Kasien stumbled down the forest path, the weight of the world pressing against his chest like a boulder. His steps faltered, and for a moment, he leaned against a moss-covered rock, closing his eyes and trying to steady his breathing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd rested.
His mind was a storm of confusion, each thought clashing with the next. The faces of the people he'd healed—they blurred together, a jumbled mosaic of pain and relief. Had it been worth it? Saving them? His body ached. His head throbbed, each pulse like a hammer against his skull.
The magic had drained him again. He could feel the emptiness creeping into his veins, the numbness that spread from his hands to his chest. Was it always going to feel like this?
A sharp pain shot through his ribs, and he winced, holding his breath. He hadn't healed himself after the last battle. He hadn't even stopped to eat. He hadn't stopped for anything.
But there was always someone who needed him. Someone to save. Someone to fix.
A low growl sounded from the underbrush behind him, breaking his thoughts. Kasien's hand instinctively reached for the dagger at his side, but before he could draw it, a figure emerged from the shadows—roughly dressed, eyes wild with desperation.
The man was covered in cuts and bruises, blood seeping from the gash in his leg. His breathing was ragged, a desperate look in his eyes.
"Please, I need help," the man gasped, collapsing to his knees. "I can't… I can't die like this."
Kasien froze.
This was what he did. This was his purpose. Wasn't it?
But as he looked at the man's face—desperate, broken, terrified—a familiar ache twisted inside him. He had seen so many like this. Too many. He had healed so many that it felt like his hands were permanently stained with blood, the faces of the dead haunting him every moment.
Kasien swallowed hard. His mind screamed at him to just help him. Heal him. Fix him. It's what you do. But his hands shook, the magic within him threatening to tear him apart if he used it again.
He glanced at the man's leg. The gash was deep—he could fix it. He could close it up. But at what cost? Another life to heal, another piece of himself to lose. He felt the familiar heaviness building in his chest.
The man reached out, eyes wide with pleading. "Please… I don't want to die. I have family… I can't leave them."
Kasien closed his eyes for a moment, feeling his heart beat faster, each pulse a reminder that he couldn't keep doing this.
But he had to. Didn't he?
He took a deep breath, forcing himself to look at the man again. He could still save him. He could save him—if he didn't lose control. If he didn't fall apart.
"Alright," Kasien said, his voice low. Why does it always feel like I'm about to break?
He knelt beside the man, carefully examining the wound. His hands hovered over it, but they trembled. He hesitated. His fingers twitched with the familiar burning sensation of his magic, calling him.
The man's voice shook. "Please… hurry."
Kasien closed his eyes, his chest tightening. This is it, he thought. One more.
He laid his hands gently over the wound, and immediately the magic surged through him, hot and consuming. The flesh beneath his palms began to heal, the torn tissue knitting together. But the toll—it hit him harder this time. His vision blurred, his breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he thought he might pass out from the strain.
When he opened his eyes, the man's leg was healed. The gash had vanished completely, the blood stopped flowing, and the man was staring at him with wide eyes, a mix of awe and relief.
Kasien felt nothing.
No joy. No satisfaction. Just a hollow ache in his chest. It had all become so mechanical, so empty. He was barely aware of the man thanking him, his words distant, like they came from someone else entirely.
But Kasien didn't hear him. His head was spinning. His limbs were like lead.
He stood up, swaying slightly, forcing a smile he didn't feel. "You're good to go," he muttered, though his voice lacked any warmth.
The man didn't notice. "I don't know what to say. Thank you. You've saved my life." His voice trembled with gratitude.
Kasien nodded weakly. "You're welcome."
But he didn't feel welcome. He didn't feel anything. He was already gone.
Kasien turned away without a word, not waiting for the man to say more, and staggered into the woods. His steps were unsteady, and the world around him seemed to fade into a blur of greens and browns.
He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't.
The weight of the magic, the weight of the lives he was forced to touch—it was too much. The more he healed, the more he lost. And for what? To be a hero? To fix the broken?
He couldn't. He wouldn't.
Kasien collapsed against a tree, his breathing ragged. He had to stop. But there was no escape. The world kept turning, people kept dying, and someone, somewhere, would need him.
There was no end. No rest.
But even worse than the fatigue, the emptiness—there was the nagging, terrifying question that had begun to take root in his mind:
Was he even human anymore?
He put his head in his hands, trembling. What was left of him?