Ensanguined God

For years I have trained both my healing and offensive skills. I had a skill with daggers that my master made it his decision to teach me the secret of the Dacian Arts. As for healing, anyone who had the gift was required to train under the best healers. We were taught these in order to help with any possible wars, aside from the basic needs of the common people. As far as I know, the relationship of humans and demons has been less than civil for the past six centuries. It never occurred to me that I would use my gift on a demon, it being my first time using it on someone outside the village.

It was an indelible memory, permanently imprinted on my mind. I saw him under the great Ancient Tree, his armor bloodied and his midnight hair stained with the same blood. His skin was as pale as the snow that fell during winter. A silver jewel that hung on his forehead glimmered under the rays of the sun, attracting unwanted attention. It was the only part of him that remained unstainted. His feet were protected by half-worn boots and his dark robes had tears where deep cuts were visible.

Even from a distance, I felt an aura that pulled every life-giving source that grew on fertile earth. I was compelled—forced to lessen the distance between us.

The first time I laid my eyes on him, I thought of an ensanguined god.

Even in agony he retained a majestic presence, one of nobility. His features were at their perfection even with his wounds. With blood stained on his garments, I might have ran in fear had I not felt a gentle tug and call for my gift.

He wanted to live.

Sapphire eyes suddenly bore through my soul as he stared unmoving. I muttered no word, made no sound. I did not attempt to move. I stood a short distance away, standing, as he was lying with his back on the tree, his head slightly tilted to gaze at my intruding presence.

I did not feel hesitation or fear. I chanted the familiar words I had long since engraved to memory. I directed my palms toward him and reached for the pool of healing magic needed to revivify the bloodied prince. I saw him close his eyes and a silent agreement of broken silence, heard only by the wind, had been made between us.

No, I called for a payment and he must oblige.