Chapter Forty-Three : Strings

There was blood all over the place, painting the harp in red. I had multiple cuts on my arms after the elastic wraps came off. Some cuts were deep, lacerating my arteries, and the bleeding sucked off my strength. I couldn't believe that playing the harp could hurt someone so much. The harp undoubtedly craved blood; however, I was close to my ninetieth time pulling those strings, yet there was no sign of any spirit. I could hear my heart pounding so hard as if I was getting chased by a demon in my nightmare. If I failed a few more times, I would lose Caspian. Even at the thought of it, my wolf howled in pain. I felt sick from the constant loss of blood. Athereld got agitated, grasping my state. He impatiently got up, urging the Oracle to stop this battle. "Bailey can't continue like this! Can't you see the wounds created by the harps won't heal? She will die if she loses blood like this. End this battle already. Let me treat Bailey first," Athereld said, making his way toward me,