there was an all consuming explosion. Bright light seared his eyes and scorched the front of him. The concussive force slammed into his chest and threw him backward. It was a fight to keep his wings extended, but he didn’t know who might be behind him in the foyer. If his wings took the brunt of the blast, other people might not get hurt.
He didn’t know what had happened to the Jaeggi mage, didn’t know if anyone else was in danger. He was flying backward through the air, pain streaking through his body. A moment later, he crashed hard into something, and the world blinked to nothing.
Sora felt the entire castle rock, the shudder of a massive shockwave rumbling through the stone and wood. He staggered a little under the unexpected blow of it, then stayed perfectly still, ears searching for the source. What was that? It had to have been an extraordinary force. Not even a dragon landing on the castle would have this effect, and it would have sounded different.
On instinct, he gathered up his work bag and dove out of his bedroom, running toward the front of the castle, as the noise and shockwave had come from somewhere in that direction. As he ran, he could hear people crying out in alarm, their voices echoing through the hallways. He could smell the distinct sulfuric scent of something burning. And his gut clenched in anxiety. Had the castle suffered an attack?
He doubled his speed, racing down the stairs now, running for all he was worth. The damage became more apparent as he reached the main foyer of the castle, the pictures hanging cock-eyed or on the ground entirely, windows shattered, and the smell—he could smell it clearly now, the scent of gunpowder.
And the moans of pain.
The healer in him snapped to attention as he skidded through the door, taking stock. The front windows of the foyer were completely blown out, leaving a gaping hole where a wall of them had once stood. Glass and debris were sprayed in every direction.
Three people lay on the floor, limbs askew like discarded puppets. Two of them were out cold, and then there was Ravi—it could only be Ravi. The slate blue dragon was lying on his side, his legs splayed, one wing at an odd angle, resting up against the staircase balustrade. He looked completely unconscious, unnaturally still.
Ravi was life, movement, spontaneity. To see him so still and bleeding shook Sora’s heart in a way that he hadn’t expected. Oh Kami-sama, please do not let him be badly hurt. Sora’s heart couldn’t take it if he was.
He dove for the dragon first, yanking open his bag as he moved to draw out the elements he needed. Moonlight and fairy’s kiss, the two combined were enough for him to run a quick diagnostic so he could understand what to treat first.
Putting a hand to Ravi’s side, he spoke quickly, “Ziik gabo gev adi.”
Every injury on Ravi lit up in clear, glowing lines of red, some of them with numbers and quantities written out next to the wound, telling him the extent of the damage. Sora winced at the total. The wing across the stairs had four broken bones; he suffered from three cracked ribs; and the gashes along his nose and chest were deep enough that something more than bandages was called for. The burns, too, were painful but, thankfully, wouldn’t be debilitating once treated. It could have been worse, but until those broken bones in the wing healed, there would be no shifting forms for Ravi. He’d never fly again if he tried to shift now.
Sora dug grimly into his bag, yanking out yet more ingredients. The bones could wait a moment; he had to stop the bleeding. Japanese honeysuckle to promote healing, captured dragon’s flame to seal the wound, rainbow mist to cool it. He applied himself to every serious gash, letting the minor scrapes be for now. He’d tend to them when he had more time. He didn’t want Ravi to get an infection, but they weren’t the highest priority.
There, good, Ravi had stopped bleeding. Wings next.
He focused solely on the problem at hand, not giving himself room for emotions. They had no place on the treatment floor. Sora’s tears wouldn’t heal Ravi. Emotions were for after, when the crisis was over.
People started flooding in, Baldewin issuing commands in a brisk voice, mages arriving with their own bags in tow. Pounding feet on marble, gasps of horror, shaking voices