THE ANTI-HEALERS ODESSY

The deeper Arthur wandered into the Wild Woods, the more the air thickened with magic, mystery, and menace. Though Umbra had become his silent companion, loyal and perceptive, Arthur couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching him.

The trees in this part of the forest were ancient, their roots clawing across the forest floor like serpents, their canopies blotting out the sky. Bioluminescent moss clung to trunks and rocks, casting a ghostly green-blue light over everything. The silence was so deep it pressed on Arthur's ears.

Umbra growled low in his throat.

Arthur paused. "You sense it too?"

They had just passed through a narrow ravine flanked by stones with ancient runes. From beyond the moss-draped archway ahead, a scent of blood and decay drifted faintly. Umbra sniffed the air, hackles rising. Arthur steeled himself.

He moved forward, careful not to snap any twigs beneath his boots. The source of the scent came into view after a short climb: a shallow clearing where a massive figure lay slumped against a crumbled tree stump. At first, Arthur thought it was just another carcass—until he saw it breathe.

It was a wolf—or something like one.

Massive and monstrous, the creature stood twice the size of Umbra. Its dark fur was matted with blood, and large feathered wings were tucked awkwardly against its side, one clearly broken. Twisted horns curled back over its head, and its tail swished weakly against the ground. The eyes that met Arthur's were luminous silver, filled with pain and defiance.

A chimera, Arthur realized. A dire wolf fused with something far older—perhaps a draconic or avian strain. A rare, deadly hybrid.

Umbra growled again, stepping between Arthur and the beast.

"No," Arthur whispered, placing a hand on Umbra's back. "He's hurt. He's not attacking."

He crouched slowly, making sure not to show his weapons. The chimera bared its fangs in warning, a low rumble echoing from its chest. Arthur didn't flinch.

"I won't hurt you," he said softly. "I… I know what it's like to be in pain."

The creature's breathing was ragged. Blood leaked from a deep wound along its flank, and one leg was clearly broken. Old scars marred its body—this wasn't its first battle, but it looked like it could be its last.

Arthur reached into his pouch and pulled out a small crystal flask filled with concentrated mana water—one of the rarest items he'd harvested during his time in the woods. He uncorked it, then glanced at the beast.

"If I give this to you, you have to trust me."

The chimera snorted, its silver eyes narrowing, but it didn't move.

Arthur set the bottle down and pushed it gently toward the creature. After a moment of hesitation, the chimera's long tongue flicked out and lapped it up. Within seconds, the magic-infused water began to take effect. The creature's ragged breathing steadied slightly.

"I'm Arthur," he said.

No response, of course. But the creature was watching him now—not as prey, but with curiosity.

He leaned forward, hand outstretched. "You need healing. Let me help."

He began casting, his hands glowing a soft emerald. His healing magic wouldn't close deep wounds entirely, but it could mend some of the torn muscle and stop the internal bleeding. The spell flowed from his palms and onto the beast's side.

The chimera stiffened but didn't resist.

Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the soft hum of magic and the slow wind rustling the canopy. Arthur focused, pushing more mana into the spell. His core protested, still drained from days of training and wandering, but he didn't stop.

Umbra sat close by, watching the process with wary eyes.

When Arthur finally stopped, the creature looked significantly better—still weak, but out of mortal danger. The wing remained broken, and the leg still bent at an odd angle, but its breathing was smooth.

"Good," Arthur whispered. "You're going to live."

He met the creature's gaze again. There was something intelligent behind those eyes. Something ancient.

Arthur took a deep breath. "You don't have a name, do you?"

The beast's ears twitched.

"In this world," he said, "names have power. When I named Umbra, we were bound. I'll do the same for you, if you'll let me."

The chimera didn't move.

Arthur closed his eyes. He let the magic guide him—let his heart speak instead of his mind.

"Fenrix," he said. "That's your name."

A sudden pulse of energy surged from the chimera. A brilliant white aura flared around it for a moment before vanishing. The bond had been sealed.

Arthur gasped. The sensation was unlike anything he'd experienced. His mana resonated with Fenrix's—wild, ancient, and powerful. He felt strength and sorrow, age and loneliness, all bundled within this beast.

Fenrix lowered its head and nudged Arthur's shoulder gently.

Arthur chuckled despite the pain in his limbs. "Yeah. I feel it too."

---

The night fell with a quiet stillness. Arthur had made a small camp by the edge of the glade, nestled between rocks and moss. Fenrix lay near the fire, still recovering but more alert. Umbra remained ever-watchful but had accepted Fenrix's presence, if not quite his friendship.

Arthur shared dried meat and berries, tossing bits to both his companions. Fenrix caught his with ease, jaws snapping shut with surprising precision.

"I don't know how you ended up here," Arthur said aloud, "but I'm glad I found you."

He stroked the grimoire beside him. "I've been training. Growing stronger. But I don't think I could've survived what's coming alone."

He didn't know why he said it—maybe the forest's silence invited honesty—but the truth poured out.

"My mother died right in front of me. I killed the man who did it, but it didn't bring her back. I came here to survive. I didn't know it would change me so much."

Fenrix shifted, letting out a soft chuff. Umbra lowered his head next to Arthur's lap.

"You guys are all I have now," Arthur whispered.

A long moment of silence passed before Arthur looked to the sky. A gap in the canopy showed a sprinkle of stars above. He remembered lying beside his mother on warm nights just like this, her stories painting constellations in the sky.

He closed his eyes, letting the breeze brush against his face.

---

Morning came slowly in the Wild Woods. Sunlight barely reached the forest floor, but the temperature rose, and birdsong echoed faintly in the distance.

Fenrix rose shakily to his feet, testing his injured leg. Arthur stood as well, already prepping a poultice using crushed herbs and bark. He applied it gently to the wing and leg, murmuring minor healing spells between applications.

"You're a fast learner," Arthur muttered, impressed by Fenrix's resilience.

Later that day, they resumed walking. Arthur didn't know where exactly they were headed—only that the further in they went, the more magic saturated the land. Fenrix moved slowly but surely, flanking Arthur on one side while Umbra took the other.

Arthur kept studying his grimoire as they moved. New pages had revealed themselves—spells he hadn't known existed, including healing enchantments specialized for magical beasts. He practiced a few minor ones on Umbra and Fenrix, who tolerated the glowing symbols and runes like veterans.

They reached a ridge by midday, overlooking a deep basin filled with mist and the skeletal remains of ancient trees. In the center stood a monolith, humming with dormant energy.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "Looks like a good place to train."

Fenrix growled lightly, then barked—a raspy but deep note that sent birds scattering from nearby trees.

Umbra echoed the sound.

Arthur smiled. "Let's get stronger. Together."

And so, the boy who had entered the forest alone now stood flanked by two beasts—one shadow, one storm. A healer turned survivor, with a grimoire of forbidden spells and a burning desire to forge his destiny.

They walked into the mist, toward the monolith and whatever lay beyond.

Bound by names, scars, and fate.

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