The Healer Who Silenced the Gods

“He’s failed again.”

The words rang like a hammer against glass. The Grand Hall of Healers held its breath as Erynd Varell stood over the examination table, his trembling hands slick with sweat.

A boy’s corpse lay before him, pale, waxen, lips bluish from the poison that had taken him. Around them, a hundred apprentices watched from the gallery, robes whispering as they leaned in for the spectacle.

“Erynd,” said Master Kael Orun, his tone like silk wrapped around a blade, “this is your third attempt. If you cannot even restore breath, perhaps you belong in the kitchens instead of the Hall.”

A ripple of laughter followed.

“I—I can do it,” Erynd stammered, his voice thin, shaking. “I just need”

“You need competence, boy,” Kael snapped. “The patient’s heart has stopped for ten minutes. You claim you can revive him? Then show us.”

Erynd swallowed, eyes darting to the other students, Liora Deyn stood among them, arms crossed, eyes cold. “He’s pathetic,” she whispered to the girl beside her. “Still thinks he’s special.”

He wasn’t special. He knew that. He was the charity apprentice, the orphan pulled from the slums and thrown among prodigies. The only one without noble blood, without lineage, without worth.

But as Erynd pressed his palms to the corpse’s chest, something stirred. Not in the body, but inside him.

A warmth flickered beneath his skin, faint as an ember. “Still waiting,” Kael drawled. “Do hurry, before rigor mortis sets in.”

“I’m trying,” Erynd whispered. He closed his eyes. Focus. You’ve read the theory. You know the pattern.

He traced the sigil in the air, light shimmered weakly, then sputtered out. Laughter again. Someone muttered, “Even his magic dies before it starts.”

“Enough.” Kael raised his hand. “Step back. Let a real healer”

The corpse jerked. Gasps erupted. The boy’s chest rose once, sharply, then fell still again. Erynd blinked. He hadn’t finished the incantation. He hadn’t even completed the mark. Kael froze. “What did you do?”

“I—nothing”

Erynd’s vision blurred for a moment. Beneath the skin of the corpse, he saw… lines. Thin, glowing filaments, woven like threads of light, pulsing faintly, tangling and fraying near the heart.

“What is that?” he whispered.

“What’s what?” Kael’s eyes narrowed. “Stop mumbling nonsense.”

The lines pulsed brighter. Instinct, not thought, moved Erynd’s hand. He reached toward the boy’s chest and, without words, tugged one of the glowing threads gently back into place.

The body convulsed. A cough burst from the corpse’s lips, spewing blood and air together. The hall screamed.

The dead boy opened his eyes. “By the gods” Kael stumbled back. “That’s, impossible!”

Students rushed forward, shouting. “He did it!” “That’s resurrection!” “No spell can do that!”

Erynd staggered, dizzy. The glowing threads vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. He blinked at his trembling hands. “I didn’t, I don’t understand”

Kael recovered quickly, eyes darting around at the chaos. “Silence!” His voice cracked through the noise like a whip. “There’s a rational explanation. He… he must have cast an unapproved charm!”

“I didn’t,” Erynd said weakly. “I just, touched”

“Liar!” Kael’s voice rose, desperate. “You dare use forbidden rites in this sacred hall? Do you know what blasphemy that is?”

The crowd shifted, uneasy. Liora stepped forward, her silver eyes sharp. “Master Kael, he didn’t chant. He didn’t draw a seal. There was no spell.” Her gaze flicked to Erynd. “But he did something.”

“I didn’t mean to”

“Silence!” Kael barked again, face red. “Erynd Varell, you are hereby accused of defiling the Grand Rite of Restoration. Guards!”

Two robed sentinels moved in. Erynd stumbled backward, hands raised. “Wait! Please! I just”

“You just violated the laws of life and death!” Kael’s eyes gleamed with fury, and fear. “Take him!”

The crowd erupted again. Some shouted in defense, others in accusation. “He cheated!” “No one revives the dead!” “It’s witchcraft!” “He’s cursed!”

Erynd felt his throat close. “Master, please! You saw it! He lived!”

“And now he’s dying again,” Kael hissed.

Erynd turned, the boy on the table had begun to convulse, froth spilling from his lips. The threads were gone, the life fading. “No—no, I can fix it” Erynd lunged forward, but Kael seized his wrist.

“Enough of your tricks.” Kael’s voice dropped to a whisper only Erynd could hear. “Whatever you did, boy, you will never do it again. Do you understand?”

Erynd’s breath caught. “Why? He was alive! I can save him”

Kael leaned closer, eyes cold as frost. “Because what you touched is not meant for mortal hands.”

Then he struck Erynd across the face. The world tilted. Gasps echoed. Blood filled Erynd’s mouth. Somewhere, the boy’s body stilled once more.

Kael turned to the hall, voice booming. “The trial is over. Erynd Varell is expelled from the Grand Hall of Healers. His name will be stricken from our records. Take him away.”

“Wait!” Erynd cried, struggling. “You can’t !”

Hands gripped his arms, dragging him back. His knees hit the marble floor. The laughter that followed this time wasn’t loud, it was worse. Soft, pitiful, like the sigh of a crowd watching a stray dog beaten for barking too loudly.

He looked up one last time at Liora. Her expression was unreadable. Then, softly, she said, “What you did… wasn’t natural.”

Erynd’s heart broke. “He was alive.”

She looked away. “Then perhaps that was the mistake.”

Rain poured outside the Hall’s marble gates when they threw him out. His robes were torn, his hands still shaking. The massive doors shut behind him with a final, echoing boom.

He stood there, soaked and shivering, the taste of blood still on his tongue. “Not natural,” he whispered, staring at his palms. “Then what am I?”

A faint pulse flickered beneath his skin, like a thread of light, beating once, twice, before fading again.