The sudden amputation of Iron Jo’s hand left Zavian in utter disbelief. Who could have done it? Was it Crossvan? There was no one else among us who could be responsible. With Olesia unconscious, she couldn’t have done it. It had to be Crossvan, considering he’s a conjurer.
Iron Jo’s powers were neutralized by a golden cuff adorned with a purple crystal infused with Elthier, possessing anti-magic properties. Chronus provided Iron Jo with a healing tonic to ease his pain and stop the bleeding before returning him to the dungeon beneath the academy building.
Meanwhile, Cresson and Zavian swiftly transported Olesia and Crossvan to the infirmary. They were greeted by another doctor, Vanarah, a woman in her mid-40s with dark eyes and hair, who closely resembled Crossvan. Her expression showed deep concern, and her brisk actions emphasized the urgency. Crossvan was carefully placed on a bed, and she promptly removed his bloodied coat, handing it to Cresson. Simultaneously, Zavian gently positioned Olesia on the adjacent bed.
“I told you it was a reckless idea! Look at him! He’s covered in blood! You were even late!” Vanarah’s voice quivered, tears welling up as she wiped blood from Crossvan’s face using a towel soaked in lukewarm water.
Cresson handed Zavian a towel and offered reassurance to Vanarah. “Everything will be fine, okay? That’s not his blood, and we’ve got the results we were hoping for.”
As Zavian cleaned his face with the warm, damp towel, he pondered the results Cresson mentioned. Did he secretly wish for this outcome? Was he anticipating Iron Jo’s injury? But he brushed these thoughts aside and concentrated on the present situation. He cleared his throat to capture their attention. “I don’t mean to rush, but we have injured students here. Could you administer that tonic that can heal them within minutes?”
Olesia had a stable pulse when Zavian checked. She was merely unconscious, yet he remained deeply concerned. Meanwhile, Crossvan was in a dire state. He had borne the brunt of the assault and urgently needed medical attention to prevent his condition from deteriorating to a critical point, potentially risking his life. Time was of the essence, and they couldn’t afford further delays. The drama could be set aside.
Vanarah assessed Crossvan’s vital signs, and as her hand touched his skin, her dark eyes glowed white and a vibrant green glow emanated from her palms. Gradually, Crossvan’s complexion returned to normal, and Zavian watched in amazement as the bruises and wounds began to heal.
Curiosity piqued, he inquired, “Are you a conjurer? Perhaps, his mother?” Their physical resemblance was striking, yet their abilities appeared distinct.
She nodded, her focus still on Crossvan. Leaning down, she kissed his forehead, and his eyes fluttered open. “Mom?”
Tears welled in Vanarah’s eyes. “Yes. It’s mom. Do you feel any pain?”
Crossvan sat up. “I’m fine, Mom. Nothing to worry about.”
They embraced, and then his attention turned to Zavian and the adjacent bed. His gaze moved to Cresson, and he noticed the tailcoat in his hand. Confusion clouded Crossvan’s face as he observed himself. “What happened, Dad?” Without waiting for a response, he added, “Fine. We can discuss it later.” He then studied his father’s face for a moment.
They must be communicating through telepathy, Zavian thought.
“I’ll do it,” Crossvan declared. He left his bed and approached Zavian, studying his face closely. His gaze then shifted to his neck, and he reached out, tugging at his stand collar.
Zavian instinctively recoiled and pushed his hand away. “What are you doing?”
Before he could react further, Crossvan purposefully touched his neck. However, Cresson intervened, grabbing his arm. “Don’t do that. It’s risky.”
Both exchanged a meaningful glance, the doctor appearing somewhat uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “Crossvan was just examining the area where you were choked by Iron Jo.”
“Oh, right. I almost forgot about that. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me. It will heal overnight.” He turned to Vanarah. “Please, Doctor, heal Olesia immediately.”
He carried a heavy burden of guilt for what had befallen her. She had consistently displayed unwavering courage and selflessness, never hesitating to put herself at risk for others. Like her dad, whom she often spoke fondly of, Olesia was a true hero. She had tried to save him from Iron Jo, and he deeply regretted the consequences of his actions. I should’ve fled from Iron Jo when I had the chance. I should’ve heeded Crossvan’s advice.
Zavian was jolted from his contemplation when Crossvan chuckled. “Do you really believe that?”
“What do you mean?”
He approached Olesia and gently rested a hand on her forehead. Upon contact, a soft, ethereal glow radiated from his touch, casting a gentle radiance across her features. His eyes mirrored the same otherworldly luminescence, capturing Zavian’s attention. It was a sight that left him in awe. He’s a telepath and a healer, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he has another power. But what ability did he use to sever Iron Jo’s hand?
“Olesia’s fine now,” Crossvan’s voice interrupted his thoughts. His tone was soothing, matching the relief in his eyes. “But I’ll let her sleep a little longer.” With measured steps, he advanced towards Zavian, who instinctively took a step back. Crossvan raised an eyebrow. “Why? Do you prefer the tonic infused with my healing power?”
Zavian’s eyes widened as he realized why the tonic was so effective. The memory of its bitter taste flashed in his mind, and he was sure he didn’t want to endure it again. Without hesitation, he offered access to his bruised neck. As Crossvan’s healing power coursed through him, a comforting warmth enveloped the injured area, like a gentle caress from an unseen force. As the healing energy dissipated, he felt the pain and discomfort fade away. He tentatively reached up, his fingertips brushing against his now-soothed neck. He was momentarily speechless.
Crossvan sat on the bed’s edge, admitting, “I wasn’t just bullying you back then, Zav. I was healing you by beating you up. I controlled when my power worked, making you think you could heal overnight. I pretended to be a bully to keep an eye on you.”
That makes sense, Zavian thought. It wasn’t his body’s limit, but Crossvan’s absent healing power that explained the unhealed wounds inflicted by Jedroz that time. “Why were you keeping an eye on me?”
Crossvan’s gaze locked onto him. “You will find out soon.” His focus then shifted. “LV Chronus!”
All eyes turned to Chronus, dressed in a uniform similar to the students, save for the navy blue tailcoat. He gave them an acknowledging smile before turning to Zavian. “Mr. Villin, I’m here to escort you to the headmaster’s office. He wishes to see you.”