For as long as Daana could remember, there had always been a little fire demon that danced in the back of her head whenever an unfair situation arose. It had earned her a good deal of trouble in her youth. Suppressing it had been a matter of survival during her academy days. Try as she might, however, the fire never completely went away. Watching the uncomfortable standoff between Snag and her mother not only sparked the coals of Daana’s inner rage, but incited live flame. This had the additional, unfortunate effect of wiping Snag’s warning not to get involved from her memory.

Daana stepped boldly forward. “Where do you get off threatening him like that?”

Larkspur’s annoyance shifted from Snag to Daana. A subtle wave of her hand kept her guards positioned near the doorway. The sage superior remained otherwise cool, content to watch Daana’s fiery spiral peter itself out.

“He,” Daana said as she gestured to Snag, who looked to be on the verge of melting into a puddle of green goblin goo, “is not a part of this. I asked him to bring me here as a favor. I will not stand idle while you threaten him.” Daana couldn’t be sure, considering her eyes were locked on her mother, but she swore she saw the low-burning candles flicker along the corner of her vision.

Several seconds crept past before Larkspur was forced to ask, “Well?”

“Well what?”

“You said you would not stand idle. What do you intend to do about it?”

Crap. Daana hadn’t thought that far ahead. That was the problem with her inner demon. It was all flash and fizzle with no real heat. “I…” Daana’s voice trailed as her mind desperately searched for an answer. For some terrible reason, the solution it settled on was one of Willem’s old lessons about killing one’s enemies with kindness. “I will have to ask you politely to stop doing that. If Snag wishes to leave, then let him.”

Larkspur’s expression was woefully unimpressed. She pivoted accusingly in Ashwyn’s direction, hands on her hips, as if this was the orc’s fault somehow. “All this time together, and that’s the best she could come up with? What have you been teaching her?”

“How to throw a decent right hook, mostly.” Ashwyn’s teasing tone did not match her posture. The orc may not have had any weapons on hand, but she looked prepared to make do with her fists if needed. “I suspect it will take someone far more experienced than me to teach her how to throw her weight around. Speaking of which, are you done having your fun? You stand to lose her again if you keep this up.”

“She won’t leave. She can’t afford to.” Larkspur gestured unenthusiastically to the red-robed elf still seated at the table. “I brought in my finest healer to assess Daana’s condition. Walking out that door means walking away from any possibility of a cure.”

Daana was damn near mad enough to walk out anyway. The tips of her ears burned as she ground her back molars to keep from saying something that would only make her situation worse. She flinched when she felt a clawed hand touch her own.

Snag sidled up alongside Daana. For her own sake, she pretended the hand clutching was out of support and not to prevent her from doing something they would both regret. “A healer?” he said, tone dripping with doubt.

Snag’s skepticism was understandable. Even back at the Division of Divination, a place crawling with every type of witch and magic imaginable, healers had been practically unheard of. Not due to rarity, but demand. Healers were a commodity, often snatched up by the rich and powerful the moment a fledgling witch started to show a talent for the healing arts. Like all things deemed worthy of value, healers were a magical resource hoarded almost exclusively by those at the very top of the social hierarchy. To a commoner, a healer was the witch equivalent of a unicorn–rumored to be real and, yet, destined to never see one.

“I have several healers in my service,” Larkspur told Snag. “Nevil is my own personal attendant. The best in the land.”

Snag mulled over this information with careful consideration. “And if we stay for your sit-down, answer your questions, Daana gets healed?”

Larkspur had them in the palm of her hand and knew it. With a tight smile, she turned and strode for the table, calling over her shoulder. “If there is any cure to be had, yes. That’s the idea.”

“Healer first,” Snag said, giving Daana the silent side-eye to shut it and let him handle things. “Then we answer your questions.”

Larkspur traded pointed looks with Havershire before conceding the matter with an unceremonious shrug of her shoulders. “Fine.”

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“This way, dear.” One cue, Nevil, the red-robed healer, stood and shepherded Daana into one of the open chairs clustered around the table. His nervous stare was not fixed on her, but Ashwyn and Snag, who were both hovering a little too close for his comfort. “I don’t normally allow spectators, but I get the distinct feeling these two won’t be leaving without a fuss.”

Wordlessly, Snag allowed his unblinking stare to confirm the healer’s intuition.

“You are welcome to stay so long as you sit and promise not to interfere.”

Ashwyn slid into the open chair beside them and clapped Daana’s shoulder in what was probably meant as a reassuring gesture. “You’ve got this, Peaches. We’ll be right here if you need us.”

“Not interfering,” Nevil reiterated.

“Not interfering,” Ashwyn said with the sort of toothy smile that warned she would decide what constituted ‘interfering’.

Finally, the healer gave Daana his full attention. “If you would show me the markings, dear.”

Daana unbuttoned her sleeve and pulled back the fabric, allowing it to bunch at the elbow. Although the dark veins snaked higher now, almost to her shoulder, she was not about to yank off her top in front of a room of her mother’s closest advisors. She still had some small semblance of dignity, after all.

With a reassuring smile, Nevil stepped forward and took Daana’s hand into his own. His slender fingers started at the wrist and moved upwards, humming to himself as he worked. Daana felt the heat of magic pass between them. She opened her mouth to protest, but it was too late. Pain struck her behind the eyes as the dark magic surged forward like a ravenous dog on a chain. She tried to pull away but the elf had gone into a full trance. His eyes were closed and he swayed back and forth, holding Daana’s arm in a vice-like grip.

Dark magic rippled beneath her skin, pulling at her flesh as it tried to bridge the connection. Pain radiated in her arm like a thousand hot needles stabbing her at once. It was too much. Daana folded over, fighting the waves of nausea as sour bile trickled up the back of her throat and flooded across her tongue. Unable to focus, the room faded in and out around her. Pinpricks of flashing light danced across her vision even after she screwed her eyes shut tight.

Chair legs jerked against the wood floor as several voices thundered in the background all at once. The noise swelled, filling the room with a heated exchange of words. The only voice Daana could distinguish amongst the fray belonged to Snag.

“Snag, help me!” Daana screamed.

The din crescendoed in sequence with the pain radiating within her arm. The darkness was growing. It spread out, its undulating tendrils weaving a vast tapestry across the inner workings of her mind. The barbed hooks pulled tighter, tighter, tighter, until the last of the dancing pinpricks of light faded into nothing.

At first, there was only darkness. Pitch black, like the inside of a cave that stretched on endlessly in every direction. And then, above her, a calming light flickered. It didn’t crackle or pop, but flowed as effortlessly as water as it doubled in size. Its shimmering waves branched outwards, transforming from rippling rivers into babbling brooks and streams as it overtook the darkness.

The pain subsided. A cooling calmness swept over her as Daana released the scream clenched between her gritted teeth. Her body relaxed, lulled into a tranquil trance as she felt the strange magic shroud her in its comforting embrace. It didn’t pull tight like the darkness. It was as light and airy as muslin cloth on a crisp spring morning. Even if she possessed the strength to fight, she no longer had the will. It was peaceful here.

Daana sank further into the magic, allowing it to course through her veins and heal the blistering ache.

“Daana!”

No, she thought. She didn’t want to return to the outside. Not yet. Not now that she had finally found a small sliver of peace. The pain was gone; nobody was trying to run her down; she was reunited with her long lost mother. For the first time in ages, all was right with the world again. And she so desperately didn’t want to let go.

The voice hovering on the outside of her consciousness was annoyingly persistent. “Daana! Come out of it.”

The glowing light faded. It dissipated into nothing as Daana slowly emerged onto the outside. It was only then that she realized her eyes were open. The warm candlelight caused her to blink the swell of hot tears from her murky vision. The fuzzy shapes around her gradually shifted back in focus. Snag and Ashwyn were crouched on either side of her, wide-eyed, with the color drained from their bleak faces.

“Thank gods,” Snag muttered as his ears drooped in relief. “Ashwyn looked like she was about ready to slap you. Probably would have just sent you back under.”

“I know my strength,” the orc retorted. “It would have only been a little baby slap.”

The red-robed healer stood between them. His narrow arms were hugged to his chest and he was trembling. Nevil was incapable of tearing her gaze from Daana. Behind him, Daana caught a glimpse of her mother. Larkspur was bent over the table, fervently whispering with the red-robed faun.

When Daana found her voice again, it was weaker than she expected. “What just happened?”

Ashwyn and Snag both looked to the healer for clarification, as if they weren’t quite sure themselves.

“I was assessing the damage,” Nevil stammered, still unable to break eye contact with Daana. The poor thing looked like a wounded animal staring down the predator as it steadily closed in. “The infection is unlike anything I’ve felt before. I-I was doing the best I could to fight it, but then I lost control–”

“Oh!” Daana’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry. I should have warned you. The darkness responds to magic. It can take control and–”

“It wasn’t the darkness, child. It was you.”