Kasien walked through the wreckage of the battlefield, his boots crunching against the debris, each step heavier than the last. His body felt like it was made of lead, sluggish and stiff, as though the very act of moving was an insurmountable effort. But he couldn't stop. Not yet. Not until the last soldier had been tended to, not until every wound had been healed, even if that meant sacrificing every last ounce of himself.
He tried not to look at the faces of the men and women who had died here, the ones he hadn't been able to reach in time, the ones whose blood had already soaked into the ground. He couldn't afford to feel the weight of their deaths. But no matter how much he tried to push it away, their eyes haunted him. The stillness in their faces reminded him of everything he had failed to do. Of the lives he couldn't save.
The magic churned within him, restless and hungry, as though it too could feel the emptiness gnawing at the edges of his soul. It was always there. And it was always worse after he healed someone. He could feel the power pulling at him, demanding that he use it again, to fix more, to repair the brokenness of the world. But each time, it drained a little bit more of him. A little bit more of the person he used to be.
He reached a small group of injured soldiers, their faces grim, their bodies battered and broken. They looked up at him with hope in their eyes, but it was a different kind of hope than he had ever wanted. They didn't see him—they saw his power, and that was all. They saw a savior, a healer who could mend anything, fix anything. They didn't see Kasien, the man who was falling apart inside.
"Please, my lord," one of the soldiers begged, his voice weak but full of desperation. "We need you. We can't go on without you."
Kasien didn't respond at first. His hands trembled at his sides, and he felt the familiar wave of emptiness rise within him. His head was pounding, his vision blurred, but he couldn't stop. Not yet. He couldn't bear to look into their eyes and tell them the truth. The truth that he wasn't a healer anymore. He was just a worn-out shell.
He knelt beside the soldier, his hands shaking as he reached out, his magic already beginning to surge. The familiar tingling sensation spread across his palms as he called upon the healing light, but this time, it felt different. It wasn't warm. It wasn't healing. It was cold. And the moment it touched the soldier's wound, a shock of pain shot through Kasien's chest, as if his body was rejecting the power that had once felt like a gift.
He flinched, but he didn't stop. The magic surged forward, mending the torn flesh of the soldier, knitting bone and sinew together. But with each passing second, it felt like more of himself was being pulled away. The emptiness inside him deepened, expanding like a void that threatened to swallow everything. The weight of it was suffocating.
When the soldier's wound had healed and the bleeding stopped, Kasien pulled his hands away, gasping for air. His body trembled, and for a moment, he thought he might collapse right there on the ground. But the soldiers didn't notice. They were too busy thanking him, praising him, hailing him as their savior. They didn't see the toll it was taking on him. They didn't see the cost.
"Thank you, my lord," the soldier whispered, tears in his eyes. "You saved my life."
Kasien's lips trembled as he tried to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he nodded weakly and stood up, turning away from them, his eyes blank, distant. The gratitude they showed him only reminded him of how much he had lost. They didn't understand. They couldn't. They didn't see how much he had given away, piece by piece, each time he used his powers.
As he moved farther away, he could hear the faint murmurs of the soldiers behind him, still thanking him, still calling out his name. The sound was deafening. It was like a chorus of ghosts, a constant reminder that he was no longer the person they thought he was. He was no longer Kasien, the healer. He was a vessel, a tool, and all that was left was a hollow shell of a man who had given everything away.
How much longer can I keep this up?
The thought echoed in his mind as he stumbled across the battlefield, his body growing weaker with every step. He couldn't stop. He couldn't afford to rest. He couldn't afford to show weakness. Not when the world needed him so desperately.
But then the pain hit. It was sudden, a crushing wave of agony that erupted in his chest, so intense that he collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. His hands shot to his chest, his fingers pressing against his ribs as if to hold himself together.
The magic was tearing him apart from the inside. It was devouring him, and he was powerless to stop it.
"Kasien!" Elara's voice cut through the fog in his mind. He could hear her footsteps approaching, but his vision was blurring, and his body refused to move.
"Kasien, look at me!" she shouted, kneeling beside him. She grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to look at her, but his gaze was unfocused, his eyes empty.
"I'm fine," he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. But the words were hollow. He wasn't fine.
"Kasien, you're not fine. You're falling apart," Elara said, her voice sharp with concern. "I can't keep watching you do this to yourself."
He shook his head, trying to push her away, but his body was too weak. He couldn't even lift his arms. The magic inside him was a torrent now, uncontrollable, a force of nature that threatened to consume everything.
"I… I can't stop," Kasien whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't let them die. I can't let them suffer. I have to save them."
"But at what cost, Kasien?" Elara's voice was a desperate plea, filled with a sadness that cut deep into him. "What happens when you have nothing left to give? What happens when you've given everything, and there's nothing but emptiness?"
Kasien didn't answer. He didn't know how. The emptiness inside him was all-consuming, and every time he used his magic, it grew. It swallowed him whole.
"I can't… I can't stop," he repeated, his voice barely audible.
Elara closed her eyes, and when she spoke again, her voice was filled with a quiet resignation. "Then you'll die. Slowly. Piece by piece, you'll fade away, and one day, you won't even be able to remember who you were."
The words hit him like a slap, and for a moment, he could only stare at her, the weight of what she had said sinking in. Could he live with that? Could he live with the knowledge that his powers were killing him, slowly but surely?
"I…" Kasien tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. He didn't know.
And then the magic surged again, a wild, uncontrollable storm that roared through his body. He gasped as it slammed into him, pulling at his insides, tearing at the very fabric of his being. It was too much.
And then, in the midst of the chaos, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time: fear. True, raw, paralyzing fear.
He was going to lose himself. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.