Death Healer

Brother Hadrian was a rather skinny [Monk] with wiry limbs and sharp eyebrows. Among his most notable features were two deep blue eyes that stood out, as penetrating as harpoons ready to deflesh those in front of him.

But when he stood up from the chair with a closed book in his hand, his slightly scary appearance faded as he simply approached a kettle and made a cup of tea, whose spicy aroma quickly ran up to Lily’s nose.

Without commenting, he walked to the bed where she lay and offered the cup wrapped in a thick cloth napkin.

“Don’t burn yourself.”

His words sounded almost disdainful as he eyed her down, and Lily could only nod in return as she took the cup from him and slowly brought it up to her nose to take in the tea’s rich aroma.

“What happened?” She asked, her throat still running dry and her mouth bitter.

“Your body could not withstand the power of [Meditation],” Brother Hadrian said, pouring a cup for himself.

Lily noticed that his calloused hand went unprotected around the fuming cup.

“Did I take some medicine?”

“Something like that,” he sighed, pointing at a table that rested not far from the bed. There also lay several beakers made of glass—all of them looked surprisingly clean and aseptic, somewhat of a rarity in this world.

“Are you an alchemist?” She inquired innocently, taking her first sip of the tea and immediately burning her tongue.

Brother Hadrian, who had been about to take a sip too, stopped abruptly and lingered the cup barely a few centimeters from his lips.

“What did you just say?” He asked slowly.

“An alchemist? No? Is there another world?”

Hadrian looked around before frowning and turning back to her.

“Could you describe what an alchemist is?”

“Huh?” Lily frowned. “They make... potions and elixirs?”

“Like a [Potionmaker]?” Hadrian frowned, raising his eyebrows.

“Well, no? Don’t alchemists also... turn lead into gold?”

That seemed to pique his interest as, this time, he took a full sip and kept staring at the little girl.

“Aurora Claudia,” the [Monk] chewed on the words. “Where have you read about alchemy? Did your father mention that word to you?”

Lily was getting bothered by these questions. She didn’t remember anyone specifically using the term ‘alchemist,’ but that was who she assumed made potions. But the more she thought about it, the more she remembered classes like [Apothecary], [Potionmaker], and variations of those. [Alchemist], instead, was something she had never heard of.

Is [Alchemist] a Lost Class?

“Do you know what happened when I attempted [Meditation]? Why was I brought here?” She asked, disregarding his question.

“I told you,” Brother Hadrian scoffed.

“No, you didn’t. You told me that my body couldn’t handle [Meditation]. Why does it feel like you’re not telling me everything? And why am I here?”

“Petulant child, you should watch your tongue.”

“No,” Lily stated, clear-eyed.

Hadrian sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, “that idiot hasn’t explained anything about [Meditation], has he? Talent can become a catastrophe when handled by immature midwits.”

“Marcus?” Lily frowned. “He said—”

“Not Marcus,” Hadrian snapped. “Your father. Marcus can barely look smarter than a rock when he tries. Lucianus, instead...”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

“Marcus brought you here because he knew I could help to wake you up and make sure you didn’t damage yourself. He’s already told you that your father considers this Soul Magic, no?”

Lily nodded.

“While Lucianus is misguided for what concerns the technicalities, [Meditation] does influence your soul. Do you know where classes and levels come from?”

“Gods?” Lily replied.

Brother Hadrian tensed and diverted his gaze, “sorry, I meant, where do they reside? The answer is, in your soul, petulant child. That is where your classes and levels stay. Such is the reason why most common Undead do not possess leveling capabilities, unlike animals.”

“Ok? So, is my soul the reason I can’t use Light Magic?”

The [Monk] stared at her and said nothing in return, but his lips quivered with nervous energy.

“Tell me, Aurora Claudia,” he asked, instead, “why do you think you passed out?”

“I—I don’t know.”

“Liar,” Hadrian said harshly. “Try again.”

“I really don’t—”

“Liar.”

She just stared at the monk, the tea in the cup now turning cold.

“What did you see?” He asked pointedly.

“I saw... things from my past.”

“Your past? Like sucking on your mother’s tit?”

Lily scoffed and turned her head. That was when she caught the man flinching in response, his face crinkled in a pained expression.

“I... what did you see?”

“My mother,” Lily said slowly, turning back to him, “I saw my mother, and she—she was crushing my dreams, as she would.”

“Is your mother dead?”

“No, she’s not.”

A moment of awkwardness passed between the two.

“You irritate me,” the man suddenly said. “You are worse than your father if that’s even possible. What darkness could a nine-year-old hide, Aurora?”

She looked disgusted by the question, repulsed by the fact that Hadrian was making fun of her like that. All Lily wanted was to get her skills back. If [Meditation] was the way to do it, though, she needed to play ball with this man. He clearly knew something.

“I have done something bad,” she said. “Now, I think it’s haunting me.”

“Did you do ‘something bad’ recently or in your past?”

“Both,” Lily replied and fell silent.

Hadrian took another sip from his cup, and his expression softened, but the intensity of his gaze never waned.

“At times,” he started, “we must look into the darkness to find ourselves.”

Lily took a deep breath, feeling the weight in her chest not going away.

Hadrian paused for a moment before continuing, "One of my favorite writers is a sage named Narim."

Lily tilted her head, "Who?"

"He wrote about the Perfect Bed," Hadrian began. "He says there was a cruel figure who would offer travelers a bed for the night. If the traveler was too tall, he would amputate the excess length of their body; if they were too short, he would stretch their limbs."

Lily looked at him in disgust, "That sounds terrifying."

“It is," Hadrian agreed. "We often adjust the world and others to fit our preconceived notions rather than adjusting ourselves. We cut and stretch experiences, memories, and even people to fit them into our personal narratives, often distorting the truth in the process."

Lily thought back to her past, wondering how this applied to her. But most importantly, she felt like the man might actually have the answers she was looking for.

"So, what should I do?" she asked, hoping that Hadrian would provide a good answer.

“Give up,” Hadrian suddenly changed his softer tone and went back to his usual harshness. “You shouldn’t follow the path you have gone down. Stop. Go back. Take up a simpler class when the time comes—[Cook], perhaps. We are always in need of more [Cooks]. Don’t get involved with the forbidden, with what lays beyond our eyes.”

“What?” Lily felt a whiplash from the sudden change in tone.

“You are but a child who chose to trifle with things bigger than itself. You do not understand the Price you will pay if you continue treading this dark fate of yours. Stop now that you only lost your Light Magic before your entire life disappears too, Aurora Claudia.”

“What?!” She shouted, outraged. “I need my magic back! I’m here because I’d be suffering more if I wasn’t!”

Lily was beyond agitated. Right when she had thought that Hadrian had something to offer her, he pulled the rug from below her feet, letting her fall into despair again.

“And are you ready to die for it?”

The question left her stumped, not fully understanding why he would ask that nor what she was supposed to reply. Even after living for so long in this new world, the idea of dying for something was foreign to her. What was even more foreign was that in order to do that ‘something,’ you would actually need to contemplate losing your life.

Be it her Earthen sensibilities or maybe her inner fears, her mouth was sealed shut as the [Monk] scrutinized her for a few moments longer before nodding to himself.

“I’m done here,” Hadrian said, standing up and glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Go as soon as you can walk. I don’t have any more time to waste.”

...

Lily was lying in her bed, refusing to leave her room, when Brother Lucien, one of the smallest [Monks], managed to squeeze himself through the normal-sized door and bring her a bowl of steaming soup.

“In His Glow,” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “I made a special soup with the vegetables I picked today. Do you want some?”

Lily kept sniffing, with her head turned to the wall.

Lucien gently sat beside her on the bed, holding the big bowl of soup with a lid in his big hands.

“It’s going to be ok,” he said. “I know you have spoken with Hadrian, but whatever he said, just don’t listen. He’s an ass.”

She gulped and slowly turned to stare at the [Monk] with the stark tan and brown eyes.

“It’s okay,” he said, gently moving the bowl into her hands, “it’s not too hot, don’t worry.”

Lily ate in silence, hearing many more reassuring words from Lucien that meant nothing to her.

“Hey, I want to show you something tomorrow,” he said as soon as she was done. “I promise it will be fun.”