𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫 || 𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂 ||

1. Healer

𝐌𝐞𝐢𝐫𝐚:

I have a plan, a schedule, but no matter how hard I try I can never stick with it.

What can I say? I try.

"Take three of these daily, and Lira, put these herbs in his moring tea." I hand her over the herbs which she excepts gratefully, but all I get from her husband is a grunt.

Illyrians can be some of the worst to help or heal - they never say thank you.

"I'll be on my way, you know where to call if it gets worse?" I pointedly look at her husband , and Lira purposefully looks down at the floor.

"Look, I'll be here if you need me." Is all bring myself to say. The male/female responsibilities are drilled into them at so young, and it takes centuries for even the smallest change of their culture.

They're  archaic, that's  for sure.

And grumpy. And sexist. Can be rapist but not here.

I had one last round to do, and a good thing too, because dusk was just starting to arise.

If I had one rule about working at Windhaven, is that I did not go outside after dark.

I grab my satchel from the nail above the door and make my own way out, knowing that if I don't I'll be overstaying my welcome.

--------

All I have to do is past that tavern and then I'm home.

Home.

An unfamiliar concept, as for the last few years nothing has really felt like home. I feel like I'm not anywhere permanent, and it'll all just be swept under me before long.

But I suppose maybe this place is? This is all I remember - and shadowed memories of a woman on a Throne, in a dark, dark, cave, filled with tortured screams and hopelessness.

That is all I remember.

How stupid is that?

Maybe one day I will.

One day.

------

"Mia!"

No.  Not today, please not today.

Anxiety takes over as I abruptly turn around at the call of my old nickname, and then I remember -fear slicing through me like a knife as I watch the scene unfold.

Please no.

Outside the tavern, stumbled out one of the younger warriors, drunk and careless. I watch as he sways on his feet, before the bartender throws out a mug of water and pours it on top of his head.

"Come back when you're sober, Malark." He grumbled at the young Illyrian and shoved him outside, face first onto the mud, still dressed in his leathers and that stupid ornate sword at his hip.

I turn to go, to try and flee, but I'm trapped.

Until he speaks again.

Lying 6 meters away, Malark still made my veins turn to ice.

Control it, control it.

"Mia," He hums on his lips, but all my body does is tell me to run.

But of course I'm frozen.

"Mia, Mia, Mia. Darling, little Mia." He laughs. "They said she wasn't to be touched. But I changed all that, of course." He was laughing now, shaking his head but still sprawled out on the floor.

I'm paralysed.

And all I can think about is that night.

Where one of the people who'd I trusted most had left, making me turn to Malark.

I didn't realize his intentions until it was too late.

I had been so, so, so stupid. And I hadn't realized one of my closest friends had changed so much.

He began to move, slow, sloppy movements until he was 4 meters away, and all I could do was watch.

3 meters.

I had told Devlon not to make a fuss.

2 meters.

He had been my best friend, possibly could have been something more, and he betrayed me.

Ruined me

1 meter.

He destroyed me

It is because of him, all I remember about the past is nightmares which have become my daydreams.

He is at my feet, drunken smile and that stupid, easy-going smile. The same scar. The same-

"Oi!" A echo of the flapping of wings brings me from my spiral, but I can't see who it is. It could be anyone, anything, and even though Devlon has told me to use my fae sense of smell more often I still couldn't-

They may be a friend, they may be a foe.

But still-

I bolted.

"Hey! I'm not going to hurt you!" The same voice calls after me, but I still run, my satchel hitting against my hips which I know will bruise tommorow.

And I may be small, but I'm quick.

I doge past huts and shops, avioding the few Illyrians still mingling around, and just focus on reaching Devlon's hut from running around the back.

I sprint towards the door, and try and let myself relax when my fingers feel for the cold metal handle.

I yank it open, run inside before bolting the door.

It was a close call, but if that Illyrian hadn't arrived-

Don't think about it. You're safe.

For now.