The Immortal Prince
Eyla’s voice echoes through my subconscious, jolting me from my vacant thoughts.
"No...No, no Vaela, tell me you're lying." She’s at my side now, shaking me. I look up at her, tresses of dark hair spilling out from her woollen hat, pure alarm in her eyes.
"It's a mortality spell,” I whisper.
With my backside on craggy rock, the puffy wound on my knee still seeping blood, I’m painfully aware of my sudden morality. It should have healed…I shouldn’t be so damn cold.