The Second Incarnation Part 3
By Shelly Ichishita
The healer knew that the child was as good as dead. Every ragged, uneven breath drew the little girl closer to death. She had used every cure spell and potion known to her to try to save the child but now it looked as if nothing more could be done. The girl's parents looked at the healer pleadingly as the child began to draw her last breaths. Finally with a sigh she said, "I can do no more for her. Please call the priest now."
It almost broke her heart to see the girl's big brawny father break down and cry. The girl's mother ran out sobbing to get the priest.
Within a matter of seconds the priest came. Dressed in only a simple cotton robe, he nonetheless radiated a nobleness that surpassed that of any lord. The priest came to the stranger's side and whispered. "Healer, you have done well but I know that you are capable of saving this child's life."
The healer was deeply offended. "Don't you think that I would save this child if I could? What kind of monster do you take me for? There is no way that the girl could recover from her injuries. I've tried every cure spell that I know!"
The priest interrupted before the grieving parents noticed the healer's outburst. "I'm sorry, I can see now that you are not familiar with the pulse of life. I meant no insult."
The priest's words struck the healer like a punch to the face. "Pulse of life?" She wondered out loud. Something about the priest's words seemed very familiar. Her dark green eyes took on a luminescence as she tried to recall the memory.
The priest inclined his head. "The Pulse of life is a healing technique unique to the ancients. They communicated with the earth and could use its manna to heal. I had heard that the last ancient had been murdered but you seemed so similar to her that I assumed you had the same powers."
The healer did not respond. She seemed to be in a trance. Suddenly green light emanated from her, encircling her like an aura. The priest could see the healer moving her lips but he could not hear a sound. And as suddenly as it started, it ended.
The priest stood transfixed. He could not take his eyes off of the healer. She had done it! She had really cast the pulse of life. The priest fixed his gaze on the injured girl; she was lying so still in her bed that the priest was afraid the healer's spell hadn't worked. The thought occurred to him the maybe the healer had been too late, but then he heard the exulting cries of the child's parents as they rushed to help her get out of the bed. The priest was thrilled at the recovery. He turned his head to thank the healer but she had already left the room. Could she have been the ancient he had heard of? His theories on her true identity were pushed out of his mind as he rushed forward to help the girl and her parents.
The healer's mind raced as she ran from the house. She knew that it had worked, the little girl was out of danger now. The priest had been right about her. How could she be an ancient and not even know it? Memories of her past plagued her mind. They danced in her consciousness, disappearing before she could get a solid grasp on them. The healer felt as if her head was about to explode, so she did the only thing she could do, she screamed.
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