.”
“Guess I didn't feel it much with the adrenaline. I have something back at my place that should be able to stop the poison.”
“Ben, I don’t think you have enough time.”
“Shit,” I thumped my head against the ground. “I have no choice but to try. If I die on the way there, then so be it. “Aurora, help me up.”
“No. Just stay still, please. I want to try something first.”
The blood loss was kicking in. I did as Aurora asked but remained confused. She moved closer to the wound, her hands extended when it finally clicked.
“Aurora, no. You won’t be able to heal demon poison.”
“I at least have to try. I owe you my life. What use is a gift if I can’t use it on those I care about?”
That shut me up.
Aurora's brow furrowed in concentration, her lips moving silently as if reciting an incantation known only to her. The gentle current of energy that I felt near my belly button was her doing, I knew. It started as a small sensation, almost like a whisper against my skin, growing steadily in both warmth and presence.
However, something was amiss. The energy, rather than intensifying, flickered like a flame in the wind. It wavered, faltering in its attempt to spread across the wound. Aurora's face, usually so composed, twisted in a mix of frustration and concentration. She was struggling, her powers unable to find the right rhythm to combat the demon poison.
"Dammit," she whispered, more to herself than to me. She closed her eyes tighter, her forehead creasing with effort. The energy surged once again, stronger this time, but it was like watching a wave crash against a rocky shore – powerful but ultimately broken apart.
The sensation against my skin fluctuated, a soothing balm one moment, a distant warmth the next. Where initially there had been a tightening, a feeling of the wound knitting together, now there was a loose, open sensation again. It was as if the healing process had started only to be undone.
Aurora's frustration was palpable. She drew back for a moment, her breath ragged. The damp strands of her hair, dislodged from their perfect bun during the earlier attack, clung to her face.
She looked at me, her eyes conveying a storm of emotions – determination, fear, and an unspoken apology.
"I'm sorry," she murmured.
I wanted to tell her it was okay, that she didn't have to strain herself for me. But the words caught in my throat while trying to keep the pain at bay.
She paused again, her breathing heavy, a bead of sweat trailing down her temple. But then, as if driven by an inner resolve, she lifted her hands again.
This time, something shifted. Perhaps it was a change in her approach, a subtle alteration in her technique, or maybe it was sheer willpower. The energy that radiated from her hands was steady, unwavering. It wrapped around the wound, penetrating deeper than before, unchallenged by the poison. I felt it then – a gradual tightening where the wound was, a sensation of being stitched together from the inside.
A gentle current of energy radiated near my belly button and grew in diameter from where her skin touched mine. It’s a soothing balm as comforting as snuggling in a warm blanket. The discomfort that had been a constant companion since I was injured began to fade, replaced by a feeling of wholeness.
