The healer's dwelling was filled with the scent of aged roots and scorched herbs, the smoke spiraling like whispers about the stone walls. I crouched next to Xavier, his breath weak, eyes glazed with suffering. My fingers shook as I hovered them over his injury, singed skin swirling around the deep cut that Caleb had only just managed to cover.

He was losing his life.

And I had run out of time.

"You're different from them," the elderly healer wheezed, her gaze unsettlingly vivid

“You ...