The morning light streamed through the open windows, casting a golden glow over the small healer’s quarters where Elya sat across from Mirelle. The scent of herbs and parchment filled the space, grounding her in the present as she traced the rim of her cup with idle fingers. It had been weeks since she had woken up to the feeling of magic thrumming steadily through her veins, no longer fragile, no longer slipping through her grasp. The artificial meridians Mirelle had helped her construct were more than a lifeline, they were a beginning.

  Mirelle regarded her with sharp but kind eyes, hands folded neatly on the worn wooden table between them. “So,” she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, “now that you have your strength, your magic, and the freedom to use them, what do you intend to do?”

  Elya exhaled, her grip tightening around her cup. “I… I want to live.”

  Mirelle raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

  “For so long, all I have done is fight,” Elya admitted, her voice softer now, contemplative. “Against my own limits, against expectations, against failure. I learned magic, not because I wanted to wield power, but because I refused to be weak. And now that I finally have the strength, I don’t want to waste it on more battles. I don’t want to live in the shadow of the tower, proving myself to people who never believed in me. I want something different.”

  Mirelle hummed thoughtfully. “You want peace.”

  Elya met her gaze, a small, almost embarrassed smile tugging at her lips. “Yes. A place where I’m not defined by what I lack or what I’ve overcome. A place where I can just… be.”

  Mirelle leaned back in her chair, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Then I might have something for you.”

  Elya blinked, surprised. “What do you mean?”

  “There’s a town on the outskirts of the kingdom,” Mirelle said, standing and moving to a shelf filled with carefully labeled scrolls and documents. She pulled one free and set it before Elya. “Alden’s Reach. It’s about two weeks’ travel by carriage from here.”

  Elya leaned forward, running her fingers over the wax seal before looking up expectantly.

  “They need a healer,” Mirelle continued. “A good one. It’s a small town but growing, and they lack anyone with real skill. My friend, Oswin, is on the town council. He’s been sending letters asking if I could recommend someone. Until now, I had no one to send.” She gestured to the scroll. “These are your credentials. With them, you’ll be recognized as a licensed healer. The town provides a modest home to healers who settle there. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to start a life.”

  Elya stared at the document in stunned silence, her heart pounding with something unfamiliar, hope. A new life, not just away from the tower, but away from the expectations that had chained her for so long.

  She swallowed hard. “Mirelle… this is…”

  “A fresh start.” Mirelle’s expression softened. “One you’ve earned.”

  Elya let out a shaky breath before nodding. “I’ll go.”

  The journey to Alden’s Reach was long but uneventful. The carriage ride over rough, winding roads left her sore, but the anticipation of what lay ahead dulled the discomfort. When she finally arrived, the town unfolded before her, a charming settlement nestled between rolling hills and thick forests. The air smelled fresh, carrying the scent of fertile earth and the distant promise of rain.

  As soon as she stepped off the carriage, she was met by a stout, middle-aged man with graying hair and keen eyes. He wore the simple but well-kept attire of a town official, and when he saw her, a broad smile broke across his face.

  “You must be Elya,” he said, offering a firm handshake. “I’m Oswin. Mirelle spoke highly of you in her letters. We’re lucky to have you.”

  Elya returned the handshake, a nervous but genuine smile forming. “Thank you. I hope I can be of service.”

  “Come,” Oswin gestured toward the heart of the town. “Let’s not waste time. You’ll find we’re a practical folk here. We don’t stand on ceremony. People need a healer, and that means you’ve got work waiting.”

  Without hesitation, Elya followed.

  The healer’s station was a modest building at the town’s center, a single-story structure with sturdy stone walls and a simple wooden door. Inside, she found a small but well-stocked space, shelves lined with herbs, salves, and neatly arranged medical instruments. A few people were already waiting, their faces hopeful as Oswin introduced her.

  It didn’t take long for her to get to work. Bandaging wounds, treating fevers, diagnosing ailments, these were tasks she knew well, and they grounded her in the present, making her transition to this new life feel real. Unlike the lessons in the tower, there was no pressure to perform, no one watching to measure her worth. Here, she was needed, and that alone was enough.

  Hours later, after the last patient had left and the sun had begun to set, Oswin led her to her new home. It was small but well-maintained, a single-room cottage with a sturdy hearth, a wooden bed, and a modest table. There was a small garden outside, overgrown but rich with soil, waiting to be cultivated.

  “It’s not much,” Oswin admitted, watching her reaction. “But it’s yours.”

  Elya stepped inside, setting her bag down on the table. She ran a hand over the worn wood, taking in the quiet, the warmth, the sheer simplicity of it. It was nothing like the towering halls of the academy, nor the cramped quarters of the apprentices. It was hers, untouched by expectation or past failures.

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  A slow, genuine smile spread across her lips.

  “It’s perfect.”

  Alden’s Reach had welcomed Elya with open arms, and in return, she gave it everything she had. The growing frontier town, situated at the farthest edge of the kingdom, had no shortage of ailments and injuries in need of tending. It was a land of opportunity, but also hardship, where farmers, hunters, and traders pushed the limits of civilization, often at great personal cost. For the first time in her life, Elya was not fighting against the expectations of others or struggling to prove herself or just to survive. She was simply needed. And that, in itself, brought a profound sense of peace.

  Her days were filled with work, mending broken bones, treating illnesses, and even assisting with childbirth. She had helped bring new life into the world more times than she could count, holding exhausted mothers’ hands as they brought their children into the warmth of a growing town. She became a familiar figure in the homes of the people she served, offering comfort as much as healing. As the months passed, she found herself greeted by name in the marketplace, waved to by children who saw her as more than just a healer, but as a trusted presence in their lives. It was in these moments, when a child would run up to her with a scraped knee and an eager grin, or when an elder would call her over to share wisdom alongside their ailments, that she felt truly at home.

  Her involvement in the town extended beyond the healer’s station. When new homes and structures were needed, she lent her magic where it could be of use, reinforcing support beams, smoothing foundations, or strengthening walls where wood alone might fail. But she did not overstep. When the work required knowledge beyond her own, she listened to the builders, learning from them, following their direction rather than taking charge. She wanted to be part of Alden’s Reach, not as an outsider with magic, but as a servant of the town who simply happened to wield it.

  And yet, she couldn’t ignore the restless curiosity that stirred beneath the surface. Healing magic was powerful, but inefficient. She knew there had to be a better way.

  And so, in the quiet hours of the night, when the town slept and the candles burned low, she began new research. Elya built on the foundation she and Mirelle had laid with the artificial meridians. The design of those meridians had been a true marvel of modern magic, and she was anxious to see that concept applied to healing. If she could get more energy to the right places in the body, healing wouldn't have to wait for the body to heal on its own with only minor encouragement.

  The results were staggering.

  Wounds that once took minutes to mend sealed shut in seconds. A deep cut, normally requiring both time and effort, now knit itself together with a mere touch. Fatigue, once an inevitable consequence of extensive healing, faded into the background as she learned to recycle the energy within her meridian network. Disease, a scourge that no mage had ever fully conquered, was eradicated in an instant as she combined cleansing magic with targeted tissue regeneration.

  Life in Alden’s Reach was simple, but it was hers. She had a home, a community that valued her, and for the first time, she experienced life beyond magic. There were evenings spent laughing in the town’s modest tavern, sharing stories with weary travelers and spirited locals. There were quiet mornings tending to her small garden, watching as delicate sprouts pushed through the soil. Music drifted through the streets during festivals, filling the air with a warmth she had never known before.

  For the first time in her life, she allowed herself to dream of the future without fear. Could this be enough? Could she stay here, hidden away in a quiet corner of the world, and let the tower’s memory fade into the past?

  Elya didn’t know the answer. But for now, she didn’t need to. For now, she was happy.

  Chapter 34.5: Festival of Lights

  The night shimmered with lanterns, golden glows bobbing like captured stars strung across the town’s winding streets. Music wove through the air, a playful melody of laughter, tambourines, and the occasional burst of fireworks painting the sky with ribbons of light. Alden’s Reach had never felt so alive, so warm, so free.

  Elya walked through the festival, her boots scuffing against the cobbled streets, eyes wide as she took in the unfamiliar spectacle. She had never celebrated her birthday before, not truly. In the tower, the passing of years had been marked by nothing more than another tally on the record of her endurance. But here, surrounded by vibrant colors, the scent of roasted almonds and spiced cider drifting past her, she felt something stir deep within her chest, an unfamiliar, delicate happiness.

  She let herself indulge. Stopping at a food stall, she exchanged a few silver pieces for a honeyed pastry, the sweetness melting on her tongue. She wandered past fire-dancers spinning in dizzying arcs, their shadows flickering against the buildings like restless spirits. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t running toward something, nor was she running away. She was simply here, present, allowing herself to exist beyond duty, beyond survival.

  And that was when she saw her.

  The woman was leaning against the wooden counter of a book stall, one hand idly flipping through the pages of an old tome, the other twirling a quill between elegant fingers. She was beautiful in an effortless way, the kind of beauty that was meant to be admired rather than flaunted, dark hair cascading down her back, a confident smirk playing at the edges of her lips as though she knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

  Elya meant to keep walking. But then the woman glanced up, and their eyes met.

  The stranger’s gaze held her in place, the weight of it both casual and piercing. There was something knowing in the way she looked at her, something teasing, like she could already tell Elya was someone who wasn’t used to standing still.

  “You’re staring,” the woman murmured, amusement dancing in her voice.

  Elya felt her face heat. “You’re the one who looked first.”

  The woman laughed, a rich, genuine sound that sent a strange warmth curling in Elya’s stomach. “Fair point. I suppose that makes us even.”

  Elya hesitated, torn between fleeing and indulging the unexpected moment. “You like books?” she asked instead, nodding toward the stall.

  The woman tilted her head, considering her. “I like stories. Books just happen to be one of the best ways to collect them.” She closed the tome in her hand, tapping its spine thoughtfully. “And you? Are you a collector of stories, or do you simply prefer getting lost in them?”

  Elya bit her lip, unsure how to answer. She had spent her life surviving, training, pushing past limits. But wasn’t that, in its own way, a story too?

  “I think,” she said carefully, “that I’m still figuring that out.”

  The woman’s smile softened, losing some of its teasing edge. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing you’re here, on a night meant for discovery.” She extended a hand, fingers graceful and sure. “My name is Naia.”

  Elya hesitated only a second before taking it. “Elya.”

  Naia’s grip was warm, firm, lingering just long enough to make Elya’s pulse skip. “Well then, Elya,” she said, voice dropping into something almost conspiratorial, “what do you say we find out what kind of story tonight has in store for you?”

  Elya wasn’t sure if it was the festival’s magic, the warmth in Naia’s eyes, or the simple thrill of being noticed in a way she never had before. But she found herself nodding, smiling despite herself.

  “I’d like that.”

  And for the first time, she let the night take her where it would.