The old man turned slowly to face Nyxtriel. "If I wanted him dead, girl, I would've done it already. But I'm a physician, not a butcher. Trust me—I'm here to save him."
Nyxtriel met his gaze for a long second. Her eyes, always sharp and cold, wavered,then softened as she backed down.
The physician sighed and pulled a radiant stone from his satchel. It shimmered with swirling hues—red, blue, gold, violet. A heartbeat of energy pulsed from it.
"What is that?" Nyxtriel's voice was low, but even she couldn't hide the awe. The energy radiating from the gem felt... ancient. Holy. Almost wrong in its purity.
"The Seven-Colored Gem," Samuel replied, reverently. "A relic from the forgotten age. Each color contains a different restorative force. One for bones, one for blood, one for soul... Together, they can restore limbs, purge curses,even drag someone back from death's edge."
He paused. "The king paid dearly for this. He must truly want your prince alive."
