Healing magic fascinated Rane, even made him a little jealous. Why couldn’t his origin magic be like Seoltrin’s? He observed the old man tending to the wounded in the infirmary for many hours, even taking notes on methods and techniques. The taking of a life was brutal and easy. Saving someone from the grasp of death on the other hand, it took patience and a finesse Rane would love to learn.

Much to his surprise, Seoltrin’s grumpy attitude all but vanished when Rane expressed his interest. He seemed happy to teach and impart some knowledge, even though he let Rane nowhere near a patient. Most of the time he’d stick to using simple magic, tugging and pulling at skin to close and carefully cauterise wounds. All things Rane himself could do, with enough practice.

The man he was treating now though was seriously injured, brought in with a broken spine after a poor attempt at flight. For the first time, Seoltrin didn’t talk throughout the procedure. Rane felt the anxiousness from across the room as Seoltrin gently placed a palm on the man’s back. A gentle orange light spread down from his hands and the man let out soft gasps of air, like he was struggling to breathe. Seoltrin focused his origin magic on the base of the spine and worked his way up, tortuously slow.

Unlike Leylin’s magic, Seoltrin’s healing was gentle and toilsome. The whole process lasted through the night. Beads of sweat rolled down Seoltrin’s forehead as he fumbled for a place to sit. Some of his assistants took the now asleep patient away.

“Blights,” Seoltrin cursed and ran a hand over his bald head. “I shouldn’t be doing this at my age.”

“If you didn’t, he may have died. I’m sure he’ll be thanking you.” Rane handed him a cup of water he had at the ready.

Seoltrin downed it and shook his hand in the air. “Who are they gonna be thanking in two years, huh? I’m already ninety eight.”

Rane doubled back. Seoltrin didn’t look that old, and Rane would have never guessed the man was so close to an Oath’s end. Was that why Seoltrin was eager to train him? “What about the other doctors? I see you’ve trained them well.”

“Yeah…” Seoltrin rested with his elbows against his legs and his head hanging. He sat like that, staring at the white floor of the infirmary in silence for a while. “But without a good origin, it will be difficult.”

Rane pursed his lips. How he wished he could have sparked to a different type of magic. Something that he could use freely. Something that could help others instead of harming them.

“Forget it.” Seoltrin sighed. He glanced over his shoulder at Rane with a faint smile. “I talked to her today.”

Learning to heal and treat others wasn’t the sole reason Rane kept coming to the infirmary each day, and no matter how he tried to hide the fact the old doctor had noticed. “How is she?” he asked.

“Recovering much better than I would have guessed,” Seoltrin chuckled. “Quite a tenacious brat, I’ll give her that. Considering the damage you did to her lung and ribs though, it will be months before she’s fully healed.”

Rane almost winced upon hearing it. He still felt guilty about the final round against Veradin’s apprentice. He had almost taken her life. The archmage repeatedly said he shouldn’t apologize. ‘It was the prognostic orb that had failed to work.’ Rane had gone along with it, but he knew the truth. There was nothing wrong with the orb. It was his magic that had interfered with the device. “I’ll go see her.” Rane glanced at the old man again, gauging his reaction.

“Do as you wish.” Seoltrin grunted as he arched his back. Rane could almost hear the cracks. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Sleep well.” Rane watched Seoltrin leave before standing. After so many days in the infirmary, both as a patient and as a student, he knew where each lackluster corridor led and what was hidden behind each door. He knocked on the wood softly, before making his way inside her room. The ashfen glanced in his direction, then went back to the book she was reading.

So there’d be awkward silence today as well. Rane sighed as he leaned against the window. The infirmary occupied a tall building, shadowed only by the arena next to it, and some patient rooms were on the highest floor. Veradin must have spared no expense. Silyra was calm and beautiful this early in the morning, and the view from the room was magnificent. He sat there, gazing at the streets and buildings below. The translucent barrier glimmered in the distance. After weeks of non-stop struggle, fighting and magic, he’d come to appreciate the peace and quiet. It was like nothing could reach all the way up here. No war, no archmages, and no danger. Only the soft sway of clouds mattered here.

“How old are you?”

“What?” Rane was so lost in thought that he missed what she said. This was the first time she had spoken to him after the competition.

“Your age,” she said. “What is it?”

“Twenty three.” He couldn’t really remember, but that was his guess. “Yours?”

“Seventeen.” She turned in his direction and looked at him with her bright eyes. “Were you as strong as me when you were seventeen? Would you win against me?”

“So that’s what this is about.” Rane chuckled and shook his head. “No,” he said. “There’s no way.”

“I see.” She turned to her book again.

“Look, I’m really sorry for what I did.” Rane sat on the bed beside her. “I didn’t mean to injure you.”

She slammed the book shut. “Don’t apologise!” Her eyes seemed angry as she glared at him. “You are stronger, and that’s that.”

“Will you stop?” It was Rane’s turn to be mad. He had spent so many days here and she still hadn’t understood he cared. “Would you prefer I killed you? Slammed the sword through your head and painted the arena with your brains? Cause that’s how ‘the strong’ would act.”

She curled up away from him, and Rane caught a glimpse of her trembling hands. She muttered something under her breath.

“Relax.” Rane said, mostly to himself. “I won’t hurt you.” The deep blue of fear peeked from over her head. Hesitant and frightened, she felt like the polar opposite of the girl he had met before the final round. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot.” He extended a hand slowly. “I’m Rane. You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t have one,” she said, turning her head away. “No parents.”

Rane fell silent at that, staring down at the bedsheets. He tried to imagine what she could have been through to end up like this, vicious, bitter and distrustful at such a young age. “What about Veradin? What does he call you?”

“Apprentice,” she said, then looked at him again. The blue around her grew fainter. “Your surname, you never told me what it was. You knew you’d win.”

“That’s not it.” Rane laughed softly. “I don’t know what it is either.” He gave her a smile. “But it doesn’t really bother me. The only reason I’d like to know it is to make my search for my family easier.”

“You don’t have one either?”

“I- I don’t know.” Rane clenched his fists. Leylin’s threats echoed in his head. “Atinas is helping me find them.” He tried to shake off the thought. “Perhaps Veradin could help you find yours? He seems to really care about you.”

“I already know where they are.” Her voice nearly broke. “Veradin killed them both.”

Rane doubled back. “What?”

“It was a battlefield.” Veradin spoke from the doorstep, and Rane flinched. How long had he been standing there? The man’s eyes –enveloped in constant radiance– stared at her in judgement. “They were enemies. Zealots, bent on destroying Danira. I only found out they had a child later.”

Rane remained silent. It truly was war that had left her like this. “Even if you had known, would it have been any different?”

That made Veradin pause. “No,” he sighed. “I can see why Caelus wants you dead. You have a way of getting people to talk more than they should.”

“It wasn’t on purpose this time.”

“I’m surprised you even got through to her.” Veradin turned his gaze to his apprentice and observed her form. “How does your body feel? Good enough to get back to training?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I have to get stronger.”

“That’s my girl.” Veradin smiled. “Shouldn’t you be getting back to your master as well, Rane? I’m sure you have a lot to discover.”

Had Veradin realised that he had sparked? “I should,” he muttered as he stood. “You should take care.” He turned to leave, but she held his hand. Softly, this time, without hostility.

“Next time,” she said and looked up into his eyes. “I’m gonna win next time.” She paused briefly, then pouted. “And I’m gonna be precise! You’ll be just fine after I’m done, not stuck in the infirmary for weeks!”

Rane raised his brows. It wasn’t exactly what he had hoped for, but perhaps there was still hope for her. “I’ll be waiting!”