to save a life.

The door slammed open, shattering the apothecary’s peaceful silence. It swung wildly on its hinges, groaning in protest. Nephele straightened from hunching over a table of half prepared herbs she had been busy packing away, her plague doctor mask snapping towards the sudden sound.

Two men stumbled in. One was barely standing, deathly pale, with dark blood oozing from a gash in his side. His head sagged, barely conscious as he leaned heavily against his companion, who was trembling with panic and near despair. The first man’s leg hung limp behind him, mangled beyond recognition, a trail of red followed them. Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach.

“YOU! Ghost healer! Or whatever they call you down here. Help him!” the man barked. He shoved the nearly unconscious man into her arms before she could react. The sudden weight nearly took her to the ground, her legs buckling as she caught him with a muffled grunt behind her mask. He was heavy—heavier than her. His skin was clammy, burning hot against her hands. High fever, she noted as she managed to hoist him up just enough to place him onto her operating table. Rolling him onto his back and hissing quietly under her breath at the sight of his injuries. She quickly examined the abdominal wound.

Gash. Deep, but not pulsing blood—no artery hit. Stable, for now.

Her focus shifted to the leg and she swiftly rolled his pant leg up to examine the damage despite his moan of agony and hacking coughs. Her pale gaze narrowed behind the lenses of her mask.

This will kill him faster than the blood loss. Infection’s already taking hold. Amputation is necessary. Foot’s crushed beyond salvaging… will need to remove that… the tibia has to go too… if I could just—

A metallic click interrupted her thoughts. The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked sent goosebumps prickling along her arms.

Slowly, Nephele straightened, turning to face the other man. He held a pistol aimed at her head, his hands trembled, though his dark eyes burned with desperation. He wasn’t a killer. Just a man teetering on the edge, clinging to a false sense of control. “Fix him, now or I’ll kill you” he ordered. Though his voice wavered, his gaze kept flicking to his companion then back to her. His body was rigid with fear, yet he tried to make himself appear stronger, more commanding.

Nephele raised her hands slowly. “I can not guarantee his survival, you and I are both aware of that, I can only heighten the odds, which are decreasing as we speak. So put the gun down and let me do my job.” She spoke slowly and calmly, her pale gaze tracking every movement he made flicking to the gun in his hands. She knew this could get ugly fast. He looked between her and the man bleeding out before he slowly edged back, giving her space. He was taut as a bowstring pulled tight and ready to snap in a moment.

She nodded before turning back to the patient and rolling his pants sleeve higher up his thigh to expose the damage. Blood pooled around his leg and dripped off the table onto the once clean stone floor. She’d need to stop the bleeding and fast. “Tourniquet” she ordered firmly. The man’s head snapped towards her and his grip on the gun tightened. “What-” he began but she cut him off “the leather strap next to the jar of antiseptic” she clarified without looking at him. when he hesitated she snapped her head to him. “Hurry” she hissed. That got him moving as he looked around blindly before he snatched the first thing his fingers touched, eyes darting to her for confirmation before shoving it into her hands. The moment it was in her hand, she looped it high on the thigh, twisting until the skin turned a dusky, oxygen-starved hue. Blood loss stemmed. Temporarily.

She grabbed the vial of anesthetics and uncorked it, gently lifting the patients head and tipping it to his split lip. “Drink” she ordered. He obeyed and downed the bitter liquid quite impressively before gagging and coughing. She let his head rest back on the table, his face contorting in distaste as he groaned. “It’s awful” he muttered through his teeth, Nephele did not grace that with a response as she dunked a cloth into a bowl of water and wrung it out before gently cleaning the wound. the anaesthetics will keep him under for a while, hopefully. The other man lingered in the background, fidgeting while still trying to look in control, when in reality he looked despaired and anxious, his face had paled throughout the process of her preparing the leg for the necessary amputation and she saw his neck work as he fought off the bile rising in his throat. She quickly cleaned all the blood from the injury and elevating it slightly she began to sterilize the wound with an alcohol soaked cloth and prepared and sterilized her tools swiftly. Not as well as she’d have preferred, she would’ve let them sit longer in the alcohol if she had more time, but she didn’t. She reached for her scalpel, the silver metal gleamed in the light as she picked it up. First sketching the curve of the incision on the skin to later guide her path of the first cut. “What’re you doing to him?” the other man demanded, he had stiffened when she first picked up the scalpel, his voice wavered slightly. She did not lift her gaze from her work. “tracing the first incision”” she murmured. He jerked, panic flooding his features, uttering a sound of horror and disbelief. “INCISION?! W- A- WH- W-WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO-” he demanded. lifting his gun at her. She winced at his volume and a cold feeling slid down her spine at the sight of the gun, she raised her hands. “Calm down, it’s necessary for the amputa-” she began but then he cut her off with a sound of dismay. “AMPUTATION?!” he exclaimed and she internally winced. Perfect wording Nephele, definitely calmed him down. way to go. “It is necessary if he wants any chance of survival. If not it’ll get infected and end up far more painful and will likely spread to the rest of his body. That would be fatal” she clarified, forcing composure into her tone despite how her gaze kept flicking to the gun and the finger that was just one wrong word from pulling the trigger. She slowly set the scalpel down.

This is not going well… he’s wasting my and the patient’s time…

“Can’t you just- f-fix him? add some fancy dressing or whatever you healers do and wrap it up?” he asked, his tone sounded desperate, almost pleading. She shook her head, her gaze still zeroed on the gun still pointing directly at her. her nerves fraying at the edges. “That would heighten the risk of infection and lower the chances of him surviving. It’ll be far more painful. The foot is crushed and in need of removal, as is the tibia.” she explained. He didn’t look convinced.

My time is running out. I need to—

Suddenly the door swung wide open yet again, the door smashing into the wall next to it as a form burst in. Nephele and the man’ eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. There stood Agni, sides heaving and sweat collecting at his brow. The look on his face told her what he had experienced:

came home.

saw the blood trailing to the door.

panicked.

His presence was the last thing she needed as the gunman whipped around in shock towards him. Agni was already in motion, adrenaline surging through him. It was all a blur after that, before she could cry out for either of them to stop, the trigger was pulled, whether by instinctive jerk or flinch, or an intentional shot, it didn’t matter.

BANG

The sound of the shot being fired caused Nephele to freeze, her body lock up and her throat close. The bullet whizzed past Agni’s head, it sliced through his ear before hitting the wall with a thud. He let out cry and his hand snapped to his ear. Blood, not much. His ear clipped, skin torn, not fatal but no less painful. She nearly sank to her knee’s in relief.

His eyes locked on the shaken man. “You,” he snarled, voice low and guttural, “Just made the worst mistake of your life.”

———

“Agni—”

She was already moving. she stepped between him and the gunman, cloak whispering around her legs. One hand pressed to his chest. not forceful, just there, grounding.

“Agni, stop—”

Her voice wavered. Not a command. A plea. That’s what made him freeze.

His glare remained on the Gunman, but he took a faint step back, backing down. He’d bite his tongue and tamp it down. for her… for now…

“Sorry” she whispered as she gently cupped his hand that was over his ear, hot blood sliding between his fingers and slipping down his neck.

Nephele removed her plague doctor mask, the sight of her face, distressed or not, soothed him. She gently coaxed his hand from his ear and examined it, he winced slightly at the movementt, he blood was everywhere, staining both their hands and his neck and jacket. She grabbed the nearest clean cloth on the counter and pressed it to his ear, he sucked in a sharp breath and pulled away.

“Nephele-” he choked, “-shh. yes, I’m sorry” she hushed, Her hands still cupped his head, looking into his eyes. Her gaze asked the silent question: Are you going to be okay?

He gave a short nod. Then shot her the look right back. Yeah? Are you?

She gave him that faint, tight-lipped smile he hated. The kind that never reached her eyes. The kind that meant no, but it doesn’t matter. But he didn’t press. Now wasn’t the time.

She straightened, one hand still gripping the bloody cloth to Agni’s ear, the other turning her attention to the man with the gun, who was still frozen, wide-eyed, shaking, realizing how close he’d just come to killing someone he hadn’t meant to.

Nephele’s voice dropped to that calm eeriness.

“Lower the gun now or I’ll have two bodies on my table”

The man hesitated briefly, lowered the gun, staggering back slightly. Agni watched him like a predator tracks a wounded animal: still, tense, barely leashed.

But then a groan reminded them, the patient.

Nephele turned sharply, shoving the bloodied cloth into Agni’s hand without ceremony.

She was already moving, checking the tourniquet. Her gloves were slick with blood again, the man on the table was slipping, his breathing shallow, skin pale and drawn. Too long. He’s fading.

“Agni help me,” she ordered over her shoulder, voice sharp now.

“I still need to cut the leg or he’ll be dead in minutes.” Agni didn’t hesitate, he strode over to her, half way there he brushed forcibly past the man, giving him a sharp eyed glare before prying the gun from his fingers and flipping it into his jacket pocket. “No surprises” he hissed quietly before returning to Nephele’s side.

“Tell me what to do” he said, voice tight. “Hold the leg steady. Don’t let it move, and don’t let him thrash. I need a clean cut.” He braced the leg with both hands, pressing it down just hard enough to anchor, not harm or compromise her operation. The skin was hot under his palms, feverishly so. Blood soaked through the fabric, through his gloves and ink his skin in a way that made him want to recoil, but he didn’t.

His gaze flicked to Nephele, watching in his usual admiration as she worked her hands moved quick, efficient. first she wrapped the abdomen wound that was bleeding with a thick cloth. It was bleeding slower than the leg, but still a priority she needed out of the way before she focused on the operation. She dipped her scalpel into a bowl of alcohol, flicked off the excess before letting it hover in place, ready. With one hand she braced the leg, the other, she followed the fading lines of the mark she made earlier.

The first cut was clean, flesh parting beneath her blade like overripe fruit. The blood pooled faster now as she peeled back skin and now exposed tissue. The muscle twitched and quivered under her blade, severed tendons snapping like taut wire as she worked. She paused only to dab at the mess of blood with an alcohol soaked gauze before she cauterized smell vessels with a heated iron rod. The flesh hissed with the scent of burning and Agni felt a ripple of unease and nausea go through him. No matter how long he’s helped her with these things, he still never got used to it. “Keep it steady” she murmured, voice flat and detached.

When she reached the bone and turned, setting down her scalpel and reaching for the bone saw. The very sight of it caused him to shudder and his stomach twist uncomfortably. It looked like a torture device though Nephele didn’t falter as she angled it and began to saw. It was slow, agonizingly so. The bone resisted, grinding and cracking with each pass of the blade. He could feel the vibration through the leg, hear the dull scrape of blade against bone, and the wet slap of blood splattering the table’s edge. the patient groaned, deep, ragged and pained. His body twitched in a way that made Agni grimace. “Just a bit more…” Nephele breathed under her breath, brows furrowed and beaded in sweat.

Snap.

The bone gave, finally.

Agni sucked in a sharp breath and forced back bile as she lifted the severed leg and dropped it into the metal bin beside her. The the sound it made— solid, wet— would haunt him for days, maybe longer.

“Clamp” she ordered and he shook himself a bit before grabbing the curled metal from her tray and handing it to her. she clamped the artery with practiced grace, movements smoother now that the hardest gruesome part was over. She packed the wound with antiseptic-soaked gauze then began stitching the muscle and skin back together layer by layer, careful not to leave any gaps where infection would later thrive. “Tourniquet off” she ordered, her voice more tired than usual. He obeyed. She wrapped the stump in layers of linen and gauze, securely binding it.

She straightened and stretched her back a bit, wiping her brow with the back of her wrist, leaving a streak of blood. The patient was out cold, whether from shock or pain, it didn’t matter. He was alive.

“It’s done.” she declared finally, peeling her bloodied gloves off. No victory, just relief that it was over.

The man from earlier rose to his feet, gaze flicking over his companion, worry and concern creeping in. “W-will he be-” he rasped, voice trembling.

“He’ll live, for now.” she said calmly, turning to him, her gaze not unkind.

Agni stepped forward, towards the man, his glare fierce. “You owe her more than thanks,” he began, voice cold. “You owe her silence, no rumors, no trails, no names. Understood?” The man looked away, gaze dropping to the floor and he nodded.

“If his condition holds through the night and the fever doesn’t take him, he’ll make it.” Nephele said. The man looked up, eyes warily hopeful as his gaze darted back to the form on the operation table. “I… I have no words to… thank you… I… sorry for… earlier-” he began, his voice smaller than before, but Agni cut him off. “You think an apology can fix what you jus-” he began, voice rising, as he took a step closer to the man who flinched back. Nephele’s voice stopped him. “Agni” her tone passive and serene, there was a faint subtle edge to it. He halted, gritting his teeth. Her gaze had settled on him. She walked over to him, gently set a hand onto his shoulder that said ‘it’s not worth it’. He sighed forcibly through his teeth.

The man trembled slightly as Nephele stood before him, tall and looming. “He will stay with me, just for a few days but I don’t want you around, you may visit but that is all. Understood?” she spoke calmly, her voice low and quiet, softer than Agni’s, yet somehow colder. The man nodded almost frantically. “Thank you-” he managed to choke out. Nephele watched him for a bit before turning to leave and murmuring under her breath. “Don’t mention it. I mean it, don’t”.

———

A while later after the man had left and both Nephele and Agni had cleaned up the mess of the amputation he collapsed onto their shared bed, groaning and grumbling about ‘what an idiot’ the man was. Nephele after changing into sleep clothes and cleaning all the blood off her, laid next to him, hand on her stomach. “It was worth it” she whispered. Agni peeked out from the arm that he had thrown over his face, admiring her under the moonlight for a moment before grumbling in response quieter than before.

“yeah… it was”