Claimed, Then cast aside.

Dawn doesn’t wait

Elara’s POV

The sky hadn’t begun to lighten when I woke.

My discipline was coming to a reality; I mean, I woke up before dawn.

I did this effortlessly, without an alarm.

The room was still quiet; accompanied with great silence, it was slightly cold as well, and room pressure had dropped to a noticeable amount.

It was dark because the sun wasn’t set to light the room.

I was calm and observant… just there, no movements.

I didn’t feel like going back to sleep despite the darkness.

That was control.

I could feel my breathing pattern, a normal repeated rhythm.

As time passed, one thought flickered.

I flashed to the memory of Darius; it weighed me down, and I began feeling a sense of emptiness.

I said to myself, “There was no point” in a bid to change my thought pattern. I stayed quiet and controlled.

I was able to decide what I wanted at that point.

However, I still felt something was missing.

I was still feeling empty.

This was a quiet start, though, no drama.

I stayed still, before I moved.

I got up, got ready, and arrived at the healer’s den. This was before sunrise.

As I walked in, I felt seriousness in the atmosphere. Work had already started… people were already immersed in it.

Their voices were low, and no one really spared their time to pay attention to my entry.

They didn’t stop for me.

The room had a different smell, which I could describe as weird or unusual.

The air carried a dense mix of crushed herbs and something metallic beneath it, faint but unmistakable.

The heat too, it lingered in the room.

I could say it resulted from the constant motion and their bodies too, making the room feel tighter and packed.I could hear sounds—voices, tools, slight movements. People were already deep into their work. Some stood over tables; others moved around quietly, passing things without needing to speak. Nothing felt scattered. Everyone seemed to know exactly where they were meant to be and what they were meant to do.

A healer beside me worked with steady precision, pressing cloth into a wound before replacing it without hesitation, her movements practiced and exact. Nothing she did was wasted.

Elder Mira walked up to me, and I greeted her.

She assigned my duties to me with sharp efficiency… showing authority.

She was brief; I mean, very short and direct.

I didn’t question her, and I moved immediately.

I moved to start my first task.

It was not easy… at first, I showed hesitation. The first time I tried, it didn’t feel right. I paused halfway, adjusted my hand, then started again. I wasn’t sure, but I followed what I had seen others do and kept going. The task itself was simple in structure, but not in execution. Clean the wound, control the bleeding, apply what was needed, and move on.

I was treated as a junior aide, but I followed instructions precisely and began to adapt quickly to the pace of real healing work. There was no instruction given to me directly, only what I had observed and retained. I worked based on that only even when I was unsure of the next step to take.

I made mistakes I’d describe as small—the cloth shifted more than it should have. At one point, I got it slightly wrong. It was not obvious at first, but I noticed it a second too late. I took a breath, paused, and peeped at the healer beside me and watched as she adjusted hers. I gained correction on the right way to perform my task.

I watched first, then I tried until I was able to adjust.

I corrected it without drawing attention, aligning my movements more closely with what I had seen. My hands steadied, my breathing evened out, and I continued as if nothing had happened.

I did all these emotion-free.

They were just based on my actions.

This was learning for me.

I was adjusting, which meant I was getting better.

As I paid careful attention to details, I noticed something was wrong…slightly wrong somewhere.

I paused; I felt uneasy.

Something about it wasn’t sitting right. I looked again, then made a small adjustment before continuing.

Although I hesitated a bit, I fixed it anyway.

In the process, the Elderly Omega commented, “That's better.” There was a slight change. I noticed it, and that was enough. I moved on.

So I just did some finishing adjustments. It wasn’t really a big deal.

As I continued my tasks, for the first time since my loss… I realized I was no longer thinking of Darius.

“I am not thinking about him.”

Those were the words I said to myself:

“Not even once.” I added.

I now knew that my attentiveness to work, my focus, was gradually replacing pain.

My structured work gave me something I could hold onto.

I was healing through work.

I didn’t fully understand it, but I noticed the difference. It wasn’t loud or obvious… just there. The weight I had been carrying wasn’t as heavy in that moment, and that felt strange to me. I didn’t know if it would last, so I didn’t rely on it.

I kept working, but now I was more aware of myself… of how I moved, how I paid attention. It was like I didn’t want to lose that space I had found. Even if it was small.

I didn’t think too deeply about it, though. I just stayed focused and let the work take over.

Later that day…midday, Finn came around.

He looked very concerned; I wasn’t ready for the softness.

I was still engrossed in my tasks

He was worried.

“You didn’t eat.” He said

I avoided eye contact. “I’m fine.” I responded. He kept looking at me, then he broke the silence and said, “You’ve been here all day.”

I was slightly uncomfortable.

“… I said, I’m fine.”

Those were my exact words.

He tries to show concern but realizes I was channeling my pain into exhaustion and purpose.

I didn’t deny it either.

He proceeded to give me the goods he brought for me… I took it, but I didn’t care much.

As I continued my tasks, my attention was drawn to a pup.

It didn’t seem pretty fine to me.

I sensed urgency in the room, and it looked like a potential medication issue.

I moved forward and checked the dosage.

Something felt off, and I was yet to discover it.

I guessed and muttered within myself

“The moonbloom… it might be too much.”

I was still unsure about it.

I told Elder Mira; she listened and proceeded to test it.

She verified it, and I followed her suggestion. This resulted in the recovery of the pup.

In this moment, I felt useful

That was my first validation as a healer.

I didn’t move immediately after. My hands remained where they were, as if waiting for something to shift again.

The pup stayed still but no longer strained against the pain. Its breathing had steadied, no longer sharp or uneven. I watched it for a second longer than necessary, noting the difference, and I didn’t reach for anything more.

I stayed quiet and just acknowledged it—no loud praise.

I simply returned to what was in front of me and continued working.

By the end of the shift, I was very exhausted.

My hands had started to feel heavier…

My shoulders too were not different; they were heavy.

I had stretched myself beyond normal.

I didn’t feel weak; I just felt used.

I was getting ready to leave.

Elder Mira snapped, “Same time tomorrow.”

I wasn’t excited.

I nodded, showing confirmation.

I guessed that was enough.

That confirmed that I had become officially part of the routine.

As I stepped out, I began to feel the fresh air as it blew.

I hissed a sigh as I felt quite relieved.

I continued walking. This time, it was not just the air; I could hear steps as they proceeded.

I could feel the presence of people… not so close but nearby.

I turned to look in the direction of the sound.

Behold, it was Isolde.

She started laughing even without saying a word.

Immediately the little joy I felt began to fade.

“So this is what you’ve become?” Those were the words she said.

People were watching.

She continued, “A helper?”

When she threw these questions, I felt calm.

I didn’t respond.

It was a public humiliation.

I walked away silently, but inside, my emotions were shifting from grief to something harder, more like controlled anger and determination.

No one spoke immediately after. The surrounding space seemed to hold the moment in place, stretched thin but unbroken. A few glances shifted in my direction before quickly disappearing, as if nothing had happened.

The air felt tighter now, heavier in a way that hadn’t been there before. Her words lingered longer than they should have.

I didn’t slow as I moved away. My focus narrowed, sharper than before, leaving no room for anything else.