Spark of Healing
I dabble a little in a lot of things — writing, webcomics, gaming, photography, web design, music, and more. I write code full-time and words in the gaps in between.
The Archangel of Sparks.
Malika had heard of this, but she had never actually witnessed it. She had never been a devout follower of the Church, and her local vicar had never, to her knowledge, before summoned an aspect of any of the three Archangels. He has been all about the bluster and less about the miracles.
But here was a true miracle right before her eyes.
The one called Merall touched her shoulder, and pain flared so that she almost screamed. She refused to succumb, however, though a whimper did escape her lips.
"Your shoulder is dislocated, child," the magistrate said. "I will need to reset it." He paused. "I'm afraid this will hurt, but the Spark will help."
He touched the Spark to her shoulder and pushed it into her dislocated joint, gently but persistently. He was right. It did hurt, but not as badly as she feared. Even so, when she heard the joint pop back into place, she very nearly passed out.
The dizziness passed quickly and Malika looked to the magistrate.
"Thank you," she said.
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