Caleb
"So you're saying my brother can fix people now?" I asked Moira, watching her organize her herb cabinet with methodical precision. Her apprentice, Mallory, handed her bottles and bundles as needed, the half-fae girl's pointed ears twitching occasionally when Moira's Scottish accent got particularly thick.
"Fix, heal, chase away void-corruption—call it what you will," Moira replied, placing a jar of something suspiciously glittery on her top shelf. "But aye, your twin's gone and found himself a healer's touch. Golden light and all, like he's swallowed a bit of sunshine."
"Wonders never cease," I murmured, leaning against the doorframe. The thought of Kalel—my hot-headed, punch-first-ask-questions-later twin—gently healing sick pack members was both bizarre and somehow perfect.
Mal
