Stella... just like she had once told Aether... was never really good at healing.
She didn't have the natural gift, the divine touch that others carried with pride. That much she always knew deep in her heart. Her healing spells took far longer to mend even a single scratch than any of her peers, and the gap only grew wider with time.
It was humiliating.
This lack of ability held her back from advancing in power, status, or recognition. While others were praised and promoted, she remained where she started—just a humble Temple Follower and an Assistant Healer.
Nothing more.
Every night, she cried quietly into her pillow, muffling her sobs so no one could hear. Wounded people passed her by, choosing other healers even when she offered her services for free. She would sit there, hands trembling, smiling gently through the rejection while her stomach twisted in hunger.
Some nights, she didn't even have rations to eat.
