"Really, Gaius? You've slept here again? Your wife is going to have a fit..." Lily's voice was a soft murmur as she leaned over the slumped figure of the old man. His breath was heavy with the scent of ale, and empty mugs clattered around him like fallen soldiers. She carefully hoisted his arm over her shoulders, preparing to help him up.

From the depths of the kitchen, Carol mocked. "Girl, are you doing it again? I swear, I can't make heads or tails of you youngsters. You know his wife will scold you for this, maybe even blame you for his sorry state, but you still insist on it. He'll be back tomorrow, you know. No point in playing the hero." Her tone carried an undercurrent of concern beneath its gruff exterior.

"Morning, Aunt Carol!" Lily's reply was bright. "Just lending a helping shoulder today. I don't really mind the scolding. As for Mr. Gaius, maybe he'll turn a new leaf. We never know, do we?"

Navigating through the tavern, Lily carefully pushed tables aside, her movements graceful and mindful to avoid further disarray. As they neared the exit, she assured Carol she'd be back soon. Lily wasn't naive; she didn't extend her kindness to every inebriated soul that graced the tavern. But she held a tender spot for those drowning their sorrows in drink, especially for those like Mr. Gaius who had once shown her kindness.

Outside, the cobbled streets of Dawnbrook greeted her. She exchanged warm smiles with familiar faces and sidestepped the rudeness of those too self-absorbed to make way. Her thoughts wandered to Mr. Gaius. He was a skilled woodcrafter whose life had taken a bad turn with the tragic loss of his son in the last mana surge.

Stopping at the door of the craftsman's house, Lily took in the modest but sturdy two-story building. The sign, 'Gaius Works,' hung solemnly above the entrance. She knocked softly while reflecting on her own loss. Five years ago, tragedy had struck her too, snatching away her parents. Though the circumstances were different, the pain of loss was something she understood all too well. They had fallen victim not to wild monsters roaming beyond the Town walls, but to the cruelest monsters of all – those wearing human faces.

Lily stood patiently at the door as it swung open abruptly. Gaius's wife appeared, her face frowning in discontentment. Lily empathized with the woman's ordeal, though it hardly justified her brusque manner. As the woman hauled her husband inside, a stream of accusations was hurled at Lily. They ranged from the absurd to the offensive, thankfully stopping just short of the scandalous. Lily, although patient, had her limits and such accusations would have crossed them.

With her task complete, Lily retraced her steps to the tavern. The prospect of a long day's work loomed ahead, a pleasant familiar routine that took her mind off her problems.

The day unfolded in its usual rhythm, marked by the slow passage of time despite the lively atmosphere. The tavern was a hub of smiles, stories, and warm greetings. Thankfully, the patrons, for the most part, treated her with respect and kindness. There were exceptions, like the young hunter whose inappropriate advance earned him a swift and memorable reprimand from the regulars. His regret would linger as long as the bruises from that lesson.

Lily navigated these moments with grace, responding with light-hearted banter. She genuinely enjoyed her work and the people of Dawnbrook. Having lived here all her life, she was a familiar face to most.

"Heading home already, Lily?" The question came from Mr. Darius, a middle-aged man with a long beard, as he took a hearty sip from his mug.

"Yes, Mr. Darius. Draven's waiting for me." Her smile was soft and unassuming. At the mention of her brother, Mr. Darius averted his gaze, muttering a quick 'good night.' Lily noticed his discomfort but didn't take it to heart. She understood their hesitations were out of respect, not malice.

After bidding Aunt Carol farewell and placing the empty tray on the counter, Lily exited the tavern while offering goodbyes to a couple of regulars on her way out.

Outside, the night had settled in, casting the streets in shadow. The area was scarcely lit, but Lily knew the path by heart. She quickened her pace, conscious of the night's dangers. Despite the fatigue that clung to her and the anticipation of more chores at home, Lily harbored no complaints. She had something to return to, something to cherish, and that was enough for her.

Ten minutes later, her old home came into view. The house, aging and weary like many in the neighborhood, stood quietly in the night. Its stone foundation was sturdy, but the wooden walls and straw roof revealed years of wear. The front door, slightly askew on its hinges, bore the scars of last month's attempted robbery. The thieves had left empty-handed, finding little of value in a home already stripped of its furnishings to afford Draven's healing potions. Gratefully, their neighbors had rallied together, propping the door back into place and patching up the worst of the damage.

She unlocked the door, entering as silently as a whisper, careful not to disturb the neighbor’s slumber. Her brother spent his days alone, save for the mid-afternoon visits from Aunt Margaret. The kind-hearted widow was one of the few whose help Lily accepted. In return, Lily often brought her leftover food from the tavern, claiming it was about to spoil. It was their unspoken pact: food for the small kindness.

"Sorry, little brother. Sister's finally home," she murmured, her gaze settling on Draven's sleeping form. The necessity of working double shifts weighed heavily on her, but it was the only way to scrape together enough coins for their survival.

After checking the water tank, which thankfully still held enough water, she set about her evening chores. She put water to boil on the rickety stove and tidied up the house. The modest three-room layout was a blessing, making it easier to keep clean – a necessity, as the Alchemist had sternly advised, to prevent Draven from catching an infection.

Once the water boiled, she removed it from the stove to cool and placed the soup she had prepared earlier over the fire to heat. She then took a clean cloth and began to wash herself, moving afterward to gently cleanse her sleeping brother. The task completed, she washed their clothes in a bucket with the remaining hot water, wringing them out before hanging them to dry in the backyard.

The soup had warmed just right, so she extinguished the fire and carefully portioned it into two bowls. After testing its temperature and flavor, she settled beside her brother, still lost in his eternal slumber. Feeding him was a slow, careful process, taking nearly an hour. Only then could she allow herself the luxury of rest.

"O source of all magic that resides in the great beyond, origin of all power and infinite wisdom," she whispered into the darkness, "I beg of you, pity me and my brother. Grant me the power to cure him, to heal..."

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"Dad, Mom, wherever you are, please watch over us. Bless us and grant me the strength to persevere..." Her prayers to the soul of her parents and to the source of all magic were a nightly ritual, a sliver of hope in the overwhelming darkness. Lily knew the likelihood of her pleas being answered was slim, but she persisted, clinging to whatever hope she could muster.

Dawn broke too early, shortening her rest. Despite the weariness, Lily couldn't afford to linger in bed. Her routine began with tending to Draven, followed by cooking, feeding him, and cleaning him once more before heading to Aunt Margaret's house to ensure the widow was well.

The day started as any other, save for the odd, wild thumping of her heart and the sharp pang of a headache. She sensed it was going to be a challenging day. Arriving at the tavern, she found Aunt Carol, assisted by a handy boy, busily moving supplies from the market indoors.

"You're not as... sickly nice as usual. Everything alright, girl?" Carol's voice carried a hint of concern.

"Just a headache," Lily replied, her voice a shadow of its usual brightness.

"Well, that's new. Maybe you should take a break, girl. I don't want you to – Hey, Lily!" Carol's words trailed off in alarm as Lily's sight darkened, her body collapsing onto a nearby table.

Carol's reaction was swift, her movements defying her age as she caught Lily before the girl could tumble off the table. The world spun around Lily, similar to having one too many ales, though she hadn't touched a drop. She felt a surge of conflicting sensations – a shiver of cold clashing with a wave of heat, as if she were caught both a chill and a fever.

Lily could faintly hear Carol's voice, laden with concern, but her own words were nothing more than incoherent mumbles.

"Girl, you're Awakening! Why on earth did you come to work today? You should've stayed home to rest. Crazy girl, I'm not heartless enough to make you work on the day of your Awakening."

Awakening? The word echoed in Lily's foggy mind. She tried to form a question, but her strength was fading too fast. So, it was happening – her Awakening – the day she had long awaited and feared.

"You can't work in this state... Honestly, you should've just stayed home. I bet you didn't even notice the signs. It’s expected, since... Anyway, you'll need to rest upstairs until it passes. Help me with her," Carol instructed the helper.

Lily was gently guided upstairs, her understanding of the situation as hazy as her vision.

Awakening was a turning point in a person's life, but unpredictable in its timing – some experienced it as early as fifteen, while others waited until their twenties. Without her parents to recognize the signs, Lily had ventured out, oblivious to the impending change. The process varied for each individual; some suffered illness, others simply slept through it.

The prevailing belief was that during an Awakening, the body adjusted to the flow of mana, causing organs to realign and react in unusual ways. Typically, the ordeal lasted no more than a day.

Fortunately, Lily had already attended to Draven's needs, and Aunt Margaret was due to visit him later. This provided a small comfort, though Lily's consciousness was slipping too far for any complex thoughts. It was only hours later, succumbing to the overwhelming changes, that she finally drifted into a deep, restorative sleep.

The dreams that accompanied the Awakening were often cloaked in mystery. They were said to be revelations, guiding individuals to confront the realities of their lack of mana capacity or to choose a path in case they were blessed with enough mana. Many who had dreamt of one destiny often found themselves leaning towards another after their Awakening.

Most people would Awaken with insufficient mana capacity. Fortunately, their dreams often led to the acceptance of a simpler life, continuing family trades, or humble professions. The more wealthy, however, had means to augment their limited capabilities.

In her dream, Lily found herself in a garden bathed in the gentle embrace of sunlight. She sat on a swing, her fingers brushing against the vibrant flora around her. This haven was a place of serenity, untouched by pain, sorrow, or the shadow of death. Its beauty was a balm to her hurting soul, a place she could stay for eternity without suffering ever again. After all the pain she had endured, such tranquility was what she craved the most.

However, beyond the garden's borders, a completely different scene played. Beyond the peaceful walls lay a world wracked with suffering and strife, where death danced mercilessly, leaving trails of grief. This harsh reality, so repugnant and true, was the world she knew. She could remain in this sanctuary, eternally sheltered from the world's atrocities, but the knowledge of suffering beyond its confines weighed her conscience. Could she turn a blind eye, knowing others endured such pain? But then, what difference could she possibly make?

Lily rose from the swing, her gaze piercing the world outside. The horror of it, a realm filled with everything she wished to escape, loomed ominously. Yet, she took a step forward, and then another, each one feeling harder than the last. The wind, the plants, the very earth seemed to resist her advance, but she continued. Why did she choose the path of suffering, knowing the sanctuary of the garden would vanish the moment she left its embrace? The answer was simple: her brother existed in that world of pain, and she had vowed to her parents to protect him.

Lily awoke with a start, her breaths short and her skin slick with sweat. The moonlit night peeked through the window revealing she was in a room above Carol's tavern. Gathering her bearings, she slowly sat up and took a few steadying sips of water from a glass on the bedside table. With welcomed steadiness, she made her way downstairs, her appearance momentarily halting the lively atmosphere of the tavern.

"Are you okay?" Carol's voice cut through the hushed room as she emerged from the kitchen, balancing a tray of steaming broth. Gone was her usual playful gruffness, replaced by genuine concern. The tavern's patrons all watched Lily intently, expecting either a burst of elation or a flood of tears – the typical aftermath of an Awakening.

However, Lily defied their expectations, descending the stairs with her characteristic smile. "I'm fine, thank you for covering for me, Carol. Do you need my help?" Her calm demeanor left them momentarily speechless, before Carol regained her composure.

"No need, take the rest of the night off," Carol responded.

Gratefully, Lily smiled and exited the tavern. The patrons, left to their assumptions, guessed she must have low mana capacity and were too embarrassed to cry in public. As they speculated about her private despair, Lily walked home in a daze.

She was now a healer, something she had long prayed for but never truly believed would happen. The profound revelations of her Awakening were overwhelming and she needed time to fully comprehend them.

The absence of healers in the Empire now made sense to her. The theory went that mana was drawn to those who could resonate with its essence. Life mana, it seemed, was attracted to those who had endured great suffering but still remained untainted by hatred. Lily harbored no such bitterness. Who was there to resent? The assailants of her parents were long gone, having paid with their lives. Her parents, despite their secrets, were still beyond the reach of her anger.

Her thoughts wandered back to her mother's final words, whispered from the shadow of her death. She had made Lily promise not to dwell in hate and resentment, to protect Draven, and to hope. Lily had honored that promise, letting go of the horrors of that fateful night, focusing solely on their survival. In hindsight, it seemed as if her mother had foreseen her Awakening as a healer.

Still, the disappearance of healers couldn’t be solely due to the strict prerequisites of attracting life mana. True, its essence gravitated towards those who, despite deep suffering, kept their hearts free of hate. But the greater challenge lay in the choice healers were compelled to make: a life dedicated to alleviating pain, often at the cost of their own happiness. The decision between the garden of her dream and the tormented world beyond its borders was a representation of this. Perhaps the decline in healers was a symptom that something was wrong with the world.

These ponderings, however, were now secondary. Lily's immediate concern was navigating the complexities of her class. What would happen if she revealed her abilities as a healer? Would people welcome her with open arms, assisting in her ascension, or would they mirror the suffering spirits of her dream, tearing her apart in their desperation as soon as she stepped out of the garden?

Somehow, she knew the moment her class was known was the moment she would lose her freedom.