Page 66 of Rising Reign

“Or when the grizzly shifter got your hindquarters?” King reminded me. “You couldn’t sit down for two weeks straight.”

“Enough, boys,” Hera muttered. “Three, two—” She didn’t wait for one. Didn’t let me brace. She poured the concoction onto my wound, letting it flood the oozing opening and spill out, running down the rest of my body.

Lights flashed in front of my eyes as the pain took hold, an agony so vicious that it stole the air right from my lungs. My wolf let out a howl, and some part of me was aware that my human half echoed the sound.

“Hold him down!” Hera shouted.

Strong hands gripped me, pressing me into the hard mattress, keeping me in place. Wren’s hand gripped mine harder. “Breathe, Ender. Just breathe. Hold on. You’re getting through it. Your wound is being cleaned so it can heal. Just keep breathing.”

Something about her voice held me there, kept me from fading.

Hera began chanting, and the pain shifted, not lessening exactly, but the quality changed. It went from sheer, blinding agony to burning pain as if pieces were being burned right out of me. And maybe they were—the infected ones, the bits where dark magic had gotten a foothold.

My vision tunneled, but I could still see the concoction Hera had poured over me, lifting now. It glowed. But within the glow was darkness. A smoky, inky void that had been inside me.

Hera chanted louder, and then an explosion sounded. And then…it was gone. All of it simply vanished, and I collapsed back against the bed, breathing heavily. Panting. Struggling to get air.

But then Wren’s forehead pressed to my temple. “You did it. You made it through.”

“I feel like someone exploded a bomb in my chest,” I croaked.

“Kind of looks like someone did, too,” Brix muttered.

Wren straightened, sending him a scathing look. “Not helping.”

Brix held up both hands. “I don’t think lying is gonna help.”

“I’m fixing it,” Hera muttered, sounding exhausted all of a sudden. She painted a salve on my chest that smelled sweet, almost comforting. But that comfort died when she lit the damn stuff on fire.

“What the fuck?” Brix snarled.

“Holy hell,” Locke rasped.

I blinked up at her. “It doesn’t hurt. It feels…good.”

Hera sent me a tired smile. “It’s restoring you.”

The flames danced in a bluish color before snuffing out and revealing completely healed muscle and skin. The only thing left was a small star mark on my shoulder.

“A reminder of what you survived,” Hera said softly.

Wren clasped my hand tighter. “How do you feel?”

I did a mental sweep. The pain was completely gone. I felt a little sore and tired, but not nearly as much as I should be. “I feel good,” I told her honestly.

Relief swept through Wren, her shoulders slumping as tension fled. Air left her lungs with a whoosh. “Thank the gods.”

“And you need to rest,” Clara ordered, guiding Hera to a chair. “Drink this. It’s a blend my healer has found helps replenish both her magical and human stores.”

Hera collapsed into the chair. “Thank you.”

Clara tapped the open grimoire. “I found the spell. But it’ll take more out of Hera, and she needs to rest first.”

Locke studied the page in the book. “You’re sure it’s dark mages?”

It was Hera who answered. “Yes. The spell I just performed only works on dark magic. That’s why it exhausted me so much. Dark magic takes the greatest toll.”

King muttered a curse and ran a hand through his dark hair. “One more enemy back in the picture.”