Bidukan Must Die

[Exelous]

Exelous stood silently within the stone chamber of Malachín's temple, the flickering glow of candlelight casting long shadows across his armor. His gauntleted hands rested on the polished surface of his staff, a weapon as much a symbol of his faith as it was a tool of justice. Today, his mind was weighed down not by doubt, but by the heavy burden of duty. An ex noble and three knight's lives had been shaken - assaulted, honor tarnished, safety compromised. And now, Exelous' hunt for the attacker, the infamous criminal Bidukan, was to be underway.

Trolls Haven, a gritty port stop at the heart of the peninsula, served as both a hub of commerce and a den of outlaws. The Hemp Necktie Inn, the notorious tavern situated there, was a place where law was often as fluid as the ale flowing from its taps. A haven for those who thrived outside the bounds of the realm’s strict codes... criminals, mercenaries, and those who simply preferred the shadows. This was his destination.

Exelous’s armor bore the sigil of Malachín - an intricate emblem of a howling wolf crowned by a sword - symbolizing the divine justice he was sworn to uphold. His brow was furrowed beneath his helmet as he reviewed the details of Bidukan’s recent activities. The man was a scoundrel, claiming to be honorable, but anyone with any sense could see the truth. Bidukan was a scumbag. A manipulator. A liar. A menace hiding behind the guise of virtue.

Elderknight S'rrt and others had last seen Bidukan at the Hemp Necktie Inn, where he often mingled with outlaws and ne’er-do-wells. Exelous knew that confronting Bidukan directly would be dangerous; the criminal’s reputation was as volatile as a desert storm. Yet, the knight’s resolve was unshakable. Justice was not merely a duty; it was a sacred vow!

With a final glance at Malachín's altar, Exelous donned his helmet, the visor closing with a reassuring click. He moved swiftly through the temple’s corridor, gathering his gear - a sturdy shield bearing the same howling wolf, a pouch of holy charms, and Malachín's sacred book. Each item was an extension of his faith, a reminder that his path was righteous.

"For the good of Illarion, Bidukan must die."

[Exelous]

The night in Trolls Haven was thick with shadows and the scent of salt and sweat. The port town, a haven for outlaws and traders alike, simmered with a gritty undercurrent that refused to sleep. Its streets, usually lively with the clamor of sailors, merchants, and drunken brawls, now lay eerily silent. Only the distant creak of ships and the faint flicker of torchlight from the crooked windows of the Hemp Necktie Inn pierced the darkness, casting elongated shadows that danced on the cobblestones.

Exelous moved with deliberate caution through the dimly lit quarter. His armor, magically enchanted and polished, caught the flickering torchlight, emitting a faint glint that seemed almost like a warning beacon. Each step against the uneven stones was measured, silent, purposeful - an animal stalking its prey. His senses were heightened, every nerve alert for the slightest sound or hint of movement. He was here on a mission - one that carried the weight of justice and the promise of retribution. Bidukan, the notorious outlaw, was close. Exelous could feel it in his bones.

Tonight’s darkness cloaked more than just the streets; it concealed danger and the threat of violence lurking just beneath the surface. Exelous’ hand rested lightly on the handle of his staff, feeling the reassuring grip of its reinforced wood that Bernie had prepared for him. He was not a man prone to reckless abandon, but tonight, he had no choice.

Ahead, in the shadows cast by a weathered wall, a figure leaned nonchalantly against the rough stone. Cloaked in darkness, the silhouette was still, watchful. The faint steel of a blade caught the scant light as the figure shifted slightly, almost as if testing the air. It was Bidukan.

Exelous paused, narrowing his eye. His posture grew tense, but he maintained control. The street was empty, but he knew better than to assume safety in such a place. The criminal had been expecting him, perhaps even watching him from the shadows. Exelous drew in a steady breath, then finally broke the silence with a voice firm and unwavering.

"Bidukan."

Bidukan raised his glance from the ground, meeting the knight’s stare with a calm that belied his dangerous reputation. His face was hidden beneath a helmet, but there was a flicker of recognition - or perhaps challenge - in his eyes.

Another figure approached from the darkness, the torch illuminating his path. As he drew nearer, the outline of a man’s figure became clear - tall, broad-shouldered, with a stern expression that betrayed no emotion.

Bidukan’s voice cut through the night air. "Exelous."

Exelous jutted out his chin, giving it a few decisive thumbs. "You may have heard that I have been looking for you," he said, his tone sharp with authority.

The other man, sensing the weight of the confrontation, paused as he saw the two knights locking eyes. His hand instinctively rested on the hilt of his sword, but he kept his distance, wary of the charged atmosphere.

"Here you have me," Bidukan replied nonchalantly, a hint of defiance in his tone.

Exelous stepped forward slightly, voice firm. "Your offer to Cadomyr has been rejected. It’s time to bring yourself in." His gaze hardened. "You know what that means."

Bidukan’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. "They didn’t even consider it, aye?"

Exelous’ expression remained unchanging. "They considered it. Such determination is outside of my purview. Regardless..." He paused, eye flickering between Bidukan and the other man. "You’ve been a blight to Illarion for far too long."

Bidukan’s gaze shifted momentarily to the other man as well, who stood all the while as a silent sentinel. Bidukan nodded once in acknowledgment, a gesture of respect - or perhaps command.

"Come with me to Cadomyr," Exelous said, voice unwavering. "Or by Malachín’s name, I will make it so."

Bidukan’s laugh was cold and humorless. "That’s a blind vision, but I can understand it in your case." His tone hinted at disdain, but there was a flicker of something else - perhaps recognition of the inevitability of this moment.

The other man cast a brief glance toward Bidukan, nodding in silent agreement. His hand patting on the hilt of his sheathed sword, a silent promise of readiness. Bidukan’s expression hardened as he spoke again, voice low and measured.

"The truth, little Exelous, is I have been living in peace these years here."

Exelous hummed softly, eye flicking to Bidukan's apparent guardian, then back to Bidukan. "Peace?"

Bidukan tilted his head slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment. "Yes."

"Until it was disturbed by your masters," Bidukan added, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice. "They meddled where they shouldn’t."

Exelous’ expression darkened. "Your crimes span the three realms. Your blade is wet with the blood of innocents. Your reputation is in the dirt. And yet, you dare speak of peace? What a joke."

Bidukan scoffed. "Stop talking nonsense."

Exelous’ gaze hardened. "Do you think this pleases me? I saw potential in you, Bidukan."

"It seems you became the latest Queen’s court jester." Bidukan mocked, rolling his eyes.

"Watch your tongue, scoundrel," Exelous snapped, fist clenched.

The silence stretched, thick with unspoken threats, until Bidukan spoke again, voice laced with venom. "Why don’t you ask your masters in Cadomyr about the demonic brother they harbor instead?" He paused, eyes gleaming. "Brothers. That would be much more interesting than this, lad."

Exelous’ jaw tightened. "The temple warrior, Ssar’ney, threw holy water upon Acerd. I saw it myself. He’s not the same as Prea... And yet, you have your little servant, Clive, spreading slanderous claims."

Bidukan’s expression was unreadable. "Oh, that sure turned Acerd into a devotee."

Exelous’ voice grew colder. "He was meant to burn. Just like Prea did."

Bidukan’s tone was dismissive. "I do not have any servant."

The tension escalated. Exelous pressed on. "Acerd did not burn!"

Bidukan’s eyes flickered. "What about Reace?"

Exelous hesitated. "I do not claim to know all about those two, but they are kept in containment. Only allowed to be seen by selected individuals and highly acclaimed mages."

Bidukan’s voice sharpened. "Why has Cadomyr refused to have them properly examined?"

Exelous’ tone was firm. "I have suggested Nalcaryos do just that."

Bidukan scoffed. "A few years later."

The conversation spiraled into accusations and deflections, the two men exchanging barbs about demons, holy water, and secret experiments - each claiming knowledge of truths the other refused to accept, as the night deepened. Then, suddenly, Exelous’ tone shifted, voice rising with resolve.

"What do you want to do then?" Exelous demanded.

Bidukan’s expression was skeptical. "Does this look like I want something?"

Exelous then lifted his gauntleted hand to point an accusatory finger. "You attacked an ex-noble and three knights. You will pay for your crimes."

Bidukan’s visor slid down, shadowing his face. "Then let’s settle this." He drew himself up.

The other man, who hadn't spoken a word until now, finally broke his silence.

"A duel, eh?" he inquired.

Exelous’ voice was steady. "You prefer we do this the hard way? Fine by me."

Bidukan’s grin was cold. "Very well. I’ll fetch some things from my depot before I send you to Cherga."

"Hold it right there," Exelous interrupted sharply. "You’re coming with me, or I will make you."

The criminal’s eyes flashed with defiance. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"No negotiation," Exelous said firmly. "I am Exelous, holy warrior of Malachín!"

Bidukan’s laugh was bitter. "I’m not negotiating... Holy jester, you mean." He spat on the ground. "I’ll please you and send you to Cherga."

Exelous slammed the end of his staff into his palm, a sign of readiness. "Then prepare yourself." He drank a crimson potion, eye blazing. "Because here I come."

Bidukan, unshaken, nodded once. "That’s why I need to reach my depot."

Exelous advanced, determined. "Too late."

Bidukan’s voice was cold and commanding. "Show some small honor, lad."

Exelous’ thick brows furrowed as he drew himself up. "You deserve none!"

With a roar, Exelous attacked, the staff swinging in a wide arc. Bidukan reacted instantly, running off towards the tavern's depot.

The confrontation exploded into chaos. Bidukan lunged, blade flashing, while Exelous countered with disciplined strikes, each blow ringing with divine fury. Shadows danced wildly as the two combatants battled amidst overturned tables, spilled ale, and broken furniture. Potions shattered, curses flew, blades clashed, and the very air seemed to crackle with rage and purpose.

Bidukan’s strength surged as he consumed another potion, his movements reckless yet deadly. Exelous fought with the righteous fury of a seasoned knight, determined to end the criminal’s reign.

The fight rang throughout the entire tavern, erupting into ferocity as the two clashed. Exelous’ staff struck with unmatched force, each blow designed to end the fight. His magically imbued rings and amulet brought unrelenting power upon his foe. Bidukan’s blade was a deadly streak of red, each attack precise and ferocious. The chaos spilled into every corner, the floors slick with spilled wine and blood.

In the midst of the madness, Bidukan seized an opening, drinking yet another potion - this time violet - his eyes widening with a murderous glint. His movements grew more feral, less controlled, yet no less lethal.

"FOR ILLARION!" Exelous shouted, pushing his attack.

"Holy jester, I will send you to Chega now," Bidukan sneered with confidence.

The fight grew brutal. Neither combatant willing to yield. With each drink of a potion, their strength seemingly multiplying. Exelous countered with a powerful strike, but the outlaw dodged and slashed at him, catching him on the shoulder.

Suddenly, a figure stepped into the chaos - the silent, grim-faced man. His expression was cold, determined. Without a word, he moved swiftly, stepping between the fighters. He pressed his lips together, then shouted, "Aight, 'nuff o' that!"

The combat paused momentarily as the man drew his own weapon, glance fixed on Exelous.

"Sorry 'bout that, knight," he said, voice heavy with remorse. Then, with a sudden lunge, he attacked Exelous from behind.

"Argh!" Exelous cried out as a deep slash cut across his back, pain flaring through him, blood streaking his armor. His vision blurred as he pushed himself along the floor, knocking over chairs and tables.

The man pressed his advantage, shouting, "Yield! This isn’t Cadomyr turf anymore, paladin!"

Blood trickled down Exelous’ armor as he gritted his teeth, eye blazing with stubborn resolve. "I always knew you were scum!"

The fight intensified as Bidukan seized a bottle from his belt, smashing it to release a shower of slime and smoke that filled the tavern with a sickly ooze. Potions exploded, blades flashed, curses echoed. The entire inn had become a war zone.

A figure - Erza - screamed from the side, "Oh my gods! There’s a dead rat on your head!"

Bidukan's guardian kept pouring violet potions into his mouth, trying to regain lost strength. Despite his injuries, the divine power of Malachín seemed to sustain Exelous. His voice, hoarse but resolute, rang out.

"HOORAH!"

"Surrender! You cannot win this!" the man shouted desperately.

Exelous roared again, summoning every ounce of his remaining strength.

"I came prepared for war, boys!"

Bidukan, amidst the chaos, finally grabbed his bow and shot a series of arrows into Exelous’ legs and knees. The knight collapsed onto the floor, sweat pouring down his cuirass, his armor dented and bloodied.

The tavern fell silent - only the ragged breathing of combatants remained. Exelous, battered and exhausted, looked up through a haze of pain.

"Ugh..." he muttered hoarsely.

Bidukan's hired hand loomed over him, "Give up… you won’t arrest him today. So long as I’m his guard."

From a distance, Bidukan’s cold voice cut through the haze. "And never step here again."

Exelous, sweat soaking his war-torn face, slowly turned his head to glare at them, eye widening with unyielding resolve.

"A warrior of Malachín… never gives up," he rasped, voice faint but filled with conviction.

With a final, desperate effort, he collapsed onto the floor, unconscious from exhaustion and pain. His armor was scarred, his spirit tainted but unbowed. The shadows of Trolls Haven swallowed him.

"... follow me. Let him rot there."

Bidukan and his hired man turned away, disappearing into the night, leaving behind a shattered knight who, in his silence, declared that the war was not over - merely paused. The streets grew quiet once more, the echoes of the fight lingering in the air, a testament to the unrelenting grit of those who dared to uphold the law.

[Malchus]

The banging noise of hammering coming from the smithy lead the messenger to the man he was looking for, Malchus. It was past nightfall, and so Malchus was alone at the forge, hammering out dents and mending cracks in his armour, when the messenger delivered his letter.

Malchus glanced over the single line inked and signed by "B" before crumpling the parchment in his fist and casting it into the fire of the forge. Wasting no time, he strapped on his armour, girdled his sword, and grabbed a torch, setting out into the night.

An eerie, foreboding silence lay over the outskirts of Troll's Haven, disturbed only by Malchus's heavy footsteps and clattering armour. Few upstanding people dared to visit the Hemp Necktie Inn at such late hour, and thus Malchus never would have expected to encounter one of the most upstanding men of them all. An imposing figure stood in the middle of the market square, his bejewelled armour gleaming in the torchlight, like a towering beacon of virtue defying the vice to which this lawless place was home. He faced off another knight, one clad in armour as dark as the night itself, save for the large, glistening ruby set in his cuirass. He stood, unflinching, with his sword drawn, its blade and the gems in its hilt gleaming menacingly in the light.

Sir Exelous, the sworn knight of Malachin, had come to mete out Cadomyr's justice and to avenge the slaying of its knights and noble by the hand of Sir Bidukan, the once proud knight of Kallahorn, now reduced to a renegade. Bidukan knew this day would come, for the mercenary Malchus, whom he had hired to be his messenger, had warned him that Cadomyr's thirst for revenge couldn't be assuaged with neither words nor gold, and that Sir S'rrt and Sir Exelous had vowed Bidukan's demise. Yet neither Malchus nor Bidukan had expected that Exelous would make good on his promise so swiftly.

The two knights called each other out, their scorn and challenges cutting like blades in a duel of words, each of them confident in the superiority of his skill and the righteousness of his cause. But Sir Exelous had not come to parley, nor to give his opponent the chance to prepare himself for an honourable duel. Like the bounty hunter which he once was, Exelous was set on taking Bidukan to Cadomyr, dead or alive. Bidukan gave the mercenary whom he had summoned a meaningful nod, and Malchus's hand slid to the hilt of his sheathed sword, watching with tension the situation unfold.

With his mighty staff raised, Exelous charged at Bidukan, who retreated into the tavern. Like a raging sandstorm from the Kantabi desert the knight of Cadomyr descended upon Bidukan, who fought for his life and freedom. Staff and sword clashed in mortal combat, their armours cracking and shattering under the merciless blows, spilling blood and the potions which they quaffed. Malchus stood by, his hand resting on his sword's hilt, watching how these titans of merinium and magic gems locked horns. Malchus had heard much of Bidukan's ferocious skill and how his sword had tasted the blood of many a knight who dared to oppose him. He knew the power which Bidukan's enchanted sword and armour bestowed upon their bearer, for it was their borrowed strength which defeated Exelous in the Blood Circle arena and won Malchus the tournament. The mercenary had no doubt that since he had defeated Exelous with these armaments, Bidukan would surely prevail.

And indeed, Bidukan fought valiantly, then desperately, but this night Malachin was not with him. Unlike in the tournament, Exelous had left nothing to chance, and where he struck, flashing fire and lightning followed, surging from his enchanted jewellery. Bidukan's strength waned under the relentless pummeling. At last, as it looked that Exelous had gained the upper hand and that victory over Cadomyr's nemesis was in his grasp, Bidukan turned his head to Malchus, his nod leaving no doubt to its meaning. The mercenary looked upon the sword which he fondled, a prominent ruby adorning its hilt. It was the reward with which Bidukan had bought his loyalty when he had hired him to deliver his peace offer to Cadomyr. Of course, no one would offer such a rare treasure for mere messenger services, and they both knew what else it entailed when Malchus had accepted it.

Malchus unsheathed his sword, revealing its black blade, his voice bellowing through the havocked tavern to stop the fight: "Aight, 'nuff o' that!"

But Exelous's resolve was unshaken, and so Malchus uttered an apology, as if regretting that it had come to this. "Sorry 'bout that, knight... I still 'ave need o' him."

With his sword drawn Malchus lunged at Exelous, delivering a vicious slash to the knight's back, cutting through and soaking his white silken cloak with blood.

"By the gods! Argh!" Exelous yelled in anguish as he tumbled under the perfidious attack, buying Bidukan the moment he needed to recover from his perilous position.

"Yield! Ya ain't on Cadomyr turf, paladin!" Malchus commanded as he pressed his attack, but the stout-hearted knight Exelous was not prepared to yield.

"Damn you! I always knew you were scum ever since the tournament!"

"Sorry, but he pays more than ya ever could!"

The duel devolved into a brutal and desperate melee, and despite finding himself suddenly outnumbered, Exelous's courage did not falter, righteous anger and holy fury spurring him to fight to the bitter end.

"Surrender! Ya cannot win this," Malchus urged once more through gritted teeth as they locked their weapons.

"Then I will die!" The paladin declared with zealous fervour.

"Of course you will," sneered Bidukan.

"Ya chose this," added his hired sword.

At last, as Exelous was distracted by Malchus, Bidukan reached for his bow, and pierced Exelous's legs with a series of well-aimed wind arrows, felling the mighty knight of Cadomyr, who collapsed into the blood, broken glass, and spilled potions and booze covering the floor.

Malchus, battered and fatigued, leaned against one of the few tables that remained standing, gasping for air.
"Give up... ya won't arrest him t'day... so long as I'm his hired guard."

"Run to your walls, Exelous. And never ever step here," Bidukan jeered victoriously.

"A warrior of Malachin... Never gives up," declared Exelous with his last strength before falling unconscious from the exertion, his body broken, but not his spirit.

"Malchus, follow me. Let him rot there," Bidukan commanded coldly, and indeed they wasted no time to flee, leaving Exelous to his fate, for it was surely but a matter of time until word of the mayhem at the Hemp Necktie Inn would spread, and they could not afford to linger, lest more Cadomyrians would arrive.

Paying a crew of sailors to ferry them across the water, the rogue knight and the mercenary disappeared in their hideout, lying low, tending to their wounds, and deliberating on their next course of action.

[Yridia Anar]

Yridia received a message from Inara, who had sent her falcon, saying that Exelous was in the hospital, seriously injured.

She immediately packed everything she might need to help her old friend.

On her way, she ran into Malchus, who was making up a story—at least that's how it looked to her—and yes, Bidukan was involved once again.
When he glanced at Borgate, who just grumbled and continued polishing the bar, Yridia knew there was more to it than Malchus was saying or wanted to say.
She made it clear to him that it didn't matter to her who, what, or why. What was important was that Exelous needed her help.

But what she saw then as she arrived made her cringe inwardly.

“Exelous, loyal friend, let me help you—as I did once before after your severe burns.”

She spoke softly and gently as he awoke; she had already seen the injuries on his legs.
The other injuries were serious, but they healed without complications.

[Exelous]

In the dim, quiet sanctuary of Cadomyr’s hospital, Exelous lay motionless, his once formidable frame diminished by the grievous injuries sustained weeks prior. The sun’s pale rays seeped through the open door, in what seemed like an impossible goal to reach. His legs, once swift and strong, were now encased in bandages and splints, swollen and scarred from the brutal arrow assault that had nearly ended his life.

The wounds on his knees and calves told a silent story of suffering and loss. Multiple arrows had pierced flesh and bone, and the sight of his torn, bloodied limbs had shaken even the most hardened witnesses. Doubts whispered among the healers and warriors alike - would Exelous ever walk again? Was the divine spark that once burned brightly within him extinguished?

Yet, for Exelous, the Holy Warrior of Malachín, despair was a foreign thing. Though confined to the bed and miserable, his spirit remained unbroken. His gaze was fixed on the ceiling, eye distant but burning with unwavering resolve. Every breath he drew was a prayer - a plea to Malachín - begging for the strength to rise once more, to reclaim his destiny and continue his sacred quest for justice. A folded letter and a single firnis blossom lay on a table by his side.

In the lonely chamber, he had taken to sleeping as long as he could - in the belief that it would somehow speed up his recovery. That day, a gentle presence entered. Yridia, the high priestess of Ushara and a revered druid, stepped softly across the floor. Her movements graceful as she approached the bed.

"Exelous," she whispered, "loyal friend, let me help you - as I did once before, after your severe burns."

Exelous opened his eye and turned his head slowly, meeting her gaze. His voice was hoarse but steady, with a weak and forced smirk trailing the side of his face. "Still here, Yridia... Still fighting."

He closed his eye again, drawing upon her words and the memory of Yridia's previous interventions. Just like the pain he had experienced from the burns on that fateful Mas, the arrows that had felled him were a test, a challenge that he refused to accept as final. He clung to the conviction that the gods had not abandoned him.

"Tell me," he rasped, "do you believe I can stand again?"

[Yridia Anar]

Her hand rested gently on his forehead as she answered him with a soft, warm glow in her eyes.

‘Just as your faith in Malachin gives you strength, Ushara gives me the power to heal those who need it. I will ask for the power and Ushara will grant it to me.
Malachin will also lend it to me for you and a small portion of my years will restore you to health Exelous.
For an elf like me, time and years hardly matter, but your life and your fight do.’

She smiled reassuringly at him as her hands removed the bandages from his legs and placed them carefully to one side.

‘Do you trust me again Exelous? Do you place your health and your faith in my healing hands?’

[Exelous]

Exelous opened his eye slowly once more, his gaze resting on Yridia’s face - a mixture of weariness and perseverance. He knew her words carried weight, woven with her faith and the deep bond they shared. For a moment, he hesitated, the possibility that it wouldn't work threatening to overwhelm him. The unbearable disappointment that would inevitably come afterwards, should it not succeed. But then he nodded faintly, voice barely above a whisper.

"I trust you, Yridia," he replied, voice gritty but sincere. "You have always been a beacon in the darkness - a guiding light when hope was scarce." His gaze lingered on her face, the familiar warmth and certainty in her eyes reassuring him more than any words could.

He reached out weakly, his hand trembling as he grasped hers. "If Ushara and Malachín are willing to lend their power, then I have no doubt I can rise again. I will fight, not just for myself, but for all those who rely on us. I refuse to let this injury define me - or end my journey."

A faint smile touched his lips, tinged with a mix of a deep rooted pain. "Begin your healing, Yridia. I will hold onto the faith that I can still stand - no matter how long it takes."

Exelous’s eye drifted closed as her words sank into his wounded soul. For the first time since the attack, a faint flicker of positivity ignited within him. He knew the road to a full recovery could be long, but with Yridia’s healing and Malachín’s guidance, he had a fighting chance.

[Yridia Anar]

‘I don't want to lie to you, it's going to hurt.’

She handed him a small bottle.

‘Please drink this, it will help a little. It's a mixture of soothing herbs.’

Then, with flowing, natural movements, she took a bowl of warm water and carefully washed his legs and wounds.
She sensed him becoming calmer, his pulse slowing down.
The Ritual started.
Words dripping from her lips like healing balm, her hands moving over his terribly battered, injured legs.
Her eyes were half closed and her chant filled the room around them.

‘Ushara, - Malachin, -
Heraë elenion, na huin i nîd henna laer
Nénariel, eledhiel naur
Aldaron nauriel i caerien
nóreni i naurëa melme
naurë uhanna nië ’

((Ushara, Malachin,
please hear me and grant me this request -
Mother of all Life - Father of all Warriors -
grant me your strength-
grant me your wisdom -))

The air became soft and gentle like silk, warmth penetrating deep beneath skin as small beads of sweat formed on her forehead.

‘Nai elenion i caran na nin
nesta i melda naurion nérë
Nin naurma ethel hië’

((May the blessing that was given to me -
heal this brave pure Warrior -
So, let my gift flow to him -))

Her voice was clear yet soft, the prayer strong with power, the request fervent, intense.
More and more sweat - or were they tears running down her pale cheeks - flowed over Yridia's face, pale from the effort she let flow in this ritual.

’Nínë mirië nahtana
Círillye rácin yéva naurëa

((your anguish shall end -
Your bones shall be connecting and heal correctly -))

She repeated the chant several times to make sure it would reach even the deepest splinters in his bones and put them back in their right place.
Exelous would feel the pain; she could only guess how much he was suffering, despite the potion.

Amin hithui lle, meldo

With one last effort, she quietly thanked Ushara and Malachin.

‘Sleep now and heal, my dear friend.’

She lit a small bowl of soothing herbs on the bedside table so that Exelous would find peace in his sleep.
She felt dizzy and exhausted, yet she smiled gently.
She knew that this exhaustion was a sign of her success, that she had successfully passed on some of her many years of life to him –
healing in the name of Ushara and with the mercy of Malachin.
Despite her deep exhaustion, she radiated a contented calm as she gently caressed his cheek with her hand.
Then she sank down on the side of the bed onto the chair she had prepared for herself to rest.

She would not leave the Hospital 'til he woke up again.