9 Chapter 8: The healer

"To rediscover who we are, we must return from whence we came."

~Tasmiya Shaik

Realm Of Alvgard

Northern Continent of Varsaléiz

Kingdom of Aranduil

René Sotiris succumbed to anxiety as it's manipulated prey and paced about with hysteria that haunted every moment of her existence. The Lord of the Aldari Clan direly required her skills?

'Ren sweetie, it won't help if you stomp about,' An older woman with brunette hair addressed her.

'Charleia, if they do not arrive soon, then I cannot guarantee the safety of his Lordship's life. Lord Sinclaire manifested the dimensional gate to Aranduil nearly an hour ago; surely, Mr. Cavendish should have connected to the gate with the dimensional stone?'

'The dimensional stone requires much more time. You are concerned?' Charleia rose and straightened out the creases of her long dress.

'Our clan cannot lose another leader. We cannot bear to mourn another death.'

'Indeed, we cannot. Have you prepared?'

'I have. How much longer till they arrive in Aranduil?'

'Two hours at most.'

René seated herself to steady the anxiety, which coursed through her being. She considered the newly proclaimed Aldari Lord mysterious, but the tales of his nature were quite famous. He appeared indifferent to those around him. Would the other clansmen label him a weakling and rebel now that he had been attacked so easily? Surely they were sensible enough to understand that the man had been poisoned? The fate of the Clan heavily depended on him; they could not afford a civil war to achieve his authority. He was the younger brother of Lord Atticus, who alone served as her reason to have faith.

'A penny for your thoughts, my dear?' Charleia interrupted.

'I did not think Lady Gisellia would be...' René's words fell into silence.

'Oh my dear, we all do miss her dearly, Lord Atticus as well. Avery the poor sweetheart, how she must feel.'

René resumed her pacing about the room. Could she serve as a reliable aid to the conjurer? Would she be able to endure the dangers ahead? Yes, without a doubt, she would. She had a duty, and she would honor it well. The Clan was her family, blood-related or not.

'Charleia, I am concerned...'

'About the new Lord?'

'Yes, and one other matter. Elucian and his little band of miscreants don't seem too keen on obeying orders from his Lordship,' René frowned.

'Did you hear something?'

'Elucian argued with Raven this morning. He refused to be present for his Lordship's arrival, as did his troublemakers.'

'What did Raven say?'

'He disagreed, of course, and advised against it, but Elucian defied and protested that he was more suited to withhold the new Lord's title.'

'Hmm...Mr. Cavendish will not think lightly of this. There is one thing I do agree with is that we cannot discern for certain if the new Lord's capabilities surpass our expectations.'

'Charleia, it would seem that none of the clansmen and nor you appear to have remembered that the title by birthright belongs to the new Lord.'

'That exiled son of the late Lord Zelaphiel? My dear, perhaps you were much too young to remember, but that criminal sullied the Reinhardt name for which he was cast out of Alvgard. The poor dear Yvainne chose her path alongside him.'

René sighed; none of the clansmen were aware of the truth, and neither did they care to regard her testimony several cycles ago. One problem after the other, and she wasn't quite certain that she could solve all of them. Was it even her place to interfere?

~It is Elucian who were to bear the shame of exile!~ Her companion suggested.

'Indeed, Kilia...' She mumbled.

'Did you say something, dear?'

'Nothing important.'

She secluded her current thoughts, and her mind returned to acknowledge the hysteria phenomena that devoured her. Where the bloody hell was the Lord's escort? What was happening to him at the very moment? Could she save him?

Eizgár- Southern Regions of Aranduil.

Reinhardt Estate

18:00 Hours

Sebastian felt limp and clenched his fists, but he could not conjure the strength to exercise mobility. Where was he? He strangely felt himself in motion, but his sight was clouded by darkness, the result of a soft material. Were those bandages? His lips parted to protest, but his words were restrained.

'Father, do not strain yourself.' Sebastian acknowledged the advice of the familiar voice, but he was unable to respond.

'Lance, we have arrived at the castle in Aranduil; help me get him up.'

Aranduil?They were in Alvgard? Surely he wasn't on the verge of death that they would have to bring him here of all places before schedule? Sebastian pledged in his youth that he would never return, and yet here he was, being hurled to his feet and dragged off to the dreadful Reinhardt castle on the outskirts of Eizgár in Aranduil. He had not yet prepared for his arrival.

'Yes, brother,' Lance obliged and assisted his brother to escort their father inside the stone-structured castle. It maintained its medieval features, but no doubt it had been renewed. They were briefly halted before the stationary guard's drawbridge gate but was shortly granted entry through the negotiation of their escort.

The castle walls stood high compared to the kind built by the hands of humes, and along each watchtower, there were hideous creatures of stone stationed. Some were winged with sharp blades that extended from their limbs of flight; others resembled reptilian creatures with claws and scales. They appeared to have moved at times, but some would merely discard it as a figment of their imagination. Yet the stone sentries were never seen upon the same spot on the wall twice.

Sebastian was hastily escorted inside and then laid to rest in the comfort of a bed, but he was surrounded by those who were unfamiliar, and some even unwelcome as he recognized my voice.

'Can he be saved?!' Someone questioned impatiently.

'Silence, do not question me as I work!' René warned and rolled up her sleeves.

She slipped on a pair of surgical gloves and unraveled the bandages from Sebastian's shoulder wound until a dark miasma emitted from it. His blood vessels turned black and were prominently visible. The darkness spread in a network of lines all the way to the wound in his abdomen. His shirt was removed, and the wounds were disinfected with a special substance of her own creation. She placed her gloved palm over the shoulder wound and orchestrated a detection spell in which she inserted magical particles into the open flesh.

The particles infiltrated Sebastian's bloodstream but avoided the infected cells until they reached a blockage that expanded as the poison...multiplied itself? The particles exited his body and returned to René, but she remained composed even after she received the results.

'This is not poison...it is a pathogenic organism, and it is multiplying rapidly...it's feeding off the cell's proteins at a cellular level...'

~Do not panic; we know best how this must be dealt with.~ Kilia comforted her.

Sebastian convulsed. What in the bloody hell name of Azarr was happening to him? His internal organs felt like they were set alight to torture him, to burn his soul and heart with agony. The insane desire to shed the blood of the bastard who dealt him such misery became the surviving source of his will to advance and fight in his brother's stead. Was he deserving of such a right? Why was the warcan beast within him, silent at such a time?

~Sebastian...~ Lahn called out, but the asharren male was quiet and immobile.

~Sebastian, you damn pathetic bastard... how can you call yourself the one who wields the spirit of leader of the Taurnak warcan tribe within you?~ In the illusion world where both beings spirits connected, Lahn roared at Sebastian, who lay still on the darkened surface. Slumber would consume him, and he would be lost forever.