ISLA
The shelter clinic smells like blood and antiseptic. I've been working for six hours straight. Treating the wounded from the blood club rescue.
Danny's on the cot nearest me. Shoulder wound from silver bullet. I've extracted the bullet, cleaned the wound, stitched it closed. But silver poisoning is spreading. His healing is suppressed.
"How bad?" he asks.
"Bad. You'll live but recovery takes weeks." I wrap the bandage. "No combat for at least a month."
"We don't have a month."
"I know." I move to the next patient.
Tom's unconscious. Magic overuse nearly killed him. He's breathing but barely. Internal bleeding from the spell battle with Professor Fell. I've done what I can but he needs rest. Weeks of it.
Valentina's sitting in the corner. Physical injuries are minor. Silver bur
