Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?-Chapter 57: Bloodvine

"The Bloodvine," Leon said quietly, his heart skipping, the vision from the chapel flashing in his mind—pulsing fruit, Dreadwraith, Zara’s altar.

"It’s one of the three altars."

Zara’s curse flared, the red glyphs on her thigh glowing like coals, spiraling up her hip beneath torn leathers.

She hissed, stumbling back against a tree, her leg trembling, the heat radiating from her skin palpable.

Leon moved instantly, catching her arm as she sagged, his pack sliding to the ground.

"Easy—just stay still," he said, his voice steady but tight.

He dropped to one knee, his hand sliding up her thigh, pressing his palm against the hottest pulse of the curse mark, the skin feverish, trembling.

A golden glow flickered weakly from his fingertips—less magic, more will, his wind bond with Terya struggling against Vyrneth’s oppressive air.

Zara grunted, her eyes clenching shut, her breath heavy, her muscles tensing under his touch.

The heat between them was more than just the curse, a spark of something unspoken in the air.

Her blue eyes opened slowly, sharp beneath pain-dulled lashes, locking onto his.

"You’re getting better at that," she muttered, her voice gruff but softer, a faint flush creeping across her cheek.

Leon didn’t know if she meant the healing—or the way his fingers lingered just slightly longer than needed, the warmth of her skin stirring something in his chest.

He pulled back, hiding the faint burn on his palm.

"Thanks, kid," Zara added, her voice quieter, her hand giving his arm a soft squeeze before she stepped away, steadying herself.

Terya was already circling the stone, her cloak swaying, her eyes focused.

"Hero," she called, her voice lower, sharper. "We’ve got company." She pointed to the edge of the clearing—deep gouges in the soil, blackened, wide-pawed, shadow-beast prints, but far bigger than before.

Leon’s throat tightened, his hand twitching toward his dagger. "The Dreadwraith?"

"Not here yet," Terya said, her green eyes scanning the mist. "But close. These tracks are fresh."

She turned back to him, brushing her hand over his, her touch warm, grounding.

"We need your arcs sharper. Wind won’t cut a Dreadwraith unless you mean it." She stepped behind him, her hands guiding his wrists gently, her breath hot against his ear, her chainmail brushing his arm.

"Relax your shoulders... Let the magic pool in your gut. Don’t think too hard. Just breathe."

Leon followed her instructions, her closeness steadying him, her scent—leather, sweat, and something sweet—cutting through the rot.

The air shimmered, wind gathering at his palm like a tightening thread.

He slashed forward, and a vine ahead split with a sharp snap, curling like it had been seared.

Terya grinned, her eyes sparkling. "That’s the spirit."

Leon turned to her, his face flushed, a grin breaking through. "You’re a good teacher."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his cheek, soft and lingering, her breath warm.

"And you’re a quick learner," she murmured, her voice a playful purr.

By midday, they were moving again, packs loaded, weapons secured, the forest growing darker with each step, the mist thickening until their footsteps seemed muted.

The bone-spired temple lay ahead, its path winding through half-seen ruins and shifting trees, the Crimson Veil’s whispers growing hungrier.

Leon’s wind magic pulsed beneath his skin—stronger now, steady but unfamiliar, fueled by Terya’s bond.

He walked between two women—one who teased, her green eyes warm with mischief; one who fought, her blue eyes sharp with resolve.

Both, in their own ways, were starting to trust him. 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

But the whispers in the trees had changed—no longer threats, but hungry, calling, pulling them deeper into Vyrneth’s heart.

_______

The forest thinned, its oppressive red branches parting to reveal a clearing where the Temple of Lysara stood, half-buried in sinister roots and corrupted oak.

Bone-white spires stretched into the crimson sky, tipped with jagged obsidian shards, their upper reaches veiled in mist, each spike twisting like it grasped at the heavens in silent agony.

Stained glass windows lined the façade, cracked and veined in black, rusty red light shimmering behind them like bleeding wounds in stone.

The air trembled with a low hum, a chorus of whispers curling through the columns, mimicking prayer but laced with menace, the Crimson Veil’s presence suffocating.

Leon swallowed, every breath thick with the Veil’s weight, reality trembling around him.

The statues of Lysara, once symbols of peace, stared with fractured expressions, locked in mute screams.

His linen shirt clung to his sweat-damp chest, his reforged dagger heavy at his belt.

Beside him, Terya’s smirk was tight, shadowed, her green eyes tracing the ruined façade with an appraising look.

"Welcome to paradise," she said, her voice calm, steel in its edges, as she adjusted her dagger straps, her stance poised and alert.

"Looks like they forgot the landscaping budget."

Leon managed a breathless half-laugh, his core trembling, the vision of the Bloodvine, Dreadwraith, and Zara’s altar flashing in his mind.

He shifted his gaze to Zara, who knelt a pace forward, her silver hair clinging to sweat-damp skin, her hand pressed against a spire’s base.

She inhaled sharply, her muscles trembling, the curse marks spiraling from her hip glowing brighter, molten red against her bronze skin.

"It’s... burning," she whispered, her voice rough but soft, her blue eyes narrowing.

Leon set down his pack and dropped to one knee beside her, his hand hovering over her scarred thigh, where the crimson glyphs pulsed like magma.

"Hold still," he urged, his voice husky, his heart racing.

Zara didn’t flinch, her gaze fixed on the spire. Leon’s fingers brushed her thigh, just above the glowing patterns, the contact like touching live embers.

His chest stuttered, but he focused, a faint golden sheen escaping his palm, his wind magic struggling against the Veil’s oppression.

The glow spread, dimming the curse’s pulse, easing her pain.

Zara released a breath, straightening carefully, her blue eyes flicking to his, softer than before.

"Still weird touching me, kid," she muttered, a faint smirk breaking through.

Leon’s brow furrowed, a grin tugging at his lips. "Still saving your ass."

Their eyes met, her throat bobbing, a spark of trust passing between them.

"Thanks," she said, quieter, her voice carrying a rare warmth.