Healer's Nightmare

The black rain fell like tears of the damned, each drop a whispered confession against Ravencross's cobblestones. Mara pulled her cloak tighter, though the chill that seeped into her bones had little to do with the weather.

Her footsteps echoed through the streets of the merchant district as she made her way back to The Fairhaven Inn. The shadows between buildings seemed stagnant and somber, as if they were mourning for the loss of another victim who succumbed to the fever wind. Or perhaps it was just her conscience, painting illusions in every corner.

The leather-bound ledger pressed against her side beneath her cloak, its weight far greater than mere paper and ink should allow. Each step felt like wading through mud, as if the very streets of Ravencross were trying to hold her back.

Did it really have to come down to this?

The Fairhaven Inn's worn sign creaked in the wind as Mara approached, its painted surface weathered almost beyond recognition. Like so much in Ravencross, it was a shadow of former glory, barely clinging to honor.

Mara met the girl in the inn once more.

"Did you get him?" the girl asked.

Mara's lips refused to part. She sat near the girl with blonde bangs and hazel eyes. Questions danced on the tip of her tongue, but something held them hostage behind her teeth.

"Anyways, I'm Rosemary," the girl said, stretching her hand forward. "You can call me Rose."

Mara reluctantly stretched hers out too.

"Glad to meet you, Rose. I'm Mara."

"So what brings you here, Mara?"

The healer gulped. It would be dangerous to reveal the truth, she thought.

"Oh, just settling some unfinished business."

"Ah, I see. Was he your boyfriend?" Rose giggled, "Betrayed you for another girl?"

Mara blushed and lowered her gaze.

"No, not that!"

"Then why would a healer be after such a deadly assassin?"

"I was instructed to." Mara mumbled.

"But you know, if you involve yourself in these matters, you'll make more enemies."

"What! Why would I want that?"

"I don't know."

"But why are you here?"

"Well… to gather intel for the captain, you know."

"Like what?" Mara asked, annoyance dominating her tone.

"Shh! That's a secret!"

"Who's the fella you're working for?"

"Not a guy! She's the captain of the city guard's leading faction, Dia West."

That hag!

Mara remembered her master mentioning Dia's name before. She falsely accused Grove of using those methods, even sending him to prison for a month. If there was somebody Grove condemned, it was the damn captain.

"But your healing abilities, they're amazing. We could really use a healer in the faction. Captain West would be delighted that I recruited another member."

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

"Come on, think about it. You could be paid better than what you earn now." Rose said, as she stared at Mara's tattered cloak, frayed at the ends. "There are so many people you can help out, too!"

"I'm not budging."

"You can join as a city guard if you're that bloodthirsty. You could hunt down criminals, execute death row inmates, or even torment prisoners. The possibilities are endless!"

Mara frowned at first, but later her brows relaxed. She paused for a bit. This could be her chance to legally carry out her transfers without getting her actions exposed. 

"Alright, is it possible to perform both duties under the faction at once?"

Rose's smile widened. "Of course silly!"

Mara forced a smile on her pale face, but her heart thumped as she thought about her true intentions.

The two left the inn and navigated their way out of the market district. 

At the eastern part of the city resided the city guards' headquarters. They made their way to the stone giant of a building. The iron gates stood tall, splattered with rust here and there. As they entered the ashen headquarters, people shot skeptical looks at them, but Mara felt it was only towards her.

***

"Captain West has been tracking an unusual pattern," Rosemary began without preamble as they walked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Suspicious deaths. Disappearance of civilians. And now, the rising death toll even got the doctors scratching their heads for a cure."

"The plague is inevitable, but we can try to mitigate as much as possible. Fears and tears do nothing to improve the situation."

"But fear also makes people desperate. The city's elite are dying just as surely as the poor, and the guard's resources are stretched thin between containing the plague and maintaining order."

Rosemary leaned forward. "We need healers. Good ones. Ones who aren't afraid to... bend the traditional methods."

"And what makes you think I'm of that kind?"

"Because I've watched you, Mara. The shadow-weaver's death wasn't as clean as you thought."

"What do you mean?"

"You killed an assassin with the most unconventional methods. My eyes can trace out anyone once I've seen their faces or the aftermath of their actions."

The words threatened Mara. Her fingers twitched toward her ledger unconsciously, and she saw Rosemary's eyes track the movement.

"Captain West doesn't care about your methods," Rosemary continued. "She cares about results. The Warden's Faction will provide you with protection, resources, and payment beyond what you could earn in a dozen years of normal healing."

"And what about the people she falsely convicted in the past? My master was imprisoned for producing illegal drugs which he never did."

"People change, Mara. The current state of the city has altered her perspective."

The offer was everything she needed—protection, legitimacy, targets that wouldn't weigh on her conscience. But something in Rosemary's words nagged at her.

"On one condition," Mara said finally. "I want access to the criminal records. All of them."

A faint purple line appeared beneath the skin of her hand as she spoke, like a vein filled with twilight. She curled her fingers into a fist, but not before Rosemary noticed.

"Interesting request," Rosemary mused. "But acceptable. Let's go meet the captain."

***

Rosemary knocked on the door.

"Yes, come in," a voice said from inside. It was harsh, lacking in femininity.

She pushed it slightly and slid in, and Mara followed.

Captain West's office was a study in controlled chaos. Maps covered every wall, dotted with pins and connected by threads that formed patterns Mara couldn't begin to decipher. The brunette captain herself sat behind a massive desk, her military posture at odds with the disheveled state of her workspace.

"So," Dia said, fixing Rosemary with a piercing stare, "have you ratted out the shadow-weaver?"

"Even better, the threat has been eliminated." Rosemary reported with pride escalating in her voice.

The captain banged her fist on the table.

"That wasn't your job, Rose. I told you to gather information, and you've taken a dangerous step ahead again."

"Oh ma'am. I'm not the one who killed him; it's her." The blonde girl said, looking at Mara.

"A healer?"

"Mara, you can take off the mask now." Rosemary said.

The healer revealed herself removing the beak of a mask.

"And you expect me to believe in such a fable? Tch!"

Before Mara could respond, a guard burst into the office, breathing heavily. "Captain! Murder in the central district. The victim's a baron, and he's barely alive, but the killer escaped when we arrived."

Dia's face hardened, but Mara spoke first. "I can help. If I reach them in time, I can save him."

And add another name to my ledger, she thought, but kept that part to herself.

The captain studied her for a moment before nodding sharply. "Go, Rose, and take the healer with you."

***

As the duo arrived, they found the baron in a pool of blood that looked black in the storm-darkened afternoon. A deep gash running across the abdomen. Dr. Gerald Ward, a respected physician, knelt beside him, tending the wound.

"Step aside," Mara commanded, her voice carrying an authority she didn't entirely feel.

The doctor protested but fell silent as Mara placed her hands on the victim's chest. Power flowed through her, dark and sweet and terrible. The wounds began to close, blood flowing backward like time itself reversing.

Dr. Ward stumbled backward, his face pale. "This—this is impossible. It's witchcraft!"

But no one was listening to him. The victim's eyes fluttered open, and gasps of amazement filled the air. Mara stood quickly, fighting the wave of dizziness that accompanied the healing.

"The killer," she said to Rosemary. "Can you find them?"

Rosemary closed her eyes for a moment, then pointed toward the slums. "That way. They're moving fast, but I can track them. Take the Lightning Nectar and go!"

Mara left the scene, and in minutes she found him in one of the poorest sections of the city, surrounded by street urchins. Mara watched from the shadows as he distributed coins amongst them.

"Why?" she heard him whisper to himself as the children scampered away. "Why did I have to stain my hands like this?"

Her heart grew heavy as she followed him through the twisting streets. The purple veins in her hands pulsed with each step, spreading slowly up her arms. The power wanted release. It needed balance.

When he finally stopped at a small tent, Mara struck. Her hand covered his mouth as she pulled him backward, her dagger finding his kidney with fatal precision. As he fell, she pressed her other hand to his chest, channeling the stolen disease into his body, watching as the plague took hold with impressive speed.

"Daddy?"

The small voice froze her blood. A boy stood at the tent's entrance, no older than Lily. His eyes went wide as he took in the scene, tears beginning to stream down his cheeks.

Mara's mind raced. She couldn't leave a witness. She couldn't risk exposure.

I'm sorry, she thought as she lunged forward, catching the boy before he could scream. Her power flowed again, and she slit the child's throat, followed by pressing her palms on his chest. Through tears, she watched as both father and son decayed before her eyes, their bodies crumbling like ancient parchment into ashes.

The ledger glowed with a green light as she opened it, its pages eagerly accepting the new names. The balance was restored. Her own strength returned, the purple veins fading from her skin.

But as she stared at the child's name written in her own hand, Mara realized some balances could never be restored. Some debts could never be repaid.