Veins of Hope

The world around them transformed into a swirling vortex of dark blackness, a disorderly maelstrom that tore at Andre, Res, and Marcus with invisible claws. The very air felt like it was ripping their lungs apart, the intense power of the portal scorching their skin. After that, the tug abruptly stopped with a nauseating jolt.

They burst out of the chaos portal together, breaking through the intricate stained-glass window of a majestic library and landing heavily on the luxurious red carpet. Pieces of colorful glass fell on them, shining like evil gems.

A sudden gasp broke through the silence. Anya, fully absorbed in studying a pile of old books, suddenly turned around, her green eyes filled with terror. Suddenly, she was on the other side of the room, next to the collapsed bodies.

Marcus let out a low sound of pain, moving a little bit. He was overcome with a feeling of nausea as the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He opened one eye, then the other, his vision unfocused. Anya's worried expression became clear.

"Anya?" he croaked, his voice hoarse. "What… what happened?".

"Marcus!" She felt relief wash over her as she assisted him in sitting up, his body groaning with a symphony of aches and pains. "You are still alive! Where are the others?

Gazing around the room, his heart sank upon seeing Res laying unconscious only a few feet away, his chest moving in a shallow pattern of breaths. It was Andre who took away his ability to breathe.

Andre was lying flat on his back, his complexion appearing as pallid as a corpse. Blood oozed from a wide wound on his stomach. His breaths were so faint, barely noticeable.

Anya felt panic gripping her throat. "Elara!" she yelled, the name resonating throughout the lavish library. Get a healer immediately!

Shortly after, Elara entered through the double doors with a worried expression on her face. She quickly glanced at the bodies on the ground, observing the situation with skillful ease.

"Res is currently unconscious, however appears to be stable at the moment," Anya mentioned, her voice filled with barely contained anxiety. "However, Andre has suffered significant blood loss." We require a healer urgently!

Elara nodded in a serious manner. "I'll take care of it." Without saying anything else, she quickly left the room, her footsteps reverberating on the smooth marble floor.

Anya shifted her gaze to Andre, feeling her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Her touch caused shivers down her spine as she delicately moved a stray lock of hair from his forehead, despite the seriousness of the situation.

His forehead was creased in agony, his face glistening with perspiration. His breathing was rapid, wheezing inhales that appeared to fight for space in his chest.

"Andre, can you hear me"? Anya murmured, her voice filled with emotion.

He opened his eyes slightly, showing a glimpse of dull red. He attempted to talk, but instead a stifled cough came out of his mouth.

Anya sensed tears welling up in her eyes. "Don't speak," she comforted, her voice shaking a bit. "The healer will be here soon, my boy."

She ripped a piece of fabric from her sleeve, applying it to the wound on his stomach in a useless effort to stop the bleeding. The red tide appeared to be impossible to stop, dyeing the white material a horrific shade of red.

Andre's eyes, not focused but showing a glimmer of recognition, connected with hers. He spoke once more, a soft, hoarse noise coming from his throat.

Anya edged nearer, struggling to make out what he was saying. "The Vor'talon…" he croaked, speaking so quietly it was almost inaudible. "It... it has taken over the Jade Kingdom."

Those were the final words he spoke clearly before his eyelids closed again, with his breathing becoming shallow gasps. Anya was on the verge of being overwhelmed by despair, but she managed to suppress it. Now was not the moment to cry. It was now the moment to engage in battle.

After looking at Res, she turned to Andre, her expression becoming more determined. She refused to allow them to succumb. Neither here nor at this very moment. Anya took a deep breath and silently begged. She stedied her resolve and put her hand on his stomach.

Her hand emitted a soft green glow, with strands of emerald energy forming a shining web around Andre's injured stomach. As she poured all of her magic into slowing the blood loss, the room appeared to buzz with a gentle, constant vibration. It was an attempt born out of desperation, a weak barrier against a powerful flood.

"Holdup, Andre," she whispered intensely, her voice filled with strong emotions. "The healer is coming soon"

As the library doors burst open once more, her reassurance could barely be heard as a whisper in the wind. Elara hurriedly entered, her expression serious, yet a glimmer of optimism shining in her gaze. Standing beside her was a woman draped in white, her face marked with the knowledge gained from numerous fights against the effects of aging and wounds. Her hair, a flow of purple with streaks of silver from age, was tied up in a secure braid, uncovering a face that portrayed the silent power of an experienced healer.

Lyra, the woman whose name was spoken quietly, moved with skilled efficiency. Within seconds, she found herself by Andre's side, assessing the severity of his wounds with her eyes.

She ordered, with a low raspy voice, commanding immediate obedience, "Make room for me." Anya and Elara took a step back, their gaze fixed on the unfolding scene in front of them.

Lyra pressed her rough hand against Andre's injured stomach, frowning with focus. She effortlessly made a sequence of hand gestures - a triangle, a flowing C, a sharp seven traced in the air. She clapped once more, causing a gentle, white light to burst from her hands and cover Andre's injury.

The room fell silent, with only the sound of Andre's shallow breathing interrupting the stillness. Anya was captivated as she observed the light moving gracefully across the wound, creating a peaceful healing magic show. The wide wound started to close up, fresh skin coming together under the white light's contact. The red flow of blood went back, giving way to a light pink color that gradually turned into normal skin.

In a matter of minutes, the previously deadly injury had become only a barely noticeable scar, proving the quickness and potency of Lyra's magical abilities. Andre's breaths, while still shallow, became slightly deeper, and his chest moved up and down in a more consistent pattern.

Anya felt a surge of relief so strong that it caused her legs to shake. On the floor she sat, leaning against the bookshelf, tears filling her emerald eyes. They had saved him just in time.

With exhaustion evident on her face, Lyra stood up and faced them. "He's currently in a stable condition," she stated, her voice rough yet tinged with a sense of contentment. "Once he wakes up, he will require ample rest and a healing potion."

Elara exhaled with a tremble. "Lyra we really appreciate your help." You do not understand the significance of this for us."

Lyra gave a brief nod. I've witnessed sufficient conflicts to understand the importance of life. Now go get water and clean bandages. When he wakes up, he will be in need of a drink.

While Elara rushed to carry out her tasks, Anya quickly looked at Andre's calm expression. The experience had added fresh wrinkles of concern to his face, yet the glimmer of vitality remained in his shining eyes. He still has a long way to go before being completely safe. However, at the moment, he remained living. As long as he continued to breathe, there remained a glimmer of hope.