Forgotten

The wounded man's words bore down upon my soul like the weight of a mountain, tugging at my very core and drawing me toward him. Although blind, he seemed to sense my presence, and stretched a groping hand forward. His sudden, desperate grasp caught me off guard, but after a steadying breath, I surrendered my hands into his desperate clasp. He had the hands of a warrior, easily enveloping both of mine, but a delicate shiver went through them at my touch.

"Please…" he groaned, hand clenching tight about mine. I winced at the strength crushing my fingers, and my mouth moved of its own violation, softly whispering the words of a chant.

The priests' heads jerked up as the room flooded with a verdant light, faces slackening in shock. "Four circles!" the man cried, and the woman gasped, hand flying to her mouth.

"Restoration," I breathed, completing the spell.