Then he remembered the sun on the high ridges and the smell of roasting bread in his village. He pushed back. He didn't use a sword or a spell; he used the simple, stubborn memory of warmth. The black veins receded. The gray haze cleared.
"I know. The shadows are heavy," Elara agreed, her fingers finally brushing the feathered fletching. "But you are lighter than the dark. On three, I’m going to pull the physical steel. The spiritual hurt... that’s yours to push out." arrowhurt
"The pain is a liar, Kaelen," she whispered, her voice a grounding anchor. "The arrowhurt wants you to think the wound is your whole world. Look at me. Breathe the moss and the rain, not the sting." Then he remembered the sun on the high
One. The forest held its breath.Two. Kaelen gripped a handful of dirt, feeling the grit and life of the earth.Three. The black veins receded
"Not today," he breathed, sitting up as Elara bandaged the wound. The ache was still there, a dull reminder of how close he’d come, but the arrowhurt was broken.
Kaelen tried to focus. The forest around them felt like it was retreating into a gray haze. Every beat of his heart sent a fresh wave of cold fire through his veins. He could see the black veins of the enchantment creeping away from the wound, a dark web against his pale skin. "It’s... it's heavy," Kaelen managed to gasp.