Crimson and Gold

Saria opened her eyes to an unfamiliar room. Golden rays of an early sun shone through open windows.

She tried getting up, but she was quickly overwhelmed by a head-splitting pain.

Looking at herself, she realized she was still wearing her assassin armor, the black cloth was completely soaked with blood. Probably as much of Eris’ as her own.

Eris.

The moment she thought about her, the memories of the previous night came rushing back.

Alongside the images of her friend slowly withering away, the desperate chase to the clinic, and the warm light washing over her body, resurfaced the feelings accompanying them.

Fear. Desperation. Anger. Panic. And finally relief. Saria experienced a full flood of emotion that crashed into her hazy mind and made it work at full throttle.

She frantically looked around the room. It was quite big, taking nearly the entire first floor, with a row of worn-out, or downright broken, single beds. On one of the better-looking, Saria noticed the familiar face.

“Eris!” She hastily threw off the covers and jumped out of bed.

But the moment her feet touched the floor, she fell.

The noise must have attracted the healer, because in the next moment he came running through the door. “Whoa… Easy now. Don’t rush. Your body is still recovering,” the healer said, walking over.

He reached out to Saria, trying to help her up, but she swatted it away. Groaning and with a great strain, she pushed herself to stand on her own.

Her strength was returning much faster now that she had a few hours of rest and was fully awake, but it still made her steps a bit unsure.

Saria pushed the man aside and limped towards Eris.

She had to make sure that everything was fine. She had to make sure, prove to herself that she was alive. Only then could she relax.

Eris was sleeping peacefully, her breathing was even without any signs of strain, and judging from the expression on her face, the dreams she had must have been pleasant. On her neck, two pink scars stretched from her collarbone almost all the way up to her jaw.

He couldn’t even be bothered to remove the scars, Saria thought, glaring at the healer standing a few steps away.

Magical healing didn’t follow the natural healing process, which was why it could easily help the patient recover even from the worst wounds. It also allowed for leaving no trace of the injury, as long as the healer cared to do that.

In most cases, due to a high success rate and very short recovery period, magical healing was referred to by the vast majority of people. It had, however, a big drawback—it was expensive.

Most common people couldn’t afford to use it on every single ailment, so eventually a second approach was developed.

Physicians specialized in healing with the use of alchemy, medicine, and the body’s natural processes. The approach was much cheaper, but the results were also not as good as with magical healing.

It was also the most effective when dealing with less dangerous types of illnesses and injuries. If Saria tried to get the help of a physician, Eris most likely wouldn’t survive.

Despite the dichotomy in healing—and through that—a surface-level competition, magical healing was still the unquestionable leader.

One could think that being a healer was already a very successful occupation. It came with the respect of the people and guaranteed no shortage of gold streaming at a steady pace. Nevertheless, the greed festering in a human’s heart should never be underestimated.

There were still countless healing clinics that used people’s desperation to extort even more money.

This was one of them.

Saria was acquainted with the reputation it had among the locals. The owner was a lazy, avaricious man who often healed the patients only partially, just so he could extract more money on subsequent visits.

His skills were passing at best, vastly subpar at worst. Seeing the state of the clinic and the scars on Eris’ neck only confirmed that.

Noticing the disdain in Saria’s eyes, the healer covered in cold sweat.

“Your friend is sleeping now. It’s normal, she just needs to rest for a bit.” He came over to stand on the opposite side of the bed.

“You should be worried more about yourself,” he said, scrutinizing the terrifying woman from head to toe. Her face was attractive, and the appeal of her body couldn’t be hidden even under the layers of black robes that made her armor.

It was just that her behavior was more like a thug in a dark alley than a beautiful maiden, and judging by the bloodstains, she surely fought like one, too. That was why the healer dared not act too forward with her.

“Whatever was the thing you fought, it left you in a state worse than your friend. It took me a few hours to stabilize you,” he continued, while averting his eyes before the woman’s beauty clouded his reason. “A magical damage of this level would kill most people on the spot. You must have a very strong spirit to survive this.”

Saria didn’t comment.

She already suspected what was happening. It was the same as the first time she used her powers extensively. Back then, Lysandra heard a very similar thing from the healer.

‘Large-scale magical damage that targeted her vital organs and caused a massive expenditure of her vitality.’ Considering that the only type of magic used on her in both cases was her own, the conclusion was writing itself.

Her blood magic was slowly killing her.

The man misinterpreted her silence once more. “If you’re worried about your friend, you can rest assured. She can stay here until she wakes up.” As he said that, his eyes instinctively drifted to the girl sleeping soundly between them.

She was younger than the other woman, but no less attractive. Her beauty was much gentler and less provoking, which suited the man’s preferences even more. When he was moving her onto the bed, he could feel how supple and full of youthful charm her body was.

It was rare for him to host such marvelous beauty, so his excitement accidentally spilled to the outside. “I’ll give my utmost care to her,” he said, with his lustful gaze lingering on the girl.

It was the first time Saria actually looked at him.

Her cold eyes were filled with hatred, radiating with violent killing intent that she could barely hold back.

“Soap and water. Where is it?” she forced through her clenched teeth.

“It’s downstairs, in the kitchen. From the stars, it’s the second door.”

Saria retracted her eyes and leaned over Eris. “Wait for me, I’ll be gone just for a moment,” she said, caressing her hair.

Both her voice and her gaze were full of tenderness and care. Even her expression was much softer.

Having said what she wanted to say to her friend, Saria circled the bed and grabbed the healer by the collar.

With just one hand, she threw him all the way to the back of the room, then just as he managed to push himself to his feet, she stood face to face with him.

The tenderness in her eyes disappeared like a mirage, making the healer wonder whether he even saw it in the first place.

“This is the closest you can get to her. Don’t even take one step closer,” Saria growled and pointed at her right eye, where her pupil had already started changing shape. “I’ll know if you do.”

The little demonstration was so effective that when she returned ten minutes later, the man was still in the same spot, not daring to move so much as a finger.

Saria paid him no attention as she walked back to the bed and addressed Eris again.

“Come on, sleepyhead. Time to take you home.”

Gently, she picked the girl up. Eris must have sensed the familiar warmth even in her sleep, as she lazily nestled in Saria’s arms. Once she made sure that the girl was comfortable, both of them left the clinic without sparing the healer a second glance.

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