"There has to be a way to counter it," I said, pacing the length of the healer's quarters while she searched through shelves of old texts, some so brittle the pages cracked when she turned them.
"Dark magic of that kind is rare," the healer said. "Whoever forged that blade bound it with old blood rituals, the same family of magic used to create the false mark on Elara's skin. If there is a counter, it will require similar ingredients to break it."
"What ingredients," Elara asked, sitting near the fire with her hands wrapped around a cup she had not touched once since sitting down.
"Blood from the same bloodline used to forge the curse," the healer said. "Applied before the wound occurs, not after. Once the poison spreads, there is little any of us can do to stop it."
"Then we need Bren
