Small portion from a chapter I am writing:
“THERE!” A healer yelled out, pointing to Justin’s smoke cloud. All heads snapped to see a matt grey cloud holding six scared recruits surrounding their limp instructor.
Nozel felt his heart clench as he took in a sudden inhale. He wanted to run and grab her, but he knew she needed the healers more. And Silva pride had a damn sure way to show up in every aspect of his life.
“Florentina–we are here…you don't have to worry,” Jillian choked out while hugging a glowing cocoon. Tears streamed down her face as healers gently transported the limp body. Instructor Kyra gently herded the recruits, softly saying, “You’ve seen a lot. Come with me, she’s in good hands…and I know her. She will make it.”
Every recruit's head kept snapping between Instructor Kyra and following their Instructor. Jillian was the first to step towards the infirmary, but stopped when the cold Silver Eagels’ Captain spoke.
“Listen to Instructor Kyra,” Nozel curtly said before following the rushing healers inside. He held his breath with every step; his lungs felt on fire by the time they entered a room. His lavender eyes darted over her body, unsure where to analyze first.
His brain faltered when he noticed her skin. She’s so pale. Where’s her warmth? Where’s her Raque charm? He painfully thought as he mindlessly watched the healers performing multiple spells at once. Each spell becomes more desperate than the last.
Nozel felt a piece of his die when he finally registered more. Her delicate skin was torn, and parts had remnants of ice chunks lodged deep. It was also scarred from frostbite. Her thighs had the worst; some areas were already black. One side of her dress had a gash that exposed her hip. He painfully looked away to look at her face.
A small sigh of relief left him when he saw her face had only received frosnip and minor cuts. His relief soon vanished as he saw her hair. Her braids were tousled, no longer neat and tightly braided. Her lively curls clung to her face, matted with blood and bits of ice. The crimson blood starkly stood out compared to her hair, covering it like a veil. He felt all the air leave as one thought ran across his mind, This isn’t her…My Flora.
Flora’s chest rose and fell in frantic, shallow breaths. Her irregular breathing patterns altered him. He opened his mouth to snap if they are stabilizing her or losing her. But his throat went dry, and a tear prickled at his eyes when he heard her breath turn to gurgles and rattles. Then his mind went blank, and suddenly he was a young boy again.
A boy who saw his mother sacrifice herself for him and Noelle.
A boy who had to navigate his mother’s wake as an orphan, holding it together for the Silva name and his siblings.
A boy who felt lonely and as if the whole world were against him, even with his prestigious title.
A boy too prideful and scared to admit he needed help.
All those feelings came crashing back when he heard the healer’s next words.
“...we lost her pulse.” And as that singular tear fell, he didn’t stop it.