Illaria stood before the scarred man, her figure framed by the dim light of the room. Her dress, short and revealing, clung to her in a way that accentuated her curves, the fabric shimmering faintly as she moved. Her emerald eyes glowed softly, a sign of the healing energy she was preparing to channel.
With practiced ease, she lifted the hem of her dress slightly, exposing more of her smooth thighs before she settled herself onto the man's lap, facing him directly. Her arms wrapped around his broad shoulders, pulling him into a firm embrace. The warmth of her energy began to seep into him through the close contact, her breathing steady as she focused.
“So,” she murmured, her voice low but steady, “what exactly caused all of you to end up like this? You feel like a B-Grade Adventurer to me, yet here you are.”
The man smirked as he leaned back slightly to meet her gaze. “Oh, do I? Thanks for the compliment.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, but there was an edge of pain in his voice.
“Answer the question,” she said softly but firmly, her glowing eyes narrowing slightly.
The man sighed, his rough hand brushing against her back briefly. “Fine. My party of four was hired for a bodyguard mission—a merchant run. Seemed easy enough. A few beasts here and there, nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“And then?” she pressed, tilting her head slightly, her grip tightening on his shoulders.
“Then came the shrill noise,” he continued, his voice dropping as if the memory weighed on him. “A scream—loud and piercing, like it cut through your soul. That’s when we saw it.”
“Saw what?”
“A Wyvern.”
Her breath hitched, and she pulled back just enough to look him directly in the eyes. “A wyvern? Are you certain?”
The man nodded grimly. “As certain as I am that I’m sitting here right now. It came out of nowhere, swooping down like a damn shadow. Everyone died, save for the three of us.”
She exhaled slowly, her hands sliding up to his neck to steady him as a tremor ran through his body. “You’re lucky to be alive,” she said softly, though her tone carried a weight of unspoken worry.
The man chuckled dryly, his smirk returning despite the pain in his voice. “Yeah, lucky.”
Her focus shifted as she pressed closer to him, intensifying the flow of her energy. Then, unexpectedly, their eyes lingered, too long to be casual. Her lips were close to his, her breath warm against his skin. The tension simmered between them, unspoken but undeniable. He leaned in first. She didn’t stop him.
Their mouths met in a slow, searching kiss, her fingers threading through his hair as the glow around them pulsed briefly brighter. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t greedy. It wasn’t emotional. It was just…healing.
When they parted, she rested her forehead against his, her voice a little quieter now. “Umm, am I not pretty enough for you?” she asked bluntly, her tone professional but with a slight edge of irritation.
The man’s eyes widened slightly, and he barked a short laugh. “What? No! Why would you even—”
“Then why?” she interrupted, arching a brow.
He grinned despite himself, leaning in just slightly. “I’m not getting excited enough,” he said, his voice dropping to a playful murmur.
Her eyes narrowed as she gave him a light swat on the shoulder. “This is serious,” she said, though her lips twitched with the faintest hint of amusement.
“Maybe I just need more of your... warmth,” he replied, his smirk widening, though his tone suggested he was testing his luck. “I want to do worse things to you, but if I do anything without your consent, the Trackers and the Truth Seekers will fuck me up pretty bad”Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.
Her eyes rolled, glowing with a soft, inner light. "Focus, or I’ll make this as clinical as possible." She warned him playfully as she took his hand, guiding it to her buttocks with a gentle yet firm touch. As she spoke, waves of her energy rippled around them, creating a comforting heat that both soothed and urged him to concentrate.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, though the smirk didn’t entirely leave his face.***
Healers could cleanse Eclipsing through intimacy, though how much was required depended on both the healer’s innate strength and the severity of Eclipsing. Kyle’s mother was exceptionally gifted, usually basic physical intimacy, a touch, a moment of closeness, was enough to stabilize most of her patients.
But now and then, someone would come in with a case far beyond that. And when they did, she had no choice but to go further.
Even so, Kyle couldn’t shake his frustration and anger at the reality of it all. He hated the way her gift dictated her life.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, Kyle pushed through the village boundary and into the forest beyond. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers filled the air, but it did little to calm his storming thoughts.
His boots crunched against the forest floor, his dagger at his side. Sunlight filtered through the thick canopy, casting shifting shadows over his path, but the beauty of the surroundings felt hollow against the weight in his chest.
‘She shouldn’t have to bear this alone,’ he thought, gripping his bag tightly. The scarred man’s lingering gaze replayed in his mind, and Kyle’s jaw tightened. He didn’t blame his mother or that man—he blamed the world.
The sunlight barely filtered through the dense canopy above, casting the ground in a patchwork of golden light and shifting shadows. His mind was elsewhere, grappling with a torrent of emotions he couldn’t quite name. His world-weary gaze, the one Alex often mocked, lingered on the forest floor, catching glimpses of the small, darting creatures that scurried away at his approach.
The sound of running water brought him back to the present. His lips curled into a faint smile. This was the spot. The stream cut through the forest like a ribbon of silver, its clear water glinting under the fractured light. He set his bag down against a mossy rock and stripped off his shirt, the cool air brushing against his skin. The stream was shallow, but its flow was steady.
He stepped into the water, letting the chill soak into him. It was refreshing, grounding. After splashing his face and rinsing away the sweat and grime of the day, he filled a small flask with the stream’s clean water.
Satisfied, Kyle turned his attention to the herbs he had come for. They grew in clumps along the stream’s edge, their distinctive broad leaves easy to spot. Carefully, he knelt, taking out his handy dagger from his bag to cut them at the base without damaging the roots.
The forest seemed unusually quiet, save for the gentle babble of the stream and the occasional rustling of leaves. That was until he heard it, a faint, erratic buzzing that grew louder with each passing moment.
Kyle froze, his hand tightening instinctively around the dagger. Bees? No, it wasn’t the steady drone he associated with the honeybees that frequented these woods. This buzzing was uneven, almost frantic. His eyes darted to the source of the sound, and he spotted them.
Three Flying Hares hovered above the underbrush, their iridescent wings beating furiously to keep their plump bodies aloft. Their fur shimmered faintly in the light, a blend of soft gray and pale blue. Their large, twitching ears turned sharply in his direction, sensing his presence. Beasts.
“What the fuck,” Kyle muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing. They weren’t particularly dangerous, but their curiosity and territorial nature could quickly turn into aggression if provoked.
One of them let out a high-pitched trill, its beady eyes locking onto Kyle. The other two flanked it, their movements jerky and uncoordinated, as if they couldn’t decide whether to approach or retreat.
Kyle slowly backed away, sliding his collected herbs into his bag. His every muscle tensed, prepared to spring into action if necessary. He had no desire to fight the creatures, but he wasn’t about to let himself be cornered either.
The lead hare tilted its head, trilling again. The sound was louder this time, and the buzzing of their wings intensified. Kyle gritted his teeth, his fingers tightening around his dagger.
'Alright, if it comes to it, I’ll deal with them,' he thought grimly, shifting his stance.
Just when he thought they might leave him alone, the lead hare lunged. It was fast, faster than he expected, and Kyle barely had time to react. Instinct took over as he brought his dagger up, the blade catching the hare mid-dash with a jarring clang against its tough claws. The impact sent a shudder through his arm, but he held firm.
Before he could regain his footing, the other two hares swooped in from opposite sides. Their wings buzzed furiously, whipping the air around him. Kyle spun on his heel, dagger raised, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Now he was surrounded, the three creatures circling him in a tight, chaotic pattern. Each movement was erratic, their eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. Kyle’s breaths came fast as he tightened his grip on the blade. He was alone.