Death Healer

The only reason Lily rose from the bed was that she didn’t want to inconvenience Lucien and Marcus. Both had shown worry at her reaction to practicing [Meditation]—whatever had damaged her during the night when she tried to resurrect Elysium was still there, lurking beneath the surface of her soul.

Not only that, but Hadrian’s words had broken her spirit. She felt useless. She felt like she knew nothing about herself, about abilities, about anything. All those years she had spent with the best tutors in the Citadel hadn’t prepared her one bit for what she was currently dealing with.

If anything, being this aware of how much she had ruined herself with that cursed ritual, she wished she knew less. Alas, ignorance wasn’t a bliss she would be blessed with anytime soon.

...

Lily went through breakfast and morning prayers slowly, trying her best to look stoic and not bother anyone. Still, Lucien had taken note of her behavior and kindly kept her a spot for the communal mass.

“I spoke with Marcus,” the tan [Monk] told her, “he says you can work with me this week. Your body needs some rest for now.”

“I—I don’t want to rest,” Lily protested dejectedly.

“It’s ok,” Brother Lucien reassured her. “You can always resume training as soon as you have completely recovered, Aurora. Your body’s... [Meditation] is not easy on the body of those who are not initiated.”

“Do you have [Meditation]?” She asked.

He shook his head, “I’ve never asked Marcus to learn. I’m new here, and I stick to what I know... I don’t think I could ever be a fighting [Monk].”

Lily didn’t know what to make of that statement, and so she simply nodded.

“Let’s go, then. Today, we have some ripe tomatoes to pick.”

...

Far to the left of the training grounds, the courtyard behind the monastery was a tranquil haven of greenery. Rows upon rows of tomato plants stood tall, kept up by triangles of carved sticks, their vibrant green leaves rustling in the soft morning breeze. The sun was warm but not scalding, casting a golden hue upon everything it touched. The aroma of ripe tomatoes wafted through the air – a mix of earth and sun.

Lily and Lucien walked side by side, baskets in hand. The tomato plants were heavy with fruit, their branches drooping under the weight of tomatoes that gleamed a rich, radiant red. They seemed almost too perfect.

“They are...” She was speechless. If this had been back home, she would have actually been suspicious of eating tomatoes that were this good-looking; she would have suspected they must have been injected with pesticides and GMOs.

Brother Lucien reached out and gently cradled a particularly luscious tomato in his hand. "See," he began, "nature has a way of healing, of showing us that life goes on, that there’s hope in every new day." He plucked the tomato from its stem, the fruit coming off with a satisfying pop. Holding it up to the light, it seemed to glow from within, the sun revealing its intricate pattern of veins and its deep, rich color.

Lily, taking her cue from Lucien, reached for a tomato herself. The fruit was warm to the touch, its skin smooth yet firm. As she plucked it, she felt her heart jump a little, eliciting a small moment of happiness.

Lucien and Lily moved from one plant to another, their baskets slowly filling up with the bright, red fruits.

As they worked in companionable silence, Lily felt some weight suddenly lifted off her shoulders. The simple act of picking tomatoes had a slight therapeutic effect. She found herself lost in the moment, the worries of the world fading away because of the tranquil, physical labor.

By the time their baskets were full, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, and a sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead. But her spirits had been lifted at least a little from the abyss they had previously dwelled.

Lucien looked at Lily with a gentle smile, "Sometimes, all we need is a reminder of the simple joys in life, Aurora."

...

After gathering the tomatoes, Lucien led Lily to a stone basin located at the side of the garden. The basin, carved from gray rock, was filled with clear, cool water. The duo began washing the soil off the tomatoes they had gathered. The water, cold to the touch, rippled as they gently cleansed each fruit.

Lucien looked at one of the tomatoes thoughtfully. "You know, becoming a [Monk] and a [Gardener] had never been my plan," he started, placing the tomato on a tray next to the basin.

Lily looked up, curious. “You weren’t a [Gardener] before?”

Lucien shook his head, his fingers tracing patterns in the water. "Not at all. Life... has a way of leading us on to unexpected paths. Renouncing my previous life and taking up these roles gave me purpose, though."

“Wait,” Lily frowned. “You changed your class?”

He nodded in assent.

She tilted her head. "I always thought that once you chose a class, you were bound to it. That's what they taught us."

“Ah, that’s one of those...” He didn’t finish his sentence. “It's true that changing one's class is rare, but it's not impossible. But the price to pay, however, is steep..."

She looked at him, intrigued. “How steep?”

He didn’t directly answer, his gaze distant for a moment. "It's a decision not to be taken lightly. For me, it was worth it. Every day I spend here, with nature, with my new brothers, I am reminded of that. I find happiness and contentment in these simple tasks."

Lily, sensing an opportunity to know more about Lucien, ventured, "What was your past like? Before this?"

Lucien paused, his hands stilling in the water. His eyes met hers, holding a shadow. After a prolonged silence, he softly replied, "Some stories are best left in the past, Aurora. I am content with who I am now, and that’s what matters."

Lily frowned, her heart skipping a beat.

Who is he, really?

They continued washing the tomatoes in comfortable silence, each lost in their thoughts, with the sun shining down and the gentle murmur of water as their backdrop.

...

A week had passed in the blink of an eye as she helped Brother Lucien with the garden, learning a few things, and even getting a couple of levels in gardening-related skills—nothing she was too interested in for the moment, though. However, Marcus had not given her any indications that he had changed his mind and wanted to resume her training yet. At least the garden routine kept her busy and numb to the darkness that held steadfast in the depths of her heart.

Today, she was waiting outside Brother Lucien’s room, where he told her to meet him every morning after prayers. Usually, he was busy in the kitchen, talking to the [Cooks], and it wasn’t the first time he was late.

As the minutes ticked away, and Brother Lucien still hadn’t appeared, Lily's patience wore thin. The door to his room was slightly ajar, and an inkling of curiosity took root. Perhaps he left a note for her or some instructions for the day. Taking a deep breath, she gently pushed the door further open, allowing herself a glance inside.

To her surprise, the room was starkly bare. A clean, unmade bed stood against a wall, and the wooden floor was spotless. It almost seemed like no one lived there at all, were it not for an incongruous chest that sat at the foot of the bed. The chest was blackened as if slightly scorched by fire, and its dark hue seemed oddly out of place in the otherwise pristine room.

Drawn like a moth to a flame, Lily found herself stepping closer, wanting to get a better look at the mysterious container. But just as she was about to reach out and touch the chest, a shadow crossed the room's threshold. There stood Brother Lucien, his expression unreadable.

"I see you've found my chest," he said calmly, with no hint of anger or accusation in his voice.

"I... I'm sorry," she stammered, taking a step back. "I was just waiting and got curious."

He smiled gently, "It's alright. That chest carries some stories, but let’s leave them for another time, perhaps. Now, come. I have something to show you."

The two of them made their way to a secluded corner of the garden. Protected by a makeshift fence and shielded from the chilly winds by Lucien's skills, a group of rose bushes thrived there. Their petals, a soft, delicate shade of pink, shimmered in the dappled sunlight, and their fragrance was intoxicating.

"These are Princess Roses," Lucien began, pride evident in his voice. "Delicate, beautiful, and very hard to tend to. They require just the right conditions and much care, and even then, they're fragile."

Lily admired the roses, taking in their delicate beauty. But she couldn’t shake off an unease, a discomfort she felt from looking at them. They seemed trapped, confined, and almost too perfect.

"They're beautiful," she admitted, "but they seem... too fragile, like they are about to get blown away at any second.”

Lucien nodded, "That's the thing. Beauty often comes with vulnerability. But there's something else I want to show you." He moved slightly to reveal another rose that had been hidden by the lush foliage of the Princess Roses.

This rose was drastically different. It was larger, its petals a sickly shade of yellow, and it lacked the delicate beauty of the Princess Roses. It was a wild rose, completely out of place amidst the manicured perfection of the others.

"This," Lucien began, his voice holding a note of disdain, "is a wild rose. To many, it’s considered a parasite, unwanted and unloved. It can survive harsh conditions, and many wonder why they haven't gone extinct yet."

Lily stared at the wild rose, feeling an unexpected connection to it.

Lucien carefully cut the wild rose from its stem, placing it in a basket meant for discarding.

“They are effectively a parasite—no one wants to grow them. It’s a miracle they haven’t gone extinct yet. I really hope I don’t get more of them here... I’ll have to check for their stems and roots all week, I think.”

Brother Lucien, mistaking Lily’s sad eyes for worry for the Princess Roses, tried to cheer her up, “wait right there.”

He cut off one of the Princess Roses and placed it gently between her hands, “you are just as beautiful as them. Don’t worry; I won’t let them get ruined.”

Lily stared at the gorgeous rose in her hands before shooting a side glance at the one discarded in the basket, abandoned at the side of the fence.

...

The monastery refectory was in full swing at dinner, filled with the sounds of clinking plates and murmured conversations. The smell of freshly baked bread and Steeltusk Boar stew wafted through the air.

At one end of the room, Marcus was enjoying his meal with a group of other [Monks]. His plate was filled with the hearty stew, a crusty slice of bread, and a cup of ale. His laughter echoed in the large room as he shared a joke with his friends.

Lily entered the refectory, her eyes darting around, searching for Marcus. When she spotted him, she took a deep breath. Lucien noticed her immediately and waved at her, but she ignored him. Each step she took towards Marcus felt heavy, full of apprehension. As she approached, the huge [Monk] finally noticed her and raised an eyebrow.

"Uncle Marcus," she began, her voice unsteady, "I need to speak with you."

The [Monks] around Marcus turned their attention towards her, and he gestured for them to continue eating. "What is it, Aurora?" he inquired.

Lily swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. "I want to start practicing again."

Marcus's face turned grave. He took a moment, sipping on his ale before responding, "I spoke with Lucianus."

Her heart skipped a beat. "What did he say?"

Marcus took a deep breath, "Even your father believes that if your life is at risk, you shouldn't practice [Meditation]."

Lily's face paled, the weight of his words sinking in. She gripped the table's edge for support, "But I need to. I can't just stop!" Without realizing it, she screamed that last word.

Marcus, nonplussed, shook his head, "The physical training is open for you. But I won't teach you [Meditation] until your father explains to me what to do—and you shouldn’t attempt to do so by yourself either—even if you could, which you probably cannot. Let me repeat myself, child: even if you remember the routine I had you follow, do not practice again. Not after what happened. The loss of Light Magic and its effects on your body are clearly not something to be taken lightly."

A lump formed inside Lily's throat, "But there must be something we can do. I need to learn it! It might be my only chance to get my magic back!"

Marcus's expression softened, but his resolve remained. "I'm sorry, Aurora. But I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to risk your life. Not until we understand what's happening."

Tears welled up in Lily's eyes as she processed the finality of his words. Once again, the world started slipping away from her. Everything was crumbling to dust.

Marcus reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You are strong. Even without [Meditation], you have potential. But your life, your well-being, is more important."

Lily pulled away, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I need..." she whispered, her voice barely audible. Without another word, she turned and fled from the refectory, leaving behind a somber Marcus and the hushed murmurs of the other [Monks].

...

She didn’t eat dinner that night.

Instead, Lily was contemplating the world from the monastery’s bell tower, letting the cold wash over her, hoping it would take away all her malaises.

She had soon learned how to come here without asking anyone – she’d come here when she couldn’t sleep. She wasn’t sure she’d be allowed to, considering how tall the tower was.

Lily felt her stomach tied into a knot as her gaze wandered over the dark, empty courtyard.

Will I ever become a [Healer] again? Can’t I just have… one dream? Just one…

As she wallowed, she saw some movement down below. Surprisingly, she found... Brother Hadrian sneaking out, his hulking form approaching the edge of the forest.

What is he—

Lily heard the man make a strange sound, and then, a few seconds later, several cats came out of the forest. Brother Hadrian took a huge bowl out of his robe and filled it with what looked like milk.

Squatting down, he waited for the cats to get closer and drink. Soon, the many cats started nudging smaller kittens forward, approaching the man. Both the [Monk] and the older cats watched placidly as the kittens poked their heads into the milk, drinking to their hearts' content, pushing each other out, and generally bickering.

Brother Hadrian gently moved some so that every kitten could access enough milk.

The cat mothers began climbing on the huge man’s shoulders, who just squatted there, caressing some of them and speaking words Lily couldn’t catch.

...

The next morning, Lily stood outside Brother Lucien's room. Her eyes were swollen, and the weight of her unresolved feelings pressed heavily on her chest. Each second felt like an eternity as she waited for Brother Lucien.

But today, he was uncharacteristically late. The morning light streamed down in golden rays, but Lucien was nowhere to be seen. Restless, she pushed the door to his room open, her thoughts drifting back to that intriguing chest she glimpsed yesterday.

This time, her hands moved seemingly on their own accord, and she cautiously approached the blackened chest. She unfastened the latch and gingerly opened it.

Inside, she found several items that bore the unmistakable signs of fire damage. Half-burned clothes, their fabric partially disintegrated, lay neatly folded at the bottom. Several wooden figures, charred and with missing limbs, were scattered about. But what caught her attention the most was a small, relatively untouched doll. It had vibrant hazel eyes and curly brown hair, and it wore a miniature dress with a hand-stitched pattern.

Beside the doll, leaning against the side of the chest, was a small portrait. The portrait depicted a beautiful woman with flowing dark hair, her eyes gentle yet vibrant, the same shade of hazel as the doll’s. On either side of her stood two young girls. One, slightly older, bore a strong resemblance to the woman, with the same dark, flowing hair. The younger one had curls just like the doll, her face mirroring its innocent expression. Both girls clung to the woman, smiles playing on their lips, their bond palpable even through the painted image.

Lily's heart swelled with a mixture of sadness and tenderness as she gazed at the portrait. [Painters] had abilities capable of capturing still images as if they could photograph reality. The love and joy depicted in that single moment stood in stark contrast to the remnants of a life consumed by fire.

Suddenly, she heard a heavy sigh from the door, causing her to jump in surprise. Brother Lucien stood there, his face bearing the marks of deep pain and sorrow. She instinctively closed the chest, guilt washing over her.

Lucien slowly approached her, his eyes fixed on the closed chest. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I..."

Taking a deep breath, Lucien began to explain. "The woman in the portrait... her name was Clara. She was my wife. And those two angels by her side were our daughters, Liana and Elise." His eyes grew distant, lost in memories. "I wasn't always a [Monk], Lily. In my previous life, I was a [Warrior], and I'd often be away for long stretches of time, battling foes and defending the Empire. We lived in a settlement in the Western outskirts, close to enemy territory."

He paused, struggling to find the right words. "One fateful day, while I was away on a mission, our village was attacked. By the time I returned, everything was gone. My house had been razed, and I lost everything dear to me."

Pain welled up in Lucien's voice as he continued, "I was consumed by grief and guilt. That's when I decided to relinquish my [Warrior] class. I sought solace and a quieter life in the monastery."

Lily’s body went rigid, suddenly looking down.

"Life is filled with moments of joy and pain,” he continued. “We must learn to carry our burdens and find hope even in the darkest times."

Lily looked up, meeting Brother Lucien's weary eyes. "Why didn't you go after them?" she asked almost angrily, "the ones responsible for... for everything?"

Brother Lucien let out a heavy sigh, his gaze drifting to the window and the world beyond. "There was a part of me that wanted to. Every fiber of my being screamed for vengeance, for justice. But another part of me, the part that was left shattered and broken, knew that if I went down that path, there would be nothing left of me to return to. No soul, no heart. Just an empty husk consumed by anger and hate. I didn't want to throw away the little of me that remained."

Lily stared at the man with unmoving eyes. There was a brief pause before she gulped, choosing her words carefully. "I think... I think I need to go."

He frowned, concerned. "Lily, it's important to-"

She interrupted, her voice shaking but resolute. "I have to go."

...

A sudden, thunderous knock jolted Brother Hadrian from his slumber. Groggily rubbing his eyes, he recognized the voice yelling for him. "Hadrian! You jerk! Hadrian!"

Sighing heavily, he mumbled to himself about cursed children, pushing back his blanket and stumbling toward the door. He was in no mood for drama or complications. But when he swung the door open, the sight before him rendered him speechless.

...

There she stood, draped in the robes that Lumius had gifted her, not the unnamed robes she had worn since Elysium had died. The white, sleeveless tunic seemed to shimmer in the dim morning light, its gold threading patterns intricately weaving across the fabric. The double lapel made of pure, thin gold plate clasped itself magically without any visible mechanism. Atop her shoulders sat guards made of golden metal, surprisingly light for how robust they appeared. A golden collar adorned her neck, and from it hung long, pristine white sleeves. Flowing behind her, the long black cape rustled gently with every subtle movement, its clasp at the front displaying a golden square cross. To top it all off, a golden tiara crowned her head.

But it wasn’t the stunning outfit that captured Brother Hadrian's attention. It was the look in her eyes—a look of sheer determination, resignation, and a hint of something darker, more troubling.

"What are you doing here, child?" he asked, his tone a mix of discontent and antagonism.

She looked him squarely in the eyes, her voice firm yet trembling. "I'm ready to die."

Hadrian studied her for a moment, taking in her entire form. His gaze settled on a lone flower tucked behind her ear.

"What's that?" he questioned, pointing at the flower.

Lily touched the petals softly, a bittersweet smile forming on her lips.

"It's a wild rose.”