Irina Jace's Arc

Chapter 1 of 9

Irina set her satchel down on the weathered table and pulled out three small jars. The woman across from her watched with tired eyes, hands wrapped in stained linen. If the remedy worked, Irina could finally buy materials for a proper traveling cart — one that held both her tinctures and the sketches no guild would value. The woman spoke quietly. "If you can fix this burning, the boxes are yours." She nodded toward the corner where two wooden chests sat, their carved surfaces catching the light. Irina moved closer and lifted one lid. Inside, herbs she'd only seen in old drawings filled compartments — seeds with strange shapes, dried flowers in colors that didn't grow in Duskshade. Her fingers trembled slightly as she closed the lid. She turned back to the woman's wrapped hands and uncapped the first jar. "I'll need to see the skin first," she said. The woman unwound the linen slowly. The burns ran deep, angrier than anything Irina had treated before. She reached for her journal, flipped to a blank page, and started drawing. The charcoal moved across the paper in short strokes, capturing the pattern of blistered skin. Irina had seen heat burns before, but these branched outward like frost on glass. She drew what she saw, not what she expected, and the wrongness revealed itself on the page. Chemical, not flame. The woman shifted, wincing. Irina stopped drawing and looked up. "What touched your hands?" The woman hesitated, then pointed toward a bundle of purple-stemmed plants drying near the doorway. Irina crossed to them and leaned close without touching. The smell hit her — sharp, almost metallic. She'd read about sap burns in one of the damp journals, something about plants from wet ground. She returned to the table and selected the yarrow paste, the one thing she knew would clean without stinging. She applied it carefully to a small patch of burn and waited. The woman's breathing slowed. The redness faded slightly at the edges. Irina drew a question mark in her journal, then began mixing elderflower with creek moss. She had three days to get this right, maybe four. The carved boxes sat in the corner, waiting. Outside, under the old oak trees where the light stayed soft and steady, Irina spread a worn mat on the ground. She needed space to work, to see properly. The woman followed slowly, cradling her hands. Irina arranged her jars on the mat and opened her journal to a fresh page. She drew the woman's hands again, this time adding notes about the purple stems and the metallic smell. The herbs in those boxes could stock a traveling shop for months. She could paint the wagon blue and purple, fill the shelves with remedies and drawings, prove that her way worked without guild approval. But first, the burns had to heal. She applied the elderflower mixture to a wider section of skin and marked the time in her journal. The woman closed her eyes. Irina sat back on her heels and watched the treated area, waiting for the reaction that would tell her if she'd gotten it right.