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The original was posted on /r/hfy by /u/duddlered on 2025-06-27 12:40:48+00:00.
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The mayhem of the construction site continued unabated; wyverns still circled overhead, awaiting a chance to land, while those already grounded jostled and roared, trying to establish some semblance of order amidst the chaos. Yet, a pocket of tense stillness had formed around the imposing figure of Duchess Vyrrasha, who stood menacingly over Eira as she lay on the cold grass.
Sharp gasps and muted, pained screams punctuated the air as Eira writhed on the ground while the dedicated healers, likely part of the Duchess's own retinue, knelt beside the fallen Captain and assessed the poor woman. One healer, a middle-aged human man with calm eyes, gently pressed his fingers into the area around Eira's hip and lower back, his brow furrowed in concentration. His fingertips glowed with a soft, diagnostic light, enabling him to sense fractures or dislocations beneath the skin.
"Alright, Captain," the male healer called out in a steady voice despite the surrounding chaos. He pressed once again against Eira's hip joint, this time more firmly. "On a scale of one to ten, tell me how painful this is..." he pressed slightly lower, eliciting a weeping cry. "...Now."
Eira moaned, tears blurring her vision as fresh waves of agony pulsed through her. "Seven... eight..." she choked out.
The other healer, a younger elf, hovered her hands over Eira’s side and conjured arcane symbols that flickered around her palms as she performed a rapid triage spell. This allowed the healer to assess any internal damage and provided a clear picture of Eira’s vital signs without needing to draw blood or cut away armor. She noted the rapid pulse, shallow breathing, and spikes of pain indicators corresponding with her colleague's touch.
Duchess Vyrrasha, on the other hand, simply stood off to the side with her arms crossed while an indignant huff shot through her feathered snout. There was a lot she wanted to say and ask, but the Duchess refrained from interrupting the assessment, though her tapping talons betrayed her impatience.
"Why... why can't I just have a healing potion?" Eira pleaded through a muffled sob, and her face twisted in pain as fresh tears tracked paths through the dirt on her cheeks.
“Well, Captain…” the elven healer replied calmly as lights flickered in her eyes, taking in the arcane feedback of her spell. “Potions are excellent for ensuring that known wounds that are already well on their way to healing actually mend properly.” She replied, pulling off her healer pack and rifling through it. "But they’re not going to be an instant fix, especially for severe blunt force trauma and potential skeletal damage.”
The elven healer glanced at her colleague, then pulled a small, stoppered vial containing a thick red liquid from the pack. “They might dull the pain briefly, but the pain relief won't last long unless we set the fracture or soothe deeply bruised muscle. God forbid there a deeper injury that the motion won't mend and you pass away through internal hemorrhaging.” She explained, popping the cork and gently spilling it into Eira’s mouth. “This, however, will help manage the worst of it while we work."
With their general diagnostics and observations complete, the two healers conferred quickly in low tones, murmuring about contusions, muscle tears, and displaced energy flows. "No immediate organ damage," the elf noted. "Severe bruising to the hip and lower back, likely extensive muscle tears… possibly a hairline fracture on the pelvic crest, consistent with a high fall onto a hard surface," the older human healer concluded, nodding grimly. "Adrenaline carried her this far. It's catching up now. She needs stabilization and proper immobilization before transport."
Eira gritted her teeth and tightly scrunched her face as the healers immediately got to work based on their assessment. However, it didn’t take long for the painkiller to take effect and dull the sharpest edges of the debilitating pain. Instead, the blinding agony transformed into a deep, insistent throb. The treatment itself was far from pleasant, but Eira was no longer reduced to tears and a quivering mess.
The elven healer's hands hovered just above Eira’s skin, emitting a focused beam of emerald light that shifted and changed in hue as she directed it with an intense look on her face. Eira felt a strange, uncomfortable, yet warm sensation penetrate deep into her muscles, followed by involuntary twitches as torn fibers were magically encouraged to seek each other out and mend. It felt invasive, like unseen fingers probing and stitching her back together from the inside.
Simultaneously, the human healer placed his glowing palms gently over her hip, murmuring somatic words under his breath. A slithering, snake-like lattice of golden energy gently wrapped itself around the joint and pulsed rhythmically. It wasn't a crude splint but a complex energy field designed to keep the bone perfectly immobile, stabilizing the suspected fracture site and accelerating the natural knitting process far beyond normal capabilities. Each slithering pulse sent a dull, jarring sensation through her bones, forcing sharp intakes of breath despite the sedative's effects.
As minutes stretched by under the healers' focused attention, Eira's face slowly began to loosen its pained grimace. Her rapid, shallow gasps stuttered and then gradually evened out into deeper, albeit still shaky, breaths. Finally, with the worst of the immediate trauma addressed and the sedative fully kicking in, she let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief as her body slumped slightly against the warming grass.
Noticing the shift in the patient's condition, Duchess Vyrrasha took a deliberate step closer. "Is she capable of discourse now?" she inquired, directing the question to the elven healer without looking away from Eira.
The elf healer glanced up, calmly meeting the Duchess's intense gaze. "The vial contained a mixture, Your Grace — half rapid-acting healing accelerant, half mild sedative. It has taken the edge off the pain considerably." She briefly summarized their findings again: "Severe bruising, extensive muscle tearing, and a likely hairline fracture to the pelvis. Nothing life-threatening, but she will require significant recovery time." The elf nodded towards Eira. "She should be lucid enough to answer questions, though exertion is ill-advised."
Vyrrasha gave an indignant huff but still nodded curtly, accepting the healer's caution. She approached Eira's side, looming over the injured rider. Eira looked up with a pitiful, unfocused gaze due to the sedative and lingering pain. Even though the Captain felt helpless, she still met the Duchess's imperious golden stare.
"Acting… ‘Wing Marshal,’" Vyrrasha stated, her voice carrying a hint of incredulity but also leaving no room for refusal. "Are you capable of providing a clear and concise report?"
Eira's lower lip trembled slightly as a strange, tingling warmth slithered through her lower body, tethering uncomfortably to her muscles and bones. Despite the whirlwind of bizarre sensations and the lingering fog in her mind, Eira forced herself to meet the Duchess's piercing gaze. "Yes... Your Grace," she managed in a weak and raspy voice, yet it was still steady enough to be lucid.
A minuscule twitch disturbed the otherwise impassive feathers around Vyrrasha's left eye—a fleeting sign of annoyance at what she likely perceived as a pathetic display. She remained silent for a few moments longer, allowing the weight of her authority to press down on Eira before speaking again in a slow, deliberate voice, carefully enunciating each word.
"Explain," Vyrrasha began, her tone deceptively calm, "how, you specifically, came to assume command of this formation." She paused, letting the question hang in the air. "And detail, precisely, the circumstances surrounding Wing Marshal Borin's... departure."
Taking a shaky breath, Eira focused past the throbbing in her hip and the fuzziness clouding her thoughts. "Your Grace," she began, clutching the grass, "we—... w-we were proceeding south as ordered, part of the main interdiction force..." She recounted the initial moments—the seemingly clear skies, the sudden, inexplicable losses as invisible projectiles tore through their ranks with terrifying effectiveness, even laying low a dragon. "...W-we had no warning, Your Grace. Wyverns, dragons… We were all simply obliterated mid-flight."
"Wing Marshal Borin... he was near the vanguard." Eira swallowed as she vividly recalled the vanguard simply vanishing. "His flight was caught in one of the first volleys. There was... nothing left, Your Grace. Command disintegrated instantly. No orders came, just... death."
Vyrrasha’s hand, which had been resting on her hip, clenched slightly in impatience, but she remained silent as her golden eyes fixed on Eira.
"The aerial attacks were relentless, your grace…!" Eira continued, her voice gaining a slight tremor. "Staying airborne was suicide. Any altitude provided no safety. I saw..." She hesitated, glancing instinctively towards the sky. "The juvenile dragon—"
The Duchess abruptly raised a feathered hand outward to silence Eira. "I am well aware of the enemy's aerial capabilities, Captain," she interrupted sharply just as a jet of flame exhaled from her nostril. "I witnessed the.....
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