The dawn came pale and cold. Mist curled through the ruined temple like the breath of sleeping beasts.
Raymond sat cross-legged on the stone floor, sweat slicking his brow, his hands trembling as golden energy flickered in his palms. It pulsed erratically, alive but untamed.
Across from him, Master Arkon watched in silence, eyes half-closed. “Again,” he said.
Raymond gritted his teeth. “I—I can’t control it. It keeps fighting me.”
“Because you’re trying to own it,” Arkon replied. His cane tapped the floor once, and the golden light in Raymond’s hands flared violently, spilling into the air like molten threads. “Life energy cannot be owned. It must be guided.”
The light hissed, splintering into two streams that wrapped around Raymond’s arms. He tried to steady his breathing, but the energy bit into his flesh like static fire.
“Good,” Arkon murmured. “Now listen to it.”
Raymond’s pulse thundered. He closed his eyes. Beneath the burning, he felt it, a rhythm beneath his heartbeat, a deep thrum that wasn’t his own.
Breathe with it. He inhaled slowly. The light dimmed, steadied, pulsing in harmony with his chest. Arkon’s cane struck the ground again. “Open your eyes.”
When Raymond did, he gasped. The world around him was no longer gray stone. He could see the veins of energy in the temple, threads of silver and crimson winding through walls and air like living arteries.
“This,” Arkon said softly, “is the Flow. The anatomy of existence. Everything that lives, breathes, or dies moves within it.”
Raymond whispered, “It’s… beautiful.”
“Beautiful, yes,” Arkon said. “But cruel. Because what can be healed, can also be broken.”
He turned his hand, and the threads of energy shifted color, from silver to black. The air thickened. The walls seemed to breathe. Raymond’s vision wavered. “What are you doing?”
“Teaching you the other half of medicine.”
Arkon lifted a finger. A small forest hare lay nearby on a mat of leaves. Its side was gashed open, bleeding slowly. Raymond flinched. “You hurt it?”
“It was dying when I found it,” Arkon said. “Now save it.”
Raymond dropped to his knees beside the creature. The wound was shallow but cruel. He pressed his glowing palms above it, the golden light spilling gently over the fur.
He remembered Arkon’s voice: guide, don’t own. He breathed. The energy sank in, threading through muscle and bone. Slowly, the bleeding stopped. Flesh knitted. The hare’s breathing steadied.
Raymond exhaled shakily. “It worked.”
Arkon smiled. “You see? Healing is simple. But now”
His hand flicked. The hare jerked as if struck by lightning. A surge of black energy crackled through it. The creature convulsed and fell limp. Raymond froze. “What—why?”
“Because you must also learn to end suffering,” Arkon said. “And to understand the enemy you face, you must first touch death itself.”
Raymond’s voice shook. “You killed it.”
“I released it,” Arkon corrected. “Do you still believe power is kindness? Tell me, when the time comes to choose between one life and a thousand, what will your mercy be worth?”
Raymond stared at the lifeless hare. He felt something twist inside him, grief, anger, confusion. “I don’t want to become like you,” he muttered.
Arkon’s eyes glinted. “Then become better.”
He tossed something across the floor, a small glass vial filled with swirling silver mist. “This is spirit essence. Distilled from life energy. Drink it.”
Raymond hesitated. “Will it hurt?”
“Only if you fear it.”
Raymond swallowed hard and drank. The world exploded. Light seared his vision. He fell backward, choking as the silver mist turned to fire inside him. His veins burned.
His heart raced. Then, silence. He felt his body go still, weightless. And then… he saw himself. From above.
He floated in darkness, his own body lying below like a shell. Threads of light, thousands of them, stretched out into infinity.
In each thread, he saw memories not his own: healers at war, temples burning, souls torn apart by forbidden arts. A woman with golden eyes whispering, “The power to heal is also the power to kill.”
Then he saw a shadow, vast, coiled like a dragon around the threads of fate. It turned toward him. Its eyes were endless void. You are not the first, Raymond Miller, it said. But perhaps you will be the last.
The shadow reached for him, And a cane struck the floor. CRACK.
Raymond snapped back into his body, gasping. The silver vial shattered beside him. His hands trembled violently, but the golden light now burned steady, deep, and controlled.
Arkon’s voice came faintly. “Welcome back.”
Raymond looked up, breathing hard. “What… what was that?”
“The memory of the art you now inherit,” Arkon said. “Every healer who touched the Flow left a trace. You saw them.”
Raymond’s pulse slowed. “That thing, what was it?”
“The one that watches all who defy balance,” Arkon murmured. “A remnant of the gods’ disease.”
Outside, thunder rolled. Arkon stepped closer, his shadow stretching long in the firelight. “Remember this, boy. The world worships power but fears those who can heal without permission. If the empire learns what you are, they will hunt you. They always have.”
Raymond met his gaze. “Then I’ll be ready.”
Arkon smiled faintly. “You will be more than ready. You will be necessary.”
He handed Raymond a dagger, silver-edged, etched with healing runes. “Your next lesson: blood and breath. To understand life, you must know how easily it leaves.”
Raymond sat by the temple window, moonlight spilling across the dagger in his hand. His reflection looked older already, sharper. There was still fear in his eyes, but beneath it, something fierce was growing.
He whispered to the empty room, “I won’t be powerless again.”
Outside, the forest stirred. A rustle. A snap. Raymond tensed. “Master?” No answer.
He rose, moving to the doorway, senses heightened. The air felt heavy, wrong. Then, a whisper. Found him… the heretic’s apprentice.
Figures emerged from the mist, cloaked men, blades glinting with blue runes. Arkon appeared behind Raymond, eyes cold. “So. They’ve come sooner than I expected.”
Raymond’s pulse spiked. “Who are they?”
“Hunters,” Arkon said. “Sent by the empire to erase forbidden arts.”
Raymond tightened his grip on the dagger. “What do we do?”
Arkon’s cane ignited with white fire. “We teach them the meaning of healing.”
The first hunter lunged, steel flashing. Raymond moved on instinct, ducking low as Arkon’s cane struck the man’s chest.
Light burst from the wound, and the hunter screamed as his body convulsed, not burned, but healed backwards, flesh reverting until he collapsed, unmade by his own vitality.
Raymond froze. “That’s”
“Reversal Healing,” Arkon said calmly. “You’ll learn it next.”
Two more attackers charged. Raymond felt energy surge up his arms, golden light flaring. The air around him shimmered. the Flow bending to his will. He struck out, a single palm thrust.
The golden energy hit the first hunter square in the chest. Instead of pushing him back, it stopped his heart. The man fell instantly, eyes wide.
Raymond staggered. “I didn’t mean to”
Arkon’s voice was a whisper in the chaos. “Intent is irrelevant. Only balance matters.”
When the battle ended, the temple was silent. The mist thinned. Five bodies lay still. Raymond stood trembling, his hands glowing faintly, breath ragged.
Arkon rested a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve begun your path.”
Raymond looked at the fallen men. “I killed them.”
“You healed them of their arrogance,” Arkon said softly. “And saved yourself. Do not mourn necessity.”
Raymond swallowed hard. Somewhere deep inside, the voice from the night before stirred again, faint, almost kind. This is only the beginning, Raymond. The seal is still breaking.
He looked up at the dark sky, the taste of iron on his tongue, and realized for the first time that every act of healing carried a shadow.

Latest Chapter
CHAPTER 6B – THE SERPENT’S DREAM (Part Two)
At first, there was no pain, only stillness. Then the world began to breathe. Raymond opened his eyes to find himself lying on water that didn’t ripple.The surface reflected a sky of cracked mirrors, and beneath the translucent waves, he could see his own face, hundreds of versions of it, each one whispering something he couldn’t quite hear.He tried to move. His body obeyed, but it felt slow, heavy, as if gravity itself was trying to pull him deeper. Where am I…? Inside yourself, the voice replied, soft as silk. Where you buried me.The water darkened. The reflection smiled back at him, not kindly. “You,” Raymond breathed. “You’re the thing inside the scars.”Not a thing. A memory. The first healer. The last serpent. The line blurs, doesn’t it?The reflection’s mouth moved perfectly in time with his own. Its eyes bled gold. Do you even know why you were chosen, Raymond Miller?He clenched his fists. “I wasn’t chosen. I was unlucky.”The reflection laughed, a brittle sound like break
CHAPTER SIX A– THE SERPENT’S DREAM
The wind carried the smell of wet stone and iron. By the time Raymond and Elysia reached the safehouse, a crumbling monastery half-swallowed by vines, the sun had already vanished behind the Veil’s rim.The structure crouched against a cliff, its stained-glass windows black with centuries of dust. Elysia pushed open the warped door; it groaned like something waking from a nightmare.“Used to belong to the Order of the White Sigil,” she said. “They were healers before the Empire hunted them down. The Flow here is thin but steady, we can rest, for a few hours at least.”Raymond nodded, lowering himself onto a stone bench. His body ached; every breath felt like pulling shards of glass through his lungs. “I didn’t think healers could get hunted,” he muttered.Elysia shrugged out of her cloak, lighting a dim blue flame in her palm. “Anything that can undo death frightens rulers. They want control, not compassion.”The flame’s light painted her face in fractured hues, tired, haunted, but un
CHAPTER 5C– ASH AND WHISPERS
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The Core’s glow had softened, bathing the chamber in pale light.Dust floated through the air like ash, the only sound the slow drip of liquid magic falling from the ceiling into a shattered basin. The silence felt sacred, heavy with things unsaid.Raymond pressed a hand to his chest. The second scar had gone cold again, but he could still feel something lurking beneath it, a pulse that wasn’t his.Elysia knelt beside one of the fallen guardians, her fingers brushing the cracked scales that lined its face. It was part human, part serpent, its mouth frozen in a silent scream.“They were my ancestors,” she whispered. “Bound to protect the Core until death… but they were betrayed by their own kind.”Raymond looked at her, unsure how to respond. “The Empire?”She shook her head slowly. “No. The betrayal began long before. The High Seers, our leaders, tried to ascend beyond mortality. When the ritual failed, it consumed them. Seraph’s purge only fin
CHAPTER 5B – ASH AND WHISPERS
The corridors of the Citadel twisted as if alive, walls shifting, light bending through cracks in the glass. Raymond’s boots slid on shattered crystal, his breath shallow.Every tremor sent ripples through the floor, and beneath the noise he could hear it, the whisper of the Flow, bleeding like a wound. Elysia’s voice echoed ahead. “This way!”He followed her through an archway that opened into a vast chamber, the Heart of the Vale. It was beautiful and terrible all at once.A sphere of liquid light hovered in the center of the room, pulsing with every heartbeat. Chains of glowing script bound it in place, their links cracking one by one.Around the chamber, the bodies of ancient guardians, half-human, half-serpent, hung frozen in the walls, their eyes weeping silver tears. Raymond stopped, awe and horror warring inside him. “What… is that?”Elysia’s voice trembled. “The Core. The Flow’s anchor. It’s where my ancestors tied our souls to magic itself. When the Empire burned the Vale, i
CHAPTER 5A – ASH AND WHISPERS
The air above the Vale shimmered like glass under strain. The mist that once cloaked the Citadel had thinned to threads of silver smoke, torn apart by the vibration of war horns echoing through the valley.Elysia stood on the bridge of light, her blade drawn. Behind her, the ruins of the Citadel glowed faintly, veins of crystal pulsing as if the fortress itself had awoken from a long slumber.Raymond tightened the straps of his cloak, heart pounding. The echo of his second scar still hummed in his chest, a low, unsettling rhythm that seemed to sync with the rumble of distant drums.“They’re early,” Elysia murmured, eyes scanning the horizon. “Seraph never wastes time.”“Who’s Seraph?” Raymond asked.She didn’t answer immediately. Her grip tightened on her sword hilt. “The Empire’s Blade. The one who burned the Vale the first time.”Raymond froze. “You mean, your mother’s killer?”Elysia’s eyes flicked toward him, glacial and bright. “He doesn’t kill. He purges. There’s a difference.”
CHAPTER 4C – THE SHADOW OF THE VALE
The Citadel of the Vale rose from the fog like a monument carved from moonlight. Spires of translucent stone pierced the night sky, glowing faintly from within as if the walls remembered the fires that once consumed them.Raymond stopped at the threshold, breath caught. “This place… it’s alive.”Elysia’s expression softened. “It dreams. The Flow never truly left it.”She stepped forward, and the gates responded, a deep hum rolling through the earth. The massive doors of woven crystal and steel parted slowly, revealing a courtyard choked with silver vines and glowing roots.Raymond’s eyes darted from one surreal shape to another. The roots pulsed with faint light, spreading like veins into every archway. “This was your home?”“It still is,” she said quietly. “In ways I wish it weren’t.”They entered the main hall, a cathedral of glass pillars and whispering shadows. At its center stood a throne grown from the roots themselves, empty but for a single wisp of silver flame hovering above
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