The night was the kind of silence that pressed against your chest, the kind that made every breath feel like a burden. The battlefield had long been abandoned by all but the dead and the dying. The soft, rustling wind carried the scent of blood and ash, but to Kasien, it was just a reminder of what he had become. He stood in the middle of it all, his body still trembling, his heart racing, as if every heartbeat was a hammer strike on an anvil.
He couldn't escape the sensation of being watched. It was always there—the sense that someone, something, was waiting for him to make a mistake, to fail. The weight of it crushed him as he stumbled over the debris, his legs barely holding him up.
Why hadn't he stopped?
He should've stopped after the first person, after the second, after the hundredth. Every life he saved came at a price—his mind, his body, his soul—and yet he kept going. He couldn't stop. There were too many people to save. Too many lives on the line.
Kasien leaned against a broken wall, gasping for air as the overwhelming fatigue settled in. The magic still churned inside him, that insatiable hunger. His hands were shaking, fingers twitching, desperately wanting to reach out and heal, to fix, to save. But what was he really saving?
He wasn't healing anyone anymore. Not truly.
He was breaking. And everyone around him was going to break, too.
"Kasien," a voice called softly from the darkness. He didn't need to turn around. He knew who it was.
Elara stepped into his line of sight, her expression a mixture of concern and quiet fury. She had been watching him for days, weeks maybe, as he slowly spiraled into something darker, something unrecognizable. Her footsteps were soft, but in the stillness of the night, they sounded like thunder.
"Stop," Elara said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Stop this. You're not saving anyone."
Kasien's gaze remained fixed on the ground, his breath shallow. He couldn't face her—not now, not like this. He was so tired of pretending, of lying to himself, of pretending he could keep going. But what else was there? What else could he do?
"You don't understand," he muttered, his voice rough. "I have to. They need me. If I stop, they all die."
"They need you alive, Kasien," Elara said, taking a step forward. "They need the real you. Not the broken shell of a man who's destroying himself."
Kasien shook his head, the words not registering. The real him? The man he had been before all of this? That man was dead.
"I don't know who that is anymore," he whispered, his voice cracking as if the weight of the words themselves were enough to break him. "All I know is that if I don't do this, I'm nothing."
"Kasien, you're so much more than your magic," Elara pressed, her voice gentle but insistent. "But you're losing yourself in it. You're becoming... something else. Something I don't even recognize."
The sharp pain of her words struck him harder than any blade ever could. Something else.
Kasien turned toward her, his eyes filled with unshed tears—tears he hadn't let fall in years. "You don't get it. Every time I stop, someone else dies. I can't stop."
Elara stood still, as if weighing her next words. She knew what it was like to be consumed by something—by a mission, a purpose, an obsession. But Kasien was different. This wasn't about honor or duty. It was about survival. His survival, yes, but more than that, the survival of his soul. If he stopped, he would lose himself entirely.
"Kasien," Elara began slowly, "when was the last time you asked for help?"
Kasien blinked, the question catching him off guard. Help. He didn't need help. He couldn't ask for help. He was the one who gave help, who healed, who saved. The idea of depending on anyone else felt like a betrayal, like acknowledging his own weakness.
"I don't… need help," he said, but the words tasted bitter on his tongue.
Elara stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She gently cupped his face with her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Kasien, this isn't you. This isn't who you were meant to be. You were always strong. But this—this is breaking you. You're losing yourself, and I can't just stand by and watch you destroy yourself."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Losing himself. He was already gone. The magic had taken so much, and there was so little of him left.
"I can't stop," he whispered again, this time with a finality that made Elara's heart ache. He could feel the truth of those words deep in his bones. He couldn't stop because he had become nothing more than the power he wielded. The healer. The savior. The weapon.
The quiet hum of his magic surged within him, relentless and hungry, as if it, too, had sensed his weakness. His hands trembled again, and he clenched them into fists, trying to hold it all in. But it was too much. He couldn't control it. It wasn't just his body or mind that was breaking. It was his very sense of self.
"Kasien…" Elara whispered, her voice cracking. She reached out to him, but he took a step back, his eyes wide with panic.
"I can't stop, Elara," he said, his voice strained. "If I stop, I'll lose everything. If I stop, I'll die."
She froze, her hand still reaching out toward him. That was the fear he'd never spoken aloud. The fear of losing himself completely. He couldn't face the void that would open up inside him if he stopped. He couldn't be human anymore.
"You're not going to die," Elara said softly, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "Not like this. But you'll break. You're already breaking, Kasien. And when that happens, there will be nothing left to save."
He shook his head violently. The words were too real. He was already breaking.
"I've already lost," Kasien whispered, a sob caught in his throat. "I've already lost everything."
Elara's hand dropped to her side, her heart breaking for him. She wanted to reach him, to make him see reason, to make him understand that he wasn't alone. But all she saw in his eyes was emptiness. The magic had taken him, consumed him, and now there was nothing but a shell left.
"I'll always be here for you," Elara said quietly, though her voice trembled. She had said those words many times before, but this time, they felt like a promise she wasn't sure she could keep. Kasien was so far gone, and she was powerless to stop it.
Kasien didn't answer. Instead, he turned away from her, his body stiff and unyielding. He didn't want to see her pity. He didn't want to hear her words. He just wanted to escape. Escape the feeling of drowning in his own power, in his own weakness.
He started walking again, his legs moving on their own, his body carrying him toward the heart of the battlefield. Toward the next person in need of saving. The next wound that would demand his healing.
He was empty, and yet he kept moving, because what else could he do?