The infirmary was on the third floor of the main building, tucked behind a pair of heavy oak doors engraved with healing runes that glowed soft gold in the early morning light. The corridors were already busy—students heading to breakfast, professors striding with purpose, the occasional noble sweeping past in a swirl of expensive fabric. None of them spared us more than a glance.
Elara walked on my left, Lyra on my right. They had flanked me the entire way, like bodyguards. Or jailers. I wasn't sure which felt more accurate.
My arms throbbed with every step. The black veins had retreated slightly overnight, but the skin around the wounds was still gray and cold to the touch. The poison sat heavy in my blood, a dull weight that made my limbs feel like they belonged to someone else.
I kept my head down. Stay invisible. The old mantra echoed in my skull, mocking me.
Lyra bumped my shoulder gently. "Stop slouching. You look like you're about to collapse."
"I feel like I'm about to collapse."
Elara's voice was low. "You will if we don't get that ichor out. Hold on."
We reached the infirmary doors. Elara pushed them open without knocking.
The room beyond was large and bright—high windows letting in pale winter sunlight, rows of white beds with crisp sheets, shelves lined with glowing vials and jars of herbs that smelled sharp and medicinal. A handful of students lay in beds, some sleeping, some reading. A healer in pale blue robes moved between them, murmuring softly.
The healer—a woman in her late forties with steel-gray hair tied back and kind but tired eyes—looked up as we entered. Her gaze landed on me immediately, narrowing at the black veins visible beneath my rolled-up sleeves.
"Name?" she asked, already moving toward us.
"Eryndor Vale," Elara answered for me. "Abyss ichor poisoning. Two wounds. He's been stable overnight, but it's spreading again."
The healer's eyes flicked to Elara, then Lyra, then back to me. Recognition dawned. "Thorne and Solstice. I've heard about you two. Bring him to bed seven."
We moved. I sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under my weight. The healer—Miss Vaelith, her badge read—pulled a curtain around us for privacy.
"Shirt off," she said, already rolling up her sleeves.
I hesitated.
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "We've seen you bleed, newbie. Modesty can wait."
I pulled the tunic over my head, wincing as the fabric tugged at the wounds. The black veins were stark against my skin—left forearm, right shoulder, crawling toward my chest like roots seeking water.
Miss Vaelith's expression didn't change, but her eyes sharpened. "Deep exposure. You're lucky you're still conscious." She turned to a cabinet, pulling out vials of glowing liquid—silver, green, gold. "This will hurt. But it will burn the ichor out."
Elara stepped closer. "We'll stay."
Ms. Vaelith glanced at her. "Family?"
"Close enough," Elara said.
Ms. Vaelith didn't argue.
She began.
The first vial was silver—cold as ice when she poured it over the wounds. Pain flared, white-hot, then dulled to a deep freeze. The black veins recoiled, shrinking back like they were alive and afraid.
The second vial was green—Lyra's color. It smelled of herbs and earth. Warmth followed the cold, spreading through my arm like sunlight after winter. The gray skin flushed pink again.
The third vial was gold. It burned—pure fire poured straight into my blood. I gritted my teeth, fists clenched, vision blurring. Elara's hand found my good shoulder, steadying. Lyra's fingers laced through mine on the other side.
I didn't pull away.
Minutes passed—which felt like hours. Time blurred under the pain and the warmth and the strange, quiet focus of the two girls beside me.
When it was over, the black veins were gone. The wounds were closed, pink and new. The poison was… not gone, but dormant. Contained.
Ms. Vaelith stepped back, wiping her hands. "You'll live. But you'll carry a scar. And the ichor left a mark. Your mana will feel… different for a while. Colder in places. Don't push it."
I nodded, throat dry. "Thank you."
She waved it off. "Thank your friends. They got you here fast enough." She glanced at Elara and Lyra. "And you two—keep him out of trouble. Or at least bring him back in one piece next time."
Lyra saluted with two fingers. "No promises."
Ms. Vaelith snorted and left us.
The curtain fell closed again.
Silence.
Then Lyra spoke, voice soft. "You okay?"
I looked at my arms—clean, scarred, but mine again. "Yeah. I think so."
Elara watched me. "The ichor's contained. But it's still in you. Tied to the anomaly. We need to be careful."
I met her eyes. "We?"
She didn't smile, but her expression softened. "We."
Lyra bumped my shoulder. "Told you. You're stuck with us now."
I looked between them—Elara's steady gaze, Lyra's crooked grin. For the first time, the weight on my chest felt a little lighter.
"Thank you," I said again. And this time, I meant it.
Elara stood. "Come on. Breakfast. We have a book to read after that."
Lyra grinned. "And maybe lets grab some coffee. You look like you need it."
I stood, legs shaky but holding.
For the first time, I didn't feel like I was walking alone.
But the book in my ring pulsed once—soft, almost gentle.
And somewhere, deep in the academy's shadows, something stirred.
Waiting.