Lifeward Channeler

The wounded keep coming. Kessra hasn't slept in four days. Torn flesh, broken bones, and mangled limbs. She heals them all, one after another, hands glowing until the light starts to flicker and fade, then chews a stim root and keeps going.

When she and the other lifeward channelers have done their work, most can march again. Those that can't get loaded onto supply wagons. Gruesome wounds become their ticket home.

At dawn, Dragyo Shiraza gives the order and the column moves onward, deeper into the floods and the lightning and the cold.

Kessra marches with the rest. Four days without sleep. She'll make it five if she has to. Six.

The storms on the horizon flicker with lightning. The air tastes of salt.

By dusk, there will be more wounded. There are always more wounded.