𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨-𝙧.𝙖.𝙗

𝟑𝟓-𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐧

SHE HAS THIS RINGING IN HER EARS, AND THEN HER EYES OPEN.

It only takes a moment and a few excessive blinks for the tear-stained face of Dorcas to come into detail. She's draped over Jo's body, mouth moving frantically. Jo hears nothing but the ringing.

In the first few seconds of her consciousness, she is numb. And then it settles in. Intense and sharp pain in her back, in her legs. The icy ground chills her but hot and damp blood drips from her ears, seeps from her back. Nausea rolls over her. The pain in her head is so severe Jo sees black spots.

Dorcas is still speaking over her and Jo is still deaf to it. She realizes then where she is, lying on the ground in front of The Three Broomsticks. Her eyes drift up to see that it was The Three Broomsticks, and it is now a pile of rubble and debris. Panic settles in then.

Whatever pain she felt before intensifies when Jo tries to stand, and she cannot help the hiss that escapes her. She is sure Dorcas is still speaking as arms reach around Jo, tugging and pulling and doing everything but using her wand to get Jo up on her feet. Nonetheless, she lands on them with great difficulty. With unstable footing, Jo clings onto Dorcas with an iron grip, and she surveys the area. Her heart plummets out of her chest.

Any building that is not burning has collapsed. The white blanket of snow that covered the village is now muddled with ash and dirt. There's no one else around. At least, no one standing.

It is then Jo recalls Ivan. standing before her just moments before her vision went black. Her eyes drift to Dorcas, wide with horror, and then to the spot where Ivan stood.

Blood stains the snow under him as he lies, limp on the ground. Jo nearly vomits at the realization that it is seeping, bright blood inching and creeping over what remains of the untouched snow. Without thinking, she drops to her knees at once, fishing frantically for her wand, grasping and clawing at her pockets until she has it in her grip.

Her hands work to find the injury, ripping away at the fabric that conceals his skin. As soon as her hands are on him, the palms are a violent shade of red. The pain and the ringing and the presence of Dorcas over her shoulder are all forgotten as Jo rips away his robes and uncovers the source of it-a deep, deep slice that starts at the center of his chest and wraps around the side of his ribs.

Jo moves mechanically to heal him, jaw locked, and lips pursed together in concentration. Dorcas grabs at her arm. It is a forceful hold but Jo jerks away from it without much consideration, focus unbroken. Her wand hovers over his chest and her lips move, mumbling out a spell she's done countless times on her brother, unable to hear the words that tumble out of her, but she feels them within her. She's focused on damage control-he's lost so much blood already he will need more than her spells can give him. Jo needs potions.

She drops her wand to her side and waits for the wounds to heal. She's seen it so many times-skin growing and stretching to close over open wounds. She knows what to do next. Jo knows how to heal him. But still, the wounds sit open, bleeding freely, disobedient, and defiant. Her mouth hangs agape.

Dorcas tugs at her once more. Jo's more aggressive with her resistance now. She repeats it all over again, wand now shaking in her hand, ringing in her ears intensified. It comes out of her quicker now, rushed and Jo thinks she might be shouting it, but she can't hear it either way.

Again, Jo finishes the spell, and again, his chest remains cut open.

Her head is shaking now. She feels Dorcas's arms slink over her once more but Jo is still now. She kneels by Ivan Reed, his blood soaking into the denim of her jeans, mystified. It should've healed him, but it did not. The bleeding should've stopped, but it did not. Jo can't make sense of it. She did the spell right; she knows she did.