Leon's legs wobbled as he followed Saria out of the chamber, his mind still reeling from the ritual that had broken her curse.
The memory of her lips, her intense gaze, and the surge of magic that followed made his face burn and his heart race.
The inky energy from the goblin's death and the Solberry's warmth lingered in his chest, a strange cocktail of power and nausea.
He was a healer now, apparently, but the cost—killing a monster and… that with Saria—left him feeling like he'd been thrown into the deep end of a pool with no idea how to swim.
I'm still in way over my head, he thought, clutching the dagger Saria had returned to him, its weight a grim reminder of what he'd done.
Saria led the way through a heavy wooden door, her black ponytail swaying with her steady strides.
Her face remained an unyielding mask, her dark eyes fixed ahead, as if the intimate ritual hadn't fazed her at all.
Leon envied her composure; his hands were still shaking, and he couldn't stop glancing at her, his brain stuck on the image of her kneeling before him.
Focus, idiot, he scolded himself, shoving the dagger into his belt.
You're supposed to save a town, not stare at her like a creep.
Granny Elda trailed behind, her staff tapping the stone floor, her cackles echoing faintly. "Don't dawdle, boy," she called, her voice dripping with amusement. "You've got magic now. Time to use it."
Leon swallowed hard, his throat dry. "Yeah, about that," he said, his voice still shaky. "What's the deal with my magic? I mean, I get the… uh, arousal part." His face flushed, and he stumbled over his words.
"But how do I actually use it? Like, do I just… think happy thoughts and poof, healing?" He tried to sound casual, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his nerves.
Saria didn't look back. "You'll learn," she said, her tone flat and unyielding. "Your magic's tied to your body's energy. Focus, and it'll come."
She pushed open the door, and a gust of cool air hit them, carrying the faint sound of war drums in the distance. Leon's heart skipped a beat, the reality of Eldwood's danger crashing back.
They stepped out of the church into the village, and Leon's breath caught.
Eldwood was a ghost town, its wooden houses sagging under the weight of neglect, their windows boarded up or shattered.
The streets were empty, littered with broken barrels and scattered straw, the air thick with the scent of smoke and damp earth. In the distance, beyond a line of gnarled trees, the war drums grew louder, punctuated by faint shouts and the clash of metal.
The orchards Saria had mentioned were barely visible, their ripe fruits hidden by a thick fog that clung to the ground.
Leon's stomach twisted. "This… this is Eldwood?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"It looks like a zombie movie set." His eyes darted around, half-expecting a goblin to leap from the shadows. The weight of the town's desperation settled on him, heavier than the dagger at his belt.
Saria's expression didn't change. "Most villagers are hiding or fighting," she said, her voice steady. "Vraxus's forces hit us every night. We hold them off, but barely." She turned to him, her dark eyes boring into his. "Your magic can change that. You need to learn it. Now."
Leon's hands clenched, his nails digging into his palms.
"Right. Magic. No pressure," he muttered, his voice cracking. He wanted to be the hero he'd always dreamed of, but standing in this desolate village, with war drums echoing and Saria's unyielding gaze on him, he felt like a kid playing pretend. "So, uh, how do I start? You said focus, but… focus on what?"
Saria reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a smooth, fist-sized stone, its surface glinting faintly in the dim light.
She handed it to him, her fingers brushing his for a split second, sending a jolt through his already frazzled nerves.
"Hold this," she said, her tone clinical. "Visualize heat. Fire. Like my magic."