Sorceress, Part Nine
Melisa sat on the couch, her hands still shaking slightly as the events of the day began to sink in.
Her parents were seated beside her, relieved and exhausted.
Javir stood in front of them, her hands glowing with a soft, warm light as she finished healing Melistair's wounds.
"There," she said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "Good as new. Or, well, as close as I can get you without a full night's rest and a hearty meal."
Melistair chuckled, flexing his newly mended hand, wiping the blood off his knuckles.
"I'll take it. Better than the alternative, that's for sure."
But then his face grew serious, a frown tugging at his lips.
"Still, even though we gave those bastards a good thrashing, I doubt they'll give up that easily. A man like Striker, he's got an ego the size of a dragon. He won't let this go."
Javir sighed, running a hand through her hair.