one last breath

His mother hadn't exaggerated when she had spoken so proudly of Xanilov's healing knowledge. It didn't take more than a moment of study before the old man recognized the purpose of several of the plants. Cassiel's jawline firmed, but his voice came out in a surprisingly gentle tone. "Yes." He breathed their medicinal scents, and closed his eyes. "Yes, they are." His mismatched eyes opened again, and met Xanilov's own, locking their gazes together in understanding. One healer to another. He had watched his mother die slowly, and agonizingly, and he hadn't been able to save her. He had known there was nothing he could do. And even then, he could not bring himself to take away her pain in the last way he'd known how. He had no love for this man, but Cassiel was not evil. This man had sired him, and his mother had loved him, as much as she'd loved anyone. He couldn't watch him die slowly and alone and do nothing. "They'll stop the pain," he repeated, ever so gently.