A Doctor Without Borders [Healer | Slow-Burn | Medical Fantasy]

In the few minutes it took to leave behind the safety of the walls, the world changed. The silent sentinels reached up countless feet into the air, towering over the mining camp's walls, beggaring belief and dwarfing the redwoods that had drawn such awe on Earth. Their massive girth left little room to traverse. What free space existed had become a hotbed of competition between small and midsize trees. The dense foliage erased the sky, but the smaller plants still strove for the light, reaching upward for whatever rays trickled through.

I could only grasp hints of what lay above the ceiling of leaves and branches until we came across the remains of a fallen giant. When one toppled, it crushed smaller trees and plants, clearing out swaths of land and allowing for glimpses of a quilt of purples and greens that shifted over the trees' length. The greens of the upper branches gave way to hues of violet below. Yet their vibrancy paled in comparison to the flora at my feet.

Ferns and fungi covered the ground, and their colors matched the most exotic of animals from the rainforests of Earth. Each plant had only streaks of green. Most leaves or stalks bore vivid purples, reds, and blues, and if the light hit them just right, they cast an iridescent sheen.

Would they glow in the dark?

We'd find out soon. The tight-knit lattice of branches and leaves left us in a permanent dusk. Only the intense midday sun allowed our well-worn trail to be visible, but even that gave the foliage a preternatural glow.

I found myself transported into another world—again. At least this time, it was just figurative instead of literal.

I took care with my steps, especially in some areas with darker shadows. When I strayed off the path, my foot sank into the bed of pine needles covering the floor. Soft and bouncy, but stable? I elected not to find out.

I tried not to jump with each unfamiliar sound. Memories of that dinosaur chasing a rabbit remained fresh. However, Esper hadn't drawn a weapon, which had to mean something. Instead, I tried to focus on the alien forest.

After I got my fill, I decided to break the silence and discuss my skill as she had asked. Even then, I kept my voice low. "Why did you seem so surprised that [Sterilize] was my new skill?"

She slowed to a stop, turning to face me, an amused look on her face. "You don't need to whisper. With the way you walk, everything knows we're here."

I frowned. "I can't be that bad."

"You are. But you aren't a [Hunter]. You're a [Healer], and that's what makes your skill strange. [Healers] don't eliminate life; they guide it to its natural end. It's a subtle but important distinction. Life leads to death, and from death springs life. [Sterilize] severs the cycle. It eliminates a thing's Spark. Without a Spark, we, as [Healers], can do nothing."

"You're going to need to break that down for me. What do you mean by a spark?"

"Not spark. Spark?"

My brow furrowed. "Is this another translation issue?"

She gave me an incredulous look. "It shouldn't be. How do you not know about the Spark of Life?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it is nebulous?" I pointed to a rock on the ground. "Does that have a Spark?"

"Of course not. It's a rock."

I exhaled through pursed lips. "I'm not trying to be obtuse, but spark has a lot of different meanings to me. Let's try this. Does every living thing have a Spark?"

"Essentially."

"And if it's lost?"

"Then it will succumb."

"That seems—"

"It is without question. Nothing lives without a Spark. Even losing a part has an impact. When diminished, our healing falters—if we can heal at all."

I frowned. "What about potions?"

"Even more affected. Potions have an intent, but they need guidance. That's the Spark. A [Healer] with the right skills can help, but it never compares."

"And if neither is there?"

"They do nothing, or worse, they harm."

"So, [Sterilize]…?"

She shrugged. "As I said, it's a strange skill for a [Healer]."

"It's not useless, though. It's essential for [Crafters]." She nodded.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Sterilize…could its other connotation be applicable? I opened my mouth to ask, but stopped when the implications of asking about human sterilization struck me. I opted for a less direct line of questioning. "Do, uh, [Shepherds] get a skill like this as well?"

She laughed, an actual laugh, warm and not tinged with sorrow or anger. It caught me so off guard that I almost missed her response. "It's uncommon, but I have heard of some of the more skilled [Breeders] having earned something like this. It helps keep the stock strong by culling the weak."

"So the animal doesn't die if you remove part of its Spark."

"To my knowledge, no. I don't know much about it other than it is a small amount, it's hard to do, and nearly impossible to undo."

"Because the Spark of Life is gone." She nodded once more.

Then how did they deal with infections? I was there when the Vísir removed that thing from the lung of that Ættar. If she didn't sterilize it, then what did she do? Maybe that mass wasn't an infection, but [Healers] managed festering—hence, they treated infections.

So, how do you eliminate an infection without, well, eliminating it?

"Well, I am positive that the skill's primary role is to prevent infect—I mean festering."

She cocked her head and gave me what I had started to believe was her you-know-more-than-you-are-telling-me look. However, she didn't press, opting to discuss the skill more. "Do you think it can prevent all festering?"

"No, but I'm positive it will greatly reduce the chance of it occurring."

A reduction in the bacteria inoculated during a procedure would reduce post-procedure infections. My proficiency with potions would increase. A cleaner wound at the time of application meant more of the potion's effect went to healing rather than promoting bacterial growth. Of course, that presumed I could sterilize my equipment.

My eyes drifted to my wooden—not surgical steel—knife. "I need to test the skill."

"You've not tried it yet?"

"No."

"Something to do if we need to wait for our guard."

"Sure."

"Good. Let's get going. The clearing we're meeting at isn't much farther."

True to her word, an arch of blue soon appeared down the path. Esper halted after passing through it. I followed suit, wincing at the shift in light. After I stopped blinking, I opened my eyes to a small cliff overlooking a large clearing. Cool air whipped around the space, causing the trees to sway and carrying the scents of pine and flowers. Based on the pattern of trees littering the ground, at some point, many of the largest trees had toppled, taking a swath of the forest with them.

The forest was already starting to reclaim the small island in a sea of trees. Yet for now, the size of the clearing and its elevation gave me an unobstructed view of the forest canopy, allowing me to confirm what I'd only had hints of before. The trees' needles had a distinct green-to-purple color gradient, which implied some important biological process. Unfortunately, my sample size was low, and I just didn't have time.

Esper made a quick gesture to the side. My eyes settled on a set of switchbacks that wound down the steep cliff. I tracked the path to the bottom, finding some stretches so narrow that an unburdened adult would struggle to walk straight. If they had any backpacks or gear, they would've needed to hug the wall.

I whistled. "Did you all come up this way to set up the camp?"

"Only the forward scouts. The main expedition had a more convenient, though longer, path because of the [Earth Shapers]."

She didn't elaborate, and I contented myself with taking in the warm light of day as we descended and the fresh air.

"Wonderful, isn't it?"

My smile widened. "It is a nice change from the mine."

She closed her eyes, taking in the sun's rays, and just the hint of a smile crept onto her lips. "I do not know how the Volki and Oresiani do it. Even these forests, as rich as they are in Aether, tire me. Yet, they keep finding ways to push further into the Wilds."

"Wait. Do your people not live in the forest?"

She laughed. "We aren't the Lövfödda or the Sylvari. Give us fields of grass over these monstrosities that blot out the sun."

"But…" The words died out on my lips. I had just assumed that their green skin meant they dwelled in the forest, but that was Earth mythology speaking. I glanced up at the titanic trees. They had to be capable of supporting a whole ecosystem up there. With the density of branches, I bet a person could easily traverse the upper segments. Of course, if they did, a leaner build like Auren's, the one Lövfödda that I've met, would suit better than the muscular bulk on a typical Ættar.

Am I falling into another cognitive trap? Can I apply evolutionary principles? Still, green skin, likes the sun…

"Do you guys draw Energy from the sun?"

Her head jerked to face me. "You really are a stranger. Everyone knows that Ættir draw strength from the sun. It's small, but it hastens recovery and improves survival in leaner times. Many even have skills that enhance it."

My eyes widened. "Then the forest and especially the cave—"

"Are unpleasant. One more indignity we have to live with. Now, let's get down. I don't see our guardians. You may have time to try your skill."

We traveled the rest of the way down the path. More than once, I had to take a deep breath to suppress vertigo. However, we made it to the clearing without injuries. She dropped her pack to search it. She pulled out a small whistle and blew out a complex bird call. Not long afterward, a response came. She just nodded and wordlessly pointed to my knife. I took the hint and pulled out my wooden blade. I held it in my hands. It was a simple creation—a small branch with a front half carved into the shape of a blade. But that simplicity belied the complexity that rested underneath the smooth and dull surface. Now more than ever, just a smidge of focus brought a void waiting to be filled.

The blade wanted Energy, but I held it back. I didn't need a cutting blade. Instead, I focused on [Sterilize], trying to push it into the knife. I hit resistance, not from the blade but rather my own mind. It was like learning to ride a bike or ice skate. I didn't have the coordination.

I persevered, and the skill helped, smoothing out my mistakes. It pulled like a blade bereft of Energy, but when I fed what it desired, the Energy just pooled in my fingers. A tingling grew in my fingertips as Energy built up, the only hint of activity the brief surges that seemed to spread into the knife.

The vacuum gave way to resistance, but I trusted the skill, pushing more Energy into the skill. Tingling moved up my hand, and I lost track of where my fingers began and ended. I had no Marks on my hands, but those on my forehead had grown cold. A faint hum started to fill the air when it all—the resistance, the tingling, the sound—vanished. A pale blue light spread across the blade, rapidly at first, but slowing as it moved farther from the fingers. I extended a finger along the blade's side, and the subtle glow picked up its pace. The azure faded in a flash of light across its entire surface, leaving the dull brown of the wood.