***
The door creaked open with a soft chime.
Veila didn't look up at first. Her hands were already alight with gentle green energy, sealing a boy's fractured wrist as he sat sniffling on the cot. The room smelled faintly of herbs and boiled linen, sunlight slanting through the open window in thin, warm lines.
It wasn't until she finished that she turned—and saw the girl.
She stood at the doorway, poised but uncertain, a hand resting gently on her little brother's shoulder. Dust clung to the boy's trousers, one knee clearly scraped. The girl herself couldn't have been much older than Veila—maybe seventeen, with a quiet firmness in her eyes that didn't quite match her age.
"Come in," Veila said, smiling softly. "Let me see him."
The girl hesitated. "I was told this was the best place. We don't have much coin—"
"I didn't ask for payment," Veila interrupted, her voice warm but firm. "Sit."
They did.
The boy was shy, looking everywhere but at Veila, but didn't resist when she gently took his leg. Her fingers hovered above the scrape, light blossoming across her palm. The injury sealed in seconds. He blinked. Then smiled.
"It tingled," he whispered.
Veila smiled back. "That means it worked."
The girl watched closely. Not just the healing, but the control—the pacing, the placement of fingers, the stillness of breath. There was something reverent in her stare.
"You use healing magic too," Veila said casually.
The girl blinked, surprised. "I do. How did you…?"
"Your focus," Veila said, nodding toward her hands. "Most people just look at the light. You watched the pulse."
A sheepish smile bloomed. "You caught that."
The girl nodded and continued, "I've been practicing on my brother. His knees are usually the test dummies."
The boy scowled at that.
"What's your name?" Veila asked.
"Mira. And this rascal is Banne."
"Veila," she said, extending a hand. "Glad to meet you both."
Mira shook it firmly. There was no pretense in her grip. No hesitation. Just the honesty of someone used to holding things together.
As the boy skipped around the room, now free of pain, Mira glanced to the side and spotted a quiet figure seated by the corner bookshelf. A boy with softly black hair—not too dark—and unreadable eyes, deep in something old and dusty.
"That's your brother, right?" she asked. "The one sitting over there?"
Veila glanced over her shoulder. "Kael? Yeah."
"I think I saw him a few days ago. My brother bumped into him—hard. He didn't get mad. Just stood there… and smiled."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. Just a little. It threw me off."
Veila chuckled softly. "He's not one for conversation, but he's not mean. People just… don't get him."
The girl smiled too. "I didn't get a bad feeling from him."
Veila's eyes softened. "That's Kael."
Mira looked down, then back up again. "He doesn't feel dangerous. Just distant. I think people mistake the two."
Veila gave her a long look. Then smiled.
"You see more than most."
As the younger boy explored the shelves on the far side, Mira lingered, clearly interested in the layout, the tools, the worn but orderly arrangement of salves and wraps.
"You do this alone?"
"Most days," Veila nodded. "Some volunteers help with cleaning. The rest… I learned as I went."
"I can use basic healing," Mira said. "Nothing strong. But I've practiced."
Veila tilted her head. "You're welcome to come by sometime. Maybe we can trade a few techniques."
Mira's face lit up. "I'd really like that."
"Then it's a promise."
------
That Night
Veila found Kael on the roof again.
He didn't turn as she approached—he never did. She eased herself down beside him, her legs hanging off the edge the way his were, both of them looking out over the soft, crumbling roofs and pale dusk sky.
The silence stretched. Veila didn't break it. She knew him better than anyone else ever would, and Kael didn't do forced conversation.
Only after a full minute passed did she speak.
After a while, she said, "You're good at keeping your distance."
Kael didn't move. "People are loud."
Veila gave a dry chuckle. "True."
Another breeze passed.
"Those girls I helped yesterday," she said, watching the clouds drift by, "they were talking about the city's open recruitment. Two weeks from now."
Kael said nothing.
"They're looking for magic users—any skill level. You've controlled wind since we were kids. Maybe it's time you used it for something more."
He glanced at her then—just barely.
"You want me to go," he finally said.
"I want you to find something that pulls you out. Not just keeps you away."
He looked at her then—slowly. Eyes sharp, but not angry.
"Hiding?"
"You're not just avoiding people, Kael. You're avoiding yourself."
The words hung there, suspended like smoke.
Veila kept going. "You always act like you want nothing to do with anyone. But I see the way you hesitate when you walk past guards, or when you hear someone cry for help."
He looked away again. The sky was bleeding slowly into stars.
"I'm not trying to drag you into something you'll hate," she continued. "I just… I think it might be good for you. To do something. Something that matters."
Kael didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was quiet.
"I'm not like them."
"You don't have to be," Veila replied. "But that doesn't mean you have to be alone either."
He leaned back on his palms, watching a bird vanish into the treetops.
Another pause. The silence stretched long.
"…You really think it'll change anything?" he asked finally.
Veila didn't look at him. "I don't know. Maybe not. But sitting still won't either."
Kael's eyes lingered on the treetops.
He exhaled slowly, as if the words cost him something.
"Fine. I'll go see what it's about."
Veila turned to him, surprise flickering in her expression. "Really?"
"I'll go," he said again, eyes on the clouds. "That's all."
*** Whispers in the Wind ***
-----
The marketplace was alive with the usual rhythm—boots scraping over cobblestone, vendors shouting prices, birds circling lazily overhead.
Near the old stone well, a group of girls clustered together. Four of them. The same ones from Veila's place days ago. Their conversation drifted like loose fabric on the wind—half gossip, half nerves.
"They say the trials change every year," one of them said, twirling a loose strand of hair. "Last time it was group-based. This year might be individual tests again."
Another gave a small shrug. "That's what makes it interesting, doesn't it? No one ever really knows what to expect. It depends on the year—and who's hosting."
"Makes you wonder what they're really looking for," a third added, softly. "Magic strength alone probably isn't enough."
The last girl let out a gentle sigh. "They always post the final trial details late. But yeah… it's all happening in the capital, right?"
"Mm-hmm. That's what I heard. Two weeks from now."
Kael's eyes were calm, but focused. Though he stood a fair distance away, every word they said reached him clearly. He remained still until their conversation slowed.
Then came a voice—calm, low, and precise—from behind them.
"Would any of you happen to know the route to the capital? I heard recruitment will be held there."
The girls turned sharply. The young man who stood a few paces away was someone they recognized—but only in silence, never up close, and certainly never speaking.
He stood still, gaze steady, as though unbothered by their surprise.
One of the girls managed to answer, her tone more formal than before. "Yes. It's northeast from here. If you follow the main road beyond the wheat hills, it leads straight into the city gates. It's a two-day walk, or less if you find a transport."
Another girl added quickly, "There's also a rest station before the bridge. Most people heading to the capital stop there overnight."
Kael gave a small nod. Something settled beneath his ribs—unspoken, but clear.
Then he turned and walked away, saying nothing more.
The group stood still, watching him disappear past the edge of the square.
"…That was the first time I've ever heard his voice," one of them whispered.
Another nodded slowly. "He didn't sound unsure at all," one of them said. "Like he already knew."
No one answered.
The wind shifted softly between them—noticeable now, somehow.