Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?
Chapter 50: March

Chapter 50: March

Zara marched ahead, her massive axe thudding against her back with each step, her silver hair tied into a rough tail, the faint red curse marks on her calf pulsing subtly with every breath.

Her blue eyes were sharp, fixed on the path, her silence heavy with determination.

The trail turned soft underfoot, leaves coated in a sticky layer of red dust, the air thick, wrong, like breathing through a veil of ash.

Leon raised his palm, his voice low.

"Fireball."

A small ember danced at his fingertips, weak and flickering, then fizzled out with a hiss.

"Again," he muttered, his brow furrowing. He tried harder, the spark returning—brighter, but brief—before vanishing again.

"It’s like my magic’s on dial-up," he said, frustration creeping into his voice.

Terya snorted behind him, her grin wide. "I have no idea what a dial-up is, but I am guessing it is something funny"

Leon blinked, a laugh escaping despite his unease. "That... actually... It is I guess."

"Next time use words I understand," she said, her voice light, but her gaze flicked to his hand, concern tightening her jaw.

"Saria’s too far and your bond is severing," she added quietly, her tone softening. "You’re losing the fire as time passes, and unless Saria is there to recharge you here, you will loose your entire fire magic."

He nodded, a pit sinking in his chest.

Without Saria’s bond, his fire magic—once vibrant, a roaring flame tied to her presence—felt like embers in ash, still warm but fading.

Terya’s wind magic bond pulsed strong, a cool breeze in his chest, but it wasn’t enough alone.

Her fingers curled around his wrist, her touch warm, grounding.

"We’ve got wind, remember?" she whispered, squeezing once, her green eyes steady. "And I’ve got more than enough breeze for the both of us."

The trees changed as they moved deeper, oaks and pines twisting into lean, gnarled shapes, their bark pulsing faintly, as if veins ran beneath the surface.

Some bled sap—dark red, like congealed blood—when brushed, dripping onto the ground with a soft hiss.

Others whispered in a tongue no one recognized, the sound curling through the air like a warning.

Zara stepped over a twisted root and hissed under her breath, clutching her leg, her face contorting with pain.

Leon rushed forward, catching her arm before she staggered, his pack sliding slightly.

"Still flaring?" he asked, his voice tight with concern.

"Yeah," she muttered, her blue eyes narrowing, her hand gripping her thigh.

"The closer we get, the worse it burns. Like something’s clawing up my spine."

He crouched beside her, examining the curse marks, brighter now, thicker veins spiraling past her thigh, glowing like coals under her skin.

His hand brushed the edge of the mark, the skin feverish, almost scalding.

"We’ll find the Bloodvine," he promised, his voice steady despite the unease in his gut. "And kill the thing in your vision."

Zara snorted, a faint smirk breaking through her pain.

"I feel like your motivation is to see my ass again."

Terya leaned down beside them, her grin returning, her chainmail creaking.

"Actually, that vision’s been the highlight of this trip."

Leon groaned, his face flushing. "I didn’t ask for that altar."

"But you don’t hate it right?," Terya said, winking, her hand brushing his shoulder.

They set up camp near a withered tree that whispered when the wind blew, its branches clawing at the red sky.

Leon sat beside a fireless pit, his arms crossed, his hand twitching as he tried again to summon flame—nothing, just a faint spark that died instantly.

Terya sat beside him, her warmth pressing against his side, her cloak draped over her shoulders.

"We’ll figure it out," she said softly, her voice free of its usual tease, her green eyes steady. "You don’t need fire to be our light."

Zara stood nearby, sharpening her axe with slow, methodical strokes, the blade’s rasp echoing in the silence.

Her blue eyes flicked to the horizon, her curse marks pulsing faintly, her jaw tight with resolve.

Leon closed his eyes, the amulet from Granny Elda cool against his chest, its runes silent but heavy.

The red skies of Vyrneth churned above, waiting, whispering, pulling them deeper into the shadow.

____________________

Vyrneth’s forest was no longer just unsettling—it was alive.

The deeper they ventured, the darker it grew—not from lack of light, but from the oppressive weight of the trees themselves, their bark laced with pulsing red veins, their roots twisted like grasping claws.

The sickly red glow overhead cast shadows that moved without cause, and every so often, a tree would bleed, thick red sap dripping like syrup from open cracks, pooling on the ground with a faint hiss.

The air was heavy with humidity, the stench of copper and old rot clinging to Leon’s skin, his linen shirt damp against his chest as he walked nervously.

"It’s like walking through a horror game," he muttered as he tried to maintain his brave face, adjusting his pack, his reforged dagger glinting at his belt.

"Only I can’t save-scum or reload a checkpoint."

Terya, a few paces ahead, chuckled, her staff swinging in a lazy arc before she twirled it behind her neck, her bare shoulders flexing, her short cloak lifting to brush the curve of her hips.

"If this was a game, you’d be the support mage with a tragic backstory and no potions left," she said, her green eyes glinting with mischief as she began to understand a little bit of his references.

"That’s... uncomfortably accurate," Leon said, a faint grin breaking through his unease.

"Except you do have potions," Terya said, glancing at her hips with a smirk. "They’re just attached and extremely willing."

Leon flushed, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "You’ve been hanging around Tila too much."

The whispers started then—soft, on the edge of hearing, a hissing sound that grew into syllables, words maybe, but wrong, alien, ancient, curling through the air like smoke.

Leon froze, his heart skipping. "Do you hear that?"