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Witira would never admit it, she would take it to her grave as her greatest secret, she would make sure she died without telling anyone, not even her father.
But at that moment, whenk had to be tied to a table, when her powers and strength were completely nullified for the safety of others, when her skin was cut to allow the antidote to act immediately and effectively, she feared for her life. She feared for her brother who held her hand, for her friend who seemed ready to act if anything went wrong, for her savior who stroked her hair telling her everything was going to be okay, for her allies who had done so much to get the ingredients and for her own tribe for supporting her in her desire to magically recover, so she could continue on the battlefield.
It was an irrational fear, it was the pure instinct of a giant becoming small out of nowhere, it was only a temporary scare, but she had hated it. That, however, was something else that no one needed to know in this life.