The training hall within Crimson Academy was unlike any other. Unlike the combat arenas or spellcasting chambers filled with roaring flames and crashing ice, this space exuded tranquility, its air thick with the gentle hum of residual essence. The walls shimmered faintly, embedded with enchantments that encouraged focus and clarity. It was a place where precision reigned over raw power, where healing wasn't just magic—it was an art.
At the center of the hall, Kara stood, her posture tense, her fingers trembling slightly as she wiped fish viscera from her cheek. The remains of her latest failed attempt lay scattered across the polished floor, the acrid scent of burnt mana lingering in the air.
Across from her, Professor Seraphis Alden observed silently, her sharp eyes hidden behind thin-rimmed glasses that reflected the soft glow of overhead mana-lamps. Dressed in her flowing healer's robes, the veteran mage exuded a calm, almost surgical authority, her presence commanding respect without the need for force.
With a flick of her wrist, she raised a hand, and a gust of wind swept through the room, cleansing every trace of the exploded fish—except for the bloodstains on Kara's uniform. The deliberate omission was noted, a silent reminder of her failure.
Seraphis let the moment linger before speaking, her voice measured and crisp.
"Healing is not about willing a wound shut, Kara. It is about understanding what is broken and commanding essence to restore it properly."
She paced slowly, each step measured.
"You lack control. Not intention, not talent—but control. That is the difference between a skilled healer and a reckless amateur."
Kara swallowed, forcing herself to keep her gaze steady. She knew better than to speak now. This was a lesson, not a reprimand.
Understanding the Core: Mana, Essence and Magic, these were the basics for every healer to understand.
Professor Seraphis gestured toward the empty space between them. With a wave of her hand, three distinct lights manifested—each glowing with a unique energy.
The first shimmered blue, pulsing rhythmically.
The second glowed a vibrant gold, its light fluid and warm.
The third crackled violet, an unstable mix of the first two, sparking unpredictably.
"Mana," she pointed at the blue light, "is the raw energy of the body as mages. It is our fuel, our lifeblood in spellcasting. But alone, it is crude and formless."
The light dimmed slightly, emphasizing its incomplete nature.
"Essence," she continued, motioning toward the golden glow, "is the world's energy, tied to natural laws—fire, water, life, death. It is what gives magic structure and purpose. It is what warriors use"
The golden light flared briefly, flowing like liquid, bending but never breaking.
Finally, she motioned toward the violet energy, still unstable, shifting between forms.
"Magic," she explained, "is the act of blending mana with essence, shaping them into something greater." She turned her gaze to Kara. "Healing magic, in particular, requires the synchronization of your own mana with life essence—not an easy task."
The lights faded, leaving the lesson burned into Kara's mind.
The Three Pillars of Healing Magic
Seraphis stepped forward, her piercing gaze meeting Kara's.
"There are three pillars to healing magic. Ignore any one of them, and you will fail."
She raised one finger.
Perception. "Healing is not about seeing a wound; it is about feeling it. If you do not perceive an injury correctly, your spell will be crude."
A second finger joined.
Restoration. "You must guide the body's healing, not force it. If you restore blindly, you might cause the tissue to grow incorrectly—leading to mutations, scarring, or worse."
Finally, she raised a third finger.
Sustainability. "Mana is not limitless. If you overextend yourself, you will collapse before saving your patient. A reckless healer dies before their patient does."
The words hung heavily between them, and for a moment, Kara felt insignificant—as if she had been given the weight of life itself to hold.
Professor Seraphis strode toward a large water tank in the corner of the room. Inside, several fish swam lazily, oblivious to their fate. She reached in, plucked one out, and suspended it in the air with a simple spell.
Then, without hesitation, a razor-thin gust of wind sliced its underbelly open.
The fish twitched, its lifeblood leaking onto the floor.
Seraphis didn't flinch. Instead, with a slow, precise motion, she extended a single glowing fingertip.
A soft golden light pulsed from her hand—gentle, warm, yet firm in its command. Kara watched, wide-eyed, as the wound closed in layers, first the internal flesh, then the muscle, and finally the skin. The healing was flawless, the result of perfect control.
"Watch closely," Seraphis murmured. "Because now, it is your turn."
This fish was healed brand new but unfortunately for it another thin wound was carved into its belly.
Kara steeled herself, stepping forward. She placed her hands over the wound, closing her eyes, reaching out with her essence.
She felt it—the damaged flow of life, the fragility of the failing creature.
She channeled her mana into the spell, trying to replicate her professor's precision.
Immediately, the fish reacted violently, its body shuddering as the wound warped grotesquely instead of closing properly.
Smack.
Kara flinched as Seraphis smacked her wrist with the back of her fingers—not harsh, but firm.
"Control," the professor scolded. "You are not forcing the body to obey—you are guiding it back to harmony."
Kara nodded tightly, adjusting her approach.
She slowed her breathing, eased the flow of mana, and tried again—this time, carefully aligning her energy with the fish's natural healing process.
The result was vastly different. The wound mended slowly, layer by layer, closing in the correct order. The fish twitched, weak but still alive.
Seraphis gave a single nod.
"Better. True healing is not instant. The best healers restore what should have been, not what they wish to see."
Kara let out a slow exhale, a mix of relief and frustration filling her chest.
Seraphis took a step back, folding her arms.
"Healing does not come free. Overuse leads to mana depletion, cellular degradation, even essence poisoning."
Kara stiffened.
"A healer who collapses mid-battle is worse than useless. They become another burden to save."
The words stung, but she absorbed them, letting them settle deep.
The fish beneath her fingers shuddered again—and then, it stilled.
She froze.
Its body was still intact, the wound nearly closed, but it was too weak to survive.
Despite her progress, she had still failed.
Kara's throat tightened.
Seraphis studied her for a long moment before speaking.
"Go clean yourself up. We'll continue tomorrow."
Kara lowered her head, biting back her disappointment as she turned toward the exit.
As the door shut behind her, Seraphis allowed herself a small, rare smile.
"She is more talented than she thinks," the professor murmured. "She just needs a little push."
---
The evening sky had settled into a deep navy hue, the last streaks of orange and pink barely visible beyond the academy's towering spires. The earlier bustling energy of returning students had faded, replaced by the muffled hum of distant chatter and the occasional shuffle of footsteps. The grand dormitory building, once a hive of movement, now stood quiet—the only sounds being the faint echo of voices bouncing off its marble corridors.
Kara trudged inside, her limbs aching from the long day of training. Her clothes still carried the faint scent of mana-burnt flesh and dried blood, remnants of her repeated failures in healing class. Her expression was blank, exhaustion pressing against her like an invisible weight, but her mind was still buzzing with frustration over her earlier mistakes.
Reaching the main staircase hall, she barely spared a glance at the massive, intertwining staircases that twisted and turned of their own accord, shifting like giant stone serpents.
The staircases weren't static; they moved on an intricate timer, aligning with different floors in a clockwork dance. Kara had spent enough time in the dorms to memorize the timing, stepping onto the nearest bronze-rimmed steps right as they clicked into place, carrying her effortlessly upward. The stone beneath her feet trembled slightly, gears humming faintly as the structure adjusted itself.
As soon as the staircase locked in position, Kara stepped off, exhaling tiredly as she turned down the dimly lit corridor toward the bathing chambers.
She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the few lingering students. Some gave her a wide berth, their gazes flickering toward the bloodstains on her uniform, but she ignored their whispers. She wasn't in the mood for small talk.
Just as she reached the entrance of the bathroom lobby, a familiar voice cut through the silence.
"Hey Kara, what's with the blood? Who did you kill?"
Kara groaned internally, already recognizing the voice before turning to face June, her ever-inquisitive roommate.
Without a word, she grabbed June's wrist and yanked her off the main hallway, pulling her into the bathing chamber's waiting area, away from prying ears.
"My practice went wrong today. And before you ask, yes, I resumed earlier than you guys," Kara muttered, running a tired hand through her hair.
June raised an eyebrow, arms crossing over her chest. "Huh. Figures. You never could sit still for long."
Kara was about to brush it off when June's expression softened slightly.
"Hey… I heard about Den's situation. I'm really sorry."
Kara froze, her fatigue momentarily forgotten.
"Wait, how did you—"
Then, realization clicked into place.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"That idiot…" she muttered, her voice darkening with menace.
June quickly raised both hands in surrender, shaking her head. "Relax. It wasn't his fault."
She went on to explain what had happened earlier in the day—how Roy had been cornered by Angus, how the conversation had spiraled, and how Denwen's situation had been laid bare for others to speculate on.
By the time June finished, Kara's fingers were twitching.
"That prick… One day, he's gonna get what's coming to him," she growled, her eyes burning with rage.
June laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, trust me, we all agree on that."
She gestured toward the row of sinks nearby, changing the topic before Kara could start plotting revenge.
"But before you start murder plans, I think you need to wash up. I need to clean my hands, too. We don't want to end up under house arrest now, do we?"
Kara smirked and, without warning, stepped on June's foot—hard enough to make her yelp.
"Ouch! What was that for?!"
Kara rolled her shoulders. "Just keeping you on your toes."
June shot her a mock glare, rubbing her foot before grabbing a towel.
The two girls headed inside, their earlier frustration melting into the warm steam of the bathrooms, exhaustion giving way to quiet companionship as they prepared for the long semester ahead.