My first thought was that I’d been jinxed. No, worse—cursed. Absolutely cursed with the worst kind of hex: to never find peace and to stumble into trouble at every turn.
This was just impossible. The last time I felt this kind of Call, the consequences were utterly unexpected. Though… maybe this time it would pass without incident. Maybe I’d just help someone in need and be done with it.
Gods, who was I kidding? With my luck, at best, I’d land myself in yet another mess.
But my feet were already carrying me in an unknown direction through a city I barely knew. Right now, I regretted not exploring it more: not wandering its narrow, bustling streets, not taking in its beauty or quirks. Because after this, I’d still need to find my way back. Recalling the last time, there was a good chance I’d end up goodness-knows-where, dragging an injured person along with me. Unlike in Gorengville, I hadn’t been entrusted with the summoning spells for guards or healers in this city.
But my fears turned out to be unfounded. In fact, as I approached the dying boy, I noticed the surroundings changing: more flowers, lanterns, vines, and ivy clinging to walls, and the clothing and accessories of the local lords and ladies. Clearly, this wasn’t a poor district. There should’ve been guards here, at least seven per street. So what could’ve happened?
It was all so strange. But I didn’t have time to think it through properly. My insides twisted with a sharp pang, and my chest felt like it was being torn apart by pain. This cursed gift! It brought nothing but endless trouble!
And then I wasn’t walking anymore—I broke into a run, nearly knocking over passersby and earning a few more curses to add to my collection.
The source of the Call turned out to be the back courtyard of some estate. Not just any estate, but… a lavish, expensive, ancient one, as old as the world itself. It obviously belonged to some aristocrat. And if I trespassed, even into the back yard, without permission or an invitation, I’d be in for trouble with the guards—or worse, the investigators. Did I really need that? And…
And without a shred of hesitation, I scaled the stone fence draped in purple ivy with the agility of a thief. I froze, waiting for an attack—if not from protective spells, then at least from guard dogs. But noticing neither, I set out to find the victim.
Bushes, rose gardens, fountains, trees… all of it was illuminated only by moonlight, which was odd for a city obsessed with lanterns and lights. Here, lamps and candles were as essential as bread, water, and salt. And I partly understood why—Storeng was a city of healers and light magic, and at night, their powers waned. A couple of lanterns or candles wouldn’t gather enough light for a substantial spell. But when everything around glowed…
Even with just this light—and my instincts—I spotted the body about ten steps away.
At first, I didn’t even realize it was a person. The motionless figure lay face down, arms sprawled out. A black cloak with a wide hood concealed it from prying eyes, as if someone had simply left it here to die. I’ll admit, I might’ve walked right past and not noticed it even in daylight, if not for the burning sensation inside me.
I’d love to know what happened here. Maybe a betrayed husband took revenge on his wife’s lover? Or maybe…
Stop! I didn’t care. I wasn’t getting involved in anything else. I’d study, gain access to the archives, find the path to Strahan, and under NO circumstances would I meddle in things that weren’t my business.
Except… I’d help this poor soul and be done with it.
A scanning spell flickered from my fingertips almost simultaneously with that last thought. But I didn’t dare approach right away, not until the “echo” returned with the information I needed. A bitter taste settled on my tongue, a feeling that I’d been through this before. I wanted to glance over my shoulder and check if a dark mage with black patterns on his neck was staring into my back with a gaze that pierced my soul. But at the same time, I didn’t need to look to know—he wasn’t there. And he never would be.
The scanning spell obediently revealed a dying man, complete with childhood illnesses, a dislocated shoulder, a once-broken leg, a healed abdominal wound from a sword, a bolt wound in the shoulder… and traces of magical healing. Who in the demons was this guy?
He didn’t seem like an unlucky lover—more like some kind of criminal. I’d probably regret not walking away right now. But he’d piqued my curiosity too much.
The thing was, there were no wounds, diseases, infections, or poisons in his body. I had absolutely no idea why he’d decided to die so suddenly.
But he was dying. Absolutely. The Call of Life warned me of it, as did the scanning spell, which described the situation as dire. Life was slipping from him rapidly, and I had no clue what to do about it.
Unable to come up with anything better, I cast a freezing spell on him and approached, crouching down to peer at his face. At first, I flinched—his features and the markings on his neck were far too familiar. But upon closer inspection, I realized I was wrong. They weren’t markings but black veins protruding under his skin, turning my patient into something monstrous. Even his lips and nails had darkened.
I dreaded to imagine what this could be.
But I had a feeling I knew someone with far more knowledge than me. I just needed to figure out how to get him to the right place.
Well, that’s what I thought—that I could get him somewhere. In reality, it turned out that this seemingly scrawny, wiry man under a partial stasis spell was practically immovable. I managed to drag him to a gate I’d barely found in the first place and even got him outside the courtyard… and that was it. My strength gave out. How was I supposed to get him to the house I needed?
Maybe I could just flag down a carriage or a guard and hand this unlucky… whoever he was… over to them? But I dismissed the idea immediately. First, there was no guarantee they’d bother with him. They might just leave him in the street to die. And second, I was honestly tormented by the question: what was wrong with him? Was it treatable?
So… I’d drag him! Somehow. If only he’d show some sign of life, maybe a groan or something. But no. He was like a lifeless ragdoll. Just heavy.
I wouldn’t get him far like this.
And then a brilliant idea struck me. Well, brilliant in my subjective opinion. I pulled a disinfecting solution made from Mountain Tears out of my bag and, unable to think of anything better, poured it right down his collar. The tincture quickly spread across his dark shirt but evaporated just as fast, leaving a strong smell of alcohol behind. Perfect. Leaving the near-dead man propped against a stone wall on the empty sidewalk of an alley, I dashed toward a busier street and waved down the first carriage I saw.
The driver yanked the reins so sharply from surprise that he nearly fell off his seat as the horses came to an abrupt halt.
“Are you out of your mind? Crazy woman! Tired of living?” he shouted at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of every passerby.
I felt a bit embarrassed, but I didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it.
The stout, squat man on the driver’s seat now seemed enormous and intimidating. When the horses stopped so suddenly, his cap flew off and rolled down the sidewalk, leaving his gray, curly hair sticking out in all directions. I started to doubt whether my idea was truly brilliant, but there was no turning back. Catching another carriage might take too long. So I chased after the runaway cap, clutched it to my chest, and looked at the driver with the most pitiful expression I could muster.
“I’m so sorry,” I stammered immediately, plastering the most remorseful and guilty look on my face. Gods, I didn’t know I had this in me. This city was having a bad influence on me. “But can I ask you… My… husband… he drank too much with his friends. Spent all his wages. His buddies abandoned him, and now I have to drag him home. Please! Help me, I beg you! I’ll pay for the carriage, just help me.”
The man looked at me as if I’d truly lost my last shred of sanity. But he must’ve seen something in my expression because he sighed, muttered a curse under his breath in a dialect I didn’t understand, and started climbing down.
“You’re a fool!” he grumbled as we struggled together, gagging from the potent, stinging smell of the tincture, to drag the complete stranger into the carriage. “So young, and already suffering like this. Leave him, let him drink himself to death. Build a life for yourself while you still can. You’ve got no future with him!”
I couldn’t agree more. Absolutely. But if I started nodding along now, he’d just abandon my patient, and I’d be left dragging him on my own.
“I love him,” I said quietly. My heart clenched. I had loved someone else entirely. But it was the memory of Kiray that gave my voice the tragic, hopeless tone it needed.
The driver sighed at that, gave me a sidelong, appraising look, and finally muttered:
“Learn to love yourself first. When you don’t love yourself, even mere affection can feel like the only love you’ll ever know.” Something flickered in his warm, fatherly eyes that weighed heavy on my soul.
I opened my mouth to argue but quickly shut it again. His words made me think. Could it be that I’d convinced myself I was in love? When in reality, I just felt… guilty for what I’d done to Kiray? How do you even tell when love is real, and when the word hides something else entirely?
We didn’t say another word after that.
The man helped me load my “find” into the carriage, drove us to the address I gave, and even carried him right to the door, setting him down on the steps. He refused payment, simply saying I reminded him of his daughter. I felt both touched and awkward at the same time. I thanked him from the bottom of my heart and immediately knocked on the door.
Lera Stephaya opened it just as the driver flicked the reins, urging the horses forward and waving goodbye. What a man… the kind you don’t forget easily.
“That was a quick date,” she noted right away, yawning and covering her mouth with her hand, shaking her head disapprovingly. But then she noticed the unconscious man at my feet, her eyebrows shot up, and she exhaled in shock. “Is this your date?”
No, my so-called date, as Lera Stephaya put it, was still sitting in the café, probably quietly hating me. Or maybe he’d already gone home.
“I’ll explain everything. Just help me get him inside,” I pleaded, clasping my hands together.
“Gods, I really hope there’s an explanation for this,” my employer said cautiously, sniffing the air and making a tremendous effort to keep a straight face.
Of course! I was already starting to come up with one. Or rather, think it through.
We dragged him to the couch usually used for beauty treatments for local lords and ladies. The shop owner clapped her hands, activating the magical lanterns, and froze, her expression changing instantly.
“A curse!” she mouthed, her face going completely pale.
“Don’t scold me. I’ll explain everything. I don’t understand what’s wrong with him. You’re an experienced healer…”
“You don’t get it,” Lera cut off my babbling, fixing me with a horrified stare. “This,” she whispered, pointing at the stranger, “is a curse! A blood curse. This is blood magic, Triss! What have you gotten yourself into?”
Damn it! Now I felt like cursing myself.
Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. I was at a loss for words.
I stood frozen, unable to move. A blood curse! What in the world?
It was as if fate was trying to teach me something, to prove a point, by repeatedly throwing me into the path of my own kind of magic. At the same time, I couldn’t forget that the last time this happened, the consequences were tragic.
What now? I so desperately didn’t want to make the same mistakes again!
“Can this curse be lifted somehow?” I asked, already dreading the answer I knew I’d hear.
“We can sustain his strength,” Lera Stephaya said thoughtfully, clasping her slender, pale fingers together. “Some elixirs can delay the inevitable… but… you understand. Blood magic curses are too powerful. They can’t be undone with herbs and powders.”
Yeah, I figured as much.
I pursed my lips, stepping closer to the young man who, until recently, had been doomed to die. Who are you? What did you do to anger a blood mage? And is it worth risking my own life to save yours? Last time, I barely escaped. It cost me my home, my family, my loved ones, my familiar life, and my love.
On the other hand, what did I have left to lose? I’d already lost everything that mattered, and I hadn’t gained much of value since. At least, nothing so precious that I couldn’t sacrifice it. So…
Alright, my dear stranger. If this curse isn’t lifted, you’ll die. That’s certain. If it is lifted, the mage who tried to get rid of you will eventually find you and ask the obvious question: how did this happen? And then they’ll come for me. I still hadn’t recovered from my last encounter with my own kind. Especially considering they nearly killed me.
Gods, I hadn’t planned on drawing attention to myself. My plan was to dig up everything I could in the archives, gain knowledge at the university, and try to return home. Why should I care about some random guy?
At that moment, he took a convulsive breath. The black veins swelled on his neck and face, and a thin trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. I even jumped back in surprise. The stasis was wearing off. Bad. Very bad.
I was about to cast a blood-stopping spell, but Lera Stephaya grabbed my hand, stopping me.
“You’ll only make it worse,” she explained, pulling a white towel from a drawer, wetting it with clean water, and starting to wipe down the cursed man. “The bad blood needs to come out. Then he’ll live a little longer. But he still needs treatment and the curse lifted. Otherwise, it’ll be very hard to explain to the guards how a cursed stranger’s corpse ended up in my shop. Who is he to you, anyway?”
Good question. And very timely.
“A friend. We studied together at the academy before,” I lied clumsily, not knowing what to do with myself.
“Uh-huh,” Lera nodded slowly, mulling over my words. “Alright, let’s say he’s a friend for now. But if you have to give a statement to the city guards, come up with something more… believable. Facts like that are easy to check, and lying to investigators never ends well. So, what are we going to do with him?”
“Let’s try something we can actually do for now,” I decided, taking the dirty towel from Lera Stephaya’s hands and rinsing it in a basin.
“Fine,” the shop owner sighed.
And then I realized what I was really asking of her. A normal person in her position would’ve already called the guards and healers, not indulged my whims.
“I’m asking for a lot,” I said, coming to my senses and squeezing the towel so hard that water dripped onto the floor. “You don’t have to…”
“On the contrary! I’m still a healer,” she countered. “And it’s my duty to provide whatever help I can to someone in need,” she said, already opening cabinet doors and pulling out vials and bottles of potions. “That’s why I understand and relate to your impulse. You found him somewhere, didn’t you? Scanned him, realized he was dying, and decided to help.”
“Y-Yes,” I nodded slowly, realizing Lera Stephaya had just crafted the story I needed for me. “That’s exactly what happened.”
“And I fully support you. I think even the guards would support you if you told them THIS truth.”
Gods, at that moment, I desperately wanted to hug Lera Stephaya, but I heroically restrained myself and started helping her with the preparations.
To open the patient’s mouth, I had to pry his jaws apart with considerable force. It was difficult under stasis, but removing it before the potion took effect was too risky. He had too little life force left.
“I’ll pour the potion, and you remove the stasis at the same moment,” Stephaya instructed tensely, mixing several elixirs at once—for blood purification, to speed up his heartbeat, to give him strength. And two more vials whose purpose I didn’t yet know. “Now!”
We acted in unison. I lifted the spell as she poured the potion, holding his mouth shut to ensure he swallowed the medicine. Thankfully, he didn’t resist. Who knows how this stunt would’ve ended otherwise.
The potent mixture didn’t take effect immediately. Slowly, very slowly, the black veins began to gray, his lips lightened, and his chest rose more frequently and strongly.
And then a small, sharp knife glinted in Lera Stephaya’s hand. She swiftly slashed the boy’s arm.
“Ossanah tas maro suitra,” her voice became deep and powerful, as if it echoed from another world.
Something inside me flipped and shuddered. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. This was a blood magic spell, Aratshian. No doubt about it. But I didn’t sense blood magic itself. What Lera Stephaya was doing was something between Imperial and Aratshian magic. It was as if, instead of blood, light magic was poured into a standard blood spell.
Of course, it would be much weaker. Of course, it would be tracked by the guards as a regular light spell. But the fact remained.
This was an opportunity!
I wasn’t just intrigued. I felt this was a perfect chance to learn blood magic without drawing the guards’ attention.
I was so lost in thought that I didn’t immediately notice the black, thick blood, like tar, trickling from the wound on our patient’s arm. At first glance, it seemed viscous and sticky, as if it were already… dead. Nausea rose in my throat from the stench of decay that hung in the air.
I snapped out of my daze and rushed to the window, flinging it open and taking a deep breath. Then I grabbed an empty bowl and placed it under his arm, where the tainted blood still dripped.
Now, standing so close to the healer, I looked at her face. Lera Stephaya had gone pale, her lips pressed tight with tension, but her eyes faintly glowed from activated reserves. Still, it wasn’t blood magic.
The young man groaned and tried to jerk away. But Lera immediately pinned him down to the couch with force, raised her free hand, and clenched it into a fist, gathering light around her. Several lanterns in the room cracked and shattered into pieces, but the woman didn’t seem to notice as she muttered another incantation.
The tainted blood flowed faster for a moment. I even thought that if this kept up, the poor guy would have none left. But the treatment didn’t last long. Soon, the blood began to lighten, becoming clearer, until normal red blood trickled into the bowl.
“Heal it,” Lera Stephaya commanded tiredly, releasing the limp young man and leaning against the wall with her eyes closed.
“Ester noama,” the spell slipped from my lips, infused with the power of light.
The wound closed instantly. I scanned his condition right after. Oh… Exhausted, drained, but healthy. More than that, his vital energy was recovering surprisingly quickly for someone who had been nearly dead.
“Thank you, Lera Stephaya!” I said sincerely to my employer. “Without your help, he would’ve died for sure.”
“Undoubtedly and absolutely,” the shop owner agreed wearily and indifferently, still not opening her eyes. I was certain this treatment had taken a toll on her. “But that doesn’t change the fact that someone will be hunting him. And I think you’re in danger now too. So… we should get rid of him as soon as he comes to.”
She looked at me in a way that made me feel uneasy. A cold resolve glinted in her emerald-green eyes. It was hard to disagree with this woman. The less time he spent here, the lower the chance of us getting tangled up in who-knows-what.
“Let him at least come to,” I muttered, glancing at the stranger, pale as a corpse.
“Of course,” Lera sighed, as if I’d said something utterly foolish. “But not a moment longer than necessary. I don’t need extra trouble.”
The usually slender and energetic woman struggled to stand. With visible effort, she straightened her back and headed for the door.
“Lera Stephaya…” I called after her. “What was that spell? I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
I held my breath. Honestly, I didn’t expect an answer. If I were in Stephaya’s position, I wouldn’t have told the whole truth. Maybe part of it. Already, in such a short time, this woman had revealed so many secrets that couples don’t share in years. And I was practically a stranger, someone she’d only known for about a month.
“It’s a blood magic spell. Effective for curses, among other things. I use it sometimes when I see no other way to help a patient,” Lera said after a brief pause. “I won’t say the guards or the mayor would praise me for my ingenuity if they found out. But… I don’t understand why I shouldn’t use the knowledge I have. It’s a shame I’m just a strong healer, not more. A drop of blood would’ve been enough to get this poor soul back on his feet and out the door right now.”
Uh-huh. At least you’re not constantly at risk of death. Still, her confession turned my world upside down.
I remembered Petrens’ deathly gray face as he grabbed my hand, fully aware of what I intended to do to save his life. How many other healers knew about the true capabilities of blood mages? And how many considered using this magic not a crime?
Though… did it matter, when combat mages were ready to kill you just for being Aratshian?
“How did you learn about it?” I asked anyway.
The red-haired, green-eyed woman didn’t look much like someone from my homeland.
“You’re asking as if you plan to turn me in to the guards tomorrow,” Lera smirked, grasping the doorknob and opening the door. Before I could assure her otherwise, she waved me off. “Don’t worry. I have no connection to blood magic or blood mages. I learned it from a girl a long time ago, when I was young. And it’s come in handy in life. Alright, enough talk. I need rest. You should go sleep too. He won’t wake up until morning. Why sit by him anyway?”
“Yes, I’ll head to my room soon,” I nodded. “Just let me clean up here, and I’ll go straight to bed.”
I didn’t listen to Lera Stephaya after all.
First, I cleaned, washed, scrubbed the blood, and aired out the room. Then I tidied up our unknown patient to make him look more or less presentable. And then… then I just sat and stared at him, trying to figure out who he was and what to expect from him.
The young man turned out to be quite young when you had the time to really look at him. Maybe my age, maybe a bit older. His dark hair was cropped short, like many combat mages. He was slightly pale, though I suspected he was naturally tanned. From exhaustion and blood loss, his cheeks had sunken, and his features sharpened, but it didn’t make him less attractive. If anything, it made him look… fiercer. Even the dark circles under his eyes didn’t detract from his appearance. Quite handsome, as Melanie would’ve described him.
And there was something about him that reminded me of Kiray. I didn’t know why. But the feeling was so persistent that I couldn’t shake it. Nor could I bring myself to stand up and go upstairs to my room.
It was as if something had glued me to the spot, not letting me move. A sickening ache gnawed at my chest. Memories echoed with pain. And it made breathing hard. Sometimes, I even envied Kiray. He remembered nothing. Even if there had been real feelings, they no longer existed for him.
When I left Gorengville, I’d hoped distance and time would dull this pain. But no. As soon as the sun set, I’d sink back into those memories.
Even studying, assignments, classes, workloads, side jobs at the shop, and attempts to find any information about my native Aratshian could only delay, not prevent, the arrival of night. And in the darkness, it was as if I could feel his lips on mine again, his embrace. I thought I could smell him, hear his breath, and feel the beat of his heart. But I was still alone the moment I opened my eyes. I was always alone.
Unbeknownst to myself, I dozed off. I don’t know for how long. But I woke up instantly. My head dipped to my knees, pressed against my chin, and I shook myself awake. I really should listen to Lera Stephaya. I had classes in the morning, and I hadn’t prepared the report that my professor would make my life hell over. So, sleep. My patient wasn’t going anywhere. And he certainly wasn’t going to die now.
I was about to slide out of the chair next to the couch where the young man was resting and regaining strength. But then I glanced at him quickly and froze. He was looking right at me. Seriously, warily, silently, and with complete awareness.
I stiffened in surprise. He was supposed to be asleep until morning.
“Where… am I?” he asked hoarsely, his voice breaking.
Speaking was difficult for him. But his gaze was fully lucid and sober. No feverish glint or anything of the sort.
“I found you by chance. Brought you here and patched you up a bit with the shop owner. She’s a healer. So am I,” I replied calmly.
I spoke calmly, but inside, anxiety hummed like a taut string. What if I’d acted recklessly? Wrongly? What if I’d have to pay the price for answering the Call?
“Where?..” he started again hoarsely, but broke into a cough.
Trying not to show my nervousness, I approached the small table by the window. Lera Stephaya kept drinks and candies there for visitors. A glass of water for the patient was easy to find.
I didn’t dare activate the lanterns. Especially since two were already irreparably damaged, and the last one… well, it might not last much longer either. Not that they were really needed. Storeng was a city of light. The nights here seemed brighter than the days. Indeed, the magical street lanterns provided more than enough light to avoid fumbling in the dark.
I approached the couch, still desperately unsure of what to expect from this person, feeling incredibly nervous but doing my best to hide it.
I tried to help him drink, but the young man managed to sit up—awkwardly, unevenly, but still rejecting my help—and took the glass of water from my hands.
Oh, look at that. So proud. But for now, I probably shouldn’t tell him that a girl and a carriage driver dragged him across the city. His pride might not survive that, most likely.
He took a few small sips of water and only then looked at me again.
Now I felt sick. I realized who he was! And I understood why he reminded me so much of Kiray. No. He wasn’t a thief, nor even an unlucky lover. His black eyes, like onyx, where even the pupils were invisible… those belonged only to… dark mages.
At that moment, I wanted to curse. Long, elaborate, and very creatively. But my knowledge of Imperial curses wasn’t enough, and I’d better hold off on Aratshian ones for now.
What now?
“Where did you… find me?” he spoke again, still hoarse, but at least his voice didn’t break.
Starting an acquaintance with uncomfortable questions right off the bat wasn’t the best idea. Especially since I hadn’t come up with answers yet.
“Well, no need to thank me for saving your life,” I said. Honestly, he could at least say “thank you.” “Anyone would’ve done the same in my place if they found you lying in the middle of the road with no signs of life!”
I probably said it too emotionally, but I got no reaction at all.
“Tomorrow, you’ll show me exactly where! I want to sleep now.”
And while I opened and closed my mouth, trying to process my indignation at his audacity, he simply made himself more comfortable, set the empty glass on the nightstand, and fell asleep.
Just like that! He fell asleep! Who on earth did I drag into this house?
“Layn,” he muttered with his eyes already closed, clearly reluctant to say more.
“Triss,” I snapped back, suddenly furious for some reason.
And unable to think of anything better, I turned and stormed out of the room. Gods. Why did I have a feeling that this Layn was going to cause me a whole heap of trouble?