Nikolai almost gagged as he entered the large waiting room near the front entrance of the hospitarium but managed to push it down.

  It wasn’t packed with people, yet the nurse walking between the benches still looked stressed. She waved to Nikolai, then pointed him toward an older man sitting on one of the hard benches.

  The man limped over and bowed respectfully. Nikolai bowed back, copying the motion and forcing a friendly smile. He led the man to a nearby treatment room—much like the one where he himself had once been healed—and had him sit on the bed.

  “So, how can we help you today, sir?” Nikolai asked politely, trying not to stare at the clearly infected wounds on the man’s hands.

  The man raised them and coughed. “I’m a woodcarver, but I suppose my age is catching up to me. I nicked myself a few times, didn’t think much of it—but before long my hands looked like this. I know I should have come sooner, but I live on the other side of the city, and there were work orders…”

  Nikolai nodded and pulled over a small table. He had the man rest his hands on it and inspected them more closely. They were badly swollen around several small cuts, with thin black lines running up his forearms.

  He wasn’t a medical expert, but after a week at the hospitarium—and several basic medical books later—he had learned quite a bit. Lazgrim had drilled him daily in treating simple injuries and infections, leaving him little time for anything but study, work, and sleep.

  Milani had dropped by a few times, even helping sell his loot. It wasn’t that he trusted her implicitly, but honestly, he had no idea what any of the items were worth.

  He had wanted to explore the city but found the work at the hospitarium strangely satisfying. He’d never thought about becoming a doctor—he didn’t particularly like blood, and the thought of cutting people open repulsed him—but with magic involved, things were different.

  Larger cases, where people needed to be put back together, were handled by the actual priests, leaving Nikolai and a few others to deal with smaller problems—like the man sitting in front of him.

  Nikolai placed his fingers on the man’s arm and cast Minor Cleanse. He guided the magic into the man’s hands, a trick he’d only recently learned, and felt the familiar awe that came with using magic.

  The dark, angry infection began to retreat, the skin turning back to a healthy hue. After a minute or so, it was done—only the actual wounds remained. The man was panting but grinning widely.

  “Oh… that’s such a relief. Thank you, priest.”

  Nikolai nodded and activated the Minor Heal rune. “Just a little more, sir. I’ll be done soon.”

  Once again, he guided the magic into the man’s hands. The cuts began closing immediately—it took only a few seconds. For good measure, he spread the healing through the man’s body, mending several minor ailments as well.

  Less than half a minute later, Nikolai released the man’s arm and smiled. “All done. Not a trace left.”

  The man looked at his hands in wonder, flexing them freely and without pain. This—this—was what made it worth it. The satisfaction of helping someone with his magic.

  The older man stood. “Thank you so much. I’m ashamed to say I have little to pay you with.”

  Nikolai led him to the door. “St. Alar’s light shine on all people, sir. No payment is needed.” He was proud he even managed the words without cringing, he had never been the religious type.

  It was the traditional response though. The hospitarium never asked for payment, surviving instead on charity and whatever people chose to donate. At first, Nikolai had thought such a system couldn’t possibly work, but he’d since changed his mind. People often gave something—and while some paid little, those with means often left behind bags of gold.

  As the man left, Nikolai flexed his fingers, gauging his mana, and grinned to himself. Lazgrim had scoffed at his mana channels during the first inspection, then given him a few potions and taught him how to expand them.

  Every person had mana channels, but for magic users, their strength determined power. Weak channels meant weak magic—so expanding them had shot to the top of Nikolai’s priorities.

  After a week, he’d reached the point where a few spells barely made a dent in his reserves. He could cast dozens of spells and was now limited more by the quality of the magic than his capacity to use it.

  He began circulating mana through his body in a slow pattern, using Lazgrim’s exercises. The dwarf priest had explained how keeping mana in motion was essential, even when not casting. Only during training should one push—forcing more mana through than the channels could handle—to gradually expand them.

  The nurse, Martha, a human woman of strangely indefinable age, suddenly rushed over, almost panicked. “Nikolai! We have a problem!”

  He blinked, barely managing a word before she dragged him down the corridor into another room. Inside, a woman lay unconscious on a bed, while a man—probably her husband—stood over her, looking terrified.

  Martha gestured frantically. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her! Nothing we did worked!”

  Nikolai frowned. “Martha, I’m the newest one here. The priests can—”

  “They aren’t here! No one’s around for at least another hour!” Panic edged her voice.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “What? Why? Where did they go?”

  “Father Lazgrim was called to the keep for some emergency. Igven’s across the city on a home visit, and Sabrina… well, she went off with some adventurers days ago and hasn’t returned.”

  Nikolai took a deep breath. “Okay… and the junior priests?”

  “Carl was here before, but he ran off yelling about a curse. I don’t think anyone else is coming. I know you’re new, but could you please just take a look?” Martha pleaded.

  “You know her, don’t you?” Nikolai asked softly.

  Martha froze, then nodded. “She’s my sister.”

  Nikolai cursed under his breath. “Shit…”

  He looked at the unconscious woman for a long moment before nodding. “Alright. Not sure what I can do, though.”

  Martha hugged him, kissed his cheek, and forced a smile. “Thank you. The others will be back eventually—if you could just…”

  “I’ll try, Martha,” he said, holding up a hand. “No promises.”

  She nodded, her face a mask of worry, and left, glancing one last time at her sister before closing the door.

  The man’s eyes were locked on Nikolai—hard, but not threatening. He looked like he was barely holding himself together.

  Nikolai approached the bed. The woman was beautiful, even with the grey, lifeless skin. Her dark reddish hair fanned out beneath her head, probably from collapsing onto the bed.

  His week of study had not helped prepare him for this. He hadn’t seen anything like this in the books. He pulled a stool close, sat, and gently took her cold, clammy hand.

  He wasn’t good at sensing energies yet, and didn’t expect much, but his mana was repelled the moment he tried to probe her. He frowned.

  He cast Minor Cleanse with a trickle of mana—it was pushed back as well. Something inside her rejected his magic, and it felt… familiar.

  His Light affinity was being blocked—but the resistance reminded him of his Shadow affinity.

  A curse then? Martha had mentioned Carl screaming about one. He himself had a curse rune, and it used mana infused with his dark affinity, maybe that was the link.

  If Light failed, perhaps Shadow could help. It was a gamble. The woman’s breathing was shallow, ragged. It would reveal his nature to the husband but..

  He looked at the man. “I’m going to try something—if you’ll allow it.”

  The man frowned. “Try what?”

  “My Light magic’s being blocked. Maybe by a curse, maybe something else. I’ll try using Dark magic instead.”

  The man stared. “Dark magic!? Aren’t you a priest? Wait—is that even possible?”

  Nikolai shrugged. “I’m not a priest. And I’m… complicated. Look, she’s dying. We don’t have time. Will you let me try? I can’t guarantee anything.”

  Tears welled in the man’s eyes, but he nodded. “Do what you can. Please.”

  Nikolai nodded. “Alright. Let’s see what we can do.”

  He probed again, this time infusing his mana with Shadow. The room darkened slightly as shadows gathered around him. There was resistance, a lot of it —but then it yielded reluctantly. The barrier let him through.

  He grinned faintly and extended his senses through her body. It was a mess and his skills were lacking—he could barely make sense of it—but one thing was clear: she had almost no mana left.

  The books had said that, like blood, air, and water, mana was essential to life. A person could exhaust their reserves but not completely empty themselves. The body would resist it as an act of self-preservation.

  What if this curse shut that off—draining her completely?

  The details didn’t matter right now. Her lack of mana was killing her.

  He pulled back, and began to pace. He couldn’t lift the curse, but maybe he could restore her mana—keep her alive until someone more skilled arrived.

  He didn’t know a spell for that though.. Directly infusing mana hadn’t worked earlier. He could drain it, or rather essence—but what if… he reversed that?

  Could he force Light mana through a Dark rune? Would that even work? The affinities were opposite, but his very existence proved they could coexist. If he forced Light through Minor Drain Essence, would it reverse the flow?

  It was an insane thought—but he couldn’t let the thought go once it had popped into his head.

  He turned to the man. “I need your help for an experiment.”

  The man blinked. “An experiment?”

  “If you’re willing,” Nikolai said, holding up his hand, “I want to test something first. It’s a crazy idea, but it might work.”

  The man didn’t hesitate. “Do what you have to.”

  “Alright. I’ll try transferring a little of my essence into you. Not much—just enough to see what happens. Tell me what you feel.”

  The man nodded uncertainly, looking more than a little confused.

  Nikolai activated Minor Drain Essence, holding the rune back. Then, slowly, he forced Light mana into it. The rune resisted violently, but inch by inch, he overpowered it before it finally snapped and activated.

  Nikolai grinned as the spell took effect—and energy flowed from Nikolai into the man. It was just a trickle, but the man gasped, pulling his hand back. “What… what did you do!?”

  “Never mind that,” Nikolai said quickly. “How do you feel?”

  The man hesitated. “Energized. It was brief, but—it’s like I’ve got a fresh breath of strength.”

  Nikolai grinned. “Perfect. That’s it! I think this will work.”

  He sat beside the woman again, taking her cold hand. She was barely breathing now, her eyes fluttering behind closed lids. He drew a deep breath and cast the reversed spell again.

  It slipped past the curse’s defenses more easily this time. As he poured essence into her, Nikolai felt his own strength drain rapidly. His vision blurred, his eyes growing heavy—but inside the woman, something stirred. Her body responded, absorbing the pure life energy greedily.

  When he was nearly spent, he looked at the man. “Please. I’m almost empty. Can I draw a bit from you—to give to her?”

  This time the man didn’t hesitate, seeing color returning to her skin.

  “This will probably be really damn uncomfortable,” Nikolai warned. “Move your hand away when you can’t take more. If I go too far, it could kill you.”

  The man nodded resolutely.

  For the first time ever Nikolai had two spells running at the same time, he hadn’t even known it was possible. He was just short of delirious though, and was running on instinct at that point.

  Nikolai began draining the husband slowly, using some of the energy he took to stay conscious, while channeling the rest into the woman.

  The man began to turn pale, but the energy he gave was staggeringly potent—more than Nikolai had ever felt.

  He transferred as much as possible into the woman.

  He wasn’t sure how long it lasted—minutes, maybe longer—but finally, when his strength faltered again, a soft hand touched his.

  He stopped the spell and looked up. The woman’s eyes were open, watching him with quiet intensity.

  Her lips parted. “Thank you…” she whispered.

  Nikolai smiled weakly, then slid off the stool, unconscious before he hit the floor.