Revaramek the Resplendent - "Missing Chapter B" (Patreon)

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Chapter B

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Once his tears were gone, and his strength returned, Revaramek turned his attention back to Mirelle. She had waited patiently with the healers and surgeons while the dragons talked. When she caught his eyes, he waved her over.

“Is everything alright?” Mirelle hurried over, concern etched across her scrunched face and furrowed brow.

“It is now, thank you.” Revaramek held up a paw to ward off any further questions. “Just a difficult conversation that…” He glanced at Nyra, sighing. “Perhaps I did not realize we needed to have. Suffice it to say she is worried that I have not properly accepted that she might…” Revaramek grit his teeth, then forced himself to be blunt. “That Nyra might die. She fears if she does, that I will…” His tail coiled like a wounded snake. “That I will blame myself, for… failingto save her. Rather than accept that nothing could be done.”

Mirelle’s face twisted up further. She put a hand on the dragon’s shoulder, gently rubbing his scales. “She knows you very well, Rev. That…that is a conversation you need to have. Do…” She glanced over her shoulder at the assembled medical personnel. “Do you want to postpone this for a few days?”

Revaramek shook his head. “No. She wants to get it over with. But thank you for your concern.”

“Of course.” She rubbed his shoulder a little more, then offered a smile. “Let me get you a drink, too. I suspect you could use it.”

“That I could.” Revaramek lifted his head, arching his neck. “Your largest, classiest remaining bucket, for your benevolent overlord.”

“Right away, Sir.” Mirelle hurried around the counter. She fetched another large drinking bucket, and filled it with the same golden ale she’d brought Nyra. Then she returned to Revaramek, and set it before him. “Here you are, my Lord. Our second classiest bucket.”

Revaramek examined the vessel in question. It was pewter, and sculpted to look like layers of overlapping scales. Its handle resembled an outstretched wing. “Not bad, for a bucket.” He lowered his head to nuzzle at Mirelle’s hair. “Thank you, Mirelle. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome, Rev.” Mirelle hugged his muzzle. “I’ll tell the healers you’re ready. For real, this time.”

After Mirelle turned away, Revaramek tasted his ale. It was just as delicious as he remembered, with notes of honey, spices, and bittersweet fruits to balance out its warming booziness. It was one of Mirelle’s stronger concoctions, though not as strong as the bottles of spirits she kept stashed away behind her bar. He took a longer drink, savoring the flavors, and glancing at Nyra. She was halfway through her own bucket already.

Revaramek nudged her with his muzzle. “Our conversation aside, is the drink helping your nerves?”

Nyra lapped up more before offering him a small smile. “A little bit. It’s certainly making me feel…” She scrunched her muzzle. “Different? I might enjoy it more if I wasn’t worried about…” She glanced at the approaching healers. “All this.”

“I know, love.” Revaramek patted her forepaw. “When it’s all over and you’ve healed up, we can get you good and drunk, if you like.”

She looked back at Revaramek, head tilted. “I don’t know if I’d like that or not.”

“Only one way to find out.” Revaramek licked her cheek, then turned his attention to the lead healer, an older human woman named Binir. “Hello. I shall serve as translator, and relay any requests or questions between you all. And I’ll keep Nyra informed of what you’re doing. Other than that, I shall endeavor to keep my muzzle shut.” He chuckled. “Difficult as that may be to believe.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Mirelle said from behind the bar.

“Yes, thank you for your vote of confidence Mirelle.” He bumped his nose against Nyra’s ear. “Ready for them to begin?”

Nyra flattened back her frills. “No. But they may as well get started, anyway. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Certainly, love.” Revaramek gently stroked her foreleg scutes. “If at any point, you want them to stop, or anything is too uncomfortable, just tell me. I’ll put an end to things immediately.”

With the dragons’ shared permission, the doctors began their examination. They counted her respirations, and her heart rate, then listened to her heart and lungs with special devices. They gently pressed on each of her paw pads, watching them pale and then color again when the pressure was released. Revaramek informed Nyra that it had do with checking her blood flow. Then they looked into her eyes with magnifying lenses, a process which left Nyra tense and uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she bore it without complaint. They even looked in her mouth, and at her tongue. At one point, they asked for Revaramek to lower his head so they could compare his eyes and tongue with hers. All the while, they jotted down notes and numbers, then compared them to their historical data, speaking in hushed tones.

Such information was limited, however, as they had limited medical experience with dragons. At Mirelle’s repeated requests, Revaramek had previously allowed them to examine him a number of times. And over the years, a few of them had tended the wounds of other dragons who now dotted the marshlands, and knew they were welcome. Before that, some of the older va’chaak healers had occasionally examined Aylaryl, though once she met Asterbury, any malady she may have suffered was healed by his powers.

When the initial examination was finished, they moved on to Nyra’s wound. Revaramek helped her ease over onto her side to give them more access to it. They explained what they intended, and that it may be uncomfortable. He translated for Nyra, and then held her paw throughout the examination. They more they poked and prodded at her discolored scar, the tighter her grip grew, and more she bared her fangs. Yet never did Revaramek ask her to ease her grip, even as it left his forepaw aching. If she could bare the pain without complaint, so could he. And bare it she did, even as they pressed upon her in ways that made her hiss. Several times she distracted herself by taking a long drink of her ale. Another time she squeezed her eyes shut, and forced slow, deep breaths through grit teeth. Eventually, it was over. Nyra slowly relaxed her grip as the most of the healers retreated to discuss their findings in hushed voicers.

Binir remained behind her, her arms folded across her chest. “It is as we feared.” The older woman’s voice was as stern as the well-set lines in her face. “The tissues all throughout and around her wound remain too inflamed for it to heal properly. It is likely that she has a lingering infection from…” She scowled, shaking her head. “Well, there’s no way to know. Something in that swamp, I’m sure. Something we aren’t familiar with, here. The good news is, so far her body remains strong enough to keep the infection from spreading. The bad news is, she doesn’t seem strong enough anymore to fully fight it off. If not treated, it eventually overwhelm her, and spread throughout her body.”

Revaramek’s ears drooped. “So you will have cut her open, and…remove it?”

Binir nodded. “We believe that if we excise all the infected tissue from around the wound, and then stitch her back up, she should heal up properly. For now, we believe her body still has the ability to heal its wounds well enough, but…over time, that may not always the case. As she grows weaker, over the coming years…”

Revaramek lifted his free forepaw when she paused, not wanting her to continue. “I understand. Let me translate for her.” He turned his face towards his mate. “Nyra, she says-”

“You don’t need to translate,” Nyra said, solemn. “Her tone of voice already told me all I need to know. They want to cut me open, and slice away the rot.” She twisted her head around to stare back at the ugly, half-healed scar. Nyra snarled, just under her breath, but when she spoke again, determination crept into her voice word, by steely word. “But that’s why we’re here, isn’t it? So just tell them to get it over with.”

“Very well, Nyra.” Revaramek nuzzled her, before switching back into the common tongue to address Binir. “She knows what you have to do. If you’re all prepared, then so is she. She wants to be finished with it as soon as possible.”

“I understand.” Binir clasped her hands. “Give us a few minutes to discuss our plan, and prepare the medicines to put her to sleep a while.” She clucked her tongue, slowly looking Revaramek over, before glancing at Nyra. “If your mate is alright with it, we’d ask you to wait outside during the procedure itself. You can watch through the door, if you like, but…”

When she trailed off, Revaramek sighed. “I’d be in the way, I know.”

“And we’ll work easier without an anxious dragon watching and questioning our every move.” Binir chuckled to herself. “Plus, we’ll need to re-sterilize the area best we can before we actually begin.” She offered a little bow. “I’ll give you a moment to talk to her, and then we’ll bring the medicines.”

Revaramek gently squeezed Nyra’s paw as Binir rejoined her associates. “They’re going to prepare something to help you sleep through the worst of it. But, before they begin, they…” He trailed off, looking back at the two of them. “It’s just…they don’t have a lot of room to work, with us so close together. Examining you was one thing, but…with a more delicate operation…”

Nyra offered a small smile, her frills lifted. “It’s alright, Rev. I wouldn’t want to watch them cut your belly open, either.”

“What?” Revaramek blinked, pulling his head back, his neck curled. “Firstly, love, they’re hardly cutting your belly open. Just…” He held his thumb and forefinger a short distance apart. “A tiny little incision. Barely more than a scratch.”

Nyra snorted. “If that’s all their doing, I may as well just do it myself. Why, that’s hardly any smaller than your-”

“Secondly,” Revaramek said, pointedly cutting her off. “It’s not that I don’t want to watch them, it’s that they don’t want me watching them. At least, not in immediate proximity. Apparently, I’d make them anxious.”

“Well…” Nyramyn circled an unsheathed claw tip against the linens she lay upon. “I don’t blame them. Our bond dictates you would have to slay them, if they make a mistake.”

Revaramek patted her foreleg. “That I would! But let’s not tell them that. Now, Nyra.” He lifted his paw to cup her chin, gazing into her eyes. “If you want me to stay here, by your side, just tell me. I’ll tell them they’ve got to find a way to accommodate me, and that’s that.”

Nyra flattened her ears back, whining. “I do want you here, but…” She looked at the gathered healers, busy grinding together herbs and powders. “I don’t want me to make things more difficult for them. Where…where would you be?”

“Right outside.” Revaramek stretched a wing, pointing towards the back doors. “I’ll watch from right out there. And, I’ll stay with you in here until you’re asleep. And, as soon as they tell me they’ve finished, I’ll be right back in here, by your side.”

“So…” Nyra licked her muzzle, her ears still pinned. “You’ll be here when I fall asleep, and you’ll be with me when I wake?”

“Absolutely, Nyra.” Revaramek caressed her neck, pads gently sliding up and down her scales. “And I’ll be right outside, the rest of the time.” A smile parted his muzzle. “Ready to charge in here and incinerate the lot of them, should I hear so much as an ‘oops’ from anyone!”

Nyramyn laughed, her ears lifting a little. “You’d better. Just be careful not to slaughter poor Mirelle in your quest for revenge.” She waved a forepaw at the woman behind the bar. “She’ll be needed to find us more capable healers.”

“And make us more alcohol,” Revaramek said, glancing towards her. “Besides, if I accidentally killed Mirelle, her ghost would haunt me, and possess every pair of boots she could find. I’d be getting kicked in the balls by phantom footwear for the rest of my life!”

Nyramyn laughed harder, playfully swatting him. “You can’t make me laugh like that after they stitch me back together. It’ll hurt too much.”

“Very well, my love.” Revaramek arched his neck, putting a paw over his chest. “Henceforth from this moment, I shall be as dour and solemn as the Tea Kettle himself.”

“I still don’t know why you call him that.” Nyramyn tilted her head. “And given the way he always makes you laugh, I don’t think that will help.” She stretched her neck to look past him, staring out through the back doors. “If they’d rather have you wait out there, that’s fine. As long as you’re here when I drift off, and when I return to the world, I won’t know the difference anyway, will I?” She leaned her head against him, closing her eyes. “Just be ready to help me walk outside, if I’m all wobbly after I wake.”

“Of course, love.” Revaramek rubbed her neck again. “But you won’t have to walk anywhere until you’re ready.”

Nyra laughed soft, musical laughter. “I’ve just had a bucketful of ale. In a few hours, I’m going to have to walk somewhere. I rather imagine Mirelle would prefer I pee somewhere secluded outside than in the corner of her tavern.”

Revaramek laughed with her, then gave Mirelle a sidelong glance. “With all the sloppy drunks she caters too, I rather doubt you would be the first. Oh!” He playfully thumped a cushion. “Remind me to tell you about the time Mirelle got sodrunk at Enora’s, that not only did she light her own food on fire, but she fountain-vomited red wine everywhere!” He laughed at the memory and the way he’d twisted it, then softened his tone. “When you’re healed, of course.”

Nyramyn sucked in a breath. “That happens when you drink wine?”

“Me?” Revaramek shook his head. “No, but Mirelle, she’s a lightweight. Why, she was stumbling around, mangling everyone’s names, telling us how spectacularly un-prudish she was, because she owns a tavern.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Revaramek shrugged his wings. “Hell if I know. She was just so drunk she-”

“Dare I ask what you’re laughing about over there?” Mirelle wagged her finger at him from behind the bar. “I do notice you glancing at me, you know.”

“Oh, nothing, Mirelle.” Revaramek waved her off. “Just remembered that time, years ago, when you got puke-drunk on wine at Enora’s, and you lit that deer on fire! And Enora’s bench!”

Mirelle slapped the counter. “I did not.”

“You did so!” Revaramek grinned at her, his frills extended. “You used to puke a lot back then. Whenever I took you flying, whenever you drank too much…”

“That’s not the part I meant, and you know it.” Mirelle held up a grimy looking bar towel. “How’d you like it if I wring this out into your next beer without telling you?”

Revaramek only shrugged his wings. “Well if you didn’t tell me, I wouldn’t care, would I?”

“That’s true.” Mirelle slapped it back down out of site with an unnervingly wet sounding smack. “I do remember that night, believe it or not. And yes, I retched.” She jabbed a finger in the air. “But you’re the one who put that leg of venison into the fire.” She smirked. “And the one who used poor Enora’s wooden bench to try and get it out of the fire.” Mirelle shook her head. “You smacked it out of there like you were playing a damn sport!”

“Oooh!” Revaramek perked his ears. “Bats and Flaming Venison, that does sound like a fun game. We should start that, Mirelle!”

Mirelle only smirked at him. “I’m sure there’s a bat around somewhere. And I know where I can find a couple of balls to practice on.”

Revaramek gulped, fighting the urge to tuck his tail protectively. “Now, now, Mirelle. Kurekka and Chir’raal aren’t that obnoxious.”

“No, they’re not.” Mirelle glared at him. “Because when they tell stories about our shared pasts, they don’t twist them to make themselves look better.”

Revaramek tilted his head. “They’re gryphons, Mirelle.”

“Fair point.” Mirelle ran a hand back through her hair. “Alright, they do twist their stories, but they don’t make me look worse, in the process.”

“Oh, is that what you think?” Revaramek cackled. “You should hear what they say about you behind your back!”

Mirelle only rolled her eyes. “Can’t be half as bad as the things they say about you. Anyway, as much as you enjoy making Nyra laugh, at my expense?” Her smile returned. “Just remember that eventually, we’re going to learn each other’s language. And when we do, she and I are going to have a nice, long chat.”

“Wherein,” Revaramek said, waving a paw. “You will surely confirm the veracity of my many exciting tales.” When Mirelle only stared at him, he went on. “You see, Mirelle, veracity means-”

“I damn well know what veracity means!” Mirelle stomped, but her laughter belied her anger. “And truth be told, once I can talk directly with Nyra, I plan to talk about everything but you.”

Revaramek only snorted. “Well, that sounds like a boring conversation.” Movement drew his attention as Binir lead the other healers back towards the dragons. “Alright, Mirelle, you’re going to have to stop chattering my ears off, now.”

Mirelle clucked her tongue. “What a terrible, terrible shame that is.” Then she leaned forward, offering him a warm, genuine smile. “She’ll be alright, Revaramek. I promise.”

“I know.” Revaramek swallowed, bowing his head to her. “And thank you.”

The healers set down several bowls and basins near Nyramyn. Each of them possessed its own odd-smelling contents. One was sharp and astringent, another pungent and bitter. Nyramyn crinkled up her muzzle at the strange variety of scents. She gave Revaramek a pleading look, only to sigh and turn away before he could even answer.

“When she’s ready,” Binir said, waiting for the dragons’ shared attention before continuing. “We’d like her to start there, first.” She pointed to the bowl on the far end. “And eat this, before drinking that.” She pointed to each container in turn. “None of them will be pleasant, but it’s important she gets it all down. These are the closest measurements we could make for a creature her size. While the medicines take effect, we’ll be burning this…” She gestured to the last basin. “And we’d like her to inhale the smoke and vapers as she’s falling asleep.” Binir held up a finger towards Revaramek. “Once she’s unconscious, we’ll monitor her breathing and heart rate for a little while before proceeding. If there are any unexpected irregularities, we’ll wake her up.” She turned, and waved at the table where they’d prepared their medications. “We have smelling salts and antidotes prepared, just in case.”

“Antidotes?” Revaramek’s frills flared out. “Just what are giving her?”

Binir held up her hands. “With due respect, dragon, this is why we want you to wait outside. Your concern is entirely justifiable, but this will be much easier on everyone, if we don’t have to explain everything we’re doing, all the time.” She took a breath, then indicated the assortment of bowls. “Each of these will have a numbing, and increasingly narcotic effect on her. They will make her drowsy, and both her breathing, and her heart rate will slow. That’s expected. Eventually, she’ll fall so deeply asleep that not even pain will wake her. However…” She clasped her hands. “Occasionally, a patient’s breathing, or heartbeat, may slow too far. Over the years, counter-agents have been developed to quickly nullify the effects, and bring a patient back around.” Binir glanced at one of the other healers, a female va’chaak with green and gold scales. “In fact, our newest allies have been pioneering this sort of thing for generations, with herbs found only in their swamps. Now.” She turned back towards the dragon, sharpening her tone ever so slightly. “With your permission, I’d like to invite your mate to begin her medications.”

Revaramek took a deep breath, then let out a long sigh. “Alright, alright. You know what you’re doing, I understand. I appreciate the explanation, though. I’m going to stay with Nyra until she’s fully asleep.” He pointed a wingtip towards the back entrance. “Then I’ll wait out there while you operate. As soon as you’re finished, I’d like to come back in, so I can be with her when she wakes.”

“Of course, dragon.” Binir gently touched his foreleg, then stepped back to give them a little room.

“They want me to start here, right?” Nyra pulled the first bowl closer to herself. “And work through them the way she pointed?”

“Correct, Nyra. She also wanted to warn you that they’re not going to taste very good.”

Nyramyn licked up a little of the foul-smelling, greenish-brown paste. Immediately her muzzle crinkled up. “Ew! She wasn’t lying.” She forced herself to swallow it, then ate a little more, her whole face scrunching. “Yuck! It tastes like old vomit. I’d rather lick a stingtoad’s ass than eat this!”

Revaramek cackled at her unusually blunt choice of words. “Sadly for you, this world doesn’t have any stingtoads, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with the horrible medicine.”

Nyramyn soldiered on, forcing herself to consume the rest of the bowl. At one point, the taste made her gag. One of the va’chaak brought her a bowl of water to drink, to help cleanse her palette. After that, Nyramyn alternated between drinks of water and mouthfuls of medicine. Finally, the bowl was empty. Nyramyn hissed at it, as if it had insulted her, then swatted it with a paw. The bowl clattered all the way across the tavern before bouncing off the far wall. None of the healers bothered to fetch it. If anything, some of them looked increasingly nervous. Revaramek could not blame them. Compared to him, and the other occasional dragon visitors the city had, Nyra must have seemed practically feral.

“This one next, love.” Revaramek moved the second bowl closer, sniffing at it. Its reddish contents were bitter, but lacked the stomach churning pungency of the first medication. “At least this one doesn’t smell as bad.”

Nyra sniffed it, and then ate a little. She wrinkled her nose, and then shrugged her wings. “Definitely not as bad. It’s extremely bitter, but compared to last horrible thing, it’s practically swamp crab.”

The second bowl took Nyra far less time to consume. She needed only a few cleaning mouthfuls of water to work her way through it. When the bowl was empty, she batted it aside, but with far less ferocity than the first one. It skittered away, rolling up against the bottom of the bar. Nyra worked her jaws a few times, licking her muzzle. She splayed her ears, scrunching up her nose.

Revaramek tilted his head. “Everything alright, love?”

“Mouth feels funny.” She licked her lips again. “Half-numb, like I drank too much swamp water.”

“I’m sure that’s normal.” Revaramek nuzzled her neck, then cast a suspicious glance towards the healers. “Is it supposed to numb her tongue?”

Binir nodded, sending one of her subordinates to fetch the two scattered bowls. “That’s normal, yes. As she absorbs it, and the other medicines, it’ll start to numb the rest of her, too. And then she’ll start to get drowsy.” She gestured for another healer to prepare the third medication. A va’chaak came forward with a smoldering copper censer, moving slowly so as not to startle Nyra. As she knelt before the third basin, Binir went on. “Tell your mate not to fight her fatigue. Just relax, and let it all settle over her like a warm blanket. Sleep is what we want. Have her inhale the smoke from the third bowl, but only with her normal breathing. She doesn’t need to fill her lungs, or anything.”

Revaramek nudged Nyra’s cheek with his muzzle. “The numbness is normal. And you’re going to start feeling sleepy. They want you to embrace it, and just be ready to go to sleep.” He flicked a claw tip towards the last basin. “And when that stuff is smoking, you should breathe it in, but only with normal sized breaths.”

Nyra nodded. “Very well. Is it not going to be difficult for you and the healers to avoid breathing it, as well?”

“Huh.” Revaramek watched the va’chaak transfer tiny, smoldering sticks from the censer into the basin. Soon, greenish smoke rose from the dried material within. “Good question. I suppose it doesn’t have the same effect if we haven’t also just consumed the other medicines.”

A sharp, pungent aroma soon permeated the air as the odd smoke wafted up. The scent was distinct from the first two, herbal and floral, yet also somehow damp and muddy. “Smells like swamp flowers.”

Nyra sniffed at it, then lay her head down near the bowl, a half-smile on her muzzle. “Reminds me of home, from my hatchling days. I think my mother used to give me something like that when I was hurting. She didn’t burn it though, just made me eat it. Tasted horrible, but it eased the pain.” Her eyelids drooped a little. “Don’t think it grew in the part of the swamp you and I lived in. Maybe I ate the last of it, as a child.”

“Maybe, Nyra.” Revaramek stroked her neck with a paw, draping a wing across her. “Close your eyes, love. Let the medication do its work.” He lowered his head to gently lick her ear. “Everything will be fine. I promise.”

“It had better be.” Nyra glanced up at him, her smile still present. “Or you shall never hear the end of it.”

Revaramek chuckled, caressing her scales. “I shall never hear the end of it, anyway.”

“You’ll be here, when I wake?” A tinge of fear crept back into Nyra’s voice. The sound was an icy grip, squeezing Revaramek’s heart. “You won’t leave?”

“Of course, I’ll be here, Nyra.” He licked her ear again, then pointed a wing tip towards the back door. “If you wake before they’ve let me back in, I’ll be right outside. You can see me right through there. And I’ll be right by your side, the moment I’m allowed. I swear it.”

“Alright.” Nyra’s eyes drifted shut, only to open again a moment later. “But you won’t leave me until I’m asleep, right?”

Revaramek shook his head. “I’ll be right here with you, until then.”

“Thank you.” Nyramyn shifted her weight, getting more comfortable. “Is this position alright?”

“That’s a good question.” Revaramek turned his head to address Binir. “Is she alright to lay like this? Before she falls asleep?”

Binir scowled in thought, tapping a finger to her chin. “If she could roll onto her side a little more, with her wings out behind her, that should give us plenty of room.”

“Nyra, can you roll over a little further?” Revaramek pulled his wing back to give her room. “They want your wings out behind you, across the ground.” He plucked a spare cushion, and moved it towards her head. “And you can rest your head on this, if you want.”

She did as asked, sprawling out upon her side. Nyra stretched her wings out behind herself, letting them rest against the sheets covering the floor. Then she lay her head back down, propping it up against the soft cushion. She murmured a thank you. One of the healers adjusted the smoking basin to keep the vapors near Nyramyn’s muzzle.

“Binir, how’s this?” Revaramek gestured at his mate’s new position. “Better?”

The healer nodded. “That should be perfect, thank you.”

Nyramyn cracked her eyes open, peering up at Revaramek. “I love you, Rev.”

Revaramek lowered his muzzle to gently press it against hers. “I love you too, Nyra. See you when you wake.”

It took only a short time for the medications to finish taking effect. Nyra’s breathing gradually slowed down and evened out. Her eyes slipped shut, and did not open again. After a few more minutes had passed, her paws flexed and her wing membranes twitched in dream-throes. Revaramek whispered her name several times. When he got no reply, he spoke it louder, and more sharply. Nyra’s only response was a snore. Revaramek laughed to himself, lifting his head.

“I think she’s asleep.” He gently stroked her foreleg. “Can I stay with her a few more minutes?”

“Certainly, Dragon.” Binir walked around Nyramyn, observing her. “The medication will continue to drag her deeper into slumber for a little while, yet. We won’t begin until she’s completely under its effects. In the meantime, we’ll start monitoring her breathing and heart rate, as well as sterilizing the area around her wound, if that’s alright with you.”

Revaramek nodded. “Certainly. Do whatever you need to.”

Binir issued instructions, and her team quickly implemented them. They swarmed around Nyra, each working on their own task. In a way, it reminded Revaramek of an ant nest, a sort of organized chaos all working towards a common goal. Some of them pressed listening devices to Nyra’s chest, throat, and stomach. Others examined the pulsing blood flow in her wings. Numbers were called out, and another healer noted them all down. Several used powerful, acrid cleaning spirits and soft clothes to scrub down the area all around Nyra’s unhealed wound. Eventually, they were satisfied with the results of their observations, and Binir approached Revaramek.

“It’s time for us to begin, Dragon.” Binir swept a hand towards the rear entrance, and offered him a comforting smile. “If you’d be so kind as to make your way outside. I promise you we’ll take excellent care of her.”

“I know you will.” Revaramek licked Nyra’s nose, then gently nuzzled her. “I’ll be right outside, love. See you soon.” Revaramek pushed up to his paws, then shook himself. “I’ll try not to pepper you with too many questions while you’re working.”

Binir chuckled. “I’d appreciate that. The less we have a nervous dragon shouting at us while we’re operating, the better.”

“Come on, Rev.” Mirelle walked out from behind the bar and joined him. “I’ll wait outside with you, so you’re not out there alone.”

Revaramek bowed his head to her, his voice soft. “Thank you, Mirelle.”

Together, they walked through the Cathedral, and out into the morning sunlight. Revaramek padded onto the sturdy patio, and then turned around to face the open doorway. He settled onto his haunches, watching the healers prepare their surgical tools. Scalpels, needles and other frightening looking utensils were scrubbed down with cleansing spirits. Other healers laid out an assortment of gauzes, bandages, and spools of sinewy threads. Meanwhile, Binir took a piece of chalk, and drew lines and arrows around the wound, indicating where to cut.

“Rev…” Mirelle laid her hand upon his neck. “You don’t need to watch.”

“Yes, I do.” Revaramek lifted a foreleg to gently hug Mirelle. “I convinced her, Mirelle. I talked her into this.”

“And it’s going to help her.” Mirelle hugged him back, her arms as far around his body as she could reach. “But it’s not going to do you any good to watch them cut your mate open. Let’s take a walk around my garden, Rev. You’ll still be right here for Nyra, but you wouldn’t have to remember the sight of all her blood.”

Revaramek cringed, flattening back his ears. Already, in the cathedral, they were preparing to operate. The healers were studious removing scales around the wound while Binir inspected a large, finely honed scalpel. He swallowed hard, but forced himself to keep watching. “It’s the least I can do. For matter how difficult it is for me to watch, my discomfort is nothing compared to the pain she’ll go through, while she recovers. And I promised her, Mirelle. I promised I’d be right here, watching over her. So no matter how hard it is for me to watch, no matter how the sight may haunt my memories someday, I will stay right here, and I will do just that. I will watch over her, until it is done.” His throat tightened, a sudden stab of pain piercing him deep in his chest. “I can never let her wake to find me gone again, Mirelle. Never.” He sniffed, his ears drooping. Revaramek’s voice trembled. “So I’ll wait right here, where she can see me. Watching over her.”

“Alright, Rev.” Mirelle leaned her forehead against him, stroking his scales. “Then I’ll wait right here, with you. I won’t let you face this alone.”

“Thank you, Mirelle.” Revaramek hugged her tighter, a few silent tears spilling down his muzzle. “Thank you.”