ESCAPE- Desperate Measures

 Amara's voice resonated with a newfound determination, a steely edge that mirrored the glint in Bain's eyes. He rose from beside Kylea, his broad frame casting a protective shadow over the ailing handmaiden.

"Alright then," he said, a hint of a grim smile playing on his lips. "Seems we've got a change of plans. Forget the horses for now. Finding a healer takes priority."He knelt beside a small chest tucked away in the corner, pulling out a worn leather pouch overflowing with coin. "First things first - anonymity. We can't risk anyone tracing you back to House Skyer, especially not if someone's already tried to silence you."He tossed a hooded cloak towards Amara. "Here. Ditch the servant's clothes. We're blending in, not standing out."Amara, already disguised as Ayra, a lowly handmaiden, took the cloak with a silent nod. The rough fabrics of her disguise felt familiar, a constant reminder of her dwindling options. The weight of the cloak settled on her shoulders, a physical manifestation of their precarious situation.A pang of guilt stabbed at her heart. If she hadn't been so desperate, perhaps they wouldn't be forced to rely on such clandestine figures. Healers with impeccable reputations all required identification, a luxury she couldn't afford with her assumed name."There's Willow," she whispered. "But they keep meticulous records of their patients. Any inquiry from House Skyer about a young woman with a…" she trailed off, her hand instinctively reaching up to touch the unique birthmark that marked her face, "...distinctive mark would be readily accessible."Bain shook his head curtly. "We need someone who can act fast, someone who doesn't pry into affairs that don't concern them."Amara swallowed hard, a knot of frustration tightening in her throat. She was a noblewoman reduced to bartering for her friend's life in the shadows. A bitter truth she had to swallow.Kylea, ever the stoic one, offered a curt nod of thanks towards Bain, a gesture that spoke volumes of her silent gratitude. There were no tearful goodbyes or declarations of affection – that wasn't their way. But the worry etched on her pale face, a stark contrast to her usual vibrancy, and the way her hand instinctively reached for Amara's in a silent plea for comfort, spoke volumes of the bond they shared.

Despite the pain and fear gnawing at her, Kylea's main concern was for Amara's safety. "Don't worry about me," she rasped, her voice weak but resolute. "Find Kearl. That's all that matters."

Amara squeezed her friend's hand tightly, her heart heavy with a mixture of gratitude and guilt. Kylea had always been her rock, her confidante, her unwavering support. Now, the roles were reversed. It was Amara's turn to be the strong one, to ensure Kylea received the treatment she needed.

"No, Kylea," she countered, her voice firm despite the tremor threatening to betray her emotions. "We'll find you a healer, and then we'll go to Kearl together. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Bain, surprised by the unexpected firmness in her voice, glanced at Amara. A flicker of something akin to respect ignited in his eyes. Whoever this woman beneath the servant's cloak was, she was no ordinary maid.

Leading them through labyrinthine back alleys, Bain stopped abruptly in front of a brightly lit tavern. The air buzzed with boisterous laughter and the clinking of mugs. "The Crow's Nest," he muttered, his voice low. "Morwen works here as a waitress. Discreet, to say the least."

Amara's brow furrowed in confusion. A hedge witch working in a tavern? Yet, desperation forced her to trust Bain's judgment. Kylea, weakening with each passing moment, could barely hold her head upright.

Pushing open the creaky tavern door, they were greeted by a cacophony of sounds. A plump woman with a booming laugh wiped down a table near the entrance, her bright red hair a stark contrast to her drab brown uniform. Was this Morwen? Amara couldn't believe it.

 Suddenly, Bain caught the woman's eye. A flicker of recognition passed between them, followed by a subtle nod from the woman. With surprising agility for her size, she excused herself from her cleaning duties and approached them.

"Bain," she greeted him in a low voice, her booming laugh nowhere to be seen. Her gaze then shifted to Amara and Kylea, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "Seems you found trouble again." She said her eyes glancing at the two women. "But let's get you out of here first. Follow me!"

She ushered them through a hidden door behind the bar, leading them down a narrow, dusty staircase. The scent of stale ale faded away, replaced by an earthy, herbal aroma that pricked at Amara's senses. They emerged into a dimly lit workshop; the air thick with unseen magic. Jars filled with strange, luminous liquids lined the shelves, and bundles of dried herbs hung from the ceiling like macabre chandeliers.

Morwen, no longer the jovial waitress, now donned a long, dark cloak. Her posture radiated authority, and her eyes, usually a warm hazel, now glowed with an otherworldly green light.

"Lay her down," Morwen instructed, gesturing towards a worn wooden table in the center of the room. Relief washed over Amara as Kylea was gently placed on the table.

As Morwen examined Kylea's wound, her brow furrowed in worry. "Poison," she muttered, her voice laced with a seriousness that sent shivers down Amara's spine. "A nasty one, with a very potent lethality."

"Can you cure it?" Amara asked her voice tight with anxiety.

Morwen's gaze met Amara's, a hint of amusement flickering within the blue light of her eyes. "Magic can cure many things, child. But contrary to your flashy light of the temple, it always comes at a cost. Are you just willing to pay it?"

 Amara stared back at Morwen, the weight of the question settling on her shoulders like a physical burden. Fear gnawed at her, a cold serpent coiling in her gut. Magic. The word itself held an air of mystery and danger, a realm she had only ever dared to dabble in with childhood games of make-believe. Yet, here she was, faced with a life-or-death situation, forced to consider the unthinkable.

"What is this 'cost' you mention?" she asked finally, her voice barely a whisper. The words hung heavy in the air, laced with desperation and a tinge of defiance. She wouldn't crumble, wouldn't beg. But the raw fear in her eyes betrayed the turmoil within.

Morwen's lips curved into a knowing smile, the amusement now laced with a hint of something… predatory? It sent a shiver down Amara's spine, a primal warning that this wasn't a simple barter.

"The cost," Morwen purred, her voice a silken caress that sent shivers down Amara's spine, "is a secret you will keep. A secret that binds you to me in a way you don't yet understand. But know this, child, the deeper you delve into my world, the tighter the bond will become. Will you accept these terms?"

The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening around them. Bain, who had remained silent throughout the exchange, shifted uneasily, a flicker of concern crossing his features. Even he, a man who seemed comfortable navigating the fringes of society, appeared wary of Morwen's cryptic words.

 Amara's mind raced. Secrets and debts were an unknown quantity, but the sight of Kylea, pale and weak on the table, was a constant reminder of what was at stake. "What kind of secret?" she pressed; her voice tight. "And what exactly would this debt entail?"

Morwen's smile remained unchanged, but a flicker of something akin to respect danced in her blue eyes. "The specifics will reveal themselves in due time, child. Trust that what I ask will not be beyond your capabilities. Now, is your answer the same?"

"I will pay it," she declared, her voice ringing with newfound determination. "Just save her."

Morwen's smile widened but was quickly replaced by a satisfied glint. With a flick of her wrist, she summoned a swirling vortex of emerald light, chanting words in a guttural language that sent shivers down Amara's spine. The air crackled with raw power, and the very room seemed to hum with anticipation.

Kylea moaned on the table; her body wracked with tremors. Amara rushed to her side, clutching her hand tightly, willing her strength. The emerald light intensified, bathing Kylea in its radiant glow. For a tense moment, nothing happened. Then, slowly, the tremor in Kylea subsided, replaced by a peaceful stillness. The color began to return to her face, and her breathing became steady.

Morwen waved her hand dismissively, and the emerald light vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. The room returned to its normal shadowy self, the hum of magic fading away.

"The poison is gone," Morwen announced, her voice back to its usual gravelly tone. "But the debt remains. Remember, child, secrets have a way of revealing themselves. Choose your path wisely."

Amara released a shaky breath, relief washing over her like a tidal wave. Kylea was alive, that was all that mattered. The debt, the secrets, they could be dealt with later. Now, she just wanted to get Kylea out of this place and on the road to recovery.

"Thank you…miss Morwen," she said, her voice hoarse with emotion.

Morwen simply nodded, her gaze lingering on Amara's mark for a beat longer than necessary. Amara caught the flicker of curiosity in the witch's eyes and couldn't help but ask, "Is there something special about my mar…curse?"

A throaty laugh escaped Morwen's lips. "A curious mark, child, that's all. But no curse, I assure you. Perhaps a birthmark with a story yet to be told. Now, be off! And get your friend some rest, you'll also need to monitor her state for a while to ensure a full recovery."

Amara gaped at Morwen, relief battling with a surge of new worry. Kylea might be alive, but the path to full recovery sounded far from certain. "Monitor?" she echoed, a knot of apprehension tightening in her stomach. "What exactly do you mean by monitor?"

"Think of it as aftercare, child," Morwen replied, her voice devoid of its earlier harshness. "The poison might be gone, but the body needs time to heal. There might be lingering weakness, discomfort, perhaps even internal scarring."

Amara's gaze darted towards Kylea, who was now regaining consciousness, a faint grimace twisting her features. "How long?" she whispered.

"A few days, at least," Morwen answered. "Enough time for her body to start mending itself. But don't fret," she added, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes, "it won't require any fancy spells or potions. Just rest, good food, and maybe a skilled individual to tend to her later."

Disappointment gnawed at Amara. They were on a tight schedule, every hour wasted jeopardizing their mission. Yet, abandoning Kylea in this vulnerable state was unthinkable. Just as despair threatened to consume her, Bain stepped forward, his voice low and firm.

"Amara," he said, his gaze meeting hers. "I recall you said you can't afford any delays. We need to leave for the capital tonight as planned. But worry not, Kylea will be well looked after."

He reached onto his belt and retrieved a hefty pouch, placing it on the table next to the scattered coins. "This should cover her expenses," he explained. "There's a reputable healer in the Southern District, Seraphina. Leave word for her to visit Kylea tomorrow, and tell her it comes from Bain."

Amara bit her lip, torn between her responsibilities and her loyalty to her friend. Seeing her hesitation, Bain continued, his voice laced with a surprising touch of gentleness.

"Kylea wouldn't want you to jeopardize your mission," he said. "She'd understand. Look at her. She's getting stronger already."

He gestured towards Kylea, who had managed to prop herself up on her elbows, a weak but determined smile playing on her lips. "D-don't worry about me, Am-Ayra," she rasped, her voice faint but resolute. "Go. Find Kearl. We'll reunite soon enough."

A silent war raged within Amara. Leaving Kylea behind felt like a betrayal, yet she knew Bain was right. The delay could prove fatal. With a deep breath, she forced herself to nod.

"Alright," she said, her voice hoarse.

A flicker of relief crossed Bain's features. He exchanged a curt nod with Morwen, and together with Amara they emerged from Morwen's hidden workshop, greeted by the bustling sounds of the tavern once more.

The night air felt cool and invigorating against Amara's skin. She cast a worried glance back at the dimly lit tavern, a silent promise etched onto her heart. She wouldn't abandon Kylea. They would see each other again. But for now, the journey to the capital beckoned. With determination set to her jaw, Amara turned and followed Bain into the labyrinthine alleyways, her steps lighter than before, fueled by a renewed purpose: find Kearl, take care of her untidy family problems and return to Kylea's side.