Chapter 22: the weight of mana

The satchel dug into my shoulder as I walked, heavier than it had any right to be. A single ration of mana, sealed in a crystal flask, shouldn’t have weighed more than a loaf of bread. But when you know an entire company of knights at the border depends on it to keep standing, the thing feels like it’s made of stone.
Beside me, Lara shifted uncomfortably. She tried to walk with her usual steady stride, but every so often her hand pressed against her back as if something burned there.
“You should stop for a moment,” I said quietly.
She shook her head, jaw tight. “We can’t. Not with this… thing singing in your satchel.” Her eyes flicked to the glow leaking faintly from the leather. “Do you feel it too?”
I nodded. The flask pulsed faintly, as if it had its own heartbeat. Mana like this never stayed quiet—it drew attention, always.
The roads were thick with movement. Not peasants, not patrols of ordinary men, but knights in polished armor, their banners streaming, their warhorses stamping the dirt. They barely looked at us, yet their presence was suffocating. There was no mistaking it: war wasn’t just coming—it was already here, waiting to be unleashed.
At one point, a shadow darted across the road, though the beast inside me didn't move.Maybe because it was just a boy—ragged, no older than thirteen—watching me with hungry eyes. His gaze dropped to the satchel, and I knew he could sense it. Mana always drew the desperate.
“I don’t have food,” I said quietly. The boy didn’t move. “And you don’t want what I’m carrying. Trust me.”
For a long moment, we just stood there, the silence pressing in. Finally, he slipped back into the trees without a word.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding and kept moving.
“he looked hungry...maybe we should've...” Lara murmured, “nevermind” she adds sadly.
When we reached the border fort, the last of the daylight was fading. Tall stakes of wood marked the palisade, and within stood knights at rest. Their armor was scarred, their cloaks heavy with dust, their eyes hollow but unyielding.
Their captain descended the steps of the watchtower, silver helm tucked beneath his arm. He carried himself like iron given flesh.
I swung the satchel from my shoulder and placed the flask in his gauntleted hands and then gave him the magic paper for him to sign. Its glow painted the steel of his armor gold. For the first time, I saw his stern face soften.
“You’ve delivered more than a ration, courier,” he said, voice low and deep. “You were the last one, thank you.”
I said nothing, but I felt their gazes on me, those armored men who looked less like warriors and more like monuments waiting to break.
When we left the fort, night had nearly swallowed the road. Lara lagged behind, her breathing uneven. I slowed, and that’s when I saw her stop—her hand pressed hard against her back.
“Lara?” I asked, stepping toward her.
”i don't understand why it's hurting me like this” she groaned.
She opened the back of her dress using the rear zipper, and that’s when I saw them—seven black marks. Three aligned on the left side of her spine, three on the right, and the seventh directly upon her spine. From there, thin black veins spread outward, glowing faintly like cracks in stone.
The words slipped out of me, a whisper drowned by the wind. “You’re infected.” 
She laughed bitterly.
“A sick healer, what an irony...”
Her eyes lifted to mine, weary but steady. “That’s why I walk beside you, Ryo. Not because I can. Because I don’t have long left.”
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