The Fractured Light

CHAPTER 2

The healing hall was dark; every lantern had burned out except one near the fireplace. Arin pushed the door to shut out the evening chill and half-dragged, half-guided the stranger to the back room, where the cot she saved for the worst cases was. As she dropped him onto the table, every candle in the room lit at once.

Arin flinched in sudden shock, her heart pounding so loudly she could hear it; but the stranger didn’t move.

“What exactly was that?” She asked loudly.

She knew her instincts weren't mistaken; there was more to this stranger, and until he woke up and started talking, she would hold her composure.

She carefully removed what was left of his upper garment, leaving his lower intact, they weren't torn like the upper, and she wasn't about to undress an unconscious stranger, even though his lower garment was soaked. His upper body was burned in strange patterns, too precise to be natural.

She cleaned the mud from his cuts, checked each bruise, made sure none of his bones had snapped in the storm’s thrashing violence, and tried to bandage what she could. But the wounds closed before the linen could even touch them.

“I don’t know what you are,” she whispered, “but I’m not letting you die.”

He didn't wake or flinch, not even when she pressed a cloth deeper than she intended. Every time she leaned close, she could swear she heard a hum, a hollow sound, like air blowing through an empty bone.

She paused for a moment, spreading her fingers over his sternum.

“What are you?” she murmured.

The marks on his collarbone pulsed in response. She stepped back sharply. That wasn’t human. No wound, still healing, pulsed like that. No natural scar glowed. Fear began to creep in, but she shoved the thought aside.

She had been awake through most of the storm. As a healer, she didn’t get to rest when the wind tried to rip the shutters off or when people knocked steadily on her clinic door. Storms broke things, and people brought her the broken pieces. Her hands were sore from wrapping wounds and compressing bleeding. Her hair was tied in a messy knot. Her coat had dried stiff against her skin, but she didn’t stop. Moving kept her from feeling the emptiness storms always left behind.

Storms left strange things, but she had a duty to the living, regardless of what they carried. She stayed beside him for hours, drifting in and out of exhaustion, watching the rise and fall of his breath. Soon, she dozed off with her head on the table, and when she woke up, the morning sun was shining outside.

It was late afternoon, and the stranger was still asleep. Arin went to the window, watching the mist rising from the river, but her thoughts kept returning to the stranger lying on her bed.

Something flickered in the clouds, and for a moment, the sky wasn’t one colour but two; half light, half shadow, blending and pulling apart like breathing. She heard the hum sound again, but didn't pay too much attention.

***

Another strange thing happened near dusk. Arin was preparing a fever drink when the lantern above the bed flickered. She thought nothing of it until the flicker synchronised, pulse for pulse with the marks on his skin. Her breath hitched.

She took a cautious step closer. The lantern tilted toward the bed, as if drawn by an unseen force. It's flame bent unnaturally, casting long shadows across the stranger’s face.

Arin’s heartbeat hammered.

“This can’t be possible,” she whispered.

The flame straightened slowly when she reached for it, trembling as if scared to be caught. Arin’s gaze shifted from the lantern to the sleeping man.

“Who sent you here?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

The only answer was the rain starting again outside; it was soft this time.

Word spread quickly in Vaelora; it always did. By nightfall, Arin heard whispers drifting through the thin walls of her clinic. People passing by in the street, speaking in sharp breaths.

“I heard the storm marked someone.”

“They say it's lightning in human form.”

“Could this be punishment, or cleansing?”

“No, it's a warning.”

“Or a sign.”

Arin shut the windows firmly, blocking out the noise, and pulled a chair closer to the cot. The stranger hadn’t moved an inch, but the light around him seemed different, softer, like the room accepted him before she did. She resisted the urge to touch the marks again.

“Who are you?” she asked once more.

This time, his brow twitched. Arin was shocked at his response, for someone in a deep sleep. His fingers moved, as if reaching for something in a dream.

His lips parted, “…not… done…”

The words sounded like they were pulled from somewhere deep, deeper than sleep could allow. Arin’s senses sharpened.

She leaned closer. “Not done with what?”

He tried to speak again, but quickly sank into another deep sleep, snoring softly.

She stood up to prepare some broth and gather herbs before he woke up again. It would keep her mind busy and ease the worry she carried. As she turned toward the shelves, she felt a presence behind her. There was no movement, only a shift in the air, as if someone invisible had stepped into the room.

She spun around.

***

The stranger lay still. He was awake now, his palms pressed against his bare chest as he remained on the bed. His eyes were dark, storm-like. He blinked slowly, as if trying to piece his thoughts together, then his gaze settled on her. It felt like he had finally found what he had been looking for.

“Where… am I?”

“You’re in Vaelora. My clinic. I found you by the river after the storm. You almost drowned.” Arin felt a wave of relief seeing him awake.

He frowned. “Storm…”

“Yes.” She stepped closer, being cautious. “Do you remember your name?”

A quiet moment passed. Then, slowly, he said, “Saar.”

Saar. The name felt heavy in her mind, as if it had been spoken countless times before.

“Saar,” she repeated. “Do you remember anything else? Where did you come from? How did you end up in the river”

His jaw tightened.“I remember light”. Saar replied.

“What kind?”

“I don't know anything like it. It was blinding.” His eyes narrowed, as if trying to grasp the memory. Arin’s skin prickled.

His gaze dropped to her hands. “You pulled me out.”

“I did.”

Saar watched her for several breathless seconds, his eyes roaming her face as if he knew her but couldn’t remember.

Finally, he whispered: “Thank you.”

Arin’s eyes scanned his bare body. She left and returned shortly with a garment.

“Your tunic was badly torn, almost in rags, so I removed what was left of it.”

“Here,” she said, handing him the new one she had brought. “Put this on instead.”

She tried not to look at his chest as Saar wrapped his arms around it, as if shielding it from her eyes. The hum came again, but deeper this time. Arin stepped back.

“You should rest,” she said.

Saar nodded weakly; he was too tired to disagree. His eyes began to close again, but before surrendering to sleep, he whispered one last, quiet sentence, the kind that made Arin’s thoughts wander, because she had the strange feeling he wasn’t talking to her alone.

“The storm wasn’t the beginning,” he exhaled. “And it won’t be the last.” His eyes slipped shut.

The hum echoed through Arin’s bones. Outside, thunder rumbled across the clear sky, as if in agreement with him.