The city of Erana took shape in the distance, bathed in light. Its slate rooftops glittered beneath the sun, and the sea cast golden flashes onto the fa?ades. The carriage crossed the central street and finally came to a stop in front of the inn called “The Tipsy Scholar”.

  Inside, warmth enveloped them at once. The air smelled of melted wax, polished wood, and a blend of sweet wine and amber beer, sharpened by the scent of a herb stew simmering in the kitchen. The murmur of conversations mingled with the creak of stools and the clink of cups, then softened as they moved toward the back of the room.

  Hidden behind his mask, Elwyn caught sight of Lilsha, the demoness in charge of service, dressed in a far-too-short dress, bustling between the tables.

  They then made their way to the back of the hall, where the staircase leading to the rooms stood. The steps, worn smooth by years, groaned softly under their feet, while the sounds from the ground floor faded behind them.

  The upstairs corridor, cooler, was bathed in golden light coming from a window open onto the front fa?ade.

  Salvor stopped before a door halfway down the corridor.

  — He’s in there.

  Elwyn went in.

  The room had been turned into a makeshift workshop.

  On a large table covered with a pale cloth lay ether crystals, engraving tools, and a few notes scribbled in haste. Against the wall stood a bed, where Meren lay with his torso slightly raised, breathing short.

  He was an elderly gnome, his face wrinkled and parchment-dry. A few silver strands escaped his balding scalp, framing pale eyes in which a spark of intelligence still lingered. His fingers, stained by years and the use of tools, lay motionless on the blanket.

  His breathing was harsh, rasping, almost whistling. Each inhale produced a sharp, uneven note, as if tiny shards of glass were clinking together inside his chest. His skin, a sickly gray, gleamed in places with iridescent highlights. In the light, one could make out through it fine crystalline lines running along his neck and collarbones.

  Salvor stayed back, fists clenched.

  — He… he’s lost consciousness several times, but he wakes up at once, gasping. The healers tried to disperse the crystals, but every spell triggered a crisis.

  — Of course. Unlike Entities, who can see ether, mages only feel it in their surroundings. They manipulate it blind, without always understanding its behavior, sometimes chaotic. You can draw it to yourself to cast a spell, yes… but part of it can always refuse to move, especially when it is already fixed, like here. A healer must see exactly what they are doing, otherwise the risk of error becomes inevitable. Pulling blindly on a crystal that has already formed can lead to wedging it into a cavity too narrow, or making it join another, binding them together.

  Elwyn picked up a small bowl from among the workshop’s items and sat down on a chair placed right beside the bed. His eyes followed the movement of the chest, the muscular tension, the rhythm of breathing. It was slow, irregular, and above all painful. Each inhale tore out a sound.

  He raised his hand slightly, then placed it on the sick man’s chest.

  — Don’t say anything. Stay there, observe, he breathed to Salvor.

  Then he closed his eyes.

  _________________________

  The silence of the world fell away and a white chamber opened around him. Everything was immaculate. A space without horizon, without shadow, without origin.

  At its center, on a table of pure white, lay Meren’s body, motionless.

  As before, an emerald-green light rose above him, at first diffuse, then denser, until it took on human shape.

  This time, however, the light turned to flesh and took the form of an angelic young woman. She wore long, bright golden hair gathered into a braided ponytail that fell over her right shoulder. Her almond-shaped eyes, a shimmering emerald green, seemed to reflect life itself. She was dressed in a rich fir-green travel gown with long sleeves edged in gold, and a green-and-gold belt that emphasized the grace of her silhouette.

  Before she even spoke, Elwyn recognized the figure.

  — Mother…

  — No, not quite, she replied, her face impassive, like that of the Divinity Ogme.

  Her voice had the texture of a distant memory, nearly erased by time.

  — … I know. You are only a form shaped by my knowledge as an Entity, born from a simple memory… or rather, an image. You are the one who guides me when I need it.

  The figure looked at him for a moment without blinking. Her voice resonated in the white space, clear and without echo, as if it needed no air to exist.

  — Indeed. I am neither your mother nor a complete memory. I am the form your mind grants to what you understand of me. What you perceive here is only an interface between your consciousness and the knowledge you need to accomplish your objective.

  She brushed the lying body with her hand and, at once, it unfolded into layers of light. Muscles spread apart, bones separated, and the lungs appeared: a translucent volume suspended in the air, animated by a slow pulse.

  Elwyn contemplated them. Through the clear tissue, dark networks intertwined, made of rigid crystalline filaments threading through the bronchioles.

  — Crystallized ether. It fixed itself in the lower lobes, where air stagnates. The alveoli are compressed, the exchange surface reduced. It’s like a progressive fibrosis, he murmured.

  — Exactly. But here, nothing is dead. Only frozen.

  She lifted a hand and a three-dimensional diagram unfolded around the lungs. A luminous mesh represented airflow and blood circulation. In some areas, the glowing corridors stopped abruptly. There, air no longer passed.

  — All right, all that’s left is to extract the crystals…

  Elwyn extended his hand over the problematic organ and let his fingers pass through it, brushing the rigid zones. A faint chime rang out, the sound of a crystal scratched with the tip of a fingernail.

  As he moved forward, Elwyn perceived Meren’s bodily blueprint, the intimate construction plan of his being. It was like contemplating an architect’s drawing of absolute precision—complex, overflowing with detail, and yet perfectly incomprehensible to anyone who was not an Entity of the Domain of Life. That divine schema granted him total vision of the individual’s biological structure, from the composition of his blood to the exact shape of his bones, down to the weave of his genetic code.

  This information, still unknown to the people of Ilnolia, was the great secret kept by the Domain of Life, and Elwyn relied on it to understand, then restore his patient’s body to perfection.

  — Breathe with him, the Divinity’s memory murmured.

  Elwyn inhaled deeply, and the patient’s lungs rose with the same rhythm. In the white chamber, each breath created a wave, a swelling motion. The alveoli pulsed again, and the breathing grew steady.

  The extracted crystals, as large as grains of sand, were guided by Elwyn into a container set on the white table. They fell one by one, ringing with a faint, clear and fragile sound, like the clink of cold glass.

  In the real world, the same bowl sat on the table near the bed. Salvor saw the tiny fragments of purple crystal appear within it, moved by the healer’s ether control. He watched, fascinated, as Elwyn’s hands sank—like those of a ghost—into his master’s chest, perfectly motionless, like stone.

  He did not understand.

  There was no incantation, no magical gesture, except for that faint green-and-gold light around the healer’s hands, whose calm presence testified to absolute concentration.

  In the white chamber, the Divinity’s memory continued in a gentle voice.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  — The lower areas are almost clear. But look here: the epithelium is damaged. Too much friction, too much rigidity.

  Elwyn brought his index finger close to a fibrous wall.

  — If I regenerate…

  — Yes. Reconstitute what is missing and remind it of the shape it must return to.

  So he touched the wall of light. Under his fingers, the tissues opened, reformed, then closed again, regenerated. The fibers recovered their supple texture, the alveoli redrew themselves according to the bodily blueprint he perceived.

  He created nothing: he simply restored the order of what should be, and air began to circulate normally again.

  The capillaries dilated, gas exchange resumed, and the lungs’ rhythm stabilized.

  He continued to follow the flows, inspecting each branch of the bronchial tree. Where a fragment remained, he detached it with infinite patience. Where tissue was missing, he rebuilt it from its original form. Each gesture returned a little more space, a little more breath.

  Little by little, the lungs regained their full suppleness.

  Elwyn withdrew his hands from his patient and stepped back.

  — It’s finished…

  The Divinity’s memory came closer and placed her hand on his shoulder.

  — What you did here is not a miracle. It is a repair. Remember this, your role is not to defy death, but to remind Life that it can still go on being.

  — I won’t forget.

  She inclined her head.

  — Then return. He is waiting for you.

  The white chamber dissolved like a wave, and the real world took shape around him again.

  _________________________

  In the room, the air seemed clearer.

  Meren’s breathing had become steady, calm. His chest rose with amplitude. His complexion, once gray, was returning to a rosy hue.

  Salvor, motionless, stared at him, unable to speak. On the table, the small bowl was filled with a fine dust of crystallized ether, inert.

  Elwyn, who had just withdrawn his hands from his patient, felt his breath leave him all at once. His lungs seized violently, frozen, unable to let the slightest particle of air through.

  He staggered, one hand clenched to his chest. The room suddenly seemed to shrink around him, as if the air itself refused to exist. His vision blurred, and for an instant he felt as though his own body were abandoning him, his mind slipping out of matter.

  Salvor took a step toward him, worried.

  — Master-Healer?

  No answer.

  Elwyn swayed, searched for breath, but no sound passed his lips. His mind, still linked to Salvor’s, had absorbed his ailment and temporarily transferred it into himself.

  Then, abruptly, air returned.

  A rough, cutting inhale tore through him. He leaned against the table to regain his balance, panting, fingers trembling.

  Silence settled little by little. His mind had regained contact with his body and was slowly reharmonizing with it.

  Salvor remained still, not daring to come any closer.

  Elwyn slowly lifted his head, his breathing still uneven, then let out a short breath.

  — It’s all right… it was only backlash, he murmured.

  His voice, weak but steady, gradually recovered its natural calm, and he straightened slowly.

  On the bed, Meren still did not move. His breathing remained regular, peaceful. Air now entered his chest without resistance.

  Elwyn placed a hand on the sheet near the gnome’s torso and felt beneath his fingers the stable rhythm of the heart. He closed his eyes for a moment, regaining control of his own breathing.

  — He will wake up. Just give him time, he said in a soothing voice.

  Salvor nodded vigorously, still shaken by what he had just seen.

  Then, without warning, Meren opened his eyes slightly and took a slow, deep breath.

  — … I’m breathing.

  A faint smile brushed the gnome’s lips. He inhaled again, a little more forcefully, as if to check that the air truly went in. Then, with visible effort, he slowly propped himself up on his elbows.

  — By all the gears in the world… I thought that was the end.

  His voice was hoarse, but filled with stubborn energy.

  Meren tried to get up, but Elwyn gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  — Slowly. You still need rest.

  — Rest… Healers all say that. But I’ve never done anything productive while sleeping, Meren replied with a quiet snort.

  His pale eyes shone with a lively, almost impatient gleam. The old gnome surveyed the room, his tools, the crystals on the table, as if mentally measuring the work waiting to be resumed.

  Elwyn watched him for a moment.

  — You’re the tenacious type, I see.

  — Stubborn, Meren corrected. Years taught me you build nothing by giving up too soon.

  He sank back against the pillow, but his expression kept that quiet spark of defiance found in those who refuse to bend.

  Elwyn turned to Salvor.

  — This dust is dangerous. Next time you work ether crystals, wear a mask so you don’t breathe it in, or this sort of thing will happen again.

  — Yes, Master-Healer… And… how did you do it?

  Elwyn looked at him for a few seconds.

  — I did nothing extraordinary. I simply removed what did not belong in his body. The rest is for your healers to discover and understand.

  Salvor lowered his eyes, still overwhelmed.

  Elwyn moved to the half-open window. The harbor air entered the room in warm gusts. Outside, the city of Erana lay in afternoon light, and from far off came the cries of dockworkers, the snap of ropes, and the hammering of mallets on hulls.

  He stood motionless for a moment, watching the harbor’s shifting reflections, then turned his head. Behind him, Meren had already pushed himself up further.

  The old gnome grunted, trying to shove the blanket aside.

  — By all the gears in the world… enough sleeping. Salvor, bring me something to write with before I forget what I saw before I passed out.

  Salvor, still frozen, opened his mouth without managing to speak.

  Elwyn lifted a hand to stop him.

  — If he can complain, he’s better.

  He approached the bed and calmly set the linen down on the table.

  — You’re alive, and your lungs work. But if you want to stay that way, avoid overexerting yourself today.

  — Bah! I’ve survived worse. A bit of ether dust won’t hold me back for long, Meren protested, waving a hand.

  Elwyn sighed softly.

  — You really are stubborn…

  — Obstinate, the gnome corrected, voice already firmer.

  — What’s the difference?

  — The difference is that obstinacy often ends up proving the one who clings to it right.

  He gave a dry chuckle and sank back against the pillow, but the spark in his eyes was fully back.

  Salvor approached timidly, clearly torn between relief and fear.

  — Master… you really should rest.

  — Later, later. Just bring me water, my throat is dry. And clean that bowl before that dust decides to act up again.

  Elwyn folded his arms, watching the scene while Salvor nodded without taking his eyes off Meren.

  — I never thought I’d see that. It was as if life itself had called him back.

  — It was a simple healing, not a revival, Elwyn replied calmly as he headed toward the door.

  Meren raised a hand to stop Elwyn.

  — Wait.

  The gnome fumbled on the bedside table and grabbed a small worn leather pouch. He tossed it to Salvor, who caught it at the last second.

  — Pay him. And not cheaply. I’m still a researcher, not a beggar.

  — Master, he’s not doing it for money, Salvor protested.

  — Exactly! That’s why he deserves to be paid. Those who ask for nothing are often the ones who have given the most.

  Salvor stepped closer and held the pouch out to Elwyn. The healer looked at it for a moment before taking it.

  — You didn’t have to.

  — Yes, I did. I had time to understand one thing while I was suffocating. We must never believe life is owed to us. You gave me mine back. So take it—I owe you nothing less, Meren replied.

  Elwyn nodded slightly, then slipped the pouch into his inner pocket.

  — In that case, I accept. And I wish you never need my services again.

  Meren gave a tired smile, then his gaze fell on Elwyn’s neck, where the gleam of his golden healer symbol caught his attention.

  — A Life Entity… but dressed the way you are, you don’t look very experienced yet.

  — Yes. I am still young, likely the youngest among my peers, and I still have so much to learn.

  The gnome nodded slowly, already thinking.

  — Then wait. I have something for you.

  He searched for a moment in the tool table near the bed and pulled out a small blackened metal box. Inside lay a steel belt buckle, finely worked.

  — It’s been sitting around in my things for a while, he said, turning it in his hand.

  — What effect? Salvor asked.

  — It’s an engraving of lightness. Once activated, it reduces the pull exerted by the ground, which lets you move faster and jump higher. I designed it after observing the draconic floating islands.

  He held out the piece.

  — Life Entities move often, don’t they? Might as well save you a bit of breath. Consider it a thank-you.

  Elwyn took the buckle carefully and turned it to see its engraving circle and read its incantation.

  “Light Step”

  — Thank you.

  — Don’t thank me, Meren grunted.

  Salvor gave a small smile at his old master’s reaction.

  — Then I’ll take good care of it, Elwyn replied.

  An amused silence followed. Meren closed his eyes again, exhausted but soothed. Salvor wiped away the fine ether dust on the table, more reassured than he had been in days.

  Elwyn moved toward the door, then paused for a moment on the threshold.

  — Take care of him, Salvor. He’s not done making you work.

  Then he left the room without a sound.

  With light, quick steps, he went down the stairs of the rooms’ corridor, crossed the still-lively tavern, and pushed open the door onto the street.

  The sun greeted him at once.

  Outside, the cobblestones shone beneath the light, and the sea wind carried the cries of gulls over the harbor. Erana lived—vibrant, threaded with that same quiet energy he had just returned to an obstinate old artisan.