"Let's make one final check. Are all the surgical preparations complete?" Trisha stood before the operating table in the center of the room, her expression solemn.
Kristoff quickly and methodically counted through the various medical instruments in front of him once more, then said in a low voice, "All the tools are ready."
Lucia stood opposite them and slowly steadied her breathing, feeling the divine power surge through her like a river. She pressed her palm against the runic circuits etched into the operating table and gave a slight nod. "I can channel divine power whenever you're ready."
Trisha took a deep breath. A hint of determination showed in her delicate eyes as she fixed her gaze on the Omen Boy, who lay unconscious and gravely injured on the table. "Then... let's begin."
As soon as she spoke, all traces of hesitation slipped away like water, replaced by the mechanical calm and efficiency she'd shown when treating the Misbegotten earlier. She picked up the nearest perfume bottle with her slender hand. The instant she pulled out the stopper and tipped it over, glittering silver-blue motes fluttered down onto the Omen Boy's chest.
The motes quickly sank into the boy's skin. At the same time, the gray-white sheen that had covered most of his body, as if he'd been petrified, rapidly faded. He suddenly drew in a sharp breath, his chest heaving violently, and fresh blood began to seep from the terrible slash that ran across his chest and abdomen.
"Hemostatic medicine," Trisha said steadily.
Kristoff immediately handed her a clay jar. Trisha quickly cut away the blood-soaked bandages on the Omen Boy's chest with a pair of scissors, then scooped up a heaping spoonful of white powder from the jar and poured it over the mangled wound.
"I used perfume