A little over a year has passed since my incident.
Though my arm has mostly recovered, it will never be the same as it was. The high output of mana essentially destroyed all of the tissue it came into contact with, leaving the skin from my elbow down scarred like that of an extreme burn victim. Even now it still feels tight at times when I use my hand, but I at least gained back most of my mobility.
It is only thanks to madam Hestia, Finn's grandmother, that I was able to escape with as little long term damage as I did. She has continued to give me checkups and place various concoctions on the damaged skin in hopes that it could help restore some of the feeling and elasticity that I lost.
Today was one of those checkups. Oftentimes she would come to our home but my mother informed me that she requested I go to her home this time around. Not that I minded, I could never hope to repay what she did to help me, so a small walk to the edge of the village where she lived was no issue.
Her and Finn lived together in an old hunting cabin near the rainforest. A location which made it rather convenient for gathering the various wild materials she would use in her work. I would know. After what happened I had started to go and help Finn collect her ingredients. Initially I wanted to help pay back what she had done, but now it was becoming like a hobby. I never knew just how captivating herb craft could be.
When I arrived, I knocked gently against the splintering wooden door before being greeted by Finn. His face and blond hair were littered with the residue of soil. He had no doubt just come back from gathering.
"Morning Finn" I smiled lightly
"Morning Sennin" he replied "Grandmother is just finishing up on your salve" he ushered me in closing the door behind us. The inside of the cabin was a mix of old wooden support beams and stone walls. There was a rather large stove in the middle of the room that was always burning with various pots full of different concoctions on top. The ceiling was covered in bundles of hanging herbs in various stages of drying, the walls lined with shelves that held pots of roots and powders.
Standing at a wooden counter was Hestia. An old but spry woman on all accounts. Her face was wrinkled and her gray hair was always tied up, showing off her pointed ears that were pierced with various stones and metal clasps. With deep blue eyes like her grandson she gave off a mystic look to say the least.
"Oh welcome in dear" she uttered as she continued to grind a pestle "Please, please, take a seat at the table. I'm nearly done."
As I followed her instructions Finn made his way beside her "Is there anything I can get grandmother?"
"Oh yes yes, the salve brushes my child"
"Of course" he nodded confidently as he hastily disappeared into the back room. Finn was always kind and prompt in assisting her. The bond they shared was clearly a special one. I'm not sure what happened to Finn's parents. Like me and my mother, it had always just been the two of them.
"Alright now" she muttered, placing the pestle to the side as she slowly walked over carrying the mortar now full of a greenish yellow goop. I'm not sure what exactly it was made of, but it had an almost sticky texture and emitted an incredibly earthy odor.
She pulled up a chair and sat beside me. "How has it been my dear" she asked with a soft voice
"Better than I could have ever hoped for." I answered gratefully. "The tightness is still there but it does not hurt at all.".
"Good, it is as expected then."
Finn re-emerged holding a small cluster of brushes made from horse hair. She gently took one and rubbed it into the salve before lifting my hand with hers and painting on the paste. "In time your feeling should slowly begin to return. Though never like it was of course." Her vision remained fixed on my arm as she worked.
After some time my entire arm and hand was coated. "We will allow it to dry before you go on your way." she explained as she put the mortar off to the side and handed Finn the brush, which he promptly went to return to its place.
"I still cannot believe how much has healed. After the fire I was worried I may never be able to use my hand again".
The story my mother had crafted and told everyone was that while trying to add logs to our stove, the arrangement of wood had collapsed trapping my arm in the coals. Though she still won't elaborate as to why, she remains adamant that no one becomes aware of the fact we are involved in any practices of magic or its study.
Hestia let out a soft chuckle in reply
"What's funny" I inquired confused
"Oh nothing, I merely remembered that I forgot to have Finn gather something."
"Finn child" she called out to which he came running
"Yes grandmother?"
"I seem to have lapsed on my list this morning. Would you please go fetch me a sea lily? They should be in bloom near the harbor across town."
"Yes, of course!" He eagerly nodded before snatching his satchel and darting to the door "See ya Sennin" he smiled and waved as he rushed out, leaving the two of us behind.
"What healing properties do sea lilies have?" I excitedly asked
"None" she answered plainly with a smirk "But they do serve as a great way to stall for time don't they?".
I sat perplexed as she went and barred the door.
On her way back to the table she began to ask "Do you know how many burns I have treated? All of the children that have touched hot coals, all of the men that have fallen into campfires after indulging themselves in alcohol."
"It must be countless" I replied, unsure of why she was asking.
"Countless" she repeated back as she sat down across from me "Yes, that is a good way to word it. So many blisters, so many charred bits of flesh. Yet never a wound from the inside out. Never a wound like yours.".
I felt my blood run cold. "Wh-what do you mean?"
She stared back at me with a blank face before lifting her hand and placing a shard on the table. My stomach dropped as I immediately recognized the iridescent light it reflected. It was a piece of the quartz Lirael had given me.
"Do you know what this island is Sennin?" she asked, her voice losing its usual warmth.
I hesitated, then offered the best answer I could muster. "It's our home?"
"It's a prison"