Reincarnated as a Healer : Why are my powers so filthy?

Zara flinched, just a fraction, her blue eyes flicking to his hand, but she didn't pull away, her calloused fingers still beneath his.

"That's when the curse started," she continued, her voice quieter, raw.

"It didn't just burn my body. It hollowed me out. Took pieces of who I was and twisted them. I ran. Tracked the sorcerer. Killed him. Split his skull with my axe. But the curse didn't break. It clung to me, like it knew I'd never stop running." She paused, her gaze distant, the firelight reflecting in her eyes.

"I've been running ever since. Until I heard about a healer in Eldwood who could break curses."

Leon squeezed her hand, his voice soft but firm. "You didn't deserve that, Zara."

Her eyes met his, really met them, and something shifted—her usual hardness cracked, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through.

"You're too soft, healer," she said, her voice lacking its usual bite, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

"Maybe," he replied, his grin warm, his hand still resting over hers. "But that doesn't mean I'm wrong."

Terya nudged him with her elbow, her smirk returning, her green eyes glinting.

"He's stubborn when he wants to be," she said, her voice playful but warm, her thigh pressing closer against his, her leather top creaking softly.

Zara huffed, her smirk widening, but her fingers curled around Leon's briefly, a silent acknowledgment, her touch lingering before she let go.

"You'll need that stubbornness," she said, her blue eyes steady. "If we're going to survive this place."

Lysette stepped forward, her arms loosening from her chest, her white robe glowing faintly in the firelight.

"There's strength in softness," she said, her voice quiet but resolute, her emerald eyes meeting Zara's. "The Veil doesn't understand that. But we do."

The four sat in silence, the fire crackling between them, its weak light pushing back the crimson mist.

The forest remained still, its whispers muted, the blood-weeping trees standing like silent sentinels.

Leon looked at Zara, his voice barely a whisper. "We'll help you break it. I promise."

Her blue eyes softened, her fingers brushing his once more, a quiet promise of trust forming.

For the first time since entering the Bloodweave, the air felt lighter, the weight of Zara's real past shared among them, binding them closer as they faced the enclave ahead.

__________

Night fell like a black-lacquered veil over the Bloodweave, coating the glade in shadows thick with ancient hunger.

The crimson mist licked at their ankles, heavy and wet, curling like tongues around the stones.

Blood-weeping trees loomed above, their bark pulsing, sap dripping like molten rubies, leaves shivering with unshed moans.

The red moon hovered, fat and watching, its light bathing the forest in a sickly glow.

The whispers of the Crimson Veil slithered through the air—You'll fail them. You always do—their voices a venomous caress in Leon's ears.

Leon sat slouched on a moss-covered stone, his body trembling, his linen shirt clinging to his sweat-soaked chest.

His magic flickered like a dying candle, the day's battles—shadow-beasts, sorcerers, the Veil's relentless pressure—draining him to a hollow shell.

His palms sparked faintly with dying embers of light and wind, his reforged dagger heavy at his belt.

He was magic-sick, the weight of Vyrneth gnawing at his resolve, Boren's betrayed gaze haunting his thoughts.

Terya stepped into the glade, moving like a storm with skin, her hips swaying, her boots brushing aside the mist as if it feared her.

Her leather armor clung like a second skin, sweat-slicked and glinting from the last clash, her blonde hair catching the moonlight.

Her green eyes fixed on Leon, hungry, playful, electric, a spark of mischief cutting through the forest's gloom.

She approached without hesitation, her fingers lifting his chin, her touch warm, commanding.

Her lips crashed into his—soft at first, then hard, devouring, demanding.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth, dragging a moan from his throat, a secret pulled from deep within.

"You're shaking again," she purred against his lips, her voice low, sultry, her breath hot. "That won't do."

Leon swallowed hard, his voice catching. "Terya—"

Before he could finish, her fingers were at his trousers, popping the ties with ruthless ease, tugging them open.

His cock sprang free, half-hard, twitching with reawakening power under her gaze.

Terya pushed her own pants down just far enough, her slick folds gleaming in the moonlight, glistening with need.

"No time for foreplay," she murmured, straddling him, her thighs strong and warm. "I'm the foreplay."

She sank onto him with a single, hungry motion, her pussy wrapping around his cock like molten velvet, slick and pulsing.

Leon gasped—loud, wrecked—his hands gripping her hips as she claimed him, her breasts pressing into his chest, firm and soft, nipples stiff beneath her leather top.

He groaned, his fingers sliding up her back, then down, clutching her ass, guiding her grind.

Terya moved—slow at first, rolling her hips in lazy, taunting circles, her green eyes locked on his, her lips parted in a feral grin.

"You like that?" she whispered, her teeth grazing his earlobe, nipping softly, then harder.

"You feel how fucking wet I am for you?" Her voice was a low growl, dripping with need, her pussy clenching around him with every word.

Leon couldn't speak, could only groan, his hips bucking helplessly into her.

Her fingers threaded into his hair, pulling his head back to bite his throat—soft, then hard, leaving a faint mark.

Her other hand dragged his up to her chest, pressing it against her breast.

"Touch me," she demanded, her voice thick with desire.

He obeyed instantly, his hand cupping her breast, fingers squeezing through the thin leather, feeling her nipple harden under his touch.

Terya moaned, loud and feral, yanking her armor down, baring her full breasts, glistening with sweat.

Leon took them in both hands, her flesh warm and supple, nipples pebble-hard against his palms.

She kissed him again, rough and sloppy, her tongue claiming his, her hips grinding harder, wet sounds echoing off the stones.