Chapter 59: Isolde’s Life

"You look well." Tatia set her bag down. "Better than yesterday."

"I slept." She said, unable to tell her how her night really went.

"Good. Sleep helps."

She crossed to Isolde. Placed a hand on her shoulder. Her touch was warm. Steady.

"Shall we begin?"

The therapy session was the same as always.

Stretches. Exercises. The slow, painful work of keeping her muscles from wasting further. Tatia guided her through each movement with patience and precision. She corrected her posture. Adjusted her angles. Pushed her just enough to make progress without causing harm.

Isolde gritted her teeth through it.

It hurt. It always hurt.

But it was working.

Her legs had more feeling now. More sensation. The atrophy had slowed. Tatia said that was progress.

Isolde didn’t know if she believed her. Or thought that necessarily meant she could walk again.

After the therapy came the healing.

Tatia helped her onto the low table. Placed a cushion under her head. Made sure she was comfortable.

Then she placed her hands on Isolde’s chest.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Tatia closed her eyes. Breathed. Then she spoke.

*"Kell, Lord of Waters, hear your servant."*

Her voice was low. Steady. Reverent.

*"Kell, Master of Tides, guide your servant."*

The water came. Tiny droplets gathering at her fingertips. Spreading across Isolde’s chest. Warm. Glowing.

"Kell, Keeper of Purity, cleanse your servant."

Isolde felt it move through her. The gentle push and pull. The way Tatia’s mana flowed through her body like a stream. Finding the blocked places. The damaged places.

It didn’t hurt, It felt soothing.

The session lasted an hour.

When it was over, Tatia sat back. Her hands were trembling. Her face was pale with exhaustion.

"How do you feel?"

"Lighter."

Tatia nodded. "Good."

She helped Isolde back into her chair. Cleaned up her supplies and washed her hands.

"Same time tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Tatia paused at the door.

"Isolde."

"Yes?"

"The foreign mana. The thing suppressing your healing." She hesitated. "I can’t remove it. I can only ease its effects. But I want you to know—whatever it is, it’s not natural. It was placed there. Deliberately."

Isolde said nothing.

"I don’t know by who. I don’t know why. But someone wanted to keep you from healing."

Isolde stared at her.

"I thought you should know," Tatia said quietly.

Then she left.

Her mind went to the duskmere incident. Did the crown want her gone that badly ?

Isolde sat by the window.

The tea was warm in her hands. She took a sip. Then another.

Tatia’s words echoed in her mind.

Someone wanted to keep you from healing.

She had known that what happened to her was no accident. Why didn’t she think about the after effects too. If they were willing to take it that far; it was no small thing to take it even further and ensure she was silenced. Deep down. She had always known.

But they did not count on her still being alive.

The way her body refused to recover. The way her core stayed broken no matter what the healers did. The way she felt something wrong inside her had to have all been orchestrated by someone.

She had known.

She just hadn’t wanted to admit it.

She thought of Emeric. Could she tell him?

She couldn’t, right? What if he left her. She didn’t want to burden him any more than he already was.

He had been gone for hours now. She didn’t know where. She didn’t know what he was doing. But she knew he would come back. He always came back.

She hated to leave him alone.

If she died—when she died—he would be alone. He would have no one. His family were not good people. They would marry him off to the next bargaining chip as soon as possible. They would use and discard him just like they had done now. Just like her family had done to her.

But he was not that timid Emeric she had gotten to know on the first day.

He was stronger now. More confident. More handsome—or maybe she was just more in love with him.

She felt her cheeks warm.

She took another sip of tea to hide her face.

"Are you alright?"

Tatia’s voice. From the doorway and she had not heard her come back in. She had forgotten something. She was back.

Isolde looked up.

"Your cheeks are red," Tatia said. "Are you having a fever?"

"No." Isolde set the tea down. "I’m fine."

Tatia studied her. A small smile played at the corner of her mouth.

"I see."

"What?""Nothing." Tatia picked up the bag she had forgotten. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

She left.

Isolde stared at the door.

Then she pressed her hands to her cheeks.

Still warm.

The house was quiet now. ℴ

Tatia had left an hour ago. Emeric was still out. The afternoon light slanted through the window, warm and golden, and Isolde sat alone in the sitting room with nothing but her thoughts for company.

She stared at her hands.

They were pale. Thin. Her hands had been able to do so much more. Now they were just — she sighed.

Now they were just hands.

She flexed her fingers and closed her eyes. She remembered the feeling. She reached for it.

Nothing.

She reached deeper.

She felt a resistance in the core of her being. She also felt something she didn’t know. Something unfamiliar. It felt like it was occupying her body.

She pushed past the feeling and something stirred.

Her eyes snapped open, her heart leaping for joy.

A spark. It was tiny and faint, a flicker of light between her palms.

It lasted a heartbeat. Then another.

Then it died.

She stared at her empty hands.

That was it. That was all she had left. A spark that couldn’t light a candle. A flicker that couldn’t warm her skin.

She had been the Storm Mage. She had held a rift closed with her bare hands. She had commanded the elements like they were extensions of her own soul.

Now she couldn’t produce enough lightning to light a room.