POV -> Katryna

A thick book was spread wide atop a cluttered desk, flattening some brushes and flowery shades of makeup pallets that Katryna didn't have the patience to move out of the way. Pages were folded and interrupted by random quills and combs with the current topic spread wide to show off an articulately drawn body, its skin and muscle cut through to label various vitals and organs.

She had marked a few spots on the diagram with sewing pins. She didn't care for the complicated names, she just needed to keep track of the injuries somehow. So she could show someone. Someone who actually knew what the hell they were doing.

She had patched him up as best she could, but she was no healer. With undeath abound in the streets, there was no such thing amongst their ranks. No one to say when he would wake up, if ever. One thing was for certain, if the Wind had not found him, he would have perished by now. That arcane hound had not been enchanted to simply find him, it would have torn out his throat.

She watched the commander's chest rise and fall. Steadier now than when she had found him. Still, keeping Justin in Westlock was risky. The Ripper had a particular phobia of spiders, so the other Agent of Death would not find its way into her home. But there were smaller pests under the employ of the Witch of the Westlock, without a mind to ask before eating if they were to stumble across Justin.

She looked over the bloodied rags she had discarded on the floor, the sheer number of them turning her stomach. Her brother was breathing. That alone was a miracle. She couldn't risk moving him. He had to stay, and she had to bring a healer here.

To Westlock.

Where if there was any sunshine or rainbows, those would probably try to kill you too.

She looked at the generous amount of bandages she had wrapped every cut and bruise with, then at the diagram, covered in pins. If she could just manage a single healing spell she had the tools to amplify it. There was a chance of catching a wandering Leafcloak on the roads, but even with their open morals, she would likely have to drag them screaming with her.

No amount of coin would turn a Valinn of Rethalon to offer their services either.

Katryna paced her room, staring at his slowly rising chest every few seconds, and swearing even more frequently. She wanted a distraction from what had been a very overwhelming day. The thought of her brother's heart giving out as soon as she grabbed a comfort book had left her to continue pacing.

Katryna froze when she saw a little bit of red seeping through the thick linen she'd wound over his head. His cuts didn't seem to care how many webs she used to stitch him shut.

The pacing turned to nail biting as she looked out her window to a carved mansion next to her's. It was made of grey carved stones and pillars of warm oak panels. Nothing like the eclectic mess of architecture she called a house. The Witch of the Westlock rarely left the home. Could she help? Would she help? Katryna had never seen her use a spell to heal.

Katryna stared at a commotion in the home's courtyard. The Wind was tossing up leaves playfully, as if it hadn't just woken her up to ruin her entire week.

Who else could help?

Katryna scrunched her nose as a sweet yet sulphurous stench filled the air. A little fizzle grabbed her attention and she looked down at the small blue flame that had sprouted on her floorboards. She eyed the little blue flame, watching it spit little blue cinders in a circle around it, the hot specks catching on the tiles in thirteen perfect points. She could feel where the spell connected - Toroy Garotzch. With the caller holding her true birth name, they did not need permission to send through the calling circle.

Katryna let out an exasperated sigh.

She stared at the burning circle, waiting for the usual greeting that never came. The anger swelled in the silence, spurring her to grab a stuffed animal off her bed and whip it at the flames. They splashed across the little stuffed cat without spreading or burning the material.

"Fucking talk so I can hang up on you."

The voice on the other end lacked the chipper tune it often did when he asked how she was doing. Which lured her to allow the voice to continue past its greeting. Eventually, her silence forced the man to disclose exactly why he had called her outside of his typical month-end check-ins.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"Your brother is missing."

She eyed her bed, almost laughing at the words.

"His thread is dim, and I think he's hurt. He was near Bervolt last anyone saw him, If you, or the Wind, could keep an eye out for him-"

"Who hurt him?"

The silence lingered longer than she liked. That was all Katryna needed to connect the dots. From the burnt bridge steeped in the magic of the Eternal Flame, and her brother that she had found in the ravine below - she knew Justin would not be safe in Toroy Garotzch.

"I said he may be hurt. I wasn't there-"

"Oh but you were close. Saw you in Bervolt." Katryna cut in, her voice mocking. "So, if something was more important than finding your own son once you finished up with Bervolt, who was the last person to see him?"

"We think it may have been Corian."

"We?" Katryna curled her lips at the accusation. Corian. The last person on Earth who would so much as pinch her brother if he knew it would leave a mark. One she had seen slain in the memories of another. "Oh well. So funny you'd mention that. Corian's fucking dead if you haven't heard."

"He came back."

Katryna stepped closer to the flaming circle, her intrigue bubbling up.

"Inprobus-"

Katryna kicked the flames, her lips twisted into a sneer as the spell withered. "Not that name in my fucking room."

She let out a deep and frustarted sigh, recollecting herself. Her father's early call had inspired a new idea. She knew where there was healers who were guaranteed to hate the Heroguard and lend a helping hand to the agents of death.

Katryna ripped a blank sheet of paper from her desk, aggressively scribbling out a violent drawing of a black haired woman getting stabbed with various objects. The quill spattered ink with the pressure of her art, ending off with a small message at the bottom instead of a signature.

SUFFER AND DIE.

She sprinkled a pinch of sulphur on the letter, before folding it up and sliding it into an envelope. Before she sealed the object, she pulled up part of her sleeve, watching a little blue spider crawl down her palm and into the letter.

She admired her work for a moment, before drawing an incantation that conjured a golden bird from a tiny feather. The familiar accepted the letter, soaring off through the window with one regular destination in mind.

Katryna felt some relief at successfully doing something. But there was the dreadful question of if she could even find a follower in the Psyche Ward that could heal fast enough. She needed time.

Katryna let the anxiety take over once more, turning to continue her pacing when she noticed the shadow at her door. The guest stood tall, its head nearly touching the top of the doorway. It was shrouded in ebony robes, with an iron mask that gave Katryna the clear message it wasn't a fairy. And there it remained as still and as silent as a painting, watching her.

"Gods, fuck." Katryna breathed. She quickly pulled her hood down, keeping herself between the spectre at the door and her bed, where Justin lay. "He's not food."

That was a dumb thing to say. She didn't know what the creature ate. If it even did. It had come to Westlock some years ago, and like a butterfly in a bedroom, the Witch had done nothing to remove it from the city. She had wondered if it was some sort of demon or child of Moraiza that one of her coworkers had brought along. But none claimed ownership of it. And it was able to pass into places without invitation, and linger on holy grounds blessed by Rethalon and Ra'zerun alike.

It offered tricks and treasures for tasks Katryna found very simple. A death for a needle that could thread magic. Pieces of magical beasts for tomes and treasures that delighted her. One thing was certain; the sharpened senses Katryna had inherited from her mother did nothing to tell her what exactly it was. Where it walked, the air felt suffocating. The closest sensation it gave, was a deathly omen, like walking the streets alone and suddenly seeing the shadow of a man facing you.

An impending sense of death definitely wasn't working with the vibe she needed for Justin right now.

It stepped into the room, no gaze behind its iron mask as it viewed the room and lingered on the open book. "You are worried." It spoke, its echoing voice garbled.

"No, just stressed." Katryna remarked, stepping in the creature's path once more when it turned to the bloodied rags all over the floor. "He's on our side."

It grabbed one of the fresher rags off the ground, pressing it to its mask with a deep breath. Katryna watched in silent disgust as it pocketed the rag. "No side. But dying nonetheless."

The words felt dry in her throat as she stared at the cloaked spectre. "Do you have a healing spell?"

"Tricks of life elude me. I have time, to hold horrors, and stop rivers from flowing. Will you trade?"

Katryna eased a little bit at the offer. It had never given her a trick or trinket she did not enjoy. "Will he live?"

"I cannot steal a choice from your hands. Will you trade?"

"Fuck it, you make no sense. Sure."

It approached the bedside, a bony hand of warped and pale flesh hovering over Justin's body. Katryna watched it carefully, waiting for an incantation. But instead, it stopped by a small nightstand, and reached into its robes. She saw the object it pulled out, a tiny ornate hourglass. She did not sense magic from the mundane object, but as it placed it upon the table, the sand did not flow freely, clogged at the top.

She stared at the object, confused and frustrated.

It placed one hand upon the hourglass, and the other, Justin's forehead, the ominous presence it carried growing for a moment. And then a single grain of sand toppled from the top of the hourglass, falling unnaturally slow to the bottom.

The creature straightened, still watching Justin. "Watch the sand carefully. It falls slow. Death will wait, and a healer may persuade them to turn away. You have thirty sunsets, and in exchange, you will bring a new Agent of Death here."

She stared at the hourglass, hopeful. "Deal."

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