Healing Curse

“He is?” Sevir brightened up. The adrenaline rushed to his head. All this time, RuIng’s healing had been a curse to him. Many a time, he grit his teeth at the pain and sting of Zihao, cleaving a knife through the layers of his skin.

His blood boiled at the memory, fire rushed up from his hands, like veins of lava he had seen underground, now blue instead of red. The phoenix within him felt as excited as he felt alive.

At the other end of the valley, the black dragon had his claws wrapped around his father’s throat. Around them, the rush of grain like metal pieces swirled like a tornado tightly. Even those pieces that cut him were rushing inwards towards the bigger swirl.

“What’s happening in there?” he asked RuIng.

Imposter RuIng conveyed his question. Bailong answered, “the black dragon is healing as much as the immortal king is cutting him.”