Chapter 36
Kelan awoke before dawn with his resolve from the night before still firm: he would dedicate himself to healing. In the predawn hush of the dormitory, he donned his simple academy tunic and took a moment to meditate, steadying his mind as he breathed in the familiar scents of straw and wool. I will use my gift only to mend, he told himself, letting the thought settle as the first pale light crept through the high window.
He reached the dining hall early, hoping to avoid curious stares. Kelan filled a bowl with warm barley porridge, took a crust of bread and a mug of chicory-root brew, and sat at the end of a long table. The simple meal was warm and filling. Partway through, he noticed Sera entering with a gaggle of her friends. She noticed him and waved. Kelan managed a small smile and a polite nod, then returned to his porridge. He couldn't afford distractions—not now.
After finishing his breakfast and returning his dishes, Kelan crossed the courtyard toward Master Zujan's chambers. The morning air was crisp on his face. From the practice yard came distant shouts and the thwack of wooden staves as other students sparred, but Kelan's route veered toward a smaller chamber off the main hall—Master Zujan's domain.
Inside, Master Zujan awaited him. Shelves of books and jars of dried herbs lined the walls, filling the air with a musky herbal scent. On a central table lay a ceramic bowl of water, a few small pebbles, and a piece of raw chicken flesh atop a clean cloth. The silver-haired instructor inclined his head in greeting as Kelan entered.
"Good morning, Kelan," Zujan said warmly.
"Good morning, Master," Kelan replied, bowing his head respectfully. His heart was already thumping with anticipation at the sight of the setup.
Zujan gestured for Kelan to join him by the table. "Today we begin melding your telekinesis with your scanning, as we discussed. You are certain this is the path you want—healing above all else?"
"Yes, Master," Kelan said firmly. "I want to use my abilities to heal, nothing more."
Zujan regarded him with a measured smile. "Admirable. Many with our gifts choose destructive displays. But remember, even a healer must understand the ways of harm. A surgeon's knife cuts to mend; creation and destruction walk hand in hand." He picked up one of the pebbles between his thumb and forefinger. "Now, let's test your control. Lift this pebble – and while you hold it aloft, use your scanning sense to tell me what lies at its core."
Kelan focused on the pebble. He envisioned an invisible hand – an extension of his will – cupping the small stone. Gently, he lifted it from Zujan's fingers. As it hovered a foot above the table, Kelan sent out a tendril of his mind to probe the pebble's interior. It was difficult to split his focus; the pebble wobbled slightly in the air. Still, he managed to sense a grainy structure of fused tiny crystals. "I feel quartz and sand compacted together," he reported softly, brow furrowed in concentration.
The pebble dipped as his control wavered, but he caught it before it fell. Zujan reached out and plucked the pebble from the air, allowing Kelan to relax. "Good. Dual concentration is never easy at first, but you did passably. We'll refine that. Now, for the next challenge…"
He pointed to the ceramic bowl. "There's fine sand settled at the bottom of this water. Stir the water with your telekinesis without disturbing the sand. Use your scanning to guide the finesse of your touch."
Kelan peered into the bowl and nodded. He extended his will into the water while sensing the gritty layer of sand at the bottom. On his first attempt, he swirled the water too quickly. Sand swirled up in a cloudy plume. He immediately stilled the water, cheeks hot with embarrassment.
"Too much force," Zujan observed quietly. "Try once more—gentler. Feel the difference between the water's resistance and the sand's weight."
Kelan drew in a slow breath and tried again. This time, he coaxed the water into a slow circulation, like stirring soup with an invisible spoon. He kept part of his mind attuned to the sand at the bottom. A few grains trembled but remained mostly in place as a faint vortex formed in the bowl. After a half-minute of controlled stirring, he let the water still itself. Only a few flecks of sand drifted up before resettling.
A thin sheen of sweat had formed on Kelan's brow from the careful effort. Master Zujan nodded, a hint of approval in his dark eyes. "Better. Healing will demand that same delicacy. Too little force and the job is undone; too much and you cause damage. Remember this balance."
Finally, Zujan lifted the cloth to reveal the chunk of raw chicken. He pressed a pebble into the fleshy tissue, embedding it deep. "For our last exercise, consider this your patient's flesh with a foreign object lodged inside. Use your scanning to locate it and telekinesis to remove it without further harming the flesh."
Kelan swallowed – this felt markedly more intense than moving water or a stone. He held his hands above the meat and closed his eyes to concentrate. Immediately, his mind's sense was filled with the texture of muscle and sinew, dense and moist. He searched for the solid hardness of the pebble within. There – just an inch in. Keeping that fix in his mind, Kelan carefully probed with telekinesis, imagining a tiny pair of forceps pinching the pebble.
He found it and began to pull. The pebble moved, but suddenly the surrounding flesh resisted and tore slightly. A trickle of red blood oozed out onto the cloth. Kelan opened his eyes with a hiss of dismay, as if he'd actually wounded a living being. His stomach turned.
"Steady," Zujan murmured. "It's expected on the first try. Clear your mind and attempt once more."
Kelan exhaled slowly, pushing away the sting of that minor failure. He refocused his scanning, noting how the pebble sat amid the fibers, and realized he'd yanked at an angle. On the second try, he adjusted his mental grip and drew the pebble out along the same path it had entered. This time, it slid free with only a minor tear in the flesh.
Kelan released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and lifted the blood-smeared pebble in the air for a moment before setting it aside.
When the distant bell tower chimed the hour for midday meal, Kelan was surprised by how the morning had flown. He was also starving. Zujan gave a satisfied smile. "We'll stop here for today. You've done well, Kelan. Very well for a first day of focused healing work."
"Thank you, Master," Kelan said, fatigue creeping into his voice. He gently cleaned the table – wrapping up the used meat and disposing of it, washing the bowl, and wiping away the blood. His movements were diligent but unhurried.
Zujan watched the cleanup with a subtle nod. "Go get some lunch and rest. We'll continue tomorrow morning."
Kelan left the chamber and stepped out into the bright midday sun. His limbs felt heavy, and a faint ache throbbed in his temples from the prolonged concentration. Yet he was quietly proud. This work was hard – harder than any combat drill or illusion practice had been – but it felt worthwhile.
In the dining hall, a noisy crowd of students was already digging into their meals. Kelan joined the line and soon had a bowl of hearty lentil stew and a hunk of brown bread. Glancing around, he saw most tables filled with chatter. A few familiar faces cast odd looks and whispered – news of his special training must have spread. Ignoring the prickle of self-consciousness, Kelan found a seat at the far end of a bench, apart from the clusters of others.
He ate in silence, the savory stew warming his belly and restoring his energy. As he was finishing the last of his bread, he sensed someone approaching.
"Kelan," came a soft voice from beside him. He looked up to see Sera standing there with her own lunch basket in hand. Her green eyes were bright with concern. "Hi. I feel like I hardly see you these days."
"I've been busy," he replied, managing a faint smile. "Master Zujan has me training almost constantly now."
She nodded hesitantly. "I heard that you're focusing only on healing magic now. Is that true?"
"It is," Kelan said. He sat up a bit straighter. "I realized that's what I want to do. Use my mind to help people, not hurt them."
Sera's tense expression melted into a warm smile. "That's wonderful. And so like you." A touch of pride laced her tone.
Heat rose to Kelan's cheeks, part embarrassment and part happiness that she understood. "Not everyone agrees. Some think I'm strange for not joining the combat lessons."
"Forget them," she said, almost sharply. "They don't know you like I do."
She took a half step closer, clearly wanting to talk more. He could smell the light lavender soap she favored. Kelan's heart lifted at her support – but out of the corner of his eye he noticed two students at a nearby table casting glances his way. Orben, one of the more combative second-years, was smirking in their direction. A friend leaned in to whisper something, and they both chuckled.
Kelan's brief moment of joy soured. He could imagine the rumors if he lingered – claims that he was dragging her into his "odd" ways or that she felt sorry for him. Worse, they might bother her in his absence.
He cleared his throat and rose abruptly, picking up his empty bowl. "I'm glad you think it's good, Sera. It… means a lot. But I should get going. I still have some reading to do before afternoon duties."
Sera blinked, surprised by his sudden move to leave. "Oh. I—I won't keep you then." She tried to hide her disappointment with a polite smile, but he could hear it in her voice.
Kelan forced himself to meet her eyes for a brief moment. "We'll talk later, alright? Take care."
"Alright," she said quietly. "You too."
Clutching his bowl and spoon, Kelan turned and left before he could second-guess himself. As he walked away, guilt gnawed at him. He hated cutting the conversation short, seeing the hurt in Sera's eyes as he brushed her off. But he told himself it was better this way. Sera deserved a normal academy life, free of any scorn that associating with him might bring.
That afternoon, Kelan buried himself in the library, poring over anatomy charts and healer's journals to reinforce the morning's lessons – and to distract himself from the ache of having pushed Sera away. By dusk, his mind was as exhausted as his body. After a simple supper of boiled eggs and broth eaten alone in a quiet corner, he returned to his dormitory. By candlelight, he jotted notes in his journal about the day's training, reaffirming his conviction that healing was his true path even as Master Zujan's cautionary words about understanding harm echoed in his thoughts. He fell asleep that night with his resolve intact and a hopeful heart, unaware of how soon his ideals would be tested.
Chapter 37
In the days that followed, Kelan settled into a rigorous routine. Each morning he rose before first light for a brief meditation, centering his thoughts on healing. After a solitary breakfast taken in the quietest corner of the dining hall, he reported to Master Zujan's chamber. There, late into the mornings, he practiced and refined his mind-magic techniques. Afternoons were spent in study or assisting with minor duties, and evenings found him poring over anatomy texts or jotting reflections in his journal. It was a full, demanding schedule, but Kelan embraced it wholeheartedly. The steady rhythm of work was a welcome anchor, keeping his doubts and loneliness at bay.
By the end of that week, small signs of progress had begun to show. Kelan's telekinetic touch grew more precise; he could now stir water over sand without lifting a single grain, and guide a pebble through a maze drawn on paper with his eyes closed. His scanning sense deepened as well. During one session, Zujan had him identify slight fractures in a collection of dried bones without looking – an exercise Kelan passed after a few attempts, feeling out the fine hairline cracks with his mind. Each success, however modest, bolstered his confidence.
Yet outside the safety of Zujan's chamber, Kelan's newfound focus set him further apart from his peers. He often caught murmurs when he walked by in the corridors. In the dining hall, classmates who once shared jokes with him now kept their distance or fell silent when he approached. A few, like Orben and his close friends, made no secret of their disdain. One afternoon, as Kelan passed a group lounging by the courtyard fountain, he distinctly heard Orben's voice: "Playing nursemaid with magic tricks now, is he?" followed by a round of chuckles. Kelan kept his eyes forward and pretended not to hear, though the words burned in his ears.
He tried to shrug off the incidents. After all, he told himself, what mattered was mastering his calling, not winning popularity. Still, in quieter moments, he couldn't help but feel the sting of isolation. He missed the camaraderie he once had, however superficial it might have been. Most of all, he missed Sera's easy companionship. He saw her seldom – just a glimpse in an alchemy lecture or across the yard during drills. Whenever their eyes met by accident, Kelan quickly looked away and busied himself, and Sera did not approach him again after he had hurried off the last time. She gave him space, and he told himself that was for the best. More than once he'd seen her laughing with her circle of friends, seemingly at ease, and he reminded himself that she deserved that normalcy.
Late one morning, Master Zujan had a different kind of lesson planned. "Today we'll apply your skills to a living subject," he announced as Kelan arrived, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow from his earlier practice drills.
Kelan's pulse quickened. He had been practicing on inanimate objects and raw meat for days – the prospect of helping a living being was both exciting and daunting. "A living subject, Master?" he echoed.
Zujan gestured for Kelan to follow him out of the chamber. They walked together down a covered walkway that led toward the Academy's small infirmary. "Nothing too complicated," Zujan assured as they went. "An opportunity has arisen. One of the apprentices in the smithy burned his forearm yesterday. A mild but painful injury. I've offered our assistance."
They entered the infirmary – a modest set of rooms smelling of herbal salves and clean linen. Sunlight streamed through high windows onto two cots. On one sat a burly youth about Kelan's age, his face drawn in a grimace. A red, blistered burn stretched across his left forearm. An older nurse stood beside him, grinding some leaves in a mortar, likely to make a poultice.
Master Zujan greeted the nurse softly and introduced Kelan to both her and the injured apprentice, whose name was Rian. Rian eyed Kelan with a mix of curiosity and skepticism – clearly he hadn't expected someone so young to be involved in his treatment.
Zujan laid a gentle hand on Rian's shoulder. "My student here has a talent for healing. We'd like to try easing that burn with his methods, if you're willing."
Rian nodded, trying to be brave though pain etched lines around his mouth. "If it can stop this from hurting, I'll try anything, sir."
The nurse stepped back, watching intently. Kelan took a steadying breath and knelt beside the cot so he was level with Rian's arm. Up close, the burn looked angry: skin red and taut, with a few small blisters. The heat of inflammation wafted against Kelan's scanning sense even before he fully extended it.
"Talk me through what you plan to do," Zujan said quietly, standing at Kelan's back.
Kelan nodded. "First, I'll scan to gauge the damage – how deep it goes, if there's risk of infection. Then I'll use telekinesis at a very slight level to stimulate his tissue and blood flow – promote healing and relieve some pain."
His explanation was as much for Rian and the nurse as for Zujan. The injured apprentice gave a shaky thumbs-up with his uninjured hand. "Just... go ahead."
Closing his eyes, Kelan extended his mind into Rian's forearm. Instantly, a tapestry of sensation filled his awareness: the throbbing heat of the burn, the raw sting in the upper layers of skin, the ebb and flow of blood in vessels beneath. He caught the acrid tinges of damaged tissue, but thankfully the burn was shallow – no tendon or muscle seemed seriously harmed. Kelan heard Rian suck in a breath, and he realized the apprentice likely felt an odd tingle as Kelan's scanning brushed the nerves.
"Easy," Kelan murmured. "I'm just examining it." He gentled his probe, trying to make it as unobtrusive as a breeze over the skin. Rian's face relaxed marginally.
Next came the truly delicate part. Kelan recalled how he had practiced moving water gently, how he had extracted the pebble from flesh with utmost care. He shaped that same careful force now, directing it into Rian's burn. At first, he simply let his presence wash over the inflamed area, like cool water on a flame. Then, gradually, he encouraged blood to flow a bit more briskly around the wound's edges – bringing fresh nutrients, carrying away minor toxins. In tandem, he applied the slightest pressure to the damaged tissues, coaxing the angry cells to calm and begin knitting.
Beads of sweat formed on Kelan's temple from the concentration. The injury was small, but the responsibility enormous – this was no practice dummy, but a living, hurting person. He bit down on his lip, maintaining that gentle, invisible pressure. After a minute or two, he heard Rian exhale a long breath.
"How do you feel?" Zujan asked quietly.
"...Better, I think," Rian replied. The tightness in his voice had eased. "It still hurts, but less. Feels warm – not the burning kind of warm, a good warm."
Encouraged, Kelan continued for another minute. The reddest parts of the burn were slowly cooling to a healthier pink. One of the blisters had even receded a touch, the fluid dispersing as circulation improved.
Finally, Kelan sat back on his heels, carefully withdrawing his mind from Rian's arm. He hadn't fully healed the burn – such injuries would still take days to regenerate naturally – but he had jump-started the process and numbed some pain without so much as a salve. The nurse bent over to examine the arm, her eyes widening slightly at the visible improvement.
"This will help my poultice work even better," she remarked, giving Kelan an approving nod. She began gently spreading a herbal paste over the area to protect it and prevent any infection.
Rian flexed his fingers. Though he winced at the remaining soreness, he managed a grateful smile toward Kelan. "Thank you. That... that was incredible. It's like the worst of it just... went away."
Kelan felt a swell of quiet pride. This was what all the arduous practice was for – to ease suffering, even a little. "You're welcome," he said softly. He rose to his feet, noticing that his knees were a bit unsteady. He hadn't realized how tense he'd been.
Zujan thanked the nurse for allowing the experiment, and clasped Rian on the good shoulder. "Take it easy for a few days. The burn will heal faster now. If you have more trouble, send word."
As they departed the infirmary, Zujan walked in silence beside Kelan for a time. Only when they were back in the empty corridor did he speak. "How did that feel, helping him?"
Kelan let out a breath and wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve. "Good. It felt very good, Master. A little frightening, but mostly... I was glad I could do something."
Zujan gave a small nod. "You did well. Rian's recovery will be much quicker thanks to you. Remember this success – and remember also how much focus it required, even for a simple burn in a calm setting."
They slowed to a halt by a stone archway opening onto the courtyard. Through it, students were visible crossing back and forth on daily errands. Kelan could hear distant laughter and the clatter of someone sparring with practice blades. Zujan's voice lowered, meant only for Kelan. "In the wider world, healing often won't take place under ideal, peaceful circumstances. Injuries come with chaos – battle, accidents, panic all around. You must be prepared to work under those conditions too."
Kelan looked down at his hands, recalling their faint tremor as he'd tended to Rian. He tried to imagine performing that delicate art while perhaps people screamed or an enemy lurked. His mouth felt suddenly dry. "I understand," he said quietly, though he wasn't entirely sure he did.
Zujan rested a hand briefly on Kelan's shoulder. "It's not something you need face today. But in time, we will train for that as well." With that, the Master gave a rare, reassuring smile and dismissed Kelan for the midday break.
Walking back toward the dining hall, Kelan felt simultaneously exhausted and elated. The mental effort had drained him, but the memory of Rian's relief was deeply rewarding. For once, as he entered the bustling hall and collected a lunch of vegetable stew and barley bread, Kelan didn't care about the stares or whispers. He found an empty spot and ate with a hearty appetite, letting his mind replay the healing step by step.
But the world around him soon intruded. Orben had apparently heard of the incident already – news traveled fast when anything out of the ordinary happened at the Academy. Kelan realized this when a shadow fell over the table where he sat alone. He looked up to see Orben standing there, arms crossed.
"So," Orben sneered, keeping his voice just loud enough to be heard over the din of the hall, "it's true. You really are playing nurse now. Fixing up idiots who burn themselves."
Kelan's jaw tightened. He set down his spoon carefully. "Rian is not an idiot. It was an accident," he replied evenly. He hoped if he kept his tone calm, Orben would lose interest and leave.
No such luck. Orben's two friends had flanked him, blocking Kelan in on the bench. A hush spread in the immediate vicinity; other students pretended not to watch while clearly eavesdropping. Kelan's stomach sank. The last thing he wanted was a scene.
"What's wrong with you?" Orben pressed, his lip curled in disdain. "Everyone else is out there learning real skills to defend the realm, and you're coddled by Zujan, doing parlour tricks to soothe bruises and burns." He leaned in, lowering his face closer to Kelan's. "You think that makes you special? Makes you better than us?"
Kelan met Orben's glare steadily, though his heart was thumping. "I don't think I'm better than anyone. I'm just following the path I've chosen."
"Ha!" Orben barked a humorless laugh. "Chosen. More like hiding. Afraid to fight, is that it? Too weak to hack it in combat training?"
A few gasps came from the onlookers at Orben's blunt words. Kelan felt heat rise in his face, anger and embarrassment warring within him. He opened his mouth to deny it – he wasn't afraid, he simply didn't want to use his powers to harm. But how could he explain that to someone like Orben?
"I'm not afraid," Kelan said quietly. "I just believe healing is as important as fighting."
Orben rolled his eyes and smacked the tabletop with one broad hand, making the dishes jump. "Important? When some raider or rogue mage is about to spill your guts, what will you do? Heal them to death?" He took a step back and mimed a frightened stance, hands up. "Oh please, let me fix your wounds, kind sir, don't hurt me!" His friends sniggered on cue.
A flush of humiliation swept through Kelan. He clenched his fists under the table to keep from trembling. He knew responding in anger would only spur Orben on, but the taunt bit deep because some part of Kelan feared there was truth to it. What would he do if confronted by violence? Even imagining it sent a chill through him.
Before Kelan could find words, another voice cut through the tense circle that had formed around them. "Leave him alone, Orben," Sera said sharply.
Kelan's eyes darted past Orben to see Sera standing a few paces away, tray in hand and eyes flashing. Around her, a few other students hovered uncertainly, unwilling to intervene but also uncomfortable with the brewing confrontation.
Orben turned his head and sneered, though a slight pink tinged his cheeks at being called out by a girl in front of others. "This isn't your business, Sera. Go back to your friends."
Sera didn't budge. "It is my business when a classmate is being harassed for no reason. Kelan hasn't done anything to you."
"He's an embarrassment," Orben snapped. "Strutting around with special treatment—"
"Enough." Sera set down her tray on a nearby table with a firm thud. "I'd rather have a healer watching my back than a bully at it. You should be thanking Kelan someday, not mocking him. Who do you think will patch you up when you get hurt trying to be a hero?"
A few people murmured in agreement; Orben's friends shifted uneasily. Orben's face contorted with indignation. For a heartbeat Kelan feared Orben might lash out physically at Sera. Kelan rose halfway from his seat, ready to step between them if needed, but Orben just spat on the ground at Kelan's feet.
"Keep your pet out of my way, healer," he snarled at Kelan, jerking his head toward Sera. Then he shouldered past, his two cronies trailing behind.
Kelan stood there, pulse roaring in his ears, hardly believing what had just transpired. The small crowd that had gathered was dispersing now that the entertainment was over. Sera faced him, anger and concern mixing in her expression.
"Kelan, are you alright?" she asked softly, careful to keep her voice low now that the onlookers had gone back to their meals.
He realized his hands were shaking and quickly unclenched them. "Yes. I'm fine. Thank you… for that." He swallowed, his mouth dry. "You didn't have to—"
"Of course I did." Sera frowned. "Someone had to speak up. They had no right."
Kelan's heart ached at her defense of him. This was exactly what he'd hoped to spare her from – being caught in the fallout of his choices. He cast a glance around; though Orben had left, many eyes still flickered their way and hushed voices whispered. Her very public defense of him would surely be the talk of the day.
"Sera…" He lowered his gaze. "I appreciate it. But now they'll start bothering you too."
She lifted her chin. "I can handle a few thick-skulled idiots."
He wished he shared her confidence. Taking a deep breath, Kelan met her eyes. "I know you can. But you shouldn't have to. Not because of me."
"And what do you suggest? That I just watch in silence next time someone tries to humiliate you?" Her tone held frustration now. "Kelan, I care about you. I won't pretend I don't just to appease bullies."
His chest tightened. How had things turned so that she was in this position because of him? He half-raised a hand as if to reach out to her, then let it drop. "Maybe it's better if… if we don't interact so publicly," he said, the words tasting bitter. "At least for a while. Let the gossip die down."
Sera stared at him, hurt evident on her face. "That's what you want? To hide from everyone, including your friends? Including me?"
"It's not what I want," Kelan murmured. "It's what might be safest for you."
She shook her head slowly. "I don't need your protection from rumors, Kelan. Don't you see? Pushing people away will only leave you isolated and them thinking the bullies were right."
Kelan's shoulders slumped. Deep down, he knew she was right in principle. But he also saw how the others looked at her now – some with respect for speaking out, perhaps, but others with the same scorn they held for him. Guilt gnawed at him. "I can't let you sacrifice your standing for me."
Sera's eyes glistened as she gathered her tray to her chest, her knuckles white. "You're not letting me do anything. I choose who I stand by." Her voice wavered, and she took a step back. "If you want to shut out everyone who cares about you, that's your choice, Kelan."
He opened his mouth, desperate to explain himself better, but no words came. What could he say? He had no solution, only the grim belief that being alone was the price he had to pay to spare others.
Sera waited a moment, as if hoping he might contradict her. When he didn't, she turned away, wiping at one eye with the back of her hand. Kelan watched her walk off to rejoin a cluster of students near the hall entrance. One of her friends put an arm around her shoulders, casting Kelan a reproachful look.
Kelan sank back down onto the bench. The remainder of his stew had gone cold, forgotten. He felt sick, far worse than when Orben had been taunting him. He pushed the bowl aside.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Kelan attended his afternoon classes in a numb state, speaking only when required. A few classmates offered him awkward nods – perhaps out of sympathy or simply acknowledging the confrontation they'd witnessed – but Kelan felt too hollow to respond with more than a faint smile.
That evening, he skipped the dining hall entirely. Instead, he headed to an empty practice room in the far wing of the academy where old training dummies and targets were stored. If he was going to reject Sera's advice and distance himself, he reasoned, then he had better make the sacrifice worthwhile by doubling down on his training.
By lamplight, Kelan ran through his exercises in solitude. He levitated multiple pebbles in complex patterns until his head ached. He scanned his own body, mapping the steady beat of his heart, the slow expansion of his lungs, pushing his awareness to the threshold of discomfort to deepen his familiarity with living tissue. He even attempted to form a protective barrier of telekinetic force around himself – a basic defensive technique he recalled from earlier classes – though his strength in that was middling at best. Each drill he pushed until sweat drenched his back and his limbs trembled.
At last, near midnight, Kelan slumped against the wall, utterly spent. The practice room was silent save for his ragged breathing and the occasional drip of condensation from the ceiling. In that loneliness, he faced the feelings he'd been trying to drown in work: the ache of missing Sera's companionship, the lingering humiliation from Orben's words, and beneath it all the fear that perhaps he was making a terrible mistake by closing himself off.
He wiped his face with a sleeve and forced those thoughts aside. Focus on what you can control, he told himself. He would become the best healer he could be. He would prove with action that his path was just as valid as any battlemage's. And if the cost was personal loneliness, then so be it.
Eventually, Kelan dragged himself back to his dormitory. The other apprentices were asleep, and he slipped into bed silently. His body was exhausted, but his mind churned, replaying Sera's parting words and Zujan's warnings about chaotic situations. Somewhere in between those thoughts, he realized that despite everything, he did not regret defending his choice to Orben. He only regretted that Sera had been hurt in the process.
Staring at the dark ceiling, Kelan vowed that come morning he would apologize to her properly, even if he still intended to keep his distance afterward. Perhaps he couldn't be her close friend right now, but he owed her honesty at least. With that resolve bringing a measure of uneasy peace, he closed his eyes.
Sleep came slowly and was filled with restless dreams – dreams where he stood alone trying to mend a wounded bird while distant voices jeered at him. But through it all, he held the bird gently, shielding it from harm as best he could, determined not to let it die.
Chapter 38
Dappled morning light danced on the mossy forest floor as Kelan carefully stepped over a tangle of roots. Master Zujan led the way along a narrow trail, and a short distance behind trailed Orben, posture rigid and eyes scanning the trees. The three of them had set out at dawn on a field excursion to gather rare healing herbs, but Kelan suspected there was more to this trip. It was unusual for Zujan to include a combative student like Orben on a simple herb-gathering errand.
Kelan adjusted the strap of the satchel slung over his shoulder, already half-filled with waxy green marleaf and bright yellow celandine blossoms they'd collected in a meadow earlier. The silence among the trio was broken only by birdsong and the occasional rustle of a small animal in the underbrush. Orben hadn't spoken to Kelan since they left the Academy gates. After the confrontation in the dining hall a couple of days ago, any camaraderie between them was nonexistent. Still, Kelan was grateful that Orben at least kept his barbs to himself now, even if his discontent showed in the occasional glare at Kelan's back.
"Up ahead," Zujan called softly, pausing and pointing his walking stick toward a sunlit glade visible through the boughs. "That's where we should find bloodfern."
Kelan nodded and quickened his pace to join the master at the front. The prospect of finding bloodfern – a fern with crimson-veined leaves prized for poultices – brightened his mood. Zujan had mentioned it was the last item they needed before heading home. By Kelan's reckoning, they were at least two hours' walk from the Academy, near lands that were less tended and occasionally frequented by bandits or wild creatures. Perhaps that explained Orben's presence as a guard.
They stepped into the glade, where golden mid-morning light poured down unobstructed. Sure enough, among the gnarled roots of an oak, Kelan spotted a cluster of dark green ferns with red-marbled fronds. "There," he said quietly, pointing it out.
Zujan smiled. "Excellent eyes." He beckoned Kelan to harvest them. "Orben, keep watch, please."
While Orben moved to the edge of the clearing, hand resting on the hilt of the long belt knife he'd brought, Kelan knelt by the oak's roots. He took out a small trowel and carefully began to loosen the soil around the base of one bloodfern plant. The fern was stubborn, its roots clinging deep. Kelan leaned in, using a touch of telekinesis to gently pry where his fingers couldn't reach. At last, the plant came free with its root network mostly intact. He laid it on a square of burlap.
Just as he reached for the next fern, a flicker of motion at the periphery of his vision made him freeze. In the same instant, Orben's voice rang out in a sharp warning. "Who goes there?!"
Kelan's head snapped up. Emerging from the trees on the opposite side of the glade were three rough-looking men clutching weapons – bandits. The lead figure, a shaggy-bearded man with a rusted short sword, stepped forward.
"Well now," the bandit drawled with a crooked grin, "what have we here? A learned old man, a whelp, and..." his gaze fell on Orben's sturdy frame, "...another whelp. Far from home, aren't you?"
Master Zujan straightened, his hand calmly resting atop the wooden staff he carried. "We are travelers gathering herbs. We have nothing of value except maybe a few coppers," he said evenly. "We wish no trouble."
The bandit chuckled, advancing a few steps while his companions fanned out. One held a long cudgel, the other a dagger that glinted in the light. "Hear that? They wish no trouble." He spat on the ground. "Unfortunately, we do. Hand over those packs and any coin, and maybe we'll let you crawl back to whatever hole you came from."
Kelan's mouth went dry. He silently rose from his kneel beside the oak, moving closer to Zujan. Orben had drawn his knife, his muscles coiled to spring. The tension in the glade was taut as a drawn bowstring.
Zujan inclined his head, voice still composed. "If we give you what we have, will you let us go peacefully?"
The bearded man sneered. "Maybe. Or maybe we carve you up anyway for sport." With that, he lunged without warning.
Chaos exploded in the glade. The lead bandit rushed at Zujan with sword raised. In a blink, Zujan sidestepped with surprising agility for his age and swept his staff upward. There was a crack like a whip as the staff met the bandit's forearm, sending the sword clattering away. Kelan barely saw more because the other two bandits charged straight toward him and Orben.
Orben bellowed a wordless challenge and met the cudgel-wielding thug head on. Metal clanged against wood as Orben's knife intercepted the cudgel's swing. The two men crashed together, grappling and shoving.
The third assailant – a wiry man with a dagger – made straight for Kelan, eyes wild. For a heartbeat, Kelan's mind went blank with fear. He had no weapon drawn, only his satchel and digging tool at his feet. The bandit's dagger slashed viciously in an arc. Kelan jerked backwards, stumbling over the oak's roots. The blade missed his chest by a hair, instead slicing through the strap of his satchel. Bottles and bundled herbs spilled onto the ground.
The man snarled and lunged again, clearly aiming to stab Kelan rather than just threaten. Kelan scrambled back on hands and feet, desperately throwing out his free hand. React, use your power! his mind screamed. He had trained his whole life with telekinesis – moving objects, sensing hidden things. Now that instinct kicked in. As the bandit closed in, Kelan flung out his will in a burst of raw force, like an invisible wave.
The impact caught the dagger-wielder in the midriff. One moment the man was looming over Kelan, the next he was hurtled backward as if yanked by a giant unseen hand. He slammed into the trunk of a birch tree with a sickening thud and collapsed to the ground, his dagger flying from limp fingers.
Kelan stared, chest heaving. He hadn't meant to push that hard. A mix of relief and horror flooded him. The bandit lay motionless where he had fallen, crumpled at the base of the tree. Kelan's stomach churned – was the man dead or simply unconscious? From the awkward angle of his neck, Kelan feared the worst.
A cry of pain tore his attention back to the melee. Orben and the cudgel-armed bandit were still struggling just a few yards away. Orben had managed to score a shallow slash across the bandit's shoulder, but now the larger outlaw had clubbed Orben's knife from his hand. As Orben reeled, the bandit punched him hard in the gut, doubling him over.
Without thinking, Kelan acted. His blood pounded in his ears as he focused on the cudgel itself. With a swift flick of his mind, he ripped the wooden weapon sideways out of the thug's grasp and sent it flying into the bushes. The bandit gaped in confusion, and Orben, seizing the moment, drove his fist into the man's jaw. The outlaw crumpled to the forest floor beside his fallen weapon, groaning.
By the old oak, the lead bandit with the sword had recovered enough to snatch up a fallen branch and swing it at Zujan. But before he could land a blow, he froze in place, limbs trembling. Kelan saw Zujan standing a few paces away, one hand outstretched and eyes fixed on the attacker. The bandit's face contorted as if he were straining against invisible bonds. Then Zujan made a sharp twisting gesture with his fingers, and the bandit abruptly collapsed unconscious, the branch dropping harmlessly from his hand.
Silence descended as quickly as the violence had erupted. Three bandits lay on the ground – one utterly still against the birch, one groaning and semi-conscious on the grass, and one out cold by Zujan's doing. The whole skirmish had lasted mere seconds, but Kelan felt as if he had run miles. His heart thundered; every muscle in his body was taut and shaking.
Orben was on his knees, wheezing and clutching his stomach where he'd been hit. Zujan hurried to him first. "Easy, you'll be alright," the master said, placing a supportive hand on Orben's shoulder. Orben nodded, coughing but otherwise intact.
Kelan pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and stumbled toward them. "Orben – are you badly hurt?" he managed, his voice thick with adrenaline.
Orben looked up, blue eyes wide in a pale face. He shook his head. "Just... got the wind knocked out," he panted. A bruise was already darkening on his forearm and his lip was split, but he seemed otherwise uninjured except for shallow cuts.
Zujan's gaze swept over the clearing, assessing the aftermath. "Kelan, check on the one by the tree," he instructed calmly. Kelan understood: see if the man was still alive.
Legs trembling, Kelan edged toward the wiry bandit he had flung against the birch. The man hadn't moved at all. Kelan knelt and pressed shaking fingers to the side of the bandit's neck, searching for a pulse as Zujan had taught in first aid lessons. Nothing. The body was limp, eyes staring vacantly at the sky. Kelan drew back, bile rising in his throat.
Zujan had come up behind him. The older man placed a gentle hand on Kelan's shoulder. "He's gone, isn't he," Zujan said quietly, more a statement than a question.
Kelan nodded, not trusting his voice. He realized his hand was smeared with blood – where had that come from? A quick glance showed the bandit's head had struck the tree trunk; a dark red patch marred the bark. Kelan's stomach lurched. He scrambled away a few paces and retched into the ferns, bringing up the meager breakfast he'd eaten hours before. The sour taste and painful heaves only underscored the grim reality: he had killed a man.
After a moment, Kelan felt Zujan's hand rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades, comforting and solid. He spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, tears of exertion and shock pricking at his eyes though he tried fiercely to hold them back.
"It's alright, Kelan," Zujan said softly. "Breathe."
Kelan dragged in a ragged breath of pine-laced air and forced himself to stand upright. Orben had made his way over, leaning heavily against a tree. His expression was an uneasy mix of relief and stunned disbelief as he looked between Kelan and the man by the birch.
"You... you saved my life," Orben said hoarsely, directing the words at Kelan. "Both with that... trick and by disarming the other one."
Kelan wasn't sure what to reply. Orben's usual bravado was gone; he looked young and frightened, a far cry from the swaggering bully at the Academy.
Before Kelan could respond, Zujan spoke in a firm but gentle tone. "We saved each other. All of us." He gave Orben a reassuring nod and then turned to Kelan, eyes full of concern. "Kelan, how are you holding up?"
"I... don't know," Kelan answered honestly. His voice shook. "I didn't want to... to kill him. I just reacted."
Zujan squeezed Kelan's shoulder. "He gave you no choice. He would have stabbed you. You acted to protect yourself and Orben."
"But I—" Kelan glanced again at the lifeless form partly hidden in the brush and shuddered. He had never intended to use his abilities to take a life, not even a cruel one.
Zujan stepped into Kelan's line of sight, gently drawing his attention away from the corpse. "Listen to me," he said quietly. "Today you used your power to save lives. Orben could have been gravely hurt, perhaps killed, if you hadn't intervened. I'm sorry it came to this, but you did what was necessary."
Kelan felt a tear escape and run down his cheek. He quickly wiped it with a dirty sleeve, leaving a streak of soil on his face. "All my training... and I never really thought about this," he whispered. "About having to..."
"Having to kill," Zujan finished for him, his tone heavy with understanding. "No one ever truly wishes for that, especially not a healer at heart like you. But sometimes the world forces our hand. A healer's mission is to preserve life, but there are times when ending one life can save many others."
Those words hung in the air. Kelan swallowed hard and took another shaky breath. He recalled the blind fear in that bandit's eyes as he flew backward, the fear he himself had felt when cornered. The bandit would have killed him – of that Kelan had little doubt. And if Kelan had died, what use would all his healing gifts have been? Orben might have fallen next, and even Master Zujan could have been hurt.
"I understand," Kelan said softly, and he realized he truly did, in a way he never had before. His ideal of solely healing and never harming had cracked under the weight of reality. "I didn't want to believe it, but... I understand now why you tried to warn me, Master. Why I might need to... to fight."
Zujan's eyes were sad but proud. "Understanding often comes at a cost. I wish I could have taught you without putting you in danger." He sighed and looked around. The clearing was beginning to feel oppressively still. "We should return. There may be more of them nearby."
Kelan nodded. He moved automatically to gather the scattered herbs and supplies, hands still trembling but determined to focus on the task. Orben silently helped, retrieving Kelan's fallen satchel and the bundled ferns.
In a few minutes, they had collected themselves. Zujan briefly checked the other two bandits – both were alive but unconscious or incapacitated. He dragged them one by one into the shade, away from the bloodfern patch. Orben retrieved his own knife and stood quietly, avoiding looking at the dead man by the birch.
Before leaving the glade, Kelan found himself walking over to Orben. The older boy met his gaze uncertainly. There was a long pause, then Orben cleared his throat. "Kelan... I owe you," he muttered. "If you hadn't done what you did..." He didn't finish the sentence.
Kelan managed a faint, wan smile. "I'm just glad you're alright."
Orben looked as though he might say more, but instead he simply offered a trembling hand. Kelan clasped it. In that brief handshake, muddy and blood-stained as they both were, an understanding passed between them.
Zujan ushered the two students away, and they began the long walk back home. Kelan's legs felt leaden and his soul weighed down, but amid the fatigue there was a grim resolve hardening inside him. The world was not so gentle a place that healing alone could suffice. He had seen it now with his own eyes, felt it in the crack of bones under his power.
As they left the silent glade behind, Kelan silently vowed that he would not abandon his path as a healer – but neither would he allow his ideals to blind him to reality. If he had to fight to protect those he cared about, he would. The realization was bittersweet, but it felt like growth, painful and necessary.
They trudged on in wordless accord. Above the trees, the sun continued its arc, indifferent to the struggles of the people below. And in Kelan's heart, a profound change was taking root alongside the ache: a seed of wisdom gained through ordeal, preparing him for the harder road ahead.
Chapter 39
Kelan rose from a fitful sleep with the previous day's memories still raw in his mind. He steadied himself with a long breath, determined to face the day. He reminded himself that Master Zujan's words were true: it had been necessary.
He went about his morning routine, washing and dressing, feeling the faint bruise on his cheek as a reminder of how much he had changed.
In the dining hall, Kelan did not retreat to a lonely corner as had been his habit of late. Balancing a tray with porridge and tea, he scanned the room. At a table near a window sat Sera with two other students, chatting quietly over breakfast. Kelan's heart skipped with a mix of nervousness and longing. He knew how much he had hurt her by pushing her away. After everything that had happened, he would not continue that mistake.
Squaring his shoulders, Kelan walked toward her table. A hush fell over the small group as they noticed his approach. Sera looked up, green eyes widening in surprise. For an instant he feared she might turn away, but instead she offered a tentative smile and moved aside a stack of books to make room.
"Good morning," Kelan said softly. His voice held a sincerity that hadn't been there in weeks. "May I join you?"
Sera's friends exchanged glances and quietly slid away to give them privacy. Sera tilted her head, studying Kelan. "Of course," she said at last.
Kelan set down his tray and took a seat across from her. Sunlight framed Sera's face, and he could see the remnants of worry in her eyes even as she tried to appear at ease. They ate in silence for a few bites, unsure how to begin.
It was Sera who finally broke the silence. "You look tired," she said gently. "Have you been alright?"
Kelan managed a small smile. Trust Sera to still be concerned about him. "I'm… better now," he replied quietly. "Sera, I owe you an apology. I treated you terribly."
She opened her mouth to protest, but Kelan shook his head and continued. "I pushed you away and I shouldn't have. You were only ever a good friend to me – far better than I deserved. I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong."
Sera's eyes shimmered. She set down her spoon, all attention on him. "Kelan…," she murmured, a note of relief in her voice, "I understand why you did it. I just wish you hadn't shouldered everything alone. You don't have to."
He exhaled, a tension he hadn't realized was still in him releasing. "I know. Or at least, I'm beginning to." He lowered his voice. "There's so much I want to tell you. About what changed my mind."
Sera glanced around; a few nearby students were casting curious looks in their direction – after all, Kelan joining someone for a meal was practically news in itself. She leaned in slightly. "Then tell me later," she said conspiratorially. "Maybe after classes, somewhere quieter?"
Kelan nodded, grateful. "Alright. Maybe the herb garden courtyard after lunch? It's usually empty then."
A true smile blossomed on Sera's lips, the kind he hadn't seen in far too long. "I'll be there."
Later that morning, during a lecture, Kelan even caught Orben giving him a respectful nod. The usual whispers were gone; it seemed his isolation had truly ended.
After the midday class, Kelan made his way to the herb garden courtyard behind the infirmary. The small enclosure was planted with rows of rosemary, chamomile, and other medicinal plants. Even in the cooler autumn air, it smelled pungently of green life and earth. As expected, it was empty at this hour save for a lazy orange cat napping on a stone bench.
Sera arrived shortly after, breathless from hurrying. She had heard he was leaving immediately. Kelan confirmed it, and she tried to put on a brave smile despite the tears in her eyes. Dennor quietly slipped out to give them a private moment.
Kelan drew Sera into a gentle hug. He thanked her for standing by him and promised he would return. Blinking back tears, Sera pressed a blue handkerchief she had embroidered into his hand. "So you won't forget to take care of yourself," she murmured. Kelan vowed to write and assured her this was not goodbye forever.
They parted with the understanding that their renewed friendship – whatever else it might become – was important to them both. Sera left with a bright stride, and Kelan felt an enormous weight lifted from his heart.
In the days that followed, Kelan balanced his healing practice with new defensive drills under Master Zujan's guidance. His confidence grew daily. One afternoon, after Kelan deftly healed a guard's leg wound and demonstrated a solid telekinetic shield against a practice attack, Master Zujan regarded him with quiet pride. "You've learned nearly everything we can teach you here," Zujan said, resting a hand on Kelan's shoulder. It was both praise and a gentle hint that Kelan's time at the Academy was nearing its end.
Later that night, Kelan lay in bed reading an earlier journal entry he had written: to protect and to heal, whatever is required. Change was coming, but for now he was content. He had found a sense of belonging and purpose. Whatever came next, he would face it with the patience and resolve he had earned.
Chapter 40
A crisp breeze drifted through the open windows of Master Zujan's study as Kelan stood waiting, hands clasped behind his back. He had been summoned unexpectedly after breakfast, told only that an important visitor had arrived to see him. Kelan's mind churned with anticipation and a touch of nervousness. He suspected he knew what this was about – Master Zujan had prepared him, in his gentle way, for this moment.
Footsteps and lively humming echoed from the corridor outside. The door swung open before Kelan could move to open it himself. In swept a tall, broad-shouldered man clad in an eclectic patchwork of garments. He wore a long vest embroidered with bright patterns over a plum-colored shirt, with a half-cape jauntily draped on one shoulder. His sandy hair was tied back in a short tail (though a few curls sprang free), and a wide grin spread beneath a neatly trimmed beard.
Master Zujan followed him into the study with a slower gait, a subtle smile on his lips that Kelan recognized as both amused and affectionate. Clearly, this exuberant figure was not a stranger to Zujan.
"Ah, you must be Kelan!" the man boomed in a warm, rich voice as he clasped Kelan's hand in a hearty shake. "Zujan wasn't exaggerating – you've the look of a fine young mage."
Kelan was taken aback, but he couldn't help smiling at the man's exuberance.
"I've no doubt about that. From what I hear, you're dedicated and have a rare instinct for healing." The man released Kelan's hand. "Dennor," he declared. "Just Dennor will do. None of this 'Master' business for me – I left those formalities behind at the Academy ages ago." He winked conspiratorially.
Zujan stepped over to join them. "Dennor was a mentor of mine when I was younger, and a dear friend. He's traveled all across the continent in service of many courts and causes."
"I'm honored to meet you," Kelan said earnestly. He realized this vibrant stranger was to be his new mentor, and a mix of excitement and sadness fluttered in his chest.
Dennor looked Kelan up and down thoughtfully. Kelan felt a gentle probe at the edges of his mind – Dennor was scanning him, though the touch was so deft he barely registered it. The man's eyebrows rose. "Oh ho, a potent well of ability here," he murmured, impressed.
Zujan gently cleared his throat, breaking the moment.
Dennor turned back to Kelan with twinkling eyes. "The important thing, lad, is that I've picked up a trick or two in my travels – and a lot of real-world experience that can't be learned from tomes alone."
"I'm honored, sir – Dennor," Kelan said. It dawned on him that this was the opportunity Zujan had hinted at. This was the next step beyond the Academy's walls. He stole a quick glance at Master Zujan, who gave him an encouraging nod.
Dennor rocked back on his heels. "He did mention you've been through a trial or two. Seen a bit of the ugly side of things already, hmm?"
Kelan met his eyes and nodded somberly. "Yes. Master Zujan likely told you… I had to fight off bandits recently. It taught me a great deal."
Dennor's lively face softened for a moment. "He did mention it, and I can see the experience in you. It changes us, taking on that burden, doesn't it?"
Kelan quietly agreed.
Dennor set his empty teacup aside with a clink. "Well, lad, that's exactly why it's time you come with me. There's only so much you can learn cloistered in these stone walls. Out there –" he jabbed a thumb toward the window, where the courtyard and beyond it the distant road were visible, "– out there is where your mettle will be truly tested and honed. We'll mend broken bones in a storm, argue sense into stubborn nobles, maybe even chase off a wild beast or two. Sound exciting?"
Kelan couldn't help a small laugh of surprise at Dennor's enthusiastic rundown. "It does, actually," he admitted. The sadness at leaving was still there, but Dennor's energy stirred an undeniable sense of adventure in him.
Master Zujan cleared his throat softly, drawing Kelan's attention. The older man's voice was steady as ever, but filled with pride and affection. "Kelan, you have grown immensely here. I could not be prouder of the mage – and the person – you've become. You have a healer's compassion and now the beginnings of a guardian's strength. Under Dennor's guidance, you will only continue to grow."
Kelan felt his throat tighten. This sounded very much like a farewell. "Master..." he began, but emotion caught the word.
Zujan stood and crossed to Kelan. To Kelan's astonishment, the reserved master wrapped him in a brief, firm embrace. "It has been an honor to teach you," Zujan said quietly, then stepped back, eyes shining. "We have prepared a horse and provisions. Dennor thinks it best to set out by midday."
"So soon?" Kelan blurted before he could stop himself. He had expected maybe a few days to make farewells and gather things.
Dennor was already on his feet, rolling his shoulders as if warming up for a journey. "No time like the present! The sooner we get on the road, the better." He flashed Kelan an understanding smile. "I know it's quick, but don't worry. We'll swing by wherever you need – your dormitory, the stables. Say your goodbyes and such."
Kelan took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright. I can be ready by midday."
The next hour passed in a blur. Kelan dashed to his dormitory, Dennor accompanying him and cheerfully offering to stuff Kelan's few books and clothes into his traveling pack with a haphazard efficiency that made Kelan chuckle. Sera burst into the room, breathless after hearing he was leaving at once. Kelan confirmed it, and she tried to put on a brave smile despite the tears in her eyes. Dennor quietly slipped out to give them a private moment.
Kelan drew Sera into a gentle hug. He thanked her for her friendship and promised he would return. Blinking back tears, Sera pressed a neatly embroidered blue handkerchief into his hand. "I made this for you," she said softly. "So you won't forget to take care of yourself." Kelan vowed to write and assured her this was not goodbye forever.
Soon, Dennor returned with two horses in the courtyard. Master Zujan stood waiting, the reins of a sturdy chestnut mare and a gray gelding in hand. Sera walked beside Kelan to the main gate for the farewell.
"This is it, then," Kelan said softly.
Zujan inclined his head. "Only for now. The Academy will always be a home to you, Kelan, should you ever need it."
"I will." Impulsively, Kelan bowed deeply to Master Zujan – a traditional student's bow of gratitude. "Thank you, Master, for everything."
Kelan turned to Dennor, who was already astride a chestnut mare loaded with their packs. A gray gelding awaited Kelan. He swung into the saddle and gathered the reins. Sera stepped forward near his stirrup, offering a brave smile through her tears. Kelan reached down and squeezed her shoulder.
"Safe travels, Kelan," she said, voice trembling slightly.
"I'll see you again, Sera. I promise," he responded.
As Kelan rode out through the gates beside Dennor, he felt a pang of sadness leaving the familiar behind. Yet Dennor's cheerful humming and the golden road ahead filled him with excitement. His journey as a healer and protector was just beginning – and with hopeful determination, Kelan faced the horizon, ready for whatever the future would bring.