The Price of a Healer

The Royal Garden

"Good day," the girl spoke softly. Her voice was smooth like silk, but strong like steel beneath. "My name is Rose."

Caelen looked up from his seated position and stood, offering a polite nod. "Hi… I'm Caelen."

Rose's lips curved into a faint smile. "So, you're the healer who's supposed to fix my arm?" Her eyes darted briefly to the empty space where her left arm should've been.

"Yes," Caelen answered calmly, hiding the storm inside his chest.

The high priest motioned for her to sit on a stone pedestal, and Rose obeyed. As she settled, she turned back to Caelen. "Then… I'll leave it to you."

Caelen took a deep breath, placing his hand slightly above the scarred shoulder where the limb was lost. His fingers glowed green.

"Heal," he whispered.

Suddenly—WHUMM!

A low vibration rippled through the air like a gong echoing in water. The world warped. Colors bled. Everything slowed.

Caelen's eyes widened.

He wasn't in the chamber anymore.

He was seeing—her.

A young girl, no older than ten, was swinging a wooden sword.

Again.

And again.

Snow fell. Then melted. Rain poured. Then

dried. Time passed. Her hair grew longer.

Her swings sharper. Her arms blistered and bled, but she never stopped.

She was training. Alone. Always alone.

Season after season.

Swing after swing.

Strike after strike.

Caelen clenched his teeth. "That's… your soul," he whispered.

The vision shattered.

BOOM!

Rose's arm grew back in an instant, flesh knitting, bones forming, nerves reconnecting with flashes of gold and green light. A gust of magical wind exploded outward.

Caelen's knees buckled.

He collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud, unconscious.

"Caelen!" Rose gasped, eyes wide as she leapt to her feet. "Is something wrong with him?!"

The priest stepped forward calmly. "The toll was heavier than expected. Healing a soul-forged warrior takes more than ordinary magic. Do not concern yourself. Go now—the king will be pleased to see you."

"But…" Rose hesitated. Her expression softened. She crouched beside Caelen, placing a hand gently on his bruised cheek. "Thank you. Because of you, I can return to battle… I'm forever grateful."

She pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, then stood and walked away.

As her footsteps faded, the priest turned to Caelen.

"What a fragile thing," he murmured.

But before he could lift him, Lyra stepped in, scoffing loudly. Her eyes were cold. "One healing, and he's already out like this? Disgraceful."

She stepped forward.

Hard.

Lifting her foot—

"I hate it when someone is supposed to be good at one thing, and they still fail. You disgust me," she spat, trying to stomp on his ribs.

The priest grabbed her ankle mid-air. His grip was steel. "We wouldn't want anything happening to our precious specimen, now would we?"

"Fine," she hissed, yanking her leg away and storming off.

Unseen beneath his lashes, Caelen smirked.

Yes… this is what I've been longing to see.

That true face of yours.

---

Evening – Caelen's Chamber

The room was dim. The moon spilled silver light across his bed.

Caelen sat up slowly, staring out the window.

"No," he said quietly.

Lyra stood near the door. Her expression was soft, pleading. "Please, Caelen. Remember what we promised when we arrived here—to protect the kingdom together."

"I said no." His voice was firmer. "The pain of healing... it's unbearable. You wouldn't understand. I can't go through that again."

Lyra stepped forward, gently taking his hand.

"Please…"

Caelen stared at her. That same soft smile, those sweet eyes—he remembered falling for them before.

But not anymore.

He pulled his hand away and turned his back on her. "I can't."

Lyra stood still. Then quietly whispered, "As you wish… I won't force you." She turned and left, disappearing into the dark.

---

Later – Lyra's Room

She stood by a table, a candle flickering beside her. A maid entered with a tray.

Lyra pulled a small vial from her pocket, poured its shimmering liquid into a cup of tea. "Give this to Caelen. Say it'll help him rest."

The maid nodded and left.

---

Back in Caelen's Room

A knock came.

"Enter," he said lazily.

The maid stepped in, bowing. "Lady Lyra asked me to bring this. It will help with your fatigue."

Caelen accepted the tea, but his eyes narrowed. The surface shimmered oddly.

[Ding! SYSTEM ALERT]

Foreign Alchemical Compound Detected

Name: Velucane Dust

Type: Mind-Altering Sedative | Emotion Binder

Immediate Effects:

– Drowsiness

– Magic Disruption

– Susceptibility to Influence

Side Effects:

– Dependency

– Emotional Conditioning

– Memory Fog

He stared at the tea.

"…It takes courage to drink this even when you know it's poisoned," Caelen whispered.

"Master—DON'T!" Ryan's voice screamed in his mind.

He raised the cup.

Drank.

Black.

---

The Cell – Hours Later

Metal clinks. A door slams.

Caelen groaned, eyes fluttering open. Chains rattled as he tried to move.

His arms were bound to a chair. The room smelled like rust, damp stone, and death.

Standing in front of him—Drevor.

The royal guard captain. Fully armored. Face shadowed.

Caelen muttered, "Looks like you're still alive, huh?"

WHAM!

Drevor's gauntlet slammed into Caelen's face. Blood splattered on the floor.

"You dare raise your voice?" Drevor growled. BAM! Another punch.

"I didn't… do anything wrong," Caelen gasped, coughing blood.

Drevor snarled. "How dare you reject the princess's kindness?! After everything she's done for you?!"

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Each blow cracked louder. Blood stained Caelen's robes. His eyes began to fade.

Inside his head, Caelen laughed silently. So this is what all this is about…

"You were given royal rooms. Ate royal food. You sat with the king!" Drevor shouted. "And you reject her?! You lowborn filth!"

CRACK! A tooth snapped.

The door creaked open.

Lyra.

She stepped in slowly, her heels clicking. Her presence was regal. Cold.

Caelen raised his bloodied head, barely.

"Lady… Lyra…" his voice was weak.

She walked up, then—SLAM!—placed her boot on his face.

"You disgust me," she whispered.

She pressed harder.

Caelen and the chair fell to the floor, chains clanking.

She didn't flinch.

"Keep him alive," she said to the priest. "Next time we need him… he better be able to actually do something."

She turned and left.

Drevor sneered and leaned down. "Everyone has always felt this way about you. You just didn't notice, you fool."

He raised his fist again—

"Enough," the priest said sharply.

Drevor lowered his hand and walked off, muttering.

The priest stepped forward, his eyes gleaming under the torchlight. He crouched beside Caelen and pulled out a glass vial containing a glowing white liquid.

"No… please…" Caelen croaked.

The priest forced his mouth open and poured it in.

Caelen gagged. The liquid burned.

His vision blurred.

His breathing slowed.

As the priest stood and walked away, the cell door slammed shut behind him.

Caelen's head dropped forward. His body slumped in chains.

The world… went black.

---

[To Be Continued…]