THE ANTI-HEALERS ODESSY

The sky above the Wild Woods was a tapestry of stars, each one gleaming with the promise of some distant story. A pale full moon hung in the heavens, casting silver light upon the clearing where Arthur now stood alone—save for Fenrix and Umbra—his heart burdened and his purpose forming like mist made solid.

Clutched tightly in his hand was a silver pendant, aged but polished from years of being held close. It had once belonged to his mother, Cecilia—a simple charm, etched with the sigil of a phoenix encircled by a crown. He hadn't fully understood its meaning before. But now, after everything—after the ruins, after the whispers, and the terrifying power he'd accidentally unleashed—he felt its weight more than ever.

He knelt down in the clearing. The soil here was soft, damp from the morning rains, and smelled of pine and life.

"I think I finally understand," Arthur whispered to the wind. "You were more than a runaway. More than a village healer. You were someone who gave everything up… for me."

Fenrix let out a soft whine, his eyes reflecting moonlight like polished stones. Umbra remained still, but close—like a guardian.

Arthur began to dig. With each handful of dirt, he felt memories return: his mother humming softly by candlelight… her warm hands on his forehead when he was sick… the look in her eyes when she taught him his first healing spell.

When the hole was finally deep enough, Arthur took the pendant in both hands.

"This world took you from me too soon," he said, voice trembling. "And I wasn't strong enough to protect you. But I swear—under this moon, under these stars—I will find the truth. About your death. About where you came from. About what you were hiding."

He placed the pendant gently into the grave and began covering it.

Not to forget her.

But to honor her.

The dirt muffled the shine of silver. When it was done, Arthur pressed his hand to the small mound and whispered a blessing.

"Healing winds, carry her spirit. Let her rest where I could not save her."

The grimoire at his side pulsed faintly, as if acknowledging the vow.

As he stood, Arthur lifted his eyes to the sky.

"I won't run anymore," he said. "And I won't be a pawn. I'll master this power… I'll master myself. And I'll bring to light the things they tried to bury."

Fenrix stepped beside him, nudging his leg. Umbra rested his head near the grave, his own quiet tribute.

A gust of wind passed through the trees, lifting leaves into the air. For a moment, Arthur imagined he saw her in that breeze—smiling, proud.

He let the silence settle, then turned.

There was a long road ahead.

But tonight, beneath the gaze of moon and memory, Arthur's journey was no longer aimless.

It was an oath.

And he would keep it.

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To be continued...