The sun hung high above, its warmth casting long shadows in the newly built courtyard. A breeze stirred the leaves of nearby trees, carrying with it the scent of fresh earth and stone dust from the day's training.
In one corner of the courtyard, a different type of magic was unfolding—one that called not upon the strength of shields or blades, but the unseen threads that bound life itself.
Instructor Sylvanna, the gentle of them all, stood tall and composed before her group of students. Her features, like the others, held an elven grace, and her flowing robes shimmered with faint magic. Unlike her combat-focused counterparts, Sylvanna's appearance conveyed serenity and healing—an aura that radiated peace but also a quiet power. Her eyes, deep pools of emerald, flicked over her students, taking in their expressions and energy.
Sofia Dela Cruz, Angela Reyes, Liza Ramirez, and Denise Bautista stood before her, their faces a mixture of curiosity and resolve. Each of them had a distinct form of magic—some healing, others support—but they shared a common goal: to master the arts of healing and support magic.
"I know why you are here," Sylvanna began, her voice soft but firm, like the comforting rustle of leaves in a forest. "You are here because you can feel the world's wounds, the fractures that tear apart not just the body, but the soul. You seek to heal, restore and protect.
Her arms moved with a dancer's precision as she conjured a gentle magical sphrere of blue-green light that hovered between her hands.
"This," she continued, "is the Rank 2 spell, Breath of Restoration. A simple healing spell, yes—but it requires calmness of mind, clarity of purpose, and precise mana flow. Without these, even the gentlest magic can collapse or backfire.
Sylvanna gestured for them to sit in a circle. As the girls obeyed, they noticed the space around them shimmered faintly, as if reality itself softened under the influence of Sylvanna's magic.
"You will meditate for ten minutes," she said. "Control your breath and align with the pulse of the earth. I will know if you fake it."
They closed their eyes. The silence was thick, broken only by the sound of birdsong and the faint hum of the courtyard's magical wards. Sylvanna walked slowly behind them, observing, correcting posture with the lightest touch.
Sofia flinched as a chill crept down her spine, but Sylvanna's voice was there immediately—calm, instructive. "Fear numbs the flow. Let the energy pass through you, not stick to you."
Angela's fingers twitched, her mana fluctuating with excitement and nerves. Sylvanna stopped beside her. "Eager minds often stumble first. Patience is your first lesson, child."
When the meditation ended, Sylvanna lifted a long wooden staff capped with a crystal shaped like a blooming lily.
"Now," she said softly, "we begin."
She instructed them to conjure the most basic form of healing light: a palm-sized bloom of energy that responded to focused thought and steady emotion. All four girls attempted it, and all four stumbled at first.
Liza's bloom flickered and vanished like a snuffed candle.
Denise's formed unevenly, crackling with unstable energy.
Angela's was bright but too sharp—its light tinged with aggression rather than care.
Only Sofia's flickered into life with some semblance of grace, though even hers wavered.
Sylvanna nodded once, slowly. "Weak, unsteady, but not hopeless. This is the beginning."
She made them do it again. And again. And again.
Each mistake was corrected with words that cut deep—not cruel, but precise. "Feel, don't force." "You are not soldiers; you are sanctuary." "Do not pity the wounded. Understand them."
By the sixth attempt, Denise's bloom was soft and warm.
By the eighth, Angela's no longer hissed.
By the tenth, Liza's held strong for more than five seconds.
Sylvanna said nothing, but they saw the smallest incline of her head—a nod of approval.
Just outside of the courtyard, beneath the tall ivory pines that shimmered faintly with enchantment, three figures stood in silent observation. Though they did not participate directly in the training this day, their presence was undeniable, subtle, steady, and essential.
"They're doing well," Caelum said quietly, his voice like thunder softened by velvet. "Especially Sylvanna's group. Sofia's control is improving."
"Mm," Serael hummed. "Angela nearly vaporized her own sleeve a few minutes ago. I'd say that's progress… in a fashion."
Caelum chuckled softly.
Nythorel smiled faintly. "It is good to see them try. Their spirits are untempered, yet not unruly. That's rare."
Their gaze shifted toward Instructor Vaelrya's circle, where Kevin and Nolan were wrestling with elemental convergence spells, their magic flaring like wild weather.
Serael winced as a gust of ice nearly toppled a training dummy. "A little less 'brute force' and a little more 'divine harmony,' please," he muttered under his breath.
Nythorel's hands folded over her chest. "They are young. And young things must first burn, before they learn to soothe."
"Wise as always," Serael replied, giving her a mock bow.
They lapsed into silence once more, observing the flow of lessons and sparks of progress. None of them showed disappointment at not having students—not in the traditional sense. Their presence was not for teaching today, but for readiness.
"They will need us soon," Caelum murmured, eyes distant. "Once the wounds are real, once the battles are no longer practice…"
Serael's smile dimmed slightly. "Let them have their peace a while longer. This time—this courtyard—may be the last place some of them will ever feel safe."
Nythorel closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, they shimmered like liquid silver.
"And we will be here when the pain comes," she whispered, "to carry what they cannot."
A faint breeze stirred the trees, and for a moment, the three stood motionless beneath the swaying branches—guardians not of strength, but of restoration. They said nothing more. They did not need to. For when the time came, their hands would be ready, their magic unwavering, and their compassion unshaken.
And until then… they watched, and waited.