“Dad! Dad, quick.” Tyria yells, a strand of panic in her voice that Zamron isn’t used to hearing. Usually, Tyria is the quiet kind, soft voice but loud smile.

She’s not like that now; she turns into his bedroom with her blue eyes wide and brown hair a mess around her face. “There was an accident, we need a healer.”

Zamron stands up, creaking bones complaining with each movement he forces upon his body. His daughter doesn’t even wait for him, she darts out of the room as soon as she sees him stand up from his bed. He follows, scooping up a jacket on the way out.

It’s dark and cold outside the house. The wind a soft buzz that ruffles mussed up hair. Tyria waits for him out on the porch, but as soon as he closes the door, she storms away with quick feet. Part of him wonders if she missed the old days; back when their house homed the casualties of war and she was the child that played nurse.

He grabs the lantern hanging out on the porch, the small flame burning away at the darkness that surrounds him. Tyria is off in the dark, young eyes spotting the objects that are in the way that threaten to trip her. He’s not so lucky, his feet shuffle about in dead grass as he eyes anything that even looks suspicious in the poor lighting.

It’s a bit down the road, not too far but not that close. Not close enough if Zamron is expected to carry someone. He’s been living a soft life for far too long for his body to be able to do any type of heavy lifting. Tyria would be able to help, but not for long. She’s never been a strong one.

The accident Tyria brought him to is...

Gruesome.

Maybe if the earth was softer, or if they hit the ground in a better way, it wouldn’t have ended the way it had, but life wasn’t like that. There’s a girl, stumbling in the dark and talking to Tyria when Zamron finally catches up. The burning light of the lantern bathes the scene in a dying red.

The other one, the girl that wasn’t so lucky, was crushed. There was bone sticking out of her shin, and her arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. Her head a bloody mess, hair taking this dark crimson color that was closer to black than anything else. The horse, or whatever else it was, was gone.

Possibly spooked, bolting the second it got on its feet after the initial fall.

“What happened?” Tyria whispers, head bowed close to uninjured girl. Zamron doesn’t get a good look at her, the hood of her jacket blocks her face from his view as he crouches down next to the other one. He sets the lantern to the side, its small flame trying its hardest to bathe the darkness with light.

“There was,” It’s a broken voice that responds, shaking as she continues, “There was thunder and the horse spooked and…” She trails off; in the corner of Zamron’s eye, he can see her fiddle with her hands. Tyria steps closer as she says,

“How long ago was that?”

Zamron reaches down, pressing two fingers to the broken girl’s throat to feel for a pulse. There’s a flutter, thank the Godlings the girl’s heart was still beating.

Warm breath fans across Zamron’s chilled forearm.

“I-“There’s movement in the corner of his eye as the other girl rubs her elbow. “It was dark. Not as dark, so maybe an hour? Or two? We don’t- I don’t have a watch. Ann always said we didn’t need to know the time so…”

“Is that your friend’s name? Ann?” Tyria’s voice is gentle and calm. Something soothing for the other girl to focus on. She always was good at talking to people, making them calm down. Be it when she was little telling a dying soldier that he’d be okay because she’s got the best dad and that he can heal everything. People didn’t believe her, but there’s something about a child holding your hand and being optimistic without even thinking of the negative.

“Ye- Yeah. It’s short for Anastasia. It’s… a silly name, right? She’s…” The other girl stutters before going, “She’s going to be okay right? She…”

“Yes, she’ll be fine. My dad’s the best healer and if- if she’s not a nephlim there’s a leech in town so everything will be fine. What’s your name?”

The girl, Ann, probably wouldn’t be fine. Zamron was inspecting her shin first. His hands carefully ghosting over the side to make sure there was only the one injury. The bone was jagged but smooth. Not a swirling break, but more like something stepped on it and forced it to bend where it was not supposed to.

It had been so long since Zamron even tried to use magic. Something he had started and stopped during the war. It wasn’t natural, the human body wasn’t meant to heal so quickly in such a short time frame. It had been so long, but he could still manipulate his magic for healing.

The world goes black as he imagines the bone sinking back into her skin. The bone would slide right back into its proper placement, the jagged cuts would just click in place like puzzle pieces. The mending of the bone started, just enough for it to stick and-

There’s blood. He can feel it. The bone’s movement opens the wound, no longer blocking the blood flow, and it burns to the touch.

“My- My name is Pete. Are you-“

Zamron swears under his breath, a silly mistake to make but-

“So, where were you guys going? Are you two from around here, Pete?”

As much as he disliked magic at times, it really did come in hand. Just thinking of the blood clotting, skin stretching over and forcibly mending it together like a nasty scab has the wound closing. Nothing pretty he’s sure, but enough to where hot blood stops touching the chilly air.

“Ah, no. Ann- Ann has something here. A… job opportunity.” Pete still sounds awful, her voice breaking at odd words.

It’s a quick and dirty fix, nothing he would have done typically in the past. They were limited, though, and Zamron doubted the capabilities of Tyria and Pete in carrying the girl without jostling her. Too much of a risk for things to get worse if he left the open fracture alone.

“What kind of job opportunity?”

Ann’s arm wasn’t as bad as he first thought. Twisted at an unnatural angle, but at a closer look, it didn’t seem broken. It was more out of socket and twisted. Something nasty and painful but more comfortable to fix and-

“She was trying to get a job for uh…” Pete slides the hood off her head when Zamron looks up from the not so broken girl at his feet. Pete has a curled up bush atop her head but, Zamron squints, she also had a pair of ears twitching on top of the wavy mess. “Nephlim… Research.”

“Ah- oh! Are you? Shapeshifter?” Tyria’s got this excited pitch to her voice, completely disregarding everything else, and Zamron can see her abort a motion to reach up to touch Pete’s ears. The girl had always been too curious for her own good.

“Not a very good one…” The words are a mumble, ears flattening against Pete’s head.

“Hey! We need to move her. I’ve done all I can here, and she’s stable enough to be moved now.” Zamron’s shout has Tyria jumping, her head swiveling around to stare at him.

“Yes! Uh, of course.” Tyria stumbles over her words, body jerking a step back before she darts to Zamron’s side to offer help. “What do you want me to do?”

Pete wavers where she stands, a stuttering step before she stops. Zamron gives her a brief glance before his attention goes back to his daughter. “Do you think you can carry her?”

Tyria chews on her cheek, “It depends on how heavy she is- I could probably do it-“

“I can do it.” It’s the other girl’s voice; when Zamron looks up, there are glowing yellow eyes peeking down at them. The pupils are large slits, and her gaze unfocused. With the light of the lantern, Zamron can see a small trail of blood trickling down her forehead.

“I don’t think you should be-“Zamron is cut off by desperate eyes; the girl takes a step closer as she repeats,

“I can do it.”

“Maybe,” Tyria crouches between the two, eyes flickering back and forth as she offers, “we can both carry her? I don’t think you are in any shape to actually carry someone on your own, Pete. You’re still in shock.”

Pete gives a pause, the dark shadow of one of her ears twitching before, “I- yeah. That- That sounds…” She motions towards Ann as she continues, “I can take the left side?”

Tyria gives the brightest smile, “Sounds like a plan.”

As the two girls maneuver around Ann’s unconscious body, Zamron scoops the lantern back up. Pete stumbles a little as she crouches down to grab at the uninjured side of Ann as Tyria carefully picks up the dislocated arm and wraps one of her arms around Ann’s torso. He waits, with the lantern raised high to give them light as the two girls juggle the dead weight around.

There’s a bag, right on the edge of the dim light. It’s this small thing, easily forgotten about and ignored. Zamron looks back at the girls, at Pete wavering under her friend’s weight but stubborn in staying to help. He quickly scoops up the bag and has it hanging off his arm.

The girls’ strides are stilted, Pete lagging on individual steps and Tyria overcompensating when she shouldn’t be. It’s a slow crawl on the way back, Ann’s feet dragging on the ground. The two girls softly chat during the walk; Zamron catches little bits and pieces like, are you sure she’ll be okay? And there’s nothing my dad can’t heal. Your friend will be good as new before you know it.

Zamron enters the house first, dropping the bag by the foot next to all of the shoes before holding the door wide open for the girls and ordering, “Put her on the couch, I can work from there.” He reaches for the lights before Ann is even dropped onto the couch. With a click, light floods the room.

Everything looks better in the light. The dark shadows that hid the wounds and let imagination run wild hide back where they belong. Ann is still the broken girl, but it’s not so gruesome. She’s got a healthy pink to her skin, the wound on her shin still this gnarled mess, but nothing horrifying.

Tyria flutters about, trying to gently nudge Ann into a more comfortable position as Pete hovers overhead. Pete’s obviously on her last legs, body swaying as if on a ship, and her eyes keep sliding shut.

“Tyria.” Zamron barks and Tyria snaps to attention. “Go take… Pete and see to her injuries.”

“Wha-“Pete jerks into a standing position, eyes wide as she stutters out, “No- I- I’m fine.” She swings her hand in the air as if cutting off any attention. Tyria softens up, a gentle smile on her face as she reaches out to nudge at Pete.

“You might be fine, but that’s a nasty cut on your forehead that’s going to hurt later if we don’t clean it up.” Zamron watches as Pete fights accepting the offer of help, her eyes flickering between Ann and Tyria.

“I can take care of your friend from here. Go with Tyria.” The words are enough for Pete to take a step back and follow Tyria’s gentle nudging. As soon as Pete is out of sight, Zamron brings his attention to Ann. Tyria was able to get her in a partial sitting position, probably to make it easier when Zamron fixed her shoulder.

He sits on the coffee table in front of the girl, leaning forward to grab her delicate face. Her eyes are barely open, and when he tries to pull the eyelids open, he can see dark blue irises rolling around. He thinks they stick to him for a second as if she’s waking up and can see him before her eyes drift away. She doesn’t seem to have a concussion going by what he can see of her pupils.

He does find a head wound, a flap of flesh hanging amongst her ginger hair. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding anymore, so he decides to deal with it later after finding any other injuries the young girl had and fixing her arm. The only things he sees are little scrapes and bruises, the swollen flesh on her shin, and the dislocated shoulder.

It’s when he’s setting her shoulder that she wakes up. There’s a choked scream, dark eyes shooting open as her entire body jolts forward. Zamron leans back, giving her a second to think as her eyes swing wildly around the room. “Hey, hey. Calm down, you’re okay. You were in an accident a few hours ago, and my daughter found you.”

She blinks at him, mouth opening and closing as if trying to find words.

“I’m Dr. Ionar, and you are currently in my home in Faliem. Your friend is currently being treated in the next room over by my daughter. You had a broken leg, a dislocated shoulder, and a head injury. How are you feeling?”

“I’m- everything hurts.” She manages to croak out, shifting slightly. She keeps her dark eyes pinned onto Zamron as she fidgets. “Where… where are my things?”

“I only saw a bag; we can go back in the morning to see if we missed anything if you’d like?” The girl blinks at him before looking at the door he was gesturing towards.

“We… only brought the one bag. It was supposed to be a short thing.” She says, a frown on her lips. Zamron makes a humming noise before he lifts one finger in front of Ann’s face.

“Follow my finger.” He starts slowly moving said digit in the air, watching as Ann freezes for a second before her eyes begin to track his index finger. Zamron first swings it to the left, then to center and back to the right. Outside of the initial hiccup, she follows it.

“Pete said, you guys were here for a job?” The question slips out before Zamron can stop it. Ann abandons the finger Zamron still had raised up to watch him. She’s frowning at him, twitching as she straightens out her posture and puffs up her chest as if to make herself a more significant threat than she was.

“For nephlims.” Her response is short and sharp. As if expecting ridicule and Zamron can’t help but crack a smile.

“I think whatever it is your doing, it’s great. I myself am a nephlim, and I know we could use all of the help we can get.” She doesn’t deflate like he was expecting; instead, her posture stays stiff as if ready to hop on the defensive at a moment’s notice. “Research, right? I’m assuming you guys are heading towards Mavinsport?”

“Something like that.” Ann looks away, her stilted answer hanging in the air.

“Right…” Zamron hums before tapping the girl’s knee. “Could you raise your leg for me, please? I need to do a quick check on the healing I did earlier.”

Ann lifts her leg without comment, biting the inside of her lip when her shin touched the bottom of the coffee table. “Careful, careful.” He chides, softly touching around the wound. It’s swollen, and no doubt hurts going by how Ann cringes at every gentle touch. The scab where the break looks nasty, a black and red mess with inflamed skin and bruises scattering around it.

“My daughter works in Mavinsport. Not so much with research but she works with a charity group for nephlims. If you are working there you’ll probably see her quite frequently. She’s always stopping by the research facility.” Zamron hovers his hand over the scab, debating on mending the muscles together some more.

“Maybe.” Is all Ann offers.

“Your leg is going to be fine, you’ll be limping for a few weeks, but it’s nothing that will last. You will, unfortunately, have a scar. Magic is good at fixing things, but it never does it elegantly. If you were a patient that was brought in, I would have put stitches in instead.” Zamron nudges Ann’s leg to get her to bring it back down to the floor.

“That’s… fine. You said I had a dislocated shoulder?” Ann rubs at her shoulder, head cocked to the side.

“Nothing a night’s rest won’t fix. You and your friend can sleep in the guest house for the night. It’s a bit too late for you two to go out again. In the morning we can try to see if we can find your horse?” Zamron offers and watches as Ann looks up before finally sinking into the couch. Stiff posture slowly melting away as she continues to rub at her shoulder and then,

“Yeah, that sounds… wonderful.” Dark eyes look down to the floor before Ann raises her head to stare directly at Zamron as she says, “Thank you.” She still doesn’t smile, a frown claiming her mouth; the words have a cumbersome ring to them as she shoves them out into the air.

“It’s fine. Let me go get your friend so that we can show you your room, okay?” Zamron flashes a smile, patting the couch before getting up. Ann just watches him without saying a word.

Tyria and Pete are over in another room. Tyria’s room actually going by the soft talking he can hear. Pete sounds happier, her voice shaking less, and she has more confidence in her words. He’s reasonably sure it was Pete anyways since it definitely was not Tyria’s voice going, “-really have a job. More of a… wherever the wind takes me? I was in the military right after the war with that big draft going on, so I’ve done enough work to last a lifetime.”

“Oh, with the CME?” That was Tyria’s voice, he was confident of that. He hesitates outside the door with his knuckles raised. Tyria always had a fascination with the CME, even if she could never bring herself to join the ragtag military group. She always worried about how they went about things and didn’t agree with several of the laws they passed.

“No, it was an experimental group back before the CME was fully formed. It ended up being a wash, though. Too many humans got sick because of it.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard of that before? Surely it would have been big news. Nephlims and humans working together.”

“Nah, we would have had so much bad rep. It was actually how I met Ann, you know? Me and her and a few others against the world. Got my contract cut short when it got disbanded.” Pete sounds proud as she explains. Nothing like earlier and Zamron is tempted to just leave them be and show Ann to the guest house. Tyria didn’t get to talk to as many people as she should since she’s always been staying home to take care of her old, senile father.

“That’s pretty awesome. Is Ann a nephlim too?” Tyria sounds ecstatic, probably bouncing on her toes.

“She’s…” Pete’s voice drifts off before she awkwardly tacks on, “something.”

“Was she the only human with the group? Or how many were there? She has to be a pretty good friend to still travel with you if she got sick before.” Tyria sounds awed, altogether skipping over the strained answer Pete had given her.

Pete’s giving a choked “Er-“when Zamron raps his knuckles against the door and slowly slides it open.

“Hey girls, hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Tyria has Pete sitting on her bed as she sits on one of her stools. There’s a bloodied rag over by the lamp, but it the two seemed to have passed most of their time chatting. Pete had removed her jacket, a dog tail resting next to her. Werewolf is the first thought that crosses Zamron’s mind as he sees it. Then he looks back up at the ears attached to an entirely human face.

All Pete was, was a nephlim that didn’t have control of her magic. It’s rare for a nephlim whose magic takes a physical form to not have absolute authority over the disease. Usually, the black magic shapeshifters take to their magic like ducks to water. Zamron’s magic wasn’t so lucky, he had to study and learn and imagine to use correctly, but it was something that could be easily hidden away if he couldn’t control it.

Tyria offers a bright smile, “Nothing to interrupt, dad. Everything’s fine. How’s Ann?” Pete actually perks up when she hears her friend’s name.

“Ann is fine. Actually, she woke up not that long ago. I thought you two might want to get settled in?” He leaves the question open for Pete, who gives a timid smile.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother-“

“Nonsense! You guys don’t even have a horse anymore and whilst my dad is the best he can’t perform miracles. Both you and Ann need some rest before you try to continue on your way to Laqrea.” Tyria interrupts before Pete could finish her refute. She’s got this demanding tone in her voice as if daring Pete to argue.

“If you insist…” Pete’s back to being quiet, yellow eyes flickering between Zamron and his daughter.

“We do. It’s fine, we have the space.”

Pete gives a nod as she pushes herself up on her feet. Tyria calls out, “Let me know if you need any help. I’m going to clean up!” Zamron waves her off with a laugh.

“I didn’t think you could clean up.” Tyria’s face contorts and she opens her mouth to retort, but Zamron is quick to add on, “So, you ready to go, Pete?”

Pete gives a nod and follows Zamron out of the room. The second they leave the hallway and Pete can see into the living room, the girl is gone. She darts past Zamron to Ann and flutters about chirping out a, “Ann! How are you? Are you okay? In any pain? Are you-“

“I’m fine.” It sounds like she’s snapping, but Zamron can see a faint smile on her lips. Just the smallest upwards quirk in the lips that makes the harsh tone so much softer. Pete still hovers, but she’s smiling too now. Ann looks over at Zamron, her frown returning the second she stopped watching the fretting Pete, and she adds, “We’re staying in a guest house?”

“Yeah, it’s right across the street, so it’ll be a bit of a walk, but you two would have the place to yourselves.” Zamron heads straight for the door, stopping to watch the two girls. Pete’s helping Ann off the couch while Ann gives quiet complaints that Zamron couldn’t hear. Pete’s got the gentlest smile as she tugs Ann up, and Ann follows her with a slight trip.

“Why do you have a guest house, if you don’t mind me asking?” Pete asks after she herded Ann towards the door.

“It was my wife’s. We had a bed and breakfast thing going in the early years.” Zamron picks up the bag by the entrance, handing it over to Pete before he opens the door for them.

“Where’s your wife?” It’s an innocent enough question. A bit on the nosey side, but Zamron can’t really blame them. He’s shutting the door and grabbing the lantern as he says,

“She wasn’t a nephlim. I apologize that the walk is a bit of a distance, but if you follow me, we will be there in a few minutes.” He holds the lantern high, letting the orange light bathe their surroundings as he makes his way out into the dirt road.

“What- oh. Oh. I’m sorry for your loss.” Pete scrambles behind him as Ann limps after her.

“It’s life, unfortunately.” The trek is a slow one, done in a frozen silence that shatters once the house is in view. It’s a second story house, grey in the blackness of night with windows scattered about the walls. The gravel under their feet crunch as they walk, stones skittering about with each step.

“It looks nicer than your house.” Pete notes, head whipping around to stare up at the house. “Why don’t you two live here?”

“The house is too big for two people, and usually it is just me anyways. A big house is lonelier than a small house. More things to miss.” He unlocks the front door, letting it swing open to the empty expanse of the living room. The entire place is dusty and untouched, he doesn’t even remember the last time someone was in the house.

As soon as his wife died, he had locked up the place and done away with the bed and breakfast. After the war ended, he retired and holed himself up in the tiny house across the street. It was a rare day when he left, even more extraordinary when he was around someone other than his daughter.

“The bedrooms are upstairs, you two will have your choice of whichever ones you want.” Zamron motions to the stairs and then tacks on, “In the morning you two can join us for breakfast. There’s not any food in this house, but every morning I usually start cooking around…. Eight-ish?”

“That sounds wonderful, we’ll be sure to join.” Pete is smiling again as she reaches out a hand. Zamron accepts the proffered hand, and Pete says, “Thank you so much for everything you are doing for us. I…” Her voice drifts up, smile dimming a little before she finishes, “I have no idea how we will ever repay you.”

“Don’t worry about it. I could never just abandon someone who needs help. What kind of doctor would I be if I didn’t help someone injured?” Zamron waves her off, giving a quick grin. “I hope you two have a good night and I will see you in the morning.”

“Again, thank you.” Pete goes and tugs Ann forward, adding, “Both of us really appreciate this.” Ann just watches with that frown on her lips, eyes hazy and unfocused.

Zamron nods at the girl, “Make sure she gets some sleep. It’s been a rough day for both of you, and magic takes a lot out of people. Tomorrow I’ll give you the address to the leech in town so that Ann doesn’t have to worry about side effects.” He gave a slight wave before taking his leave and returning back to the house. Leaving the two girls to explore the old house on their own.

Tyria is sitting on the couch as he enters the house. She’s got this expectant look on her face, and her posture as straight as a metal rod, “Everything go well?”

“Everything is fine, opening that house isn’t going to break me.” Zamron scoffs, blowing out a breath to kill the flame in the lantern before he collapses on the couch next to his daughter.

“I know- I just worry. It’s been so long… “Zamron wraps an arm around Tyria’s shoulders as he drags her close to him.

“Hush, you aren’t the one supposed to be worrying about anything. That’s my job.” He chides, leaning his cheek on his daughter’s frizzy hair.

“Yeah, but I’m allowed to worry too now. You told me that.” Is Tyria’s weak defense. Just a token protest in all honesty, and Zamron lets a chuckle escape him.

“Yeah, yeah. I did. But you don’t need to. There are other things to think about, like tomorrow. Big day right?” He feels Tyria’s nod. “You should probably get some sleep, don’t you think?”

“Ah, I see what this is, you’re just trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?” Tyria digs a boney finger into Zamron’s side at the complaint, and he can’t help the gust of air that escapes him at the prod.

“I would never.” He laughs, squashing his daughter closer to his side and giving her a jab back.

“You’re squishing me! Dad! Dad stop it!” The shouts are interrupted with bouts of giggles as Tyria squirms away, shoving an elbow between them and trying to pry herself away. Zamron stays stubborn in keeping her in his clutches until, “Fine, fine. I give I give!”

“Mhmm, c’mon squirt. To bed with you.” Zamron nudges Tyria away. The girl leans forward, unlatching Zamron’s chin from her head as she turns to the side to stare at him.

“You need to go to bed too.”

“I was sleeping, then a certain somebody who I shall not name woke me up.” Zamron can’t help his fond grin as Tyria puffs up in indignation.

“Someone was injured, and you told me-“

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Go on, shoo.” He waves his hand in the air as if to hurry her along. Tyria simply shakes her head and jumps off the couch. As she heads to her room she gives a laugh and says,

“Good night, dad. See you in the morning.”

“Bed!” Zamron orders, and Tyria obeys with chuckles following her wake.

He’s left sitting in the living room by himself. The silence drapes around his shoulders like an old friend and as he slips his eyes closed everything seems… normal. Peaceful. It’s been a while since he’s opened the guest house up; it’s been longer since someone has been invited to breakfast.

With a sigh, he lifts himself up on old tired feet and head to his room where he falls onto the bed.

Falls into sleep and….

Eventually, he falls into his dreams.

It’s a simple thing, breakfast with the three of them and laughter echoing in the cozy little house. The sun rises in the window, and the smell of eggs and pancakes drowns out everything else. Tyria is little then, still going to school. Magic isn’t a thing, which was evident the second he saw his wife’s smiling face.

Tyria is sent off to school with cheek kisses and wishes of luck, all of which she consumes with the biggest grin a kid could have. Then it’s his turn, and he just stands there and stares. He stares and drinks in the sight he never sees when he’s awake.

Zamron reaches out, and the second his wife walks into his embrace, everything falls apart.

There’s air in his lungs, filling them until they burst, and there’s a ringing in his ears.

A feeling, this tickling notion sets into his mind. There was a noise, he heard this sharp, horrible noise just as his wife stepped into his arms. Something he’s never heard before, something he’d never dream.

He’s bumbling out of his bed, out of his room, out of his house when he sees it.

Tyria sits there, leaning against the wall of the house, and her head tilted up. Her eyes barely flicker over to Zamron, but they don’t need to. Zamron is darting to her side, hands reaching and reaching.

Tyria opens her mouth, not a word escapes just this small hiccup of breath.

“What-“He doesn’t even finish the words. Instead, he lifts up the hand Tyria has cradled to her stomach.

Her stomach was blooming red.

It wasn’t supposed to do that. He presses his hand to her side, and everything just burns. Pulling up her shirt he can see it. It’s awful.

Horrible.

The worst thing.

He’d rather sit by his wife’s bedside and hold her cold, cold hand than sit here staring at the small wound that lazily spat out blood in big, heaving waves.

Magic can only do so much after all.

It does things a messy way, imperfect and unnatural. But it only does what he can think of, what he knows of.

He was a doctor, an old senile doctor that dealt more with broken bones and broken skin.

He wasn’t one to deal with bullet wounds and Tyria…

Tyria had a bullet wound.

“It’s okay dad, you can heal anything, right?” Tyria whispers in this broken voice, a hand reaching to touch Zamron’s hand as he stares and stares and stares and stares.

He tries to think of the wound healing; of skin mending, but all he can see is a grave with flowers on top of it.

He’s back at the hospital just as his wife takes her last breathe. Little Tyria clinging to him as she cries her heart out, blaming herself for unfortunate circumstances.

“You’re the best, after all.”

He’s just frozen, one hand touching the bleeding wound and….

His magic does nothing.

“So don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”