<i>Three days…</i><br/><br/>Had it really been that long?  Anael stood over the bed, staring at the wounded Schi he had failed to heal.  Riel had always been brilliant in battle, tough, and so whoever had done this to him must have been either incredibly strong or incredibly lucky.  Though, by the looks of things, it was looking more and more like a nasty opponent whom Riel hadn’t been a match for.  It reacted to the Schi’s body and spread like a poison, but held strong like forbidden magic.  The face that had always been so beautiful to him now looked pale and was constantly damp with sweat.  Even the light dusting of freckles seemed dull.<br/><br/>Anael looked down at his hand, which looked blackened.  It had happened when he’d first tried to heal the man on day one.  It was like the wound had bitten back at him, scorched his fingers the moment he’d tried to instigate the healing process.  Three days later, and that blackness had crept up his hand, causing him constant pain, like needles had embedded into his flesh.  Obviously a hex or spell of some kind to ward off anyone attempting to help.  He was a little worried about how far the blackness would spread… but more so worried about how he was supposed to save Riel.<br/><br/>It wasn’t as if he’d not tried anything else, either.  There had always been other ways to accomplish a task, tools to be used, tricks that an eternity of battling pain and destruction in all the worlds had taught him.  Nothing worked, though.  None of the barrier breakers, salves, mystical stones and potions, or religious rights had any use on the wounds, which refused to close at all.  They still bled, meaning that Riel’s body’s own ability to recover had also been halted by whatever poison and spell were woven together within him.  Anael had even conducted an experiment by placing a small cut on the Schi’s hand and observing it, but after a full day and a half, it still seeped as much blood as it had in the beginning.  That meant that attempting to cut the darkness out of him was too risky, especially if it had wound its way around his heart.<br/><br/>Three days… and Riel wasn’t getting better.  No.  He was<i>dying</i>.  Anael didn’t want to face it, but the truth was that he couldn’t do anything about it.  And yet he didn’t give up hope that someone else could.  It wasn’t what he wanted to do, risking someone else to suffer if the wound lashed out at them, as had him, but an experienced magic user of a powerful bloodline might’ve been enough.<br/><br/><i>Foalan… I need you.</i>