The chamber shook as the blood on the altar pulsed violently, drawn to Olivia's body like smoke to flame. The red mist thickened, swirling around her, as if tasting her magic and then breaking it.
Below the altar, the witch's hands moved swiftly from one wounded girl to the next. She pressed her trembling palms to their wrists, pouring ancient healing spells into their veins. The girls twitched and cried out weakly, then fell into unconsciousness as the blood stopped seeping from their wounds. Their bodies grew still.
"Faster," Rhistel muttered, guarding her with blade in hand, cutting down any who dared approach. "How many more?"
"Just two!" the witch gasped, already moving to the next girl. Her skin was turning pale from the effort. "Their blood must stop flowing, or Olivia will be consumed."
