𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 || Sinbad

ONE

CHAPTER 1 | STRANGER
━༻❁༺━

FORTY nine hours had passed.

Lucy stared at the man before her, as she quietly peeled off his bandages. He hadn't shown any response in the past few hours, a relief compared to yesterday night— when he came down with a fever and was shivering uncontrollably.

She was afraid she'd lose him.

That night had been the worst. She was on the verge of losing her composure, something that never happened with a patient before. Nothing showed immediate results. Lucy had nearly sobbed in panic as she applied the mossy bundle of herbs, held in place tightly with a muslin cloth, to his chest. Her hands shook, far worse than how his body shivered. His temperature didn't fall and the wound was probably infected— she seriously hoped it wasn't.

Bless fortune, she decided to cast her favour in the nick of time. The fever subsided after administering the last herb poultice to his injury and forcing a different medicine down his throat. He stilled slowly and within the next two hours, he was sweating buckets. It was the sign of hope she needed.

Years of attending to patients had left her numb to the sight of injury. Lucy often assisted her father at home and more recently, in a battle. She'd never seen war before and had no idea what a frightening canvas the battlefield would be; littered carnage, stinking of shit and blood. Lots of blood. If her sister Hera was here, she'd faint at the very sight of it.

The wind blew past her, kissing her cheeks with its chill. Wrapping her arms around herself, she sighed, the memory still fresh in her mind.

Lucy had been collecting ginseng deep in the woods and on the way back, that familiar gut-wrenching stench led her to him. Lying half-dead by the sloping hills and bamboo trees, her patient was covered in blood; both fresh and dried, with an ugly brown-red stain on his clothes. Lucy stood motionless as fear clawed onto her with its sharp teeth. The injury didn't frighten her, he did.

He was horrifying beautiful with his straight nose, hard jawline and perfectly sculpted lips. He reminded her of those gods' statues at the museum, their ethereal beauty contrasting against the hard stone they were carved out of. His long violet hair reminded her of the night sky, as it pooled around the brownish-red grass. The man looked immortal, perfection personified.

Then she saw the wound and heard his ragged breaths, reminded of how terribly mortal he was. He had received a large gash on his chest, that ran from his collarbone till his abdomen in a diagonal. The wound was so deep that she was afraid she'd see his ribs poking through. If she didn't act soon, he would have lost his life.

Lucy changed his blood-stained bandages, replacing them with clean strips of cloth. She placed her hand on his forehead, sighing in relief. He was alright. Now all he had to do was power through and let his wound heal.

She didn't understand her panic, the way she reacted. Lucy knew how to treat chest wounds, she'd seen worse and had been a healer to the army. It seemed as though the very sight of him had cast a spell on her. There was something bewitching about him even in that awry state.

She brushed a stray violet lock behind his ear. A pure expression of serenity graced his face. His terrifying, gorgeous face. Her heart twisted, feeling overwhelmed. She closed her eyes, listening to the sound of the wind as she whispered the words to a familiar song.

∘₊✧───────────────✧₊∘

The light hurt his face.