The Blood Lands

Chapter 3

Olivan had killed another person.

It was the fourth one that day. He was a boy nearing his twenties, only a bit younger than herself. They are so young, and there are so many of them. Ever since the war began three years ago, there had been a heavy influx of patients who needed their help... her help.

The Sarinae was meant to help everyone, whatever their faction was or whoever they were fighting for. They had tried their best since the start of the war but they just can't keep up. So many have died, too many to count. But she knew how many had died when she was trying to heal them. Three hundred and fourteen. Three hundred and fourteen lives I failed to save. She strained to channel whatever Kanna she had left for the day. And it's going to be three hundred and fifteen after this one.

The evening was bright and calm - a bitter irony to the chaos that just happened here mere minutes ago. Olivan bent over the young boy. He had a deep gash near his shoulder. She tried to mend the torn tissues close - but he had lost too much blood. She had little Kanna left inside her, and her bottle strapped to her belt was nearly empty.

Never enough Kanna, always too late to save them.

When she joined the Sarinae and became Blessed, she had wanted to use all of her Kanna to heal all kinds of injury. They taught her better. She needed to be smart with her resources, and using up Kanna when the person was surely going to die was a waste. She didn't approve. Olivan had used as much Kanna as she could to save every life, no matter how dire. Through this, she learned how to prioritize the vital parts of the human body that needed healing first, and how mending certain pieces while leaving out the rest can still save a life.

It made me a better Sarin, but I can never be good enough, she thought. If I truly was good enough, then no one should die with my touch.

But they still did, three hundred and fifteen of them. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at a short man with dark skin and graying hair kept short. "This one is gone, Olivan."

"I know, Garth, I know..." Olivan replied. "It doesn't make it easier, if it's the first body or the three hundred fifteenth." She picked up the short knife the boy had in his hand. Its pommel was wrapped in cloth, stained with a dark red hue. She wrapped its blade and stuffed it into her bag. So young, much younger than me. If he had a family, maybe I can take this to them...

"By Sarina's scorn, you remember each and every one?"

"Each. One." Olivan stood up to face Garth. She was shorter than him, which was saying a lot about her considering Garth was made fun of by other male Sarins for his height. Why it matters at all, I don't understand. Short or tall, we all heal and protect...

Protect, Olivan had never protected anyone from getting hurt. She never stopped a blade before it killed another. Sarins, Blessed by the goddess Sarina with powers to heal, were also expected to protect - at least a lot of other Sarins believed that. One needed to know a lot about the human body in order to heal it efficiently with minimal Kanna, and with knowledge to heal comes the knowledge to kill efficiently.

Never, never will I take a life... She stared up at Gareth, and it was not as much effort as she was used to speaking with taller people. "What are you doing close to me? There aren't enough of us tonight, and this was a bad battle." People need you, Garth. Why weren't they more urgent? Lives are being lost with every second spent chatting and breathing.

"I just, uhm, wanted to check on you." Garth started fidgeting with his own fingers, tips dry with blood.

"Garth, there are wounded here."