“He is dying, we have to do something!” Lucille screamed, her hands to her mouth, having a front row view of Fayot jerking and spurting foam from his mouth. 

Freya’s hand was on his chest, heating and thumping softly whilst she muttered words that were not intelligible to the people around her except to those with the innate magic. 

Aiden and the other ancients surrounded the both whilst they chanted healing ancient music that was meant to keep the soul in the body and preserve the both. The rest of the hall stood in the agape, wondering what next would happen. 

Agrip watched on furtively, wishing he still had one...