"Hold still." Vanessa’s voice carries that stern edge I’ve come to associate with her healer mode as she slides a needle into my arm. "Your veins are collapsing. That’s not good."
"I’ve been drinking water." The defense sounds weak even to my ears. Especially since I almost collapsed this morning, after nine days of nonstop purification. Marcus dragged me straight to the hospital, berating me the entire time for not taking care of myself.
To be fair, I didn’t feel any worse than usual today. Not until the first round of taint cleansing.
"Not enough." She connects the IV line with practiced efficiency. "Your body’s burning through resources faster than you’re replacing them. These purifications are taking more out of you than you realize."
The fluid starts its slow drip into my veins. The bedroom feels too quiet, too still. Lucas and I are never here during the day anymore; we’re both too busy. Even Selene and Grimoire have gone silent, probably sensing my exhaustion.
"I had three full bottles today."
"And you purified four sites yesterday over five miles." Vanessa checks my pulse, her fingers cool against my wrist. "I don’t have the data to back this up, but I’m going to go on record and say it’s like running four marathons back-to-back without refueling. Your electrolytes are dangerously low."
"But—"
"No buts." She pulls up a chair beside the bed. "Judging from your symptoms, the potassium levels in your blood are concerning. And when’s the last time you ate a full meal outside of dinner?"
I have to think about that one. "Breakfast?"
"A piece of toast and a bit of jam isn’t breakfast." Vanessa’s voice softens. "The magic you’re channeling requires fuel. Real fuel. And these purifications... they’re not just cleaning the taint, right? You said they’re drawing on your own magic to transform it."
Grimacing, I settle further back into my pillows. I’ve been trying to take care of myself, but I never really factored in things like electrolytes. That explains the bone-deep exhaustion. "How long do I need to stay here?"
"Until this bag is empty." She pats the bag and a tiny glass jar hanging beside it. "And you’re going to eat the soup Kellan’s bringing. All of it. Elverly swears by it. Says it’s her mother’s recipe."
"I will. I promise."
"You’re lucky Lucas isn’t here to see you like this." Vanessa adjusts the drip rate. "He’d have kittens if he knew how far you pushed yourself today."
"That’s why we’re not telling him."
"Oh, we absolutely are telling him." She raises an eyebrow at my strangled protest. "Doctor-patient confidentiality doesn’t apply when it comes to the Alpha."
"I’m not—"
"You are." She cuts me off. "Your body is showing signs of severe stress. The purifications are affecting your blood chemistry in ways we don’t fully understand. Maybe it’s just that you need to eat and drink a little more, but I can’t guarantee that’s the only issue. I don’t have enough experience with magic."
Grimoire makes a disgruntled noise in my head. It’s my fault. I should have monitored you better. Your body isn’t used to the amount of magic you’re handling daily.
He’s been self-flagellating in my head since I almost keeled over.
"What does that mean?"
"It means we need to be more careful. Monitor you more closely." Vanessa pulls out a small notebook. "I want you tracking everything. Water intake, food, how many purifications you perform, how you feel afterward."
"That seems excessive."
"What seems excessive is finding you barely conscious after pushing yourself to the brink." She scribbles something in her notes. "You’re not just dealing with magic here, Ava. This is your life we’re talking about."
The truth in her words stings. "I can’t just stop. The taint is spreading."
"No one’s asking you to stop. We’re asking you to pace yourself." She looks up from her notes. "What good are you to anyone if you work yourself into a collapse?"
I hate that she’s right. The room spins slightly as I shift position, proving her point. "How long until I can get back out there?"
"Both of you, please." The last thing I need is them tag-teaming me with guilt. "I get it. I’ll take care of myself." freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
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