Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?
Chapter 47: Zara

Chapter 47: Zara

Leon hesitated, the weight of her plea heavy, his magic still low, fogged from the celebration’s excesses.

Before he could answer, a voice muttered darkly from the chapel’s corner.

"The Veil’s no small thing, boy," Granny Elda said, stepping from the shadows, her hood drawn, her staff clicking softly against the stone.

Her wrinkled face was grim, her eyes glinting with cryptic knowledge.

"If she crossed into Vyrneth and lived to crawl back out, she’s lucky. But luck runs out. The Veil’s always been hungry."

Zara groaned, her hand clenching tighter. "That’s not encouraging."

"Wasn’t meant to be," Elda muttered, her staff tapping rhythmically.

Zara gripped Leon’s wrist, her calloused hand strong but trembling faintly, her blue eyes locking onto his.

"You’re the only one I found," she said, her voice breaking. "I don’t have time to look again."

She pulled his hand down over the curse mark, the heat surging under his palm, dark and wrong, pulling at his magic.

"If you can’t help me... I’ll go back in myself. Let it finish what it started."

"So tell me, healer," she whispered, her voice raw, desperate.

"Can you help me?"

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The chapel’s side room was quiet, lit by the low flicker of enchanted candles, their soft glow casting shadows across the stone walls.

The celebration outside had faded to murmurs and song, the lute’s strains a distant hum, but here, the air was cold and still, heavy with the weight of Zara’s curse.

She lay on her side on a cot, her breathing slower but tense, her muscular frame taut under dried blood and the faint pulse of curse marks.

Her bandages were loose, her toned legs exposed, her torso bare save for the wrappings across her chest, her silver hair matted against her sweat-soaked skin.

Leon sat on the edge of the cot, his hand hovering over her thigh, his linen shirt clinging to his sweat-damp frame, his magic a faint buzz from the night’s revelry.

Terya leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed, her green eyes watching closely, her usual smirk softened by concern.

Saria stood nearby, her black hair tied back, her patched armor creaking, her dark eyes steady and serious.

Tila sat curled near the wall, chewing her lip, her brown eyes wide with nervous worry.

Granny Elda lurked in the shadows, her staff clicking faintly, her presence a silent warning.

Leon drew a slow breath, his voice calm but firm.

"I’m going to touch it again," he said, his eyes on Zara. "The curse. I want to see if I can cure it."

Zara grunted, her blue eyes flickering open, icy and sharp.

"If I explode, make it quick," she said, her voice rough, a faint smirk breaking through her pain.

Leon reached out, letting his fingers brush the glowing red spiral etched along her thigh.

Her skin was warm—too warm, quivering under his touch, not from fear but from the curse’s tension.

The mark pulsed—once, twice—and a surge of dark energy shot through his arm, like fire laced with ice.

Darkness swallowed him.

A pulse of crimson light.

Leon stood in an endless void, the ground beneath him cracked glass veined with blood, glinting under a red sky.

Three altars rose before him, each strange, glowing, humming with power.

The first bore a fruit—round, heart-like, pulsing with a sickly red light.

Thick vines wrapped it like veins, dripping dark nectar onto the stone, the air heavy with decay.

A whisper echoed.

Bloodvine...

This is something new. Leon thought as he realized that his abilities have evolved a bit.

The second altar was wreathed in mist, shadows curling in spirals.

From it slithered a monstrous figure—multi-limbed, eyeless, hissing, its form a writhing mass of shadow and bone.

The whisper echoed again.

Dreadwraith.

Its many arms flexed, jaws snapping, as if it sensed Leon’s gaze.

He flinched back, the air reeking of rot.

The third altar was different.

Zara knelt on it, naked, her muscular body bent forward, her back arched, sweat trailing down her spine, her silver hair cascading over her shoulders.

She looked back at him, her blue eyes cold, commanding, her fingers pulling herself open, spreading her slick, muscular folds with raw purpose, her pussy glistening in the crimson light.

"Come take what’s needed," her voice echoed—not a tease, not a plea, but a demand, sharp and unyielding.

Leon gasped, jerking back, his hand flying off her leg, his heart racing.

He was back in the chapel, sweat clinging to his temples, his breath ragged.

Everyone was staring.

"Well?" Saria asked, her voice calm, her dark eyes piercing.

Leon opened his mouth, then closed it, his face flushing.

"There were... three altars," he said, clearing his throat, avoiding Zara’s thigh. "One had a Bloodvine fruit. Red, pulsing... alive. The other had a creature—Dreadwraith, I think. Shadowy. Wrong. It felt like it knew me."

"And the third?" Terya tilted her head, her smirk returning, her green eyes glinting.

Leon hesitated, his cheeks burning. "Zara. She was... um..."

"Bent over?" Terya offered sweetly, her voice dripping with mischief. "Spreading herself for you?"

Leon choked, his face redder than the curse marks. "I—yeah. That."

Terya grinned wide, leaning closer. "Vaginal delivery, huh? You’re gonna have fun with that ritual."

Zara snorted from the cot, her blue eyes unblinking, her voice dry. "So that is how it is. Whatever it takes."

Saria’s eyes narrowed, her hand resting on her sword hilt.

"Three altars. One for body. One for magic. One for life," she said, her tone analytical.

Tila’s hand shot up nervously, her voice soft. "What’s... a Bloodvine?"

Granny Elda stepped forward, her hood drawn, her staff clicking against the stone, her wrinkled face grim.

"Rare fruit," she rasped. "Grows only in cursed ground. Soaked in death, born in blood. The Veil breeds them."

"And the Dreadwraith?" Leon asked, his voice steady despite his flush.

"Worse than anything Vraxus summoned," Elda said, her eyes glinting. "That thing doesn’t serve—it hunts."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling like dust.

Zara clenched her jaw, sitting up slowly, her body twitching faintly with pain, her blue eyes burning with resolve.

"You saw it, huh? Me. Spread open like a spellbook," she said, her voice rough but not cruel, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

Leon looked away, blushing furiously, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Don’t get ideas yet, kid," Zara said, her tone dry but warm. "Save me first, and then I will let you."