Chapter 174: Heal him.
~ Raphael's POV ~
Everyone rushed forward when Drogon fell down. Everyone except me. Maybe, Grey is influencing me.
I stood there, staring at his still body on the floor, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to punch his stupid face. Even dying, the bastard was causing problems. Looks like I am the only bad person that wants to punch his face while everyone else is trying to help him.
But then I saw the blood. So much blood. And I remembered something important.
"Caleb, get shelter," I ordered, my voice cold . "He needs to be treated right now."
There was someone who might be able to help. Someone whose blood saved us. I turned my gaze on her. She shrinks back when she sees me watching her.
"Yes, my king," Caleb said, and he ran off ahead into the trees.
I dropped to my knees beside Drogon and placed my hands on the worst of his wounds. Trying my best just to see if my healing powers might work.
Since we were out of that cursed land, I thought my powers would be working well. I concentrated, feeling for the familiar warmth that meant my magic was flowing.
Nothing happened. I tried again, pressing harder against his bloodied scales. Come on, I thought. Work. Still nothing. No sealing of the flesh. Just nothing.
"Stop trying," Drogon whispered, his voice so weak I almost didn't hear him. "You can't heal me."
"Why?" I asked, still trying to force my powers to work. The magic was there, I could feel it inside me, but it wouldn't come out. It was like trying to pour water through a blocked pipe.
"Because she placed a spell on me to bounce out any holy powers."
I fell backward, landing hard on the ground as I realized what that meant. Alasia had planned this. She'd made it so that even if Drogon escaped, he would die. And he wouldn't be healed.
No matter who tried to help him, no matter what kind of holy magic they used, it would all bounce off him as an arrow would off an armor.
She'd cursed him to die slowly and in pain. Wicked woman.
"Raphael!" Caleb's voice came from somewhere ahead in the trees. "I found shelter!"
I looked down at Drogon. His breathing was getting worse. Each breath sounded like it hurt.
"Can you move?" I asked him.
He tried to lift his head but couldn't manage it. "Not... not much."
"Then I'm carrying you."
"You can't..."
"Shut up," I said. "Save your strength for bantering for later."
Somehow, I managed to get my arms under his massive neck and lift. He was heavier than anything I'd ever tried to move, but fear gave me strength. Fear of what would happen if he died here. Fear of facing Ava without him.
I half-carried, half-dragged him through the trees toward where Caleb was calling. The others followed behind us. Gemma was crying quietly. Isla looked like she might be sick.
The shelter Caleb had found was a falling temple, overgrown with moss and vines. The roof had holes in it, but it was better than nothing. At least it would hide us from anything flying overhead.
I managed to get Drogon inside and lay him down on the stone floor. That's when I got my first real look at what Alasia had done to him.
Blood immediately started soaking through the stones beneath him. But it wasn't just the amount of blood that made my stomach turn.
It was the wounds themselves.
His wings were almost torn to ribbons. Big holes had been stabbed through the thin flesh, and the edges looked burned. Like someone had heated the blade before cutting him.
His eyes... one was punctured completely. The other was cloudy with blood, though I thought he might still be able to see through it a little.
Deep gashes ran along his belly, carved with cruel calculation. They weren't random cuts made in the heat of anger. Someone had taken their time with these. Someone had enjoyed making them.
Caleb took one look at the full extent of Drogon's injuries and went pale as death.
Gemma ran to the corner and threw up.
"What the fuck did she do to him?" Caleb whispered, finally seeing everything in full view.
Drogon, barely conscious now, managed to mutter an answer.
"She added something to her knife and chains," he said, each word clearly costing him effort. "Spells in the wounds to go straight for my soul. So I wouldn't heal... so I'd rot slowly."
He paused, breathing hard.
"The more pain I am in, the more potent my powers would be for her and the person she is serving."
I stared at him, feeling sick. "She was feeding off your pain?"
"Not just feeding," Drogon whispered. "Storing it. Every cut, every moment of agony... she was collecting it all. For her master."
"Her master?" Isla asked, though she stayed well back from the blood.
"Someone... someone powerful," Drogon said. "Someone who needs dragon magic. She kept talking to her while she... while she worked on me." So the dark one is a she. Interesting.
"Did you see who it was?" I asked. Maybe a face to track her down, although I know she would be doing the tracking later.
Drogon shook his head slightly, then winced like even that small movement hurt. "No. But I heard the voice. Female voice. Very powerful."
A cold feeling settled in my stomach. There weren't many females with that kind of power. And most of them were supposed to be dead.
"We need to get these wounds cleaned," Gemma said again, coming back from the corner. She still looked green, but she was trying to help. "The blood is poisoned. I can smell it from here."
She was right. Now that we were in the enclosed space of the temple, I could smell it too. Drogon's blood didn't smell like normal blood. It smelled rotten. Almost as if something had died and been left in the sun too long.
"How do we clean wounds that can't be healed?" Caleb asked.
"Carefully," I said.
Drogon's good eye focused on me. "There might be... someone," he said.
"Who?"
"Old witch. Lives in these lands. She might... might know how to break Alasia's curses." I thought you said you didn't know where you portaled us to?
"Where?" I demanded.
But Drogon's eye had already closed again. His breathing was getting slower.
"Drogon," I said sharply. "Where is this witch?"
No answer. He'd passed out again.
I looked around at the others. We were in a ruined temple in an unknown land with a dying dragon and no idea how to help him. The only person who might have answers was unconscious and bleeding out on the floor.
"We're going to have to search for this witch ourselves," I said.
"How?" Caleb asked. "We don't even know what direction to go."
" Come here Isla, heal him,"
Her head shots up. " But, my blood might not be powerful enough."
" Try and see if it does first."
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