Matthew's confinement stretched interminably. Each attempt to rise, every muttered insistence that he was "fit to travel" ended the same, a gasp of pain, fresh blood blooming through bandages, Caspian's trembling hands glowing teal as his magic sealed torn flesh anew.
"A patient as stubborn as stone..." Caspian murmured, securing fresh gauze with practiced knots. His hands trembled slightly not from exertion, but the ghostly weight of an oath broken. Never again, he had sworn. Yet here he was, bending cosmic threads to mend flesh.
Truth lingered unspoken between them: a full healing would take moments, not weeks, if Caspian embraced his birthright. But some oaths cut deeper than claws.
Three days had passed since the forest's violent poetry entwined their fates. Now, as twilight painted the cabin in amethyst hues, Matthew studied his caretaker over a bowl of stew a clumsy concoction of roots and herbs, yet offered with such earnest care it might as well have been ambrosia.
"My thanks..." Matthew said, setting aside the emptied dish.
"I-I'm relieved it suited your palate. Cooking for others is... new to me." A lie-the stew bordered on bland, but Matthew devoured it like ambrosia. "I-It's just broth. And I nearly spilled it all when-"
"-When the floorboards conspired against you? Yes, I recall." Matthew's chuckle was warm, his earlier suspicion eroded by days spent observing Caspian's guileless nature, a soul who apologized to startled mice and tripped over his own shadow. Caspian's innocence was both endearing and alarming similar to a lamb navigating a world of wolves. The brunet noted how compliments turned the boy into a stammering specter, how a single praise sent him careening into shelves of dried herbs. Memory preserved the comedy of their first night, Caspian's scarlet face, the avalanche of glass vials, the hissed curses as he swept shards by moonlight.
Clumsiness clung to the boy like a second shadow, yet his hands steadied when healing. A paradox Matthew found endearing.
"Caspian?" Matthew's voice softened, pulling the youth from his reverie. Golden eyes lifted, wary yet trusting. "You asked why I came here..."
The healer nodded, fingers tightening around the first-aid box.
"A Guild mission..." Matthew said. At Caspian's blank look, he added. "You know of the Guilds, yes? Blades and shields of the Empire?"
Caspian's nod was hesitant. Guilds are legionnaires of law, mercenaries cloaked in legitimacy. Assassins-for-hire draped in bureaucratic silk. The thought chilled him.
"I serve the Comet Guild." Matthew continued, pride warming his tone. "We track threats. Months past, rumors spoke of a winged beast haunting these woods. My task was its pursuit."
Caspian froze. A bead of cold sweat traced his temple.
"Yet the creature vanished, without trace." Matthew concluded, watching the boy's shoulders sag in relief. "No trace remains. The mission... adjourned..."
The unspoken truth hung between them, a secret too poorly veiled. Caspian's transparency amused Matthew. The boy might as well etch his thoughts in skyfire.
"Will you... depart once healed?" Caspian asked, clutching the medical kit like a talisman.
"Without delay. My kin awaits." Affection softened Matthew's features. "The Guild is family. Not by blood, but by choice. Our master says bonds forge stronger than lineage."
Caspian leaned forward, enthralled despite himself. Tales unfolded of a mischievous eight-year-old named Rory, of twin elites moving as mirrored souls, of rankings shrouded in Guild secrecy.
"Newcomers, Seasonal, Veterans, Elites..." Matthew explained, noting Caspian's furrowed brow. "Ranks forged through trials. You'd thrive among healers, you know."
The kit clattered to the floor. Caspian stumbled backward, a clumsy cascade of collisions. Shattered herb jars glittered like cursed ice across the planks.
"Steady!" Matthew lurched upright, only to gasp as stitches pulled taut.
"I'll-I'll manage..." Caspian lied, scarlet-cheeked as he scooped glass shards. "Stay abed, please."
Matthew sank back, equal parts amused and chastened. Silence pooled between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Caspian's mind churned visions of crowded Guild halls, judging stares dissecting his alien eyes and snow-strange hair. Yet Matthew's stories whispered temptation, belonging.
Night draped the cottage when Caspian finally spoke. "The Guild... Do they accept anyone?"
"Through trials. Applications." Matthew studied him. "Why?"
"No reason." Caspian turned away, but not before Matthew glimpsed the longing in his eyes, the look of one who'd forgotten how to hope. The weight of his own exile. The Guild offered belonging, but at what cost?
Alone later, he gazed at the stars through his cottage window. Isolation had been his shield. Now, Matthew's stories whispered of a life beyond survival one he craved but feared to grasp. This forest refuge was no home, merely a hiding place. But courage, like healing, could not be rushed.
˚༺☆༻˚
Caspian's mind churned for days. Matthew's offer lingered a lifeline to purpose, yet tangled in doubts. Anxiety coiled tighter each time he imagined failure.
'What if I fail?' His mind spiraled. 'What if my hands falter? My knowledge proves hollow? What if I freeze before a suffering patient... Useless, exposed?'
He was a stranger to crowds, to eyes that dissected his every flaw. Matthew noticed, of course. The man read his tremors like pages in a well-thumbed tome.
His nerves betrayed him again. A ceramic bowl slipped from his grasp, shattering like his fragile resolve.
"By the Constellations-!" Matthew jolted upright, combat instincts flaring. Crimson eyes scanned for threats before softening at the sight of Caspian crouched amidst shards. "You...alright?"
"I-I'm fine..." Caspian lied, avoiding his gaze. "I'm...sorry. Always...this..."
Matthew sighed. The boy's every emotion played across his face like an unfurled scroll. "Meira...she was like you once..." he began, voice low. Caspian stilled. "A quiet storm of doubts. Her brother tried to soothe her, but words alone couldn't calm the tempest.."
Caspian's fingers paused over broken pottery.
"So I listened..." Matthew continued. "Not to fix, but to hear. When she emptied her fears, I gave her this. A burden shared is a mountain halved..."
Silence hung, fragile as the bowl's remnants.
"Talk, Caspian..." Matthew urged gently. "Even shadows fade beneath moonlight."
Matthew's smile gentled, crimson eyes softening like embers banked to a comforting glow. Caspian wavered under that gaze, steady, patient, safe. A brother's aura, unshakable as an ancient stone.
"I... I've been considering..."
Caspian's voice frayed at the edges, hands clasped tight to still their trembling. He met Matthew's eyes, resolve hardening. "Your offer. Does it... still stand?"
A heartbeat's pause.
"You're joining us?..." Matthew's composure cracked, excitement sparking beneath feigned calm. "That's what's haunted you these days?..."
Caspian nodded, gaze dropping. "But I'm...not worthy. If a life slipped through my hands... If my clumsiness..." His throat closed, the unspoken failure choking him.
Matthew leaned forward, voice a balm. "The Guild thrives on broken edges. Granny Jayr... She'll see your heart, not your stumbles. Under her wing, you'll flourish."
Caspian's mind conjured the woman from Matthew's tales. Wrinkles etched by decades of laughter, hands steady as bedrock. A healer who mended souls as deftly as flesh.
"Doubt is the first stitch in courage..." Matthew murmured. "And family? We carry each other's fears..."
"Caspian..."
The name fell like a hammer on anvil. Matthew's crimson gaze sharpened, not with anger, but the searing focus of a hawk sighting prey. Caspian froze, marrow chilled by that primal intensity.
Before fear could curdle into flight, Matthew reached for his cloak. Fingers delved into shadowed folds, withdrawing a fist-sized orb cradled in his palm.
A brooch.
Encased in wrought gold, the glass orb pulsed with captive fire, its molten core swirling in hues of sunset and blood. Caspian remembered it dimmed to ash-gray the night Matthew lay dying, its light guttering like a star in collapse. Now it pulsed, alive, a captured inferno.
Matthew's fingers traced the orb's surface, its imprisoned flames writhing like a caged star. "An Affinity Stone..." He intoned, voice stripped of its earlier warmth. A general addressing war's grim truth. "Every guild member bears one. It mirrors the soul's hue... and the nature of its power."
Caspian's throat tightened. "What does that... have to do with me?"
The older man's gaze pinned him, relentless. "It binds to our lifeforce. Fades only when we..."
His jaw flexed. "...fall. Mine dimmed to ash that night in the forest."
Golden eyes widened, understanding dawning like a struck match.
"You reignited this..." Matthew pressed, grip firm on Caspian's shoulder. "Your hands didn't just mend flesh, they defied fate's ledger."
His gaze softened, embers cooling to hearth-light. "Doubt your clumsiness, your nerves, even the stars themselves but never your worth. A healer's power lies not in perfection...but in the will to fight for a pulse..."
The orb's glow swelled, as if kindled by the words.
Matthew reclined against the bed's carved headrest, the Affinity Stone's glow painting amber shadows across his face. "Membership demands more than healing...." He said, tone edged with pragmatism. "Six months of martial tutelage, blades, evasion, survival. Even healers learn to wield steel here."
Caspian's fingers twitched at the thought. Combat training? The Guildmaster's foresight chilled him. A world where healers marched armed into chaos. Yet in that dread flickered promise, no helplessness, no dependence.
"Your Guildmaster... prepares for every storm..." Caspian murmured, admiration threading uneath the unease.
Matthew nodded. "To protect others, you must first stand unbroken."
Caspian closed his eyes. Saw his trembling hands steadying. Saw corridors thrumming with voices, eyes dissecting his snow-pale hair, his golden reptilian pupils. Then, Granny Jayr's rumored smile, warm as a hearth.
Silence pooled between them, thick with the weight of crossroads. Caspian closed his eyes, watching his old life dissolve. The isolated cottage, the herb-scented solitude. When he spoke, his voice trembled, yet carried embers of resolve.
"I... wish to join. The Healers' Division." Golden eyes met crimson, unyielding. "Payment means nothing. Only... Sanctuary. Let the Guild shield me, and I'll devote my hands to its cause."
Matthew's smile bloomed, fierce and proud. His hand closed over the Affinity Stone, its flames roaring sudden and bright. A vow etched in wildfire.
"Welcome home, little brother."