Drakos moved like a storm cloud to cross the distance between him and the Princess with quick steps, hearing Senchalneeria talking softly in the Feyshan language. He was so focused on the two of them, he almost ran into General Pharos as the man stepped in front of him to hold him up short, expression dark.

Drakos growled once. "Move."

And Pharos growled right back. "Take it from one of the two men that consider themselves her father. Unless you can heal the holes ripped by power, you will have no use right now, and neither one of us will let you come near her. You'd probably prefer to deal with me."

He paused for a moment before narrowing his eyes at the man, baring his teeth and growling again, speaking before he fully thought about what he was going to offer. "I may have something. It restores energy and heals wounds, if you can get the person there in time, it can even prevent death from a mortal injury."

"But power?" Pharos wavered, watching him with a look that said he wanted to believe him, but didn't quite. It chilled Drakos to realize that Pharos was worried enough about the Princess to contemplate trusting him.

It would have to be life or death before he trusted a Vayan with his child, if he had any.

"This much? I don't know. But what's the alternative? Sit and wait to see if she recovers on her own?" Drakos was stubborn, his eyes going to Verana, who seemed barely aware of whatever her father was telling her.

And she appeared to be getting worse.

Outsiders didn't know about it let alone use it, most of the Rulin Court wasn't even allowed access to a resource that had been protected for Rulin Royalty for centuries. Yet here he was, putting his foot down and arguing for something he hadn't realized he supported until the words were out of his mouth.

Though, he did owe the woman his life, twice over. Honour demanded it of him, surely.

"What is it, and what do we have to do?" It was Senchalneeria, turning to look at the two of them, one hand running through Verana's hair. He petted her soothingly, drawing the two of them out of their stalemate of old wounds and mistrust.

"Get out of my way. I do the rest." Drakos' tone was harsh, more a growl than words, though he did appreciate the struggle both of them were going through.

As they both moved to crouch down beside Senchalneeria, the Feyshan looked at him hard. "You expect us to wait here?"

Drakos nodded, frowning as he brushed one hand over Varena's, feeling how cold her skin was, watching her unfocused her gaze, how she wavered, as if drunk. "The fact that I have even mentioned it to anyone who isn't Rulin is beyond comprehension. And the fact that I'm contemplating taking someone outside my High Court is breaking every tradition and protocol I'm aware of. But I will not be followed." He turned to look at both of them, narrowing his eyes. "I owe her my life, she will be safe with me."

Senchalneeria didn't answer, merely turned back to Verana, shifting closer to her, murmuring softly into her ear, she managed a nod and stood with his help. Her eyes raised to Drakos causing him to jerk with shock when he noticed they were pure white. Somehow, she had drained the colour out of her body as well.

He stood as well, glancing to Pharos, then back to Senchalneeria who merely gave him a nod. "Don't make me regret trusting you."

Drakos wasn't sure why that sent a chill down his spine.

Perhaps it was because he had just seen the man kill with a speed and efficiency that would put him at odds to compete with. Perhaps it was the feral look in his eyes, with the desperately worried expression of a man with no other hope. He wasn't sure why he tolerated the tone, being the King of Rulin but he respected it, and the hard look Pharos gave him.

Drakos nodded to them. "When Byzan returns, tell him to come find me. He'll know where I am. If this takes longer than a night, he'll bring you word."

He turned to Verana then, sweeping her into his arms and leaping into the air, shifting his arm behind her back to hold her wings folded to her to reduce drag. He picked up speed as he headed inland, feeling her lapse into unconsciousness. The woman who had held so much power, so much life in her only hours ago, seemed to be fading faster than he could comprehend. Drakos regretted not bringing at least one of them with him, knowing that all he could see were the physical manifestations of her injury.

His imagination called images of power leaking out of her, into a void, like blood would pool out of a massive wound. Did magic power her heart? Or would she merely just never wake up until her body died? Was there a difference?

Drakos flew as fast as he could, doing his best not to think about the growing stillness and cold in Verana during their journey deep into the Rulin mountains. She was smaller than the average Rulin, so even with her armour he wasn't strained in the few hours it took to fly deep into Rulin territory and towards the plateau where a lone cabin stood stark against a field of wildflowers. There were roving patrols of Rulin Guard he had sensed them in the distance and knew they had recognized him, if only because they didn't approach to challenge what he was doing in this place reserved for only a very few Rulin.

He flew over it, continuing until he reached the giant rift in the ground that was the entrance he was looking for. Diving into the underground cave, his eyes quickly adjusted to the dark, wings shifting to control his descent in the enclosed areas.

The air was warm and damp as he dropped onto the cavern floor already misdstep. Drakos walked under the stalactites that guarded the entrance of a large hot spring chamber, the smell of sulphur rising up to greet his nose.

He moved past the first two pools, through an unobtrusive wooden door in the far wall and to the edge of a large pool of warm liquid clay that shifted with the same blood red that was his Kingdom's chosen colour.

Everything here was sacred, it was one of the reasons Rulin had been founded in these mountains. These pools were life to his people. They had been slaves in the cold, life stealing mountains of Vayana, and found their free homes in the healing mountains of Rulin. The Rulin may not have the powers of their enemies, but they did have these places of healing.

"Okay Princess... you're going to have to trust me now." He lowered her to the ground, letting her get her feet, though she swayed in his arms. Verana opened her eyes, though she appeared to be looking at something shoulder as he carefully removed her armour.

Off came her shirt of armour, her heavily armoured boots, weapons belt, bracers, until she was standing in the light under clothes that were soaked with sweat and smelling of whatever smoke she had walked through in that building. He hesitated for a long moment stripping out of his armour and taking his shirt and boots off as he bolstered himself for the next step.

With a sigh, he gave her an apologetic look. "It needs your skin to work."

He didn't know if she could hear him. He hoped that she could, that somehow, when he stripped her of her damp clothing, she knew that he wasn't doing it for anything more than the need to heal her. He was thankful that she wore underclothes, to provide her with some small amount of modesty, though she didn't respond at all. Just kept looking over his shoulder, her expression lost.

Letting out a slow breath, Drakos stepped backwards into the pool and pulled her with him. Within three steps, she was coated in the red healing mud up to her shoulders and her gaze finally turned to him. But the Princess looked through him as if he wasn't even there. As if she was not there with him.

He felt the warm clay surround him, searching out his bruises and muscle pains, soothing his tired back muscles and any injuries that he had not yet allowed himself to pay attention to.

Running his hands over her face and hair, coating her head as lightly as he dared, he watched her eyes close and had to wrap his arms around her to keep her from sinking under completely. He shifted her in the clay, letting her lay out on her back, keeping her only high enough for her to breathe. The red of the clay around them began to fade where it touched her, before more of the dark red bubbled to the surface.

Drakos had seen these pools save lives, had seen warriors on death's door be healed when their skin was coated as well as felt his own minor injuries healed. Only when someone was near death, did the colour shift at all, and he fought the urge to hold Verana closer to him as he watched the swirling patterns of reds and light pinks shifting around the two of them.

Within half an hour, Drakos felt younger than he had in months, feeling his stress and tension draining at the same time he was filled with youthful energy. Watching Verana float there in his arms, completely coated in red and pink mud, he could only hope that whatever was happening, was working.