She wasn't home. It had been several hours since our mother had left to attend the weekly village meeting and she still wasn't home. Had something happened? Was there information about the war that had dragged the meeting past its normal length?

My sister paced back and forth in front of the fire, the flames greedily consuming the few logs that were left so its heat didn't dwindle, waiting for the sound of the handle on the front door to turn or even footsteps walking up the path. Haera bit her nails as she walked, her mind lost to a storm of unwanted and terrifying thoughts.

"She's going to be fine, Haera," I assured her, patting the chair beside me, an offer to get her to stop wearing the carpet away. "In a few weeks' time, we'll be getting people from all over the kingdom coming here to take shelter from the war. Silverwood is a village so small and far away from the main cities that we're not even on the map, so they reckon we'll be a safe haven. Everyone is probably discussing where to put the newcomers."

"Enough, Zofia." Her glare cut me like a sharp, frigid blade of ice. "Something isn't right and you know it too." Taking a small strip of fabric from her pocket, she placed it in her mouth as she began to tie up her dark hair.

"Please, wait a little bit longer. We were asked to stay here while the meeting takes place." I stood from my seat, making my way to the door with the hope to stop her from leaving.

The last time something like this happened, it was our father who had gone missing. Known to be one of the best hunters in the village, he was often asked to gather food for several families, especially the ones who couldn't fend for themselves. When he didn't return one evening, we sat in front of the fire waiting for him to return. Thoughts had eddied through our minds about what had happened to him. Maybe he had been caught up talking to some of the villagers? Perhaps he had encountered an animal too large and dangerous for him to hunt down?

Haera had ventured out into the darkness to find him, accompanied only by a spare dagger he left behind, only to return with news of his death.

"No. I need to make sure she's safe." My sister pulled on a pair of hunting boots, lacing them all the way up to her knees. "You can stay here if you don't want to disregard mother's wishes, but I am going to make sure the meeting has ended a little later than usual and there's nothing else at play."

Despite Haera being my elder sister by four years, we matched evenly in height. Her amber eyes glared into mine, challenging me to stand up against her — against a determination so strong that not even the fiercest of wolves could ever dream to rival it.

"Fine," I gave in, stepping to the side to allow her to pass, "but be careful. If there is something amiss, come back and get me. You are not to face it alone, understood?"

"If anything has happened to our mother, I will make the bastard who hurt her pay."

"And I won't stop you, but if anything has happened, even though I doubt it very much, I can be there to heal her." I felt my magic flare up in response, making my skin tingle as it danced along it.

Considering Silverwood Village was so far from any main city or town of the Kingdom of Aerla, having anyone blessed with the magic of the Goddess was incredibly rare. If it weren't for our mother who had forced us to visit the temple once a week, I might have never caught the Goddess' eye.

Haera sighed in defeat, remembering to fetch one of father's daggers to bring with her. "Okay. If she returns while I'm out, let her know where I've gone and tell her to stay here."

"Will do," I replied with a short smile.

My sister nodded in my direction before she left, dagger in hand and determined to find our mother, leaving me alone.

Everything would be fine, I told myself over and over as I tried to occupy my mind with anything but the looming dread that something might have happened — folding the sheets that had dried in the sun earlier that morning, preparing the food we had rationed out for a lunch for the three of us, anything. It wasn't until a cry of pain and a loud thud outside of our home grabbed my attention by the neck that I even looked towards the door.

What in the Goddess's name was that?

The cry had sounded male, so there was no possible way it could have been my mother or sister, but what was anyone else doing so close to our home? And what had that crash been?

Hurriedly lacing up my own hunting boots, I rushed outside to see what the commotion was. My breath formed clouds in front of me as the bitter chill of the winter air hit me, wrapping me in an embrace as I ran towards the sound I'd heard. As I drew closer, I heard muffled sobs of agony alongside some faint murmurs, but there was nothing to be seen. All around me was nothing but trees and empty fields.

My feet pulled me further into the field, searching for the source of the sound, until I tripped over a sword. A sword? Why was a hunting weapon abandoned in the middle of nowhere?

When I picked it up, my heart leaping into my throat, I realised that it wasn't just any ordinary sword. The deep grey metal wasn't like anything I had seen before, the steel so strong it could cleanly slice stone and not shatter. On the hilt sat two dragon wings of a deep blue shade and a golden jewel in the centre, reflecting the sunlight and casting rainbow shimmers across the grass.

This was the sword of a Dragon-born soldier — the people who were attacking our kingdom for no reason at all. My blood froze over in realisation. Where was the owner of this sword now?

I turned back to Silverwood Village, scanning the horizon for any sign of threat, but there was nothing. No fires, smokes, or screams for mercy were present.

"My wings," a muffled voice cried, a heart-wrenching sorrow lacing his words, "she took my wings." I had my answer.

Pointing the sword towards the Dragon-born, I made my way towards his cries. What was a soldier of his kind doing out by a village in the middle of nowhere? When all of his kingdom's forces were attacking the central cities? I had expected to find a fearsome warrior lying wounded in the field, but what I discovered was much worse.

Blood was splattered over every inch of ground my eyes could see — dying the grass crimson, coating the Dragon-born, it was everywhere. The wounded soldier clung to a blade, holding it close to his chest as he writhed in pain, tears streaming down his cheeks and sobs heaving through his chest. My power surged to life as I stepped closer still, my gaze landing on the Dragon-born's back with horror.

Where large wings would have once stretched behind him, now there was nothing but bloodied stumps and shredded ribbons. One had been cleanly sliced off his back, an open gateway for blood to spill, while the other looked as if a wild creature had used it to sharpen its claws. His wings had been taken from him and he was going to bleed to death because of it.

"She took my wings," the Dragon-born cried again, his golden eyes glazed over with a haze of agony.

I tried to step away, begging my legs to run to safety where the village guards could deal with the vermin that wanted to wipe out all of humanity, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of him. My power called out in plea to be used, to help ease his suffering as the Goddess's will was to assist anyone in need.

Why would I heal our enemy? Sure, my power had its limits and it wouldn't have been able to restore his wings to what they once were, but if I were to build up his strength, he would burn our village to the ground.

The strong sense of regret that surged through my body made me shake my head to clear the thoughts from it. I needed to heal him. As someone who was blessed by the Goddess, how could I leave someone to suffer? War was a time of pain and misery, and that anguish would only grow tenfold as the battle continued. The Dragon-born that had laid before me was likely only a foot soldier, a pawn to be disposed of in a fight and never to be thought of again. What if I saved him and he was grateful for it? What if I could get information out of him to help save the Kingdom of Aerla from their relentless attacks?

Before I knew it, I was crouched beside the soldier, willing my power to my palms so I could push it into the Dragon-born's body. "It's going to be okay," I found myself whispering to the soldier, unsure of whether he could hear me or not. "Hold on a little longer, the pain will be over soon."

A blue glow began to grow from my palms as I closed my eyes in concentration, searching for his wounds with the gift I was blessed with. Every bruise, scrape, and cut became an extension of me. It allowed me to feel every drop of blood and every piece of debris that had gotten stuck in his wounds.

As I slowly closed my hand to tighten it into a fist, the wounds I had a hold of in my mind did so too. Some sealed all the way, not even leaving a scar, while others were a little more tricky to deal with. My power wouldn't be enough. Not only would I run out of energy before the Dragon-born was fully healed, but some of his injuries required extra attention. I needed my tools to properly stitch him shut — my tools which were still at home.

Opening my eyes, I realised the soldier had stopped crying and was now staring at me in confusion. His golden eyes were alluring, a wondrous sight to see up close despite them being partly covered by his blood-soaked hair.

"Can you stand?" I asked, extending a hand towards him. "I need to take you to my home for further healing."

"I- '' He began before nodding. His voice was thick and gravelled, sore from the screams of agony I had previously heard. The Dragon-born hesitated before accepting my help, using me to haul up his weight. I had to catch him before he fell face-first onto the ground again.

"Easy. Take it slowly. We haven't got too far to walk, so there's no need to rush," I assured him, moving his arm so it draped across my shoulders. We took a few small steps, a small amount of progress to where we needed to be.

"What are you?" He asked, an accent I hadn't heard before present in his voice. The Dragon-born's eyes hadn't left my face from when he had emerged from his pain-filled stupor.

"Hu-human?" I stammered, the realisation dawning on me as to who I was helping to my house. I was about to bring the enemy into our home. What in the Goddess's name was I thinking? Haera would kill me shortly after she took the life of the soldier I had just saved too.

A smile graced his lips, one that was almost heart-breakingly sad. "No human has the power to do that." He stumbled forwards as he pushed himself to walk faster, gripping my shirt to stabilise himself.

Did the Dragon-borns not know about the Goddess? I chose to ignore him and focus on getting him home, to where my tools were. As soon as the debris was taken out of his wounds, I could heal him fully and get the village guards to question him for information.  It didn't take too long before he was staggering through our front door and into our kitchen.

"Wait here while I get my things," I instructed as I rushed over to the bedroom I shared with Haera. Pulling out a satchel from underneath the bed, I checked to make sure everything I needed was in there before running back.

I had expected the Dragon-born to be gone when I returned, escaped so he could cause mayhem for our whole village, but he had taken a seat and rested his head on our dining table.

"Are you still hanging in there?" I asked, nudging his leg with my foot. He had lost a lot of blood, perhaps I was too late to save him.

All I received in response was a muffled murmur. I took that as a sign that he was still alive enough for it to be worth me healing him. Taking out the steel tweezers my father had bought me on a trip to the main city of Aerla, I began to pull out pieces of dirt and stones from his still open wounds, my free hand outstretched and healing him at the same time whilst I worked. Before long, my job was complete.

There wasn't anything that could be done for his wings, those were undoubtedly lost for good, but he was no longer bleeding all over the floor. It wasn't until the front door opened that I realised how exhausted I was.

"Zofia?" Haera called from the living room, confusion coating her tone. "Why was the front door partially open? Are you here?"

I winced as my eyes landed on the Dragon-born soldier. They were home.