Blood Bound ||The Arcane Legacy #1

24/ Shatter

The longer Nalia watched Zenara's unconscious form, the more her nerves buzzed with unease.

Her eyes were in constant motion underneath their pale lids. Nalia had placed a strong rubber belt between her teeth to keep her from biting her tongue out. Her breaths wheezed from her mouth, beads of sweat ever trickling down her feverish face. Black strips of hair were glued to her face, their dampened strands looking more like a dark mop. Once in a while, her lips moved, as though speaking to a foe in her dreams. Nails dug into the sheets, nearly tearing them.

Nalia dipped a small towel into a bowl of water icy enough to numb her fingers. Squeezing it gently, she dabbed off the sweat. Rinsing it once more, she placed it on Zen's forehead. She brushed away the hair from her friend's face. Nalia frowned. The cold wasn't working; her face was like fire to her touch. She sighed in frustration. No longer did Zen look like she once did; strong, fearless, determined. Sarcastic, stubborn, strong-headed, she added with a smile.

Then it fell as she stared at her vulnerable visage. Her body was engulfed with shivers, and low moans and quiet whimpers escaped her mouth. She was like a child under the mercy of a fever. If only it were that simple.

The door swung open as footsteps padded against the floorboards.

"How is she?" her brother asked.

Nalia didn't turn to face him. "Getting worse."

Ronalvo went around the bed to sit delicately on the other side. He placed his hand on Zen's face, fingers caressing her cheek with tangible affection. The storm in his eyes had died back to the usual bright blue of a clear sky. They held so much love in them for the woman on the bed—almost too much. But Nalia couldn't say she didn't like this side of her elder brother.

"She's going to recover," he said, voice full of conviction.

Nalia continued staring at the weak form lain underneath thin white sheets. "Zen could have died," she stated flatly.

A pause. "Could have."

Anger sparked at his comment and she turned on him. "You almost killed her, Ron. Now, look at her. Is this better than how she was before? Is this what you wanted?"

Her brother swiveled his head calmly to meet her pale blue glare. The fact that he wasn't distressed fanned the flames in her chest.

His blue eyes were mild, almost crestfallen. "Do you really think I would put Zenara's life in danger unless it was completely necessary?"

"You said—"

"I know what I said, Nalia. And I stand by that fact. It was a daunting task, one with many dangers and casualties. The banishment of the sever is one of the trickiest and most challenging things I have ever done because just the wrong intensity or magnitude of power could have burned out her brain and she would suffer an instant death."

Her hand fisted the sheets. "Then why did you risk it?"

He caressed Zen's hair, cocking his head slightly to take her in. "I am powerful, but not invincible. And if she died..." 

His eyes grew misty. There was so much anguish in his voice, raw enough to douse her anger. He continued after a moment. "If she died, I would die with her. But Zenara isn't meant for death." That he said in a harder tone, unmoving and unyielding. "In a few weeks, she would have succumbed to the plague of the power vacuum in her mind and died. All I did was restore her lifespan."

As a non-magical human, Nalia couldn't quite grasp the relation between mind and magic. She had lived her normal life peacefully enough—well, to a point. It was a good enough life, but being one of the only people in the Redsan Temple born without the touch of magic, she had to work twice as hard as everyone else in the Commune—which she didn't mind. All it did was make her stronger. That was all she wanted. Strength to survive, strength to protect those she cared for. But it had failed her so far.