The next morning, Jayden arrived earlier than usual. The Healing Wing was still empty, just the low hum of water channels running along the floor. He stood at the basin where he'd practiced yesterday and waited.
The instructor, Ms. Renna, entered soon after, carrying a crystal vial filled with faint blue liquid.
"You're early," she said.
"Couldn't sleep," he replied.
She gave a knowing nod and set the vial down. "Good. That means you're ready to try something harder."
She motioned to a small training dummy on the table — a replica of human tissue with an artificial wound pulsing faint red.
"I want you to focus not on fixing it, but on feeling what's wrong. Don't force your essence in. Just watch."
Jayden nodded and placed his hand over the wound. His focus narrowed — but something shifted in his vision.
The world around the dummy seemed to slow, not dramatically, just… quieter. He could see faint ripples — blue lines running beneath the fake skin, like threads of water. His heartbeat steadied, matching the rhythm.
Elara watched him carefully. "You're seeing it, aren't you?"
Jayden blinked, surprised. "Seeing what?"
"The flow. Most healers take months to sense that."
He didn't answer. He didn't know how to explain that it wasn't something he tried to see — it just appeared. Like his body remembered what to look for.
He followed one of the faint blue threads, tracing it with his essence. When it connected, the red pulse dulled slightly — and the wound began to knit. Slow, but clean. Natural.
Renna smiled faintly. "You're attuning faster than expected. Don't rush it. You're not fixing broken things. You're reminding them what whole looks like."
Jayden stepped back, breathing a little heavier than before. His hand still glowed faintly.
"…How did you do that?" she asked softly.
"I don't know," he said. "It just… made sense."
"Then keep doing what makes sense," she said. "That's how true healers are born."
Jayden didn't respond, but inside, he felt a quiet spark — something deeper than training. Something that felt like clarity.
The rest of the morning moved slower. Ms. Renna had gone off to handle reports, leaving Jayden to practice alone. The faint hum of water channels filled the silence, steady like a heartbeat.
He tried again.
The artificial wound closed a little faster this time, but not by much. His focus slipped when his thoughts drifted — mostly to his mother, lying motionless in that white hospital room back home.
He muttered under his breath, "If I can do this here… maybe I can help her too."
The thought made him push harder. The glow around his hand deepened — not bright, just controlled. The blue threads aligned perfectly, and for a second, the wound sealed completely. Then his control broke, and the dummy reset with a soft click.
Jayden sighed and sat back. His palms trembled slightly.
"You'll burn out if you don't pace yourself," Renna said from the doorway.
He looked up. "I thought you left."
"I did." She stepped closer, crossing her arms. "Then I realized you're the type that doesn't stop until something breaks."
He gave a small shrug. "Guess I just don't like half-done things."
"That's a dangerous mindset in healing," she said. "You'll learn that pain has its own rhythm. You don't fight it. You listen."
Jayden nodded, eyes still on the dummy. "It's hard not to think about fixing it."
Renna softened a little. "You'll get there. Healing's not about control. It's about patience."
Renna left him with that thought — patience.
The word echoed long after she was gone.
Jayden stayed seated, staring at the dummy, at the faint red pulse that always returned no matter how much effort he poured in.
The repetition should've been frustrating, but it wasn't. Not anymore.
He dipped his hands in the basin beside him, watching the ripples spread. The water steadied, then circled back, calm and deliberate. That's what she meant. Healing wasn't forcing the flow — it was following it.
He tried again. This time, he didn't rush. He slowed his breathing until his pulse matched the hum of the channels beneath the dummy's skin. His essence followed the same rhythm, tracing through the wound, weaving into the red glow until it dulled, faded, then stilled completely.
When he opened his eyes, the dummy's skin was smooth again. The faint blue light lingered for a moment before fading out.
Jayden exhaled, half in disbelief. "...That's it."
He sat there for a while, quiet. A calm sort of realization settled in — healing wasn't just about repairing others. It was about finding where things stopped working and reminding them they could start again.
He flexed his fingers. The faint ache in his palm pulsed like an afterimage, but it didn't bother him.
For the first time, he understood why this mattered.
It wasn't power he wanted — it was restoration.
And if he could learn to restore something broken here… maybe there was still a way to reach his mother.
Outside, the morning sun cut through the tall windows, scattering across the basin. Jayden dipped his hands again, letting the warmth sink in before standing.
He packed up his things quietly, taking one last look at the dummy — healed, whole, waiting to break again.
He didn't mind. He'd be back tomorrow.