CIARA’S POV

The healer's chambers smelled like dried herbs and something else I couldn't place. Something old and earthy. She sat across from me at a wooden table worn smooth by countless hands. My own hands trembled in my lap.

"What I did back there," I started, then stopped. The words felt thick in my throat. "That wasn't healing."

She nodded slowly. "No. It wasn't."

"Then what was it?"

The healer was quiet for a long moment. She stared at her hands, turning them over like she was seeing ...