As we got closer, the rough outline of the town came into focus. It wasn’t much—maybe a couple dozen buildings, some of them looking like repurposed barns or warehouses. There was a wooden palisade, reinforced with scavenged metal and barbed wire, surrounding the main settlement. A few watchtowers were scattered along the perimeter, and I could see figures armed with bows, spears, and the occasional firearm keeping a lookout.

  “What’s the town called?” I asked.

  “Fairhope,” Callum replied. “Bit ironic, considerin’ how things’ve been lately.”

  I could hear the weariness in his voice. This place had seen trouble, and it was still standing—but for how much longer?

  As we approached the main gate, two guards stepped forward, weapons in hand. One was a tall, wiry woman with dark hair tied back in a tight ponytail. The other was a stocky man with a thick beard, holding a rusty old shotgun that looked more dangerous to the user than the target.

  “Who’s this?” the woman asked, eyes narrowing at me.

  “Gavrin,” Callum answered. “Wanderer. Says he’s got some magic, can help out.”

  That got their attention. The bearded guy shifted his grip on the shotgun, looking me over like I might explode at any moment.

  “Magic, huh?” the woman asked. “What kind?”

  I decided to keep it simple. “Earth and plant manipulation. Some healing.”

  Her eyes flicked to Callum, who nodded in confirmation.

  “We could use a healer,” she admitted. “Last attack left a few injured. But we’re not just lettin’ anyone in.”

  I could tell this was a test. Fair enough. They had every reason to be cautious.

  “You want proof?” I asked.

  The woman crossed her arms. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

  I nodded and knelt down, pressing a hand to the dry dirt beneath us. I reached out with my magic, feeling the soil, coaxing life from it. Within seconds, green sprouts emerged, quickly growing into thick vines that curled upward, weaving together into a small arch of intertwined branches.

  The bearded man’s grip on the shotgun tightened, but the woman just raised an eyebrow.

  “Neat trick,” she admitted. “But we need a healer more than a gardener.”

  Callum stepped in. “Gav, you still got juice left? We got some injured folk inside. If you’re serious ‘bout helpin’, let’s see what you can do.”

  “Lead the way,” I said.

  The guards exchanged a look before reluctantly stepping aside. The wooden gates creaked open, and I got my first real look at Fairhope’s heart.

  Inside, the town was a mix of old and new, with remnants of pre-collapse civilization repurposed into something that resembled a functioning community. People moved between buildings, some carrying tools, others armed and on guard. A few gave me curious looks, but no one approached.

  I followed Callum through the main square, passing what looked like a communal firepit, a marketplace, and a central building that probably acted as the town hall.

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  “Where are the wounded?” I asked.

  “In the med house,” Callum said, leading me toward a stone building near the back of town.

  I could feel eyes on me as we walked, but I kept my focus forward.

  This was a new beginning. A new chance to do something good.

  And I wasn’t about to waste it.

  Callum led me toward a small stone building near the back of town, its windows shuttered to keep the heat in. The smell of herbs and antiseptic hit me before I even stepped inside.

  Inside, the med house was cramped but clean. A handful of makeshift beds were lined up against the walls, some occupied by wounded villagers. A thin older man in a stained coat—probably a doctor or medic—was crouched beside one of the beds, checking bandages. A few others, likely volunteers, were moving between the injured, bringing water and supplies.

  The moment I stepped in, all eyes turned to me.

  “That the outsider?” the medic asked, straightening up.

  “Yeah,” Callum said. “Says he can heal.”

  The medic eyed me warily. “You some kinda priest?”

  I shook my head. “Druid. Healing’s just part of what I do.”

  He let out a skeptical grunt. “Don’t care what you call it. If you can fix up my people, I won’t complain.” He stepped aside, gesturing toward a woman lying on a cot.

  She was pale and sweating, her breathing shallow. A deep wound ran along her side, hastily stitched together but clearly infected.

  “Raiders did that,” the medic explained. “She fought ‘em off, but the wound got dirty. We’ve been trying to keep the infection down, but she’s burning up.”

  I stepped closer and knelt beside her. “What’s her name?”

  “Nora,” one of the volunteers said. “She’s one of our best hunters.”

  I placed my hand just above the wound, not touching it yet. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin, the fever burning through her. This wasn’t just a surface-level wound—the infection was deep.

  I closed my eyes and focused, drawing on the flow of nature’s magic. My Druidic Healing was different from regular medicine—it wasn’t just about fixing wounds, but about restoring balance. I pushed my magic into Nora’s body, feeling the sickness like a weight inside her.

  Green light flared around my hands, the warm glow spreading over her wound. Slowly, I guided the infection outward, forcing the impurities from her blood. Sweat beaded on her forehead as the fever broke, her body trembling.

  I pushed a little more, mending damaged tissue, helping the body rebuild itself faster than it normally could.

  A long moment passed.

  Then—her breathing steadied.

  The redness around her wound faded, the swelling easing.

  Finally, her eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first, then sharpening as she saw me.

  “What…?” Her voice was hoarse, weak.

  I gave her a small smile. “You’re gonna be fine.”

  The room was silent, everyone watching with a mix of awe and disbelief.

  Callum let out a low whistle. “Bloody hell. That’s… somethin’.”

  The medic stared at me, then at Nora, then back at me. “That wasn’t normal.”

  “It’s normal for me,” I said, pulling my hand back. My fingers tingled from the energy expenditure, but I wasn’t exhausted.

  Nora slowly pushed herself up on the cot, testing her strength. The pain was gone. She wasn’t at full strength yet, but she’d survive.

  The medic exhaled sharply. “Alright. I don’t know what the hell kind of magic that was, but we could use more of it.”

  I looked around at the other wounded. “Then let’s get to work.”

  The rest of the healing session was a blur of work and magic.

  There were three more wounded—one with a broken leg, another with severe burns, and the last, a man who had taken a spear through the shoulder.

  The leg was easy. I accelerated the body’s natural healing, sealing hairline fractures first before strengthening the bones. The burn victim took more effort—regenerating damaged skin was tricky, but with enough mana, I got him past the worst of it. The spear wound was the most dangerous, close to infection, but after flushing the rot from the wound, I sealed it shut with careful energy.

  By the time I finished, I was lightheaded. I’d burned through a lot of mana, but it was worth it.

  The air in the room had shifted.

  The wariness was still there, but it was mixed with something else—hope.

  The medic shook his head, still in disbelief. “I don’t know where the hell you came from, but I’ll take it.”

  Callum grinned. “Told ya, mate. We might just have a use for him.”

  I let out a breath, rubbing my temples. “You got a place I can sit for a minute? Or maybe something to eat?”

  The medic gestured toward a chair. “After what you just did? You can have whatever you want.”

  I took the seat, feeling the weight of the day settle into my bones.

  I wasn’t sure what Fairhope had in store for me.

  But one thing was clear.

  I had just earned my place here.