The next day, it turned out that Bereth's injuries were graver than first expected; even though he had some of his strength back, his legs refused to work properly.

The first time Nedyom left Bereth's side was at nightfall when he took Odlanya and Xyr with him to find food. Merlina remained with Bereth, joining him in healing his injured back further.

The coven thinks you do not remember a time without them, a time before you were told of a prophesy you would fulfill come adulthood. That the scarf around your neck is inconsequential beyond you having had it for longer than you can remember. That you still have clarity thanks to it — and the ability to say no.

Bereth woke up to the feeling of being on his side, his head in someone's lap and a hand settled between his shoulder blades.

The pages smell of forgotten chartreuse. Were you to indulge in decadence, you could probably taste it if you ate the book. Nutrition, however, is not why you have opened this tome.

At daybreak, Bereth took in the group he was being held by: four mages, all except one more battered and withered than him. Only one was fluent in a language he understood, but, fortunately, they all shared a language with at least one other member, so they would be able to communicate rather effectively.

It was dark when Bereth awoke.

When Bereth regained consciousness again, he was on his side. His limbs were in a mixture of numbness and a kind of pain that burned with crackling lightning. There was something on his back but he could not tell whether it was his blood or some kind of goo.

Zogeri hissed at the bird that settled on her head. The damn thing was completely unfazed by the fact that a Hydra head was infuriated with it. "Stupid jackdaw."