Chapter Twenty-Six #2
She heard running footsteps—then a sharp thud in front of her.
Through the blur, she made out papers scattering across the pavement, fluttering like pale leaves around her feet.
Some distant, detached part of her realized he’d dropped his work—his precious research, because of her—and that simple act did something to her heart.
Cool hands cupped her cheeks, steadying her swaying head. His outline was little more than light and shadow through the haze dancing in her vision. Black dots swarmed the edges, swallowing her sight bit by bit.
“Isla—hey, look at me.” Andrew’s voice was low and urgent. “What happened? How did she get burned like this?”
Her body trembled. She leaned more heavily into Juliette, trying to anchor herself to the sound of his voice.
“Sparklers,” Juliette said quickly, her tone tight. “Aetherian style.”
Andrew’s jaw clenched. “Let me see.”
He reached for Isla’s injured hand, his movements careful, lifting it gently so he could assess her mangled arm.
Holding his other hand a few inches from the burn, he focused.
A faint shimmer of condensation gathered around his fingers, the air itself cooling as he drew upon his power.
Moisture formed a thin mist that drifted over her arm, soothing the angry, blistered skin without touching it directly.
Steam curled softly where cool air met the heat of the burn. Her breath caught, the pain ebbing just enough for her knees to steady the slightest bit.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling but clearer now.
“Always,” he murmured, not breaking his focus. “This won’t heal it, but it should ease the pain a little.”
“It is.” She exhaled shakily, the tension in her shoulders loosening a fraction.
Edmund bent quickly to gather the fallen papers, stacking them with surprising care before tucking them under his arm. “Let’s get her inside. She still needs proper treatment.”
Andrew nodded. Still cooling the wound, he moved in step with Isla and Juliette, his free hand hovering protectively near her back. His face was drawn tight with worry, his hands trembling slightly—as though he could feel every flicker of her pain himself.
Once inside the quiet hospital wing, a receptionist hurried forward with a wheelchair. Andrew never stopped cooling Isla’s skin as they walked toward a treatment room.
The receptionist’s expression tightened when she saw the wound. “This is severe,” she murmured. “The doctor’s gone home and the nurse was called to the students’ quarters. She left because we don’t have any patients staying over right now—but it looks as if this can’t wait.”
“Get George, Edmund. He’s closer,” Andrew said firmly.
“George? He’s just a student doctor,” the lady stammered. “You need a—”
“He’s the best healer I’ve ever met,” Andrew cut in. His voice was commanding, brooking no argument.
Edmund nodded once and left at a near run, pressing the bundle of Andrew’s dropped papers into Juliette’s arms on his way out. She clutched them close to her chest. “I’ll find Harold,” she said quickly, her eyes wide with worry. “He’ll want to know.” Then she too vanished down the corridor.
The nurse and Andrew helped Isla onto a narrow bed. He sat beside her, keeping the stream of cool mist steady over her burns.
Isla met his eyes—intent, filled with helpless fury and care. “Are they ever going to leave me alone?” she asked, her voice breaking. She felt a tear run down her cheek and then another.
He stood and his other hand reached to brush the tears from her cheeks, his thumb gentle.
Andrew’s jaw tightened. “We won’t stop until they do,” he said fiercely.
Her body began to shake; it felt like she had a fever burning hot beneath her skin. She felt sweat pearling on her forehead. The room seemed to tilt and darken.
Fast footsteps echoed down the corridor and George burst in with Edmund close behind him. The receptionist hovered by the door, wringing her hands, unsure if George, a student, should really be the one to treat her.
“I’ll run and see if I can find the nurse,” she said before darting off.
George spoke, his tone urgent. “Edmund’s filled me in. I need to inspect the wound.”
Andrew let the mist fade, and pain crashed through Isla like a wave. She gasped as Andrew’s hand softly touched her head, his thumb brushing her hairline.
George moved to the bedside. He looked a conundrum, there at her bedside wearing humble clothes while playing the part of doctor.
Andrew clearly admired the man’s capabilities, so she would try to relax and trust him too.
A soft green glow gathered in his palms as he examined the wound, his usual kind expression darkened.
A faint crackle came from beneath her skin.
He stopped, stood to his full height, and pulled off his cap, running a hand through his hair, hesitating.
She could see he wanted to spare her the details.
“You can tell me,” Isla rasped. “I’ll find out anyway.”
George swallowed. “It’s a third-degree burn, Isla. It’s gone through all the layers of your skin and muscle. It’s even to the bone.”
Andrew’s hand froze on her head.
George continued, voice low though fairly steady.
“But that’s not all. Edmund said an Aetherian influenced the flame, which is evident from the amount of damage in such a short space of time, but I believe a Terra Summoner was involved too.
There’s ... contamination in the wound. It’s spreading unnaturally fast.”
“What kind of contamination?” Andrew asked.
George’s gaze settled on Andrew grimly. “Gas gangrene. The infection’s producing gas beneath the skin—it’s why you can hear the crackling.
There’s necrosis already starting; I can smell it.
It’ll move through her bloodstream at an unnatural rate.
If it isn’t stopped now, she’ll lose the arm . .. then her life.”
A chill spread through the room. Edmund grumbled under his breath.
Isla’s stomach turned. Her arm pulsed in agony, the skin hot and tight, the scent of charred flesh and something far worse filling her nose. She could feel her pulse fluttering too fast, shallow breaths catching in her throat.
“You can heal her, can’t you?” Andrew asked, his voice wavering.
George hesitated, his kind, worry-filled brown eyes now locked on her.
“I’ll try. But healing burns this deep—and an infection this aggressive—will take everything I have.
Non-Aetherian doctors cannot treat this, and no one else is here.
With the speed in which this is developing there isn’t even time to go and find the Aetherian doctor.
I can’t promise full recovery. There will be scars at the very least. I also won’t be able to offer pain relief as I work.
Trying to split my focus will likely make me pass out before she is healed.
But if we don’t act now, it will be too late. ”
“I want to keep my arm and live, George. Please just do what you have to.” Isla felt so poorly it was hard to say more than that.
George took a slow breath, bracing himself. “Then I need Andrew and Edmund to both hold you down. Once I start, the pain will be ... unbearable. I’m so sorry I can’t split my focus to dull it.”
Isla nodded her agreement. She felt Andrew’s hand tremble as he lifted it from her brow. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’d take this pain from you if I could,” he whispered.
Edmund moved to the opposite side of the bed, steadying Isla’s legs as Andrew pinned her uninjured shoulder. She braced herself for the pain.
George pressed his glowing hands above the wound, the green light intensifying until it shimmered through the room.
Isla’s scream tore through the air the moment he began. Andrew’s grip tightened; she turned and saw his eyes locked on hers, a sheen of tears covering the blue depth of his eyes.