Arrowhurt Now

He tumbled into the damp ferns, the world spinning. The "arrowhurt"—a term the healers used for the lingering, soul-deep ache of an enchanted projectile—blossomed through his chest. These weren't ordinary arrows; the Shadow-cloaks tipped them with essence-draining glass that ate at the spirit as much as the flesh. "Stay down," a voice hissed.

The sky over the Great Forest was the color of a bruised plum when the final volley of arrows fell. Kaelen, a young scout whose only real talent was running fast and staying quiet, felt the sharp, hot sting in his shoulder before he heard the thwack of the shaft finding its mark. arrowhurt

"Not today," he breathed, sitting up as Elara bandaged the wound. The ache was still there, a dull reminder of how close he’d come, but the arrowhurt was broken. He tumbled into the damp ferns, the world spinning