A moment of silence was broken by the sound of rustling leaves. Midhir stared at Ilya. He couldn’t believe what he heard. He couldn’t believe she wouldn’t help. “You must-“ he stopped himself. “She’s dying, Ilya!” He shouted, pressing his hand against Willow’s wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. Blood still oozed out, flowing between his fingers and slowly dropping to the ground.

Ilya looked away.

He clenched his other hand. “You won’t.” He shook his head. “You won’t just leave an innocent person to die. You can heal her, and she can help you heal her father!” She wasn’t so cruel – he knew her, she wouldn’t just walk away. She couldn’t.

Her hands clenched into fists. “You can’t guarantee that. Stem the bleeding, I’ll come back once I helped the Lord Enforcer.” She turned around to leave.

“If you walk away,” Midhir hissed. “I won’t call for you if the time comes.”

She stopped mid-step and whirled around with a fire in her eyes. “You-“

“I won’t,” he cut her off with a sharp voice. “I won’t trust you enough to.” He met her gaze. “You’re not father. You don’t let innocent people die.”

Ilya gritted her teeth. She seemed hesitant, her gaze shifting towards where Willow came from, then back at her and Midhir. “This isn’t the right choice.” She walked towards them with long steps, crouched, and pressed her hand over Midhir’s hand which was covering Willow’s wound. “You only get to threaten me once, brother.” She stared at him. “Understood?”

“I won’t need to do it twice.” He forced a smirk, but Ilya had already focused her attention on Willow.

Warmth radiated from her hand as a small, silver ring on her index finger began to glow softly. There was a single, tiny golden gem embedded into the silver band – the augment she was using to cast a healing resonance.

Willow grunted as her wound began to rapidly heal. Lines appeared on her forehead as she scowled with pain. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid, and her hands grabbed each a fistful of mud. Midhir couldn’t help but feel somewhat relieved that she wasn’t conscious – at least she wouldn’t remember how much it hurt.

Ilya’s healing only lasted a handful of seconds. When she pulled her hand away, colour had returned to Willow’s skin. Her lips weren’t a pale blue anymore, and her complexion wasn’t a ghostly white. Her expression slowly turned peaceful as the pain came to an end.

“Now – we need to hurry.” Ilya stood up. “Wake her up. She must help heal her father.” Her voice was cold.

Stolen story; please report.

As soon as he lightly shook her shoulders, Willow startled awake. Her eyes shot wide open, and she sat upright with a gasp. She quickly reached for the wound on her side, then turned towards Ilya and Midhir. “You healed me.” She grew pale. “Wait, what about dad-“

“We’re going there now,” Ilya cut her off. “You’ll need to help, I used the last bit of my power on healing you.” She looked at Willow from head to toe, almost as if she was weighing the young woman’s worth. “Get up, we can’t waste any more time.”

“Can you walk?” Midhir asked as he offered Willow his hand.

She hesitated as he pulled her up on her feet, but then nodded. “I can,” She took the rapier she dropped from the ground, then took a deep breath. “This way.”

The rare birds had begun to chirp as Ilya and Midhir followed Willow downhill. With the tear sealed and the veil mended, the forest was beginning to return to normal – at least as normal as the overgrowth could be.

As they made their way to the foot of the hill, Willow hastened her steps. “There,” she pointed ahead. The ground was level where she pointed, they were likely somewhere east of the Prancing Lion inn, probably not too far from the building itself.

Two figures entered their field of view as they hurried. Lord Aulorn was laying on the ground, his right arm bent in an odd way and covered in blood. The skin on his hand was damaged, some parts burnt while others covered in cuts. His clothes were tattered, and his cloak torn apart. He wasn’t moving, but Midhir could see his chest slowly rising and sinking with each breath he took.

Next to him was Arwen. She was on her knees, her hands hovering above the Enforcer’s chest as a warm, golden light shine from them.

“Arwen!” Willow exclaimed, startling the young woman. She ran up to them. “You’re healing him – how is he?”

Ilya slowed her steps, and grabbed Midhir’s arm, stopping him a few dozen steps away from them. “That girl – where is she from?”

Midhir opened his mouth to answer, then scowled. Where was Arwen from? “I… don’t know…” he muttered as he felt his head hurt when he tried to remember. His brows furrowed further as he rummaged through his memories. He didn’t know. It wasn’t that he didn’t remember – he didn’t think he’d ever asked.

Ilya looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “You don’t know?” She whispered, raising her eyebrows in disbelief. “How-“ She stopped herself, furrowed her brows and narrowed her eyes. “You don’t see anything weird with that?”

Midhir hesitated. It was weird that he’d never thought to ask, but…

“What about that?” Ilya tilted her head towards the young woman. “She’s resonance casting.”

Midhir nodded. Arwen’s healing resonance was in plain sight.

“So where is her augment?”

“Her staff-“ he turned to point at it, only for his voice to fade away. Arwen’s staff wasn’t in her hands, nor was it on her lap or laying next to her. In fact, aside from the warm glow in her hands, he couldn’t see anything that indicated that she was resonance casting.

“Her name?” Ilya asked, her voice a low whisper that neither Arwen nor Willow could hear.

“Arwen,” Midhir replied after a few moments of silence. “Arwen Maloid.”

“Your classmate seems to have some very special gifts, brother.” Ilya’s voice was cold. “Now, let’s join them.”

With that, she marched towards them, leaving Midhir standing there.

All the doubts he had suppressed so far began to resurface as he watched Arwen slowly heal Lord Aulorn’s wounds. Just who was she?