Chapter 430: The Price of a Beating Heart

some while ago

The moment Lysander finally drew his hands away from Tarin’s hand, the world seemed to exhale with him.

Sweat streamed down his temples, soaking into the collar of his tunic, his fingers trembling faintly from the sustained precision the work had demanded. His shoulders slumped forward for just a breath—only a breath—but it was enough to show how close this case had come to slipping beyond even his reach.

Beside him, Marta straightened slowly, her own hands stained red and darkened with thick, tar-like streaks of black.

Tarin’s breathing evened out.

It had settled into slow, steady rises of a fragile chest that—moments ago—had been fighting for every single breath.

Marta closed her eyes and let out a long, shuddering sigh.

Lysander did the same.

The black veins that had crept like crawling ink from the Trihydra bite along Tarin’s arm had finally receded, shrinking back toward the wound itself before vanishing altogether beneath clean, newly bandaged skin.

For the first time since the boy had been dragged into the facility half-conscious and soaked in blood, his face had regained a trace of colour.

Not much.

But enough.

Enough to mean he was still here.

Around the treatment table, the room bore the unmistakable signs of a battle no less brutal than the one that had taken place outside the compound.

Metal bowls sat on low stools and narrow shelves, filled with murky water stained deep red. Several cloths—discarded and hastily tossed aside—were soaked through with blood and black residue, the venom thick and clotted into the fabric.

The smell of sharp herbs, boiled roots, and antiseptic salves hung heavy in the air, clinging stubbornly to the stone walls.

Two junior healers, who had been assistants, hovered close by, wide-eyed and pale, waiting for instructions.

Marta opened her eyes and turned toward them.

"Careful with the bowls," she murmured quietly. "And separate the cloths. The ones with venom residue must be burned."

They nodded immediately and moved to obey.

Lysander straightened slowly, pressing one hand into the small of his back as a dull ache flared there.

Marta caught the motion.

"You’re not made of iron," she said softly.

He gave a faint huff of a laugh.

"Some days I truly wish I were."

They stood there for a moment longer, simply watching Tarin.

The boy’s lashes fluttered once.

Then settled.

Marta turned away first.

Together, she and Lysander walked toward the door as the assistants quietly continued clearing the bloodied space behind them.

Lysander leaned briefly against the stone wall immediately after they walked out and closed his eyes.

"The boy was lucky. Extremely so," he murmured.

Marta glanced at him.

"Luck rarely survives a Trihydra bite."

He opened his eyes again.

"Exactly. That’s why this case stands out." He drew in a slow breath. "The herbs Genevieve used were good, but what really helped was the fact that some of the venom had been removed, so it reduced the spread."

Marta tilted her head. "Really?" she asked him.

Lysander nodded.

"The pressure marks around the wound... the way the poison had already begun to retreat from the bloodstream. Someone relieved the build-up early. It slowed the internal spread just enough for the herbs to do their job."

Marta’s brow creased slightly. "Wow... I didn’t notice that. But that’s brilliant," she said.

"It is. This case is different from Orion’s own. This was more serious," he told her.

They resumed walking down the corridor, their footsteps soft against the polished stone.

Marta folded her arms across her chest.

"We cannot allow this to remain a rare skill, though," she said.

"We are going to have to make sure every healer learns how to treat injuries like this. Serious ones like this Trihydra bite, so we don’t have to go calling for you every time something like this happens," she told him.

He nodded slowly.

"Agreed. Perhaps our department needs to step up its standards," he said after a moment. "Just as the guards and hunters have done. The world around us is changing, and we need the resources to help in case something like this happens on a large scale."

Marta looked at him and nodded.

"Honestly, I was going to speak with you about this soon," Lysander told her. "How about making the tests every trainee takes harder than usual? Something that would make them hold the title with pride and wouldn’t make them cower when they face something like this. The guards right now... I’m sure after the test, they’ll be able to deal with anything thrown their way. We should do the same for our ranks—make sure they know what to do for any rare emergencies."

Marta nodded slowly.

"That is true."

They reached the bend in the corridor that led toward the main entrance of the medical facility.

"And we also need to ensure that for every new discovery, people like us get to know it and how to cope with it. I, for one, need to learn more about how to deal with an injury from a Trihydra," she told him.

They were almost to the entrance when Lysander yawned loudly.

Marta laughed softly.

"Still running on fumes?"

He rolled his neck once.

"I had only just managed to get Raina to sleep, and I was just taking a moment for myself when Brynhild came in, telling me about the boy," he told her tiredly.

Marta chuckled. "I’m so happy Raina is keeping you as tired as she kept Brynhild when Brynhild was pregnant," she told him.

Lysander laughed quietly.

"I thought you, at least, would be on my side."

Marta only shook her head.

"No chance."

They reached the entrance to the medical facility.

Genevieve stood near the table, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her hands were still faintly stained with crushed herbs and residue from hastily prepared poultices.

Miles stood beside her.

His shoulder was freshly wrapped, a clean bandage visible beneath his tunic, and a shallow cut had been sealed along his jawline.

Daniel leaned nearby, his posture rigid. Caspian was the only one sitting because of his bad back.

"The boy is okay," Marta informed them.

Genevieve’s breath left her in a sharp, broken exhale.

Miles sagged visibly, one hand flying to the wall beside him as relief nearly took his knees out from under him.

"He’s stable?" Genevieve asked.

"Yes," Marta replied gently. "He will need monitoring for the next several days. But he will live."

Genevieve pressed her lips together, nodding rapidly.

"It’s because you were smart enough to make sure some of the venom was removed, but I’m curious—how did you do it?" Lysander asked Genevieve.

Genevieve froze.

"What?"

Her eyes widened.

"I—I didn’t remove any venom," she said quickly. "I only slowed the spread. That was all I could manage with what I had. I didn’t remove any venom."

Lysander stared at her.

For a brief moment, genuine surprise crossed his face.

"You’re certain?"

She nodded immediately.

"I didn’t even think about doing it. I just used herbs."

The silence that followed was heavy.

Miles’ gaze flicked between the healers.

His fingers curled slowly at his side.

"If it wasn’t Genevieve..."

Marta’s brows knit together.

"Then someone else must have done it?" she asked Genevieve and Miles.

Miles’ throat tightened.

He looked down briefly.

"...Maybe Sophia did."