Elira’s hands trembled as she assessed Kael’s injuries. Blood seeped through his shirt, and his breathing was shallow. His earlier wounds had reopened, and the strain of the fight had clearly pushed his body to its limits. The villagers had brought her clean water and bandages, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.
“You stubborn fool,” she muttered under her breath, tears threatening to blur her vision as she worked to stop the bleeding.
She pressed her trembling hands over the worst of his injuries and closed her eyes. She reached deep into herself, into the well of energy she had only touched a few times before. It was more intuition than technique, a desperate pull on the invisible threads that tied her to the world around her. She felt the pulse of life—the faint rhythm of Kael’s heartbeat, the sway of the plants in the breeze outside, and even the subtle hum of the earth beneath them.
A tingling sensation coursed through her fingers, followed by a faint glow. The greenish light shimmered like dew in the morning sun, pulsing softly as it spread from her hands to Kael’s wounds. Elira’s breath hitched as the magic flowed, guided by her will. She didn’t need words or incantations—only a clear, unyielding desire to heal.
Tiny vines began to sprout from the ground around Kael, their tendrils brushing gently against his skin. They glowed faintly, almost as if they were alive, feeding him the energy he needed to heal. As the magic continued, the vines coiled slightly tighter, pulsing softly in rhythm with his breathing. Elira’s entire body trembled as she maintained the connection, pouring every ounce of her focus into the magic.
When the glow faded, the vines remained, their work not yet done. They stayed close to Kael, their emerald tendrils continuing to pulse faintly as they fed him energy throughout the night. Elira slumped back onto her heels, her body drained of energy. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, and her vision blurred at the edges. She had never pushed herself so far before, and the strain left her feeling hollow.
“You’re not allowed to die on me,” she murmured, her voice barely audible as she slumped against the wall.
The vines stayed rooted, their task clear, as the soft light of dawn began to touch the horizon.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Darkness enveloped Kael, pulling him into a deep, restless void. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, faint images began to flicker in his mind, like the first tentative rays of dawn breaking through a fog.
He was a child again.
The sun was warm, painting the endless fields of wildflowers in golden hues. A gentle breeze carried the scent of freshly turned earth and blooming lavender. Laughter rang out, unbridled and free, as a small boy with messy black hair darted through the tall grass. He wasn’t alone. A girl with the same dark hair—slightly longer, slightly neater—was chasing after him, her voice carrying a mix of annoyance and amusement.
“Kael, wait up!” she called, panting as she tried to keep up. “Mom said not to go too far!”
But Kael didn’t listen. He never did. His legs pumped furiously as he scaled a small hill, his arms flailing for balance. At the top, he paused just long enough to look back, grinning mischievously at his sister.
“You’re too slow, Lia!” he teased, before disappearing over the other side.
By the time his sister caught up, he was gone. Panic flashed in her eyes, and she spun around, calling his name. “Kael! This isn’t funny!”
It wasn’t the first time Kael had wandered off, nor would it be the last. His parents had learned quickly that trying to keep him still was like trying to hold back the tide. When he was only four, he’d toddled out of their backyard and been found hours later halfway to the neighboring village, happily poking at frogs by a stream. After that incident, his father—a quiet, practical man—had taken matters into his own hands.
The memory shifted, and Kael saw himself sitting on their kitchen table, his feet dangling as his father worked on something below.
“What’s that?” little Kael had asked, leaning forward to peer down.
His father chuckled. “This,” he said, holding up a small device the size of a coin, “is what’s going to keep your mother from having a heart attack every time you disappear.”
Kael’s mother, busy kneading dough at the counter, shot her husband a pointed look. “You’re making it sound like it’s his fault.”
“Isn’t it?” his father replied dryly, earning a playful swat from her.
With a quick motion, his father slipped the device into the sole of Kael’s shoe and sealed it with a patch of leather. “There,” he said, ruffling Kael’s hair. “Now, wherever you run off to, we’ll always be able to find you.”
Kael remembered the contraption well. At first, he’d been annoyed—another way for the adults to control him, he thought. But over time, he’d come to accept it as part of his adventures. No matter how far he roamed, he always knew his family wasn’t far behind.
The warmth of the memory lingered, filling Kael with a sense of calm and purpose. These moments, unclouded by regret, stayed with him as he floated back toward awareness.