Page 50 of Detonation
I cry out, "No! At least tell me your name!"
The lightest words follow me as I'm pulled away. "You can call me Hypnos."
Chapter Sixteen
Lana
Hypnos…
My brain feels fuzzy and only the lingering memories of my dream remain as I awaken.
Cracking my eyes open, I flinch from the harsh light shining down on me.
“Ah! Sorry, my dear,” a kind voice says. “Let me turn that off for you.”
The offending light disappears and I open my eyes once more, taking in the elderly man sitting by my side as I lay on a table. His salt and pepper hair is thinning on top and deep wrinkles are etched into his skin. His light blue eyes hold a kindness to them, making me feel slightly at ease but still confused on his position. Then, my eyes fall to the plain, servant clothes he’s wearing and the dried blood on his hands, instantly putting me on guard.
My heart jackhammers, unsure of if I’m safe or not.
He must see my hesitation as he holds his hands up to placate me. It only further alarms me. So much blood. So much blood, it runs down his forearms in rivulets.
Who the hell is he?Ow, fuck!
Throbbing pain radiates from my feet and I groan, turning my attention to the ceiling to try to fixate on something else.
Mother fucking fuck face. Fuck! I hate you, Anshar.
Feet shuffle and his face comes into view from my peripheral as he looms over me, standing beside me. “I’m the doctor for the kingdom. I promise you are safe while you’re with me.”
My only answer is another groan as my sleep haze wears off, fully realizing the extent of my injuries now.
“Normally, I would be able to heal you fully; however, you were laced with a form of dark magic that I couldn’t break through. It’s the same poison they use to staunch the fae here from connecting to their powers.”
Thanks a lot, Anshar.
I need to figure out what the fuck he laced me with that blocks my powers. He blocked goddess-given gifts. How strong is the black magic that he’s playing with?
He carries on, oblivious to my introspection, “I had to stitch up your feet the good, old fashioned way. You lost a lot of blood from those cuts with how deep they were. I’ll continue to provide medical care for them and, hopefully, his magic will fade out of your system soon so I may heal it completely before it scars.”
Oddly enough, the thought of scars doesn't bother me. They’ll serve as a reminder that I’m a survivor. “Mhm. Sounds great. Got any pain meds, Doc?”
A loud sigh comes from my side, dashing any hopes I had for pain relief. “They don’t allow me to have any formal medicine on hand. Honestly, Miss…”
“Lana.”
“Miss Lana. You are the first person that has been brought to me for medical attention in years. Besides you, I have only one other patient but that,”—he shakes his head, sadness laced in his resigned voice— “That is for other purposes. Normally, they just let people die.”
I turn my head to lock eyes with him. “I’m sorry. That must be very hard on you as a healer, to not be able to help others.”
His eyes widen as his mouth opens slightly. “Why … why, yes … yes, it is,” he stammers.
I hum my acknowledgement and flutter my eyes closed, wanting to drift back to sleep to escape this pain.Wait ... constant patient?
Snapping back to attention, I narrow my eyes on him. “Who is your constant patient? Is it the man in the dungeon?”
A nod is his only response as grief flashes across it. I bite my tongue to demand answers but this is clearly a sensitive subject. Leaving him to stew in silence, he relents, beginning to explain, “I would not wish his situation on even my worst enemy. They only allow me to heal him enough to be conscious to use his powers for their bidding. Then, he’s put back into the dungeon with those despicable, draining cuffs.”
Draining cuffs ... those must be the ones they used on me.
