The boy’s groans echoed throughout Melna’s home. Kryll curled up in the corner of the room trying to keep out of the way as Lissa and her mentor scrambled about, gathering healer’s tools. The boy’s father carried him to the table in the center of the room, gently laying him across the wooden surface. As the man took his arms away, his eyes locked onto the warm blood staining his arms.

His ability to speak coherently seemed on par with the boy’s. It was no matter, they knew what he was here for. Lissa dropped their bag of medical tools on the wooden table with a loud thunk. She dug inside and grabbed a pair of iron scissors. She carefully took them to the boy’s sleeve and began to cut the wet fabric away. He began to shake on the table as she adjusted his arm.

She looked to his father. “Hold him down.”

The man hesitated, before following her instruction, holding the boy at the shoulders. Lissa cut the sleeve from his arm and what greeted her made her eyes go wide. The boy’s arm was shredded. Shattered bones stuck out at odd angles, piercing the skin and ripped muscle. A groan from the boy snapped her back to her senses, and she grabbed the tourniquet from the bag. She had to stop the bleeding.

As she looped the leather strap around the boy’s upper arm, the man released him and vomited across the floor. The boy began to shake again, making it impossible to cinch the straps. She bodily leaned on his shoulder to keep him in place as he strained against the leather. She hooked it into place.

Melna appeared a moment later, a rag in her hand. She placed it over the boy’s face. His movements slowed, and his head lolled to the side. When he was still, Lissa noticed the saw in Melna’s hand. She looked from the boy’s arm to the old woman. Melna shook her head, answering Lissa’s unanswered question.

Lissa backed away from the table as Melna held the iron bone saw up and touched the serrated edge with a finger, It cut immediately, a droplet of blood running down her finger.

The man seemed to find his ability to speak in that moment. “You’re taking his arm?” His mouth worked a moment. “There has to be another way.”

Lissa looked at the shredded mess of flesh and bone. “There’s no saving that, I’m sorry. We might be able to save his life though.”

Melna looked guilty and Lissa could tell she was itching to use her healing to mend the boy, but refrained from spending her life to do so. Lissa knew it nagged at the old woman’s conscience to do so.

The man swallowed and backed away, looking as if he might be sick again. “Gods,” he whispered, leaning against the far wall and slowly falling to the ground. He curled his knees to his chest and lay his head against them. Lissa could hardly blame him. This wasn’t easy to watch.

Melna placed her free hand on the boy’s broken arm and set the saw in place, as close to the tourniquet as she dared. The woman took a deep breath and began to saw. The teeth sank through easily at first, but then found bone and her progress ground to a halt.

Melna heaved all her strength into the motion, making slow progress. Blood welled up from the cut, but after the past few weeks, the sight of blood ceased to affect Lissa. She turned from the sight and set herself to preparing a cauter for the wound.

As the iron warmed, she lost count of the minutes that passed before the bone came loose with a snap. Slicing through the remaining flesh, Melna pulled the limb away and let it drop to the floor. Lissa winced at the wet sound it made as she returned from the stove, glowing iron in hand and passed it to Melna.

“Clean the wound,” Melna ordered. Lissa nodded, walking to a cupboard along the wall and grabbing the small pitcher of wine from within. She returned to the boy and poured some of the red liquid over the wound.

Melna nodded at her in appreciation as she leaned forward and applied the cauter to the bloody stump. The smell of burnt flesh immediately filled the room. It once made her gag, but like so many other things, she’d grown accustomed to it.

A moment later it was over. Melna pulled the cauter away, and let it fall into one of Kryll’s buckets of water. It hissed and the water steamed as it hit the surface. Lissa set to work, cleaning the blood from around the burned flesh and wrapping the wound in clean linen.

While she worked, Melna patted her on the shoulder. “You did well, girl.”

A weak smile appeared on Lissa’s lips. She couldn’t help thinking how much harder the boy’s life had just gotten. It wasn’t even assured that he’d live. They just had to hope for the best. The man staggered to his feet at the far end of the room and stumbled toward the table where the boy lay.

His voice was choked as he asked, “Will he be okay?”

“He’s in the hands of our lady,” Melna answered, glancing toward the tapestry of the Reaper on the wall. “But, you can improve his chances by keeping a close eye on the wound. Change his bandages every day if you can. If it starts bleeding heavily again, bring him back here immediately.”

The man nodded in understanding, placing a hand on his boy’s chest as it rose and fell. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Lissa smiled and put her hand over his. “He’ll get through it.”

Melna dug around through the cupboard and returned with a small pouch. She handed it to the man. “For the pain,” she explained, “No more than a pinch a day. Otherwise, you risk him getting too attached to the stuff.”

The man opened the pouch. His eyes widened a fraction. “Spice?”

Lissa’s smile disappeared. It was never a good sign when they recognized it on sight. Melna leaned in closer to the man. “For the boy,” she affirmed.

The man nodded, his hands shaking slightly as he pocketed the pouch. “Thank you for everything. I’ll take him home and we’ll get out of your hair.”

Melna nodded. “Before you go, might you have a donation for our lady?” Melna asked, glancing toward the altar.

The man frowned. “I don’t have any coin.”

Lissa didn’t doubt it. She grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and put on her widest grin. “That’s fine!” She skipped toward the man, holding the bowl out to him. She loved the look men got on their faces when she did that. It was somewhere between horror and grim amusement, as if they couldn’t decide.

He swallowed and took the bowl from her hand. “Fine, fine. Got a knife?”

Melna pulled one from their bag of equipment and passed it to him. He took a deep breath and cut one of the smaller veins in his wrist. Lissa could tell he’d done this a few times by his choice. The vein bled, but not excessively and was easy to mend. He grimaced as blood filled the bowl.

When it was about half-full, Melna waved her hand. “That’s enough. You still have to carry the boy home. The man nodded, holding out his arm as Lissa applied pressure to the small wound, to stop the bleeding and quickly bandaged it.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Good as new,” she said.

The man smiled at her and shook his head. “Thank ye little lady.” He took a deep breath before pushing his arms under his son, hefting the boy in the air and walking toward the door. Lissa rushed to open it for him. As he passed through the threshold into the daylight outside, he gave them both a solemn nod.

Lissa waved after him as he walked down the street. “Goodbye,” She called out, as she shut the door behind them.

She whirled around on Melna. “Can we? Please?” She asked.

Melna shook her head. “Clean up first. You know the rules.”

Lissa groaned as she grabbed one of Kryll’s pails of water and hauled it by the table. She glanced to where the boy’s arm had been a moment ago. It seemed to have vanished. Her eyes drifted to Kryll. He must have snatched it when she wasn’t looking. She’d seen him clean up the limbs half a dozen times now, but it still made her a little uneasy. Melna didn’t seem to care so she let it go and set to mopping up the blood.

Anticipation buzzed in her as she cleaned the table and surrounding area, shooting furtive looks toward the altar. The Reaper’s shadowed face stared down at her, a slight smile alighting the god’s lips. As Lissa cleared the last of the blood away, she regarded the mottled, red stains covering the table’s surface. She took a deep breath and pulled the tablecloth over it, hiding the horror.

Her eyes drifted to Melna, who walked toward the altar, the bowl of blood in hand. Lissa rushed over to her and took the bowl. She gently rested it atop the altar’s surface, among the small bones of animals and next to the golden Briar. Nervous excitement welled up in her. She’d practiced using her own blood, but Melna wouldn’t let her do so more than twice a week due to the obvious limitations.

Older men and woman stopped by to leave small offerings and bleed themselves upon the altar, but those were private prayers to which she and Melna would not intrude. It was strange to think this warm home in the Outwalls was the closest thing to a temple for the Reaper in all Bleakridge.

Lissa glanced to Melna out of the corner of her eye. The older woman nodded, and Lissa dipped a finger into the bowl of blood. She held her hand over the altar, watching as the blood pooled at the tip of her finger. As a crimson droplet fell, she focused her intent, willing the altar to filter the power from the blood. The droplet disappeared into the altar and where it landed, a puff of black smoke drifted forth, diffusing into the air.

Melna smiled at her. “You’re getting better at that. Got it on your first try.”

Lissa didn’t answer. Her eyes were fixed on the black vapor dissipating into the air. She’d seen the effects of imbuing the smoke. The blackened eyes, and lack of inhibition. She’d never partook herself and the curiosity burned in her.

“When will I be able to try it?” she asked.

Melna’s smile disappeared. “When it’s absolutely necessary. And only then. It’s easy to grow dependent on the Reaper’s blessing. Better to not acquire a taste for death, especially at your age.”

Lissa raised an eyebrow. “An odd thing to say, considering we worship her.”

“Things we revere should not be made commonplace. We tread a fine line in the last war. You’re too young to remember the bloodshook men and women. Venarans put them down like animals. One of the few kindnesses they visited upon us.” Melna said.

Lissa cocked her head. “Bloodshook?”

Mela hesitated, her eyes growing distant. “When one grows dependent on our Lady’s blessings, they can’t let it go. You and I, we’d just bleed ourselves at this altar until we passed. But, for those who lack the talent-” She hesitated, shaking her head. “They try to find it in other ways.”

Lissa wanted to ask more, but the look on Melna’s face dissuaded her. They sat in silence a long moment until Melna spoke again, “I think you’re ready to learn something new.”

Lissa’s eyes widened in excitement, but Melna looked anything but excited. She grabbed the skeleton of a small rodent from the altar, using her good hand to pluck three of its legs free. Lissa cocked her head. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Making sure it can’t run away,” Melna answered.

That made Lissa’s eyes go wide. As she watched Melna grab the bowl. She hovered the clay container over the rodent’s corpse, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. She poured the blood liberally over the bones, making sure to completely coat them. As she exhaled, the light in the room visibly dimmed a moment.

Then, the blood covering the skeleton began to turn black, the area between its bones filing in with darkness. Its head began to twitch, and its tail made shaky motions. Lissa shot Melna an excited glance, but her mentor looked more worried than anything.

She turned her attention back to the rodent. The claws of its one remaining leg flexed. “Is it alive?” Lissa asked.

“Gods no,” Melna answered. “That is not life. It’s a shade, the remnants of what was once a life. When you and I die, we’ll live on in the Reaper’s care. Animals aren’t so lucky. They don’t have whatever it is that allows us to continue to the next life. What’s left of them rots along with their corpse.”

Lissa frowned. “That’s awfully depressing,” she said as the rodent began to gaze about the room. “Seems like it’d be very useful to bring draft horses and such back to life like this.”

Melna shook her head and rather than answer, picked up the bowl of blood and let some drip on the surface of the altar. She didn’t allow it to sink in, and the red liquid pooled on the surface. The rodent’s black eyes locked on the blood, and it let out an ear-splitting screech as it clawed its way toward the blood. As its claws dipped into the liquid, the blood began to turn black and the smell of rot permeated the air.

The pool of blood shrank as the creature touched it. It flowed along its skeletal limb and fed the darkness pooling in its ribcage. She felt its eye sockets turn to her and she sensed a hunger within them. As the creature clawed toward them, Melna grabbed one of the larger bones from the altar and smacked it further away from them. The creature screeched in defiance as it single-mindedly clawed its way back to them.

Lissa’s excitement had quickly turned to horror. “Why are you showing me this?” she asked.

“Because,” Melna said, “It’s very important that when somebody inevitably asks you to bring a loved one back to life, you don’t.”

Lissa swallowed. “There’s no way to control it?” she asked.

“Reavers could control animals to an extent as long as they had a steady supply of blood, but they’re all long dead” She glanced to Lissa. “You and I? No.”

“What happens if you raise a person?” Lissa asked.

“You die,” Melna answered, looking hard into her eyes.

Lissa glanced at the skeletal rodent as Melna swatted it away again. “How do you kill it?” She paused. “Again, I mean.”

A grim smile crossed Melna’s face. She nodded toward one of the lit candles on the altar. “Be a dear and bring that closer,” She said as she dipped her fingers into what was left of the bowl of blood.

Lissa grabbed the waxy candle and held it out to Melna. The old woman raised her hand above the candle. Lissa watched as a drop of blood hit the flame. The fire immediately turned green, and the area around it, grew cold.

“Shade flame,” Melna stated, as if that explained everything.

Lissa glanced to the old woman, a question in her eyes.

“Touch it to the shade,” Melna said, looking to the rodent.

Lissa took a deep breath and moved the candle toward the rodent. Its eyes locked on the flame, and it screeched, struggling to claw itself away from the green fire. Lissa hesitated. It didn’t want to die. Melna firmly grabbed her hand holding the candle and made her touch the flame to the creature.

The darkness between its bones was immediately engulfed in green flame as if she had ignited a pool of oil. Its screeches filled the room as it thrashed. Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over, and all that was left of the thing were blackened bones lying across the altar.

Lissa took a deep breath. Melna put a hand on her shoulder. “I admire your compassion, but that creature deserved none of it.”

“Then why did we bring it to life?” Lissa asked.

Melna turned to her, her dark eyes boring into her. “Because you need to know how to kill one should the need ever arise.”

That sent a shiver down Lissa’s spine as she watched the blackened bones uneasily, as if they might come back to life at any moment. She tore her eyes from the twice dead rat, gaze drifting across the offerings of bones and settling on the golden brooch Melna always kept atop the altar. The old woman rose each morning and polished it to a shine before reverently placing it back atop the altar.

Lissa asked the question she’d been wondering from the day she’d set eyes on it. “Is that a Briar Guard’s brooch?” she asked.

Melna was quiet a moment before answering. “That was my husband’s Briar. From before the war. Served the Earl nigh on ten years. Never got his body back. Just the Briar.”

Lissa frowned. “Sorry,” she said.

Melna sighed and raised her hand, revealing a gold band around her ring finger. “Now all I have left are his two promises.” She looked to the brooch on the altar. “For some men, duty is the most important thing in the world. He gave his life to prove it.”

Melna shook her head. “Foolish bastard,” she said, pausing, “Then again, I married him knowing that, so which one of us is the fool?”

“There’s nothing foolish about love,” Lissa said.

Melna smiled. “No, there isn’t. But it makes us do foolish things.” Her eyes drifted back to the golden briar. “The Earl brought it to me himself, nigh on eighteen years ago. Put it right into the hand of my son. The fool has been trying to follow in his father’s footsteps ever since.”

Lissa saw a tear appear in the corner of the old woman’s eyes. “That’s the power of love. It transcends death and molds boys into men, while a lack of it turns them into monsters.”

Melna gently caressed the sharp brooch. “Care for those you hold dear, girl. As the years stretch long behind you and few remain, one thing you will never regret is having told somebody you love them.”

“What about Billy? You two seemed- close,” Lissa said, watching the woman’s face for any hint of an expression.

Melna frowned. “He was my husband’s best friend, and I loved his wife like a sister. It’s hard to see him. It mixes all the good with the bad,” she said, “But yes, even Billy.”