"Yvonne! Yvonne !"
"Is she dead?"
Murmurs erupted throughout the courtyard. Faces struggled to peek through thecrowdlongingto be the first to report their findings to a greylock.
"Move it, move it! Outta of my path you sorry lot!" A red-haired man strutted through the swarm of people brushing past and knocking some to the ground with his bulky frame. He came to a halt, so abrupt that he looked frozen. His gaze settled on the scene ahead of him by just a few feet.
A young girl.
So much blood that it seemed even possible and just above her motionless body, dome-shaped light hovered.
"Yvonne ! Please wake up!" A young man shook her repeatedly. Putting a hand atop the other and compressing her chest frantically while calling out to her. He gritted his teeth, brows furrowed and a single tear slid down his cheek turning light crimson when it mixed with streaks of blood on his face.
The girl's blood pooled at an alarming rate and flowed in many directions. It resembled a bloody spiderweb from a top view.
Some of the crimson liquid pooled at the feet of the red-haired man. He stared at it, lost in his own thoughts.
"Isn't that Lord Relvan?" The murmurs and chatters amplified by this information grew stronger snapping the man to the present situation.
"Bellow that chatter!" Lord Relvan growled as he glared at the crowd. Regaining his composure, he made his way to the girl making sure to grab the young man by his shoulders and hurl him some feet away from her. Eyes red and glazed with unshed tears, the young man quickly linged toward Lord Relvan. Hands fisted and poised to strike.
The crowd grew eerily more quiet with anticipation. Eyes greedy for a juicy scene waiting to unfold. But then – he...
He slumped. Right in the pool of blood splashing some on Lord Relvan who was a few inches away from a punch.
"Is he– well, I'll be. He's actually asleep!"
Indeed, the young man's chest rose up and down evenly, lines furrowed on his forehead and face sunken.
The crowd erupted again, mostly out of dissatisfaction, others in awe.dissatisfaction, others in awe.
"Yvonne! Yvonne!"
"Is she dead?"
Shock erupted throughout the courtyard. Faces strained to peer through the crowd, itching to be the first to report their findings to a greylock.
"Move it, move it! Outta my path, you sorry lot!"
A red-haired man stormed through the swarm, brushing past bodies and knocking some to the ground with his bulky frame. He came to a halt so abruptly he might as well have been frozen. His gaze settled on the scene a few feet ahead.
A young girl.
So much blood it seemed impossible. And just above her motionless body hovered a dome-shaped light.
"Yvonne! Please wake up!"
A young man shook her repeatedly, placing one hand atop the other and compressing her chest frantically as he called out to her. His teeth gritted, brows furrowed, and a single tear slid down his cheek, turning light crimson as it mingled with the streaks of blood on his face.
The girl's blood pooled at an alarming rate, flowing in every direction. From above, it resembled a grotesque spiderweb.
Some of that crimson liquid reached the feet of the red-haired man. He stared down at it, momentarily lost in thought.
"Isn't that Lord Relvan?"
The chatter, amplified by the revelation, grew louder—snapping the man back to the present.
"Belay that talk!"
Lord Relvan growled, glaring at the crowd. Regaining his composure, he strode toward the girl.
He seized the young man by the shoulders and hurled him several feet away from her.
Eyes red and glazed with unshed tears, the young man lunged back toward Lord Relvan like a hungry wildcat, fists clenched and poised to strike.
The crowd grew eerily quiet with anticipation—eyes greedy, waiting for a spectacle to unfold. But then—
He slumped.
He crumpled into the pool of blood, splashing some onto Lord Relvan, who stood mere inches from receiving the blow.
"Is he—well, I'll be. He's actually asleep!"
Indeed, the young man's chest rose and fell evenly, his face sunken, faint lines still furrowed across his brow. The crowd erupted once more—mostly in dissatisfaction, though some watched in awe.
Lord Relvan snapped his gaze toward them, and the noise died instantly.
"What do you make of this, Neiros?"
He carefully lifted the girl's hands.
Another man materialized suddenly behind him.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd as beady eyes scanned the newcomer in astonishment.
His eyes glowed faintly.
Nearby, the young man yawned and continued to breathe deeply.
"Must you be so rough with the lad, Relvan?" Neiros chided, his voice gentle and even.
"He only made things worse. Poor lass was bleeding out."
"Must think himself a healer," Relvan snarled distastefully.
Neiros knelt beside the girl and withdrew a small pouch, pouring its contents gently into her mouth. He studied the golden light, then locked eyes with Relvan.
"Well… that's unusual," Neiros murmured, his demeanor shifting.
They watched as the girl's body began to levitate slowly upward.
Her blood-soaked gown dripped maroon onto the ground below. The droplets swirled like desert dust before settling into strange, unfamiliar writing.
Relvan and Neiros exchanged a look.
Dread.