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Story: The WitchSlayer

“I do not wish for this one to die. I have a blood debt to her. Is there nothing you can do to fix her?”

The queen shook her head. “No, and you already knew that before you asked that question.”

That he did.

He thought for long moments. His thoughts eventually made his lips curl back over his sharp fangs.

“Curse you all to the fiery pits of damnation!”

He knew what he needed to do and wasn’t happy about it. Rurik picked her up in his forepaw and knocked all the fairies close to him away with a gust of wind when he flapped his wings.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Anger seethed inside him.What am I doing? I should just drop her from the air and let her fall to her death.

Instead of doing just that, he was heading towards his home, to his cave.

I am taking her to my lair. A Witch!

He’d seen her magic, had watched her. Without blood magic, she’d never be able to heal herself. Even with it, he doubted she’d fully recover.

No, he was going to have to save her. Him!Not only did I save her, but I am going to have to care for this... this silly woman! Blast her!

Instinctually, his kind always knew which way to go to get back to their own lairs.

I better not run into any of her ilk along the way.

He had a hateful fury he would just love to unleash.

Chapter 7

The flight was long, a whole day in fact. It would have taken longer if he hadn’t pushed his body to the point of exhaustion. There had been no Witches or fights in his journey, and he’d become relieved by that when he realised just how long it was taking.

The sun is going down. I do not have much time left.That was his thought when he nosedived for the entrance of his cave lair. He whooshed inside as he glided through the entrance tunnel, feeling his wings scrape against the circular walls.

Slowing his flight, he stopped in front of a carved alcove and pushed his large body through the opening. Carefully, he laid her body down on a stone table he often used for various reasons.

He blew a ring of fire above him. “Shift.”

The flames encased him, and his body vibrated while it morphed into a human.

Without bothering to put clothing on, or to do anything else, he approached the Witch. He pushed her flat onto her back, moved her arms beside her body, and then straightened her legs.

Then, thinking better of it, he quickly ducked out of the alcove to run to another not too far down from the one he put her in.

Sprinting back with shackles and a spike, he clasped her hands together above her head before he shoved the spike into the side of the stone table with his strength and hooked the shackles to them.

The last thing he needed was for her to use magic against him while he healed her.

Rurik lifted the ruined skirt of her dress higher and assessed her legs. From her thighs all the way down to her feet were burnt, and where her skin remained around it was red and boiled with blisters. The worst of it stopped past her knees since her thighs had little damage. Still, he thought it was best he healed her completely.

Gripping his palms around the top of her thighs where the burns ended, he let magic, strong magic, fill his hands.

I cannot believe I am doing this.He breathed deep, and in an ancient language, started to speak the words he needed.

Her body stiffened and then started shaking when he felt searing heat underneath his palms.

Rurik was reversing the burns. The process would become harder the further he went down her legs to her worse injuries, and it would also become more painful. The Witch would have to relive her burns, every lick of them.

It was not for the faint of the heart, but he’d done it on himself enough times. His kind, fire wielders, had learned to take away the damage of their own kind when in their human form.

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