The Wandering Healer

In a time long forgotten, the slumbering god was once the only true immortal. Birthing celestials
from every breathe that blew from his lips, harvesting through their forms the boundless energies
across the empty universe.
An old tale from a forgotten time.
My story begins with war and blood soaked fields of once green.
I am mortal, born from my mother’s womb. Yet all my life I have known that my fate was never
my own to control.
As a child I saw in a dream a dove perched upon a light-post, its feathers soaked in red and as I
laid my hand upon it, its feathers slowly turned a white-shine and the redness soaked beneath
my skin.
When I was 12, bandits raided my village and slaughtered my entire family. My mother, who
hid me under the floorboards, lay on top of the door hiding me, amidst the fires around us set by
the bandits. My tears fell like rain and as I held my mother’s cold hand, I felt a warmth flow
through my fingertips. I looked up and there she sat smiling at me, the wound on her chest gone,
the blood on her white dress slid on to my hand and disappeared.
The fire that engulfed our village never touched the skin of my mother nor me. It was not until
we travelled to the closest city that we met the bandits once more, captured by the city guards.
Their eyes littered with fear as they met my mother’s gaze. Perhaps they thought death had taken
the shape of the woman they had murdered.
My mother and I had three goods years in the city before the neighboring kingdom sacked it.
Again, my mother shielded me and died, and again she rose back up when I held her hand.
My gifts emboldened me and on my 18th name day, I signed up for the army. I grew in recognition
as I amassed glory for the kingdom. The neighboring kingdom that once attacked us had its king’s
head roll across my feet. My army could not perished, so long as I lived, my soldiers would never
fall in battle.
Then my mother perished… not by the hands of my enemies but from the hands of my own
soldiers. They took her head and threw it into the ocean, without it my mother would never
return. The soldiers that took my beloved mother uttered with their dying breathes “ferox deus”
or the defiant god.
Now, I travel from battle to battle searching for those caught in this blood stained world made
by “the defiant” raising them again and arming them for a war to come.