Lesser Bloom

Unbreakable

After the incident with the unicorn, Torvald, Kragga, Pip, and Lirael together held a traditional funeral for the magnificent creature in Torvald’s village. Kragga covered it with a snow-white sheet, Pip placed apples, and Lirael arranged wildflowers around the body. Torvald, holding a massive torch, sent Silhouette on his final journey.

- May the earth be light upon you. - said Torvald. Kragga took a deep breath and tried to stay strong, but rage was boiling inside her. Pip, meanwhile, simply stroked Lirael’s back encouragingly. Lirael stood there solemnly, watching as the magnificent creature turned to ash. She hated that she hadn’t been able to stop Thalorion. Just as she hated that she hadn’t been strong enough to save the unicorn. However, the worst was yet to come. After Lady Amelia learned what had happened, she punished Torvald cruelly; the once-heroic warrior could no longer eat on his own, and the pain kept him from sleeping. He began to lose all his strength. Meanwhile, Lirael was locked away in one of the castle’s towers to teach her, her place. Lirael spent her days starved and only getting enough water to not to die from thirst, but her concern for her friend outweighed everything else. After all, Torvald had been beaten unconscious right before her eyes. The metallic scent of blood mingled with the floral scent of the spring breeze, and Tarsakh storm slowly washed away all traces of cruelty. Lirael was way too worried for Torvald, and felt guilty for what happened. After a week when they finally released her, without hesitation she ran, ran as fast as her weakened legs could carry her. She stumbled several times and fell bruising her knees and hands, but she didn't give up. When she arrived to Torvald's small house next to the stables, the stench of infected tissue and heavy smell of medicine hit her nose, even before she opened the door. The situation inside was even worse, she got dizzy by the heaviness of the air inside the small cottage house. She tore a piece of her skirt and wrapped it around her mouth and nose before entering. As soon as she was inside she hurried to the windows opening them wide and filling the house with fresh air. Lirael was terrified to look at Torvald, she knew that she wasn't ready for the worse. Time has almost stopped moving forward.

The air carried a faint, sour-sweet smell — not overpowering at first, but impossible to ignore once you notice it. It’s the distinctive odour of a low-grade infection that’s been quietly winning for days. Damp bandages, lymph, slight necrosis, mixed with ordinary human sweat that can’t be properly washed away. Lirael without hesitation assessed the situation and based on what she learned so far began to treat Torvald, whose fever was so high that he couldn't stay awake.

Lirael started by gently but thoroughly cleaning his wounds, she boiled and cooled down some water from the nearby river, and with clean cloths she washed the half healed wounds out. It was a real challenge to move the grown man with her malnourished and starved demeanor. But Lirael casted a spell of Bull's strength on herself and despite the fatigue, she finished cleaning all wounds. To make sure they were properly cleaned and couldn't get infected again, she made a strong tea of yarrow, strained it, and used it to flush debris and pus. She rubbed the freshly opened wounds with some salt to prevent any new infections and help the tissue close faster. Torvald hissed in pain in his sleep, and Lirael put wet towels on his forehead, wrists and ankles to cool his body temperature down. Lirael grabbed her little torn herbalist bag, that she picked up from the kitchen on her way here. She mashed 1–2 cloves of fresh garlic, let them sit 10 minutes to activate allicin, mixed with lots of honey to buffer it, and applies as a thin layer or packs small amounts into deep pockets of infection. Lirael didn't leave Torvald's side and kept repeating the same procedure several times a day for days. She sneaked to the kitchen and asked Mara to prepare a strong healing broth, with lots of vegetables, garlic and bones. On her way back to the stables, she gathered a few yarrow leaves, chamomile and lime blossoms from the herbal garden to prepare a healing tea. Lirael guided a thin thread of energy toward his core temperature, coaxing his body to stop burning quite so hot. It's like gently blowing on soup to cool it—enough to bring delirium down from raging to murmuring, so he can swallow broth or tea without choking. She helped Torvald drink the tea and fed the broth to him every day. His condition was getting better, but not fast enough and Lirael was concerned about his fever not going down , despite all the tricks she had in her sleeves. She looked at her scarred, thin hands and clenched her fingers into fists before taking a deep breath and opening her palm again. Torvald was shivering under his heavy blankets. She had no time to waste. Her magic more instinct and borrowed will than polished art. Lirael with her healing gift that was still fragile, like a candle flame in wind: warm, persistent, but easily exhausted. She could only channel it in short, focused bursts, and it worked best when paired with what she already knew from herbs. Lirael laid both of her hands lightly over the dressing. She focused on her innate healing powers and they glowed through her palms. The glow seeped through cloth and honey alike. She focused on encouraging the body's own defenses — nudging white blood cells to gather faster, helping them chew through bacteria more efficiently. Visually, the angry red-purple halo around the wound edges might fade a shade or two over hours, the heat under her palms dropping noticeably. Torvald finally took some deep breaths without pain and his groans stopped as well. Lirael looked at him with a smile but she exhausted herself completely, the smile slowly faded and her ears rang. The world started to spin around and Lirael lost consciousness hitting her head into the hardwood floor. The low fire in the hearth had burned down to embers, casting a soft, ruddy glow across the sturdy stone walls. Torvald opemed his eyes and noticed how all the pain was gone. He looked around and saw the sleeping Lirael on the floor. He got up slowly and kneeled next to the young girl to make sure she was still breathing. That moment the door of his house swung open and Kragga rushed inside followed by Pip. She unusually from her, bursted into tears seeing Torvald still alive, and Pip didn't hesitate to follow her example.

- THANK GODS YOU ARE ALIVE! - she shouted and Torvald frowned at her motioning to keep it low. Kragga covered her mouth and Torvald smiled.

- Gods had nothing to do with this, it as all Lirael. She saved me.

- We couldn't come earlier Torvald, I'm so sorry. - Pip said.

- They put some magic barrier around your property that prevented us from entering or seeing anything behind it. - Kragga said with frustration. Torvald smiled at them.

- I supposed that you didn't forget about me. - they pat his shoulders gently.

- Never. - Torvald picked up gently Lirael from the floor and told to Kragga where she can find clean bedsheets. Kragga turned the small sofa in Torvald's living room into a temporary bed for Lirael. The ex mercenary laid the fragile girl on the sofa and covered her with a thick blanket made of wool. While Pip gathered some more wood for the fireplace and made sure the house was nice and warm. Kragga made some light dinner for them and they soflty chatted while eating. Once they left, Torvald stood in the doorway for a long moment, simply watching her breathe. He was a big man, broad-shouldered and steady, the kind built more for swinging an axe or holding a shield-wall than for gentleness, yet the sight of her like this made something quiet and fierce twist in his chest. He could thank his life for those small, blustery hands.

- Amazing how despite all you have been through, they couldn't kill your kindness. - he said softly before locking the door and heading back to his own bed.