Arrowhurt

Kaelen tried to focus. The forest around them felt like it was retreating into a gray haze. Every beat of his heart sent a fresh wave of cold fire through his veins. He could see the black veins of the enchantment creeping away from the wound, a dark web against his pale skin. "It’s... it's heavy," Kaelen managed to gasp.

Then he remembered the sun on the high ridges and the smell of roasting bread in his village. He pushed back. He didn't use a sword or a spell; he used the simple, stubborn memory of warmth. The black veins receded. The gray haze cleared. arrowhurt

It was Elara, the troop’s veteran archer. She was already at his side, her hands glowing with a faint, steady light. She didn't reach for the arrow first; she reached for his mind. Kaelen tried to focus

"The pain is a liar, Kaelen," she whispered, her voice a grounding anchor. "The arrowhurt wants you to think the wound is your whole world. Look at me. Breathe the moss and the rain, not the sting." He could see the black veins of the

"Told you," Elara said with a grim smile, handing him his bow. "Now get up. We still have a long way to run."

One. The forest held its breath.Two. Kaelen gripped a handful of dirt, feeling the grit and life of the earth.Three.