The sound of Derek's ragged breathing pierced Darana's heart. Her oldest friend was dying.
She stood in the shadowed doorway of his home, hidden behind the gathered neighbors. Derek's mother, the village baker, sat down, her silent tears were more terrible than any wail.
His father's hands were now clenched into helpless fists. Unable to do anything for his son.
"His ailment has gone too far for any healer to do anything," the Channeler said, his voice heavy with finality. The necklace he wore had a faint yellow glow, showing Derek's life force fading faintly.
He placed a hand on the father's back. "Please prepare yourselves. I'm sorry."
A cold knot had tightened in Darana's stomach. This wasn't a stranger, it was Derek. The boy who had taught her how to skip stones across the river, the boy whose voice rang in her head. The boy who had been with her for nineteen years.
Her father gripped her arm firmly. Look away. Do not help. The rules that had governed her life. They screamed in her mind but they were a puny defense as she saw Derek's sickly face, glistening with sweat in the firelight.
That night, sleep was impossible. The memory of his struggling breaths counting down to the end of his life. Fuck the rules. She loved him. She can't let him die.
*****
She snuck into his room, through a window as she had done many times before. Her strong vibrant Derek, reduced to a leaf shivering in winter.
"I can't lose you."
Her fluids held the power. Saliva, pee even her cum. She had helped some people but she noticed it made her weak after. But this was Derek.
His lips were closed so tight, she couldn't give him her saliva. She pondered on another way that could work.
She looked at his pants as an idea hit her. She would suck his dick. The warmth of my mouth too would also help.
She was careful not to make a sound as she pulled down his pants. Even though he was ill, that didn't affect how gorgeous his dick was.
She was already getting turned on by the sight of it. Her pussy throbbing in her underwear.
She carefully reached to grip it. It was hot. Her hand slid up and down as she played with his dick.
Derek's lips twitched and Darana realized it was time to help her friend.
She placed wet kisses all over the side of his dick. Wet kisses against the veins of his veins of his shaft. His bulbous tip was large and she noticed a drop of precum on his tip and caught it on her tongue.
His face that was in so much pain looked calmer and peaceful. His breathing had become normal and his temperature less hot.
It was working, she thought to herself smiling. She wasn't done though.
She gave his length a squeeze and then pushed his large head into her mouth. She ran her tongue around it. He let out a small moan as she carefully fed his length into her mouth.
The lewd sounds of slurping echoed in the room. While she worked with his cock, her left hand went down gently petting his balls.
She came up for air, proud of his dick covered in her throat lubricant. She continued moving up and down watching as his hips bucked, and it was spurting.
One spurt went to his left thigh, another to her dress and one to the bed. She kept stroking until only little oozes of white crept out of the tip, and drooled down onto her hand.
Derek's breathing had steadied, the colour had returned back to his cheeks. She used a washcloth to clean up and wore him his pants back.
Suddenly her vision tunneled as she clutched at the workbench to keep herself from falling. A stabbing pain pierced her temples. A hot, trickle escaped her nose. She wiped it away, leaving a red streak on her wrist.
She wasn't still used to using her powers.
She stumbled back to her house as the sky lightened, her body exhausted and still aroused. Despite the exhaustion, she was happy.
He will live.
*****
The first rule Darana ever learned wasn't 'Be polite' or 'Bow to nobles'. It was 'Hide it'.
She learned it in the dim light of the cellar, her small body pressed between sacks of potatoes and her mother's trembling form.
Above them boots stomped through their home, gruff voices demanding answers for the unusual magic detected around the village.
Her father's voice, firm and calm, insisted that they were not magic users, just simple farmers. Telling them to go to the houses of the magic users and question them.
She felt her mother's hand cold and damp with sweat, clamped over her mouth, the 'Don't worry', 'Hush' breathed into her ear like a prayer.
She was three years old.
The lesson was carved deeper with every passing year. In the kingdom of Walorem, there were three types of people, the regulars, people who couldn't channel magic.
The Channelers, these were the people who were blessed with the ability to channel magic through instruments known as Conduits.
And the Conductors. Those ones did not require anything to channel their magic. They were at the top of the magic hierarchy and were highly respected by all.
However, the Royal family grew to fear the Conductors, they feared their powers and knew that if they grew too powerful they wouldn't be able to control them.
So they wiped them out. Anyone who was a Conductor was hunted, tortured and killed. Some of them weren't even killed, instead they were experimented on. Even used as fuel to make wards and weapons for the kingdom.
A few of them escaped but went into hiding. Any child that comes into the world and is discovered as a Conductor is to be killed. Anyone who tries to hide them is to be executed.
Unfortunately, Darana was a Conductor, a healer. Her parents discovered this when at the age of two, when her drool touched an injured cat and it stood up and walked, perfectly fine.
They were horrified as they realized her fluids can miraculously heal. Then the rules came.
Hide it. Look away. Do not help. Control it.
It was the way her mother would flinch when the neighbor's fingers bled, her eyes would dart to Darana with a silent plea. Don't offer help.
It was the way her father would take up her face in his calloused hands after she had helped a baby bird with a broken wing. His eyes dark with a fear that had nothing to do with anger.
"This is not a gift, Darana," he said, his voice low, warning her. "It's a curse. A death sentence. Not just for you. For all of us."
One night, when she was fourteen, she found him sharpening a wooden axe. She watched him for some time and he called her name, startling her.
"Darana," he said without looking up. "If the Night Mages ever come, truly come. I won't swing at them first."
He finally looked at her, the truth raw in his eyes. "I'll turn it on you, your brother and mother. A clean death is mercy compared to what they'll do to a Conductor and the family that hid her."
She realized that her very existence was a death sentence for her entire family. A sword hanging over their heads by a single thread.
She smiled to herself, her parents worried too much. She saved her best friend's life. What's the worst that could happen?