7.II

She is dead.

And though I did not wield the knives which pierced her heart it is because I did not stop them she is gone.

Her blood, familiar and close as my own tells me she smiled even as her heart came apart under the blades.

The red spilled from her lips says even with her last breath she tried to laugh in joy.

But even that news sits like bile in my gut.

Makes my blood writhe against me in pain. Makes my heart clench at the mistakes I have made.

When did the smile I gave back to that frail little girl become a thing of such cruelty?

When did I go wrong?

Was it that first night?

When I could not bear to bring the blade meant to heal upon a still breathing infant’s brow?

When I could not accept to take a life for the blood and bone to heal another?

Would it have been better to murder an unwanted infant to restore another?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Was it the very seed of my truth that cursed the poor girl to become the thing I made her?

The new path which let what my patient lacked be taken with no immediate harm.

Not harmless of course, oh how bloody and terrible the price ended up being.

But it was so clear then.

Why spend any more of a life than absolutely necessary?

Why waste more blood then the absolute amount required to restore the girl.

Why not have two children live instead of one?!

Was I wrong to want neither to die at my hand?

Whatever my failure was, the woman I cared for nearly all her life is dead, and yet by my own cowardice the curse does not end there.

The High King has taken those I taught in my weakness so I did not have to watch and feel the blood changing and sickening towards that ultimate and terrible apotheosis.

He will make more of my most horrific failures for vile means.

But I can make this right.

I yet have my patients, I will find what flaw in my sorcery curses them so. I will heal what I have wounded and when the panacea is found I will restore even those twisted by the High King.

Do not seek us out my peers in wizardry.

Until my patients are healed we should not be found.

I am assuredly an enemy to all of the Realm of Cantor for this but I don’t care.

I will heal this wound of mine set in the world.

I will stop this bleeding pain.

-Last Missive of Jaksa the Red to the Circles of Wizardry.