The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 48: Broken Promise

Hector screamed in anguish. Tears streamed down his face as he bit his lip, clenching his teeth as he struggled to quell his shaky breaths.

"Madam Arnhild! Hold him down, please!" the doctor shouted. He grit his teeth as the rubber of his gloved hands squeaked against Hector's skin.

"Just heal me, dammit!" Hector cried out.

Beads of sweat dripped down the doctor's neck. His breaths were labored behind his surgical mask as he spoke. "I can't! Your body isn't in a condition to repair itself. The remnants of anti-magic are nullifying everything I'm trying to do!"

"Try harder, then!" Arnhild barked, her face twisting with distress. It's difficult for any mother to witness their own child in misery, and now she had to hold him down to a bed by his shoulders to keep him from moving.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Hector," she said between her choked breathing. "This is all my fault," Arnhild told him, her pale hair cascading onto his face as she drooped her head. "I'm sorry, my child."

A needle flew into Hector's arm. The doctor pressed down on the syringe and let out a breath.

Hector's screams quickly quieted down, just before his head relaxed and shifted to the side of his pillow.

"What-"

"It's just anesthesia," the doctor informed her, his glasses already fogged and tinted behind his heavy breathing. "We need to wait for his body to stabilize; without Anti-Magic. That way, we can heal him. He's gonna be okay."

Arnhild spat out a breath, just as another tear traced down the side of her cheek. "Thank you," she mumbled. Now that she could steady herself and calm her breaths, she finally focused on the torment he bore. His arm shattered in completely different places.

"Dear gods..." she mumbled, with a soft gasp leaving her lips.

Her thoughts were interrupted as a pitch-black Connection burst open, just a few meters to her side.

The one who burst through was none other than her brother, the last of the Golden Dawn that remained on Vanaheim.

She rushed over to Arnold Norr, just as he spat out a sigh. Scattered droplets of blood dripped onto the marble floor, his eyes scanning over them. After all, he was back home. Back at the Eagles' Fortress on Asgard.

The room was showered in the pale lights from the ceiling. Other than that white radiance, he was surrounded by dull grey walls, built of bricks carved out of the subterranean stone. The only sound to be heard was the collective heavy breathing of Titans and soldiers as healers rushed to those in hospital beds.

Arnhild's stress was experienced by practically all those in beds, all those with injuries. And as the doctor said, Anti-Magic was only making it worse- the fact that the Crystal remained in the room was making it worse.

"Have you seen the state Hector is in?" she asked him, pointing at her son as she stormed towards him.

"I told you," Arnhild said, standing before him. "I told you not to take Hector with you! Now, look at him! I should've gone in his place! What type of monster was he battling that-"

She froze, her words cutting off as soon as she met Arnold. His face was battered and bloodied. His nose was crooked and leaking with crimson, his hair was torn, his teeth colored with blood. "Not a monster," he told her. "A demon."

Arnhild grabbed her brother by the arm and pulled him close to her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, dear sister," he said, only to wince as she grabbed his bleeding arm.