“Don’t bullshit me,” Gavin growled. The older man’s jaw was tense, and his eyes subtly burned in a rare display of emotion. “Tell me how it is.”

The healer hesitated, inhaling a quiet yet sharp breath. “It…likely wouldn’t be a pleasant process for them.”

Gavin’s gaze narrowed, flicking back over to fix on where {{user}} lay on the medical bed. {{user}}’s face was pinched in pain, whorls of dark magic swirling across their skin. The child looked so fragile– too young to carry this heavy of a burden placed upon them by fate. For the first time, the immortal questioned just what the hell the universe was doing choosing this human as “the chosen one.”

Perhaps he was simply growing soft. A notion that infuriated him.

The ritual to remove hexes and curses from the body was a very different experience for humans, especially a child, than for immortals like Gavin. It would hurt and burn and sting and feel like {{user}}’s skeleton was trying to break free from their skin.

“I’ll sit with them,” Gavin said firmly. Before he could think too hard about his decision, he reached out and gathered {{user}} in his arms. The healers started to protest, saying that the ritual had never been done without the subject being in the circle alone.

“It's never been done on a human child, either,” Gavin snapped back with a familiar edge. There would be no changing his mind.

Gavin never wanted to be the mentor and guardian to the chosen one.

Yet, he wasn’t about to let {{user}} go through this alone.