Kasien sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. His body was worn, his muscles aching from the constant strain of using his magic. But it wasn't the physical exhaustion that consumed him—it was the weight of his mind, the endless burden that pressed against his skull like a vice.
The room was dim, lit only by the flickering candle on the nightstand. He could hear the distant sounds of soldiers marching, the clash of metal against metal as the war continued outside. The battle wasn't over, and neither was his duty.
But there was nothing left of him to give.
He could feel it—every time he used his powers, every time he healed someone or killed an enemy in battle, a part of him fractured. Each act of salvation, each burst of destructive magic, took something vital from him. His mind, his soul—it was being chipped away.
Kasien's eyes flickered over the room. The shadows seemed to stretch unnaturally, mocking him, whispering the lies he told himself. "You're not strong enough. You can't save everyone. What makes you think you're worthy?"
He shook his head, but the words wouldn't leave him. The truth was too clear.
His magic—the source of his power—was a curse. He could heal any wound, bring any soldier back from the brink of death. He could level entire battalions with a single word. But with each use, he was losing something he couldn't get back.
His humanity.
His fingers trembled as he reached for the flask of water by the bedside. He hadn't eaten properly in days, hadn't slept for almost as long. His body was barely functioning, yet the world demanded that he continue.
"You have to heal them."
That was all they ever said. "You have to save us."
A knock at the door made him stiffen.
"Lord Kasien?" A voice called from outside.
It was Elara. She always came to him when there was someone who needed saving. It was always Elara.
Kasien felt the tightening in his chest—the suffocating pressure that came with the expectation placed on him. He was the healer, the one with the power to mend the broken, to make the impossible possible. But at what cost?
"Elara," he called softly, his voice hollow. "I don't have it in me. Not anymore."
Another knock, and then the door opened. Elara stepped inside, looking as she always did—strong, confident, full of purpose. But even she couldn't hide the worry in her eyes.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself," she said quietly, stepping closer. "The army needs you. I need you."
Kasien's lips trembled. The familiar ache in his chest flared. He could feel the power stirring within him—the magic that never stopped pulling at him, demanding that he save her, fix her. He could feel it, wrapping around his bones like chains, holding him hostage.
"I can't," he said, his voice breaking. "You don't understand. Every time I use it, I lose something. I can't…" His words trailed off, his breath shallow.
Kasien turned away, his back to Elara. He felt her eyes on him, but he couldn't bear to face her. He couldn't bear to show her how broken he really was.
"You're strong, Kasien," Elara said softly. "I know it's hard, but you have to keep going."
"No, I don't." His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't have to keep going. I don't have to be the one who fixes everything."
But Elara stepped forward, her voice firm. "You do. You're the only one who can do this."
The pressure was unbearable.
Kasien's hands clenched into fists. The magic surged within him, raw and powerful. It was always there, lurking beneath the surface, a constant reminder of what he was capable of—what he had to do.
He turned sharply, meeting her eyes. "I don't want to. I don't want to keep healing people. I don't want to be the savior. I just want to be left alone."
Elara's face softened, her expression filled with empathy. She had never seen him like this—weak, desperate, broken.
But the silence in the room was thick, suffocating. Elara took a step back, unsure of how to help him. He was a weapon, a force of nature, but right now, he was as fragile as any human.
Kasien dropped his gaze to the floor, the weight of his thoughts pulling him further into the abyss.
"I'm so tired," he whispered. "Tired of being everything to everyone."
His body felt like it was on fire. The magic within him was pulsing, demanding release. But he was too weak to use it. He was too mentally shattered to channel its overwhelming power without losing himself completely.
Elara took a hesitant step toward him, but before she could speak, the door slammed open.
"Lord Kasien!" The voice was frantic—sharp. It was one of the soldiers, covered in blood, his face panicked. "There's an ambush! They're attacking the eastern wall! We need you!"
Kasien froze. His heart hammered in his chest, and for a split second, he felt the familiar surge of power—the sensation of his magic coming alive in his veins.
It was like a drug.
But then the words hit him, sharp and cutting. "We need you."
He was needed again. Someone needed him. They always did.
Kasien felt himself sway, his knees weakening. He couldn't keep going. He wasn't strong enough anymore.
But as he stood there, staring at the soldier, Elara's face still lingered in his mind, filled with hope—the hope that he would keep going, keep saving them. Keep fighting.
And just like that, the magic inside him flared again. He felt his willpower shatter. His body moved before his mind could stop it. He could heal them. He could stop this attack. He could save them.
With a sharp breath, Kasien let the power take over. The magic shot through him like a wave, and his body was consumed by the energy. He felt his mind crack under the pressure, but he didn't care. He was beyond caring. The power was everything.
And in the blink of an eye, the world around him changed. The air crackled as Kasien sent a blast of magic toward the battlefield. The air shimmered with the raw force of it, the ground shaking beneath his feet.
It wasn't just a healing wave. It was a devastating force that tore through the enemy, obliterating them. But Kasien didn't feel victorious. He didn't feel anything at all.
He had done it. But at what cost?