Chapter 9: A Season of Healing

Caleb’s body was severely weakened. I bought wound ointment from the local pharmacy and used leftover pills from treating Marcus. The days blurred together, marked by falling leaves and the first snow.

After nursing Caleb for half a year, his health gradually improved. Spring crept in, and the air grew softer. Now, Caleb could say a few words to me every day.

For example:

“Dinner’s ready.”

“Firewood’s chopped.”

“Bathwater’s hot.”

I could feel that, as time passed, he was slowly lowering his guard around me. The porch swing he’d fixed creaked in the breeze, and sometimes we watched old movies on a battered TV, sharing popcorn in silence.

“Caleb!” I called out from the wooden rocking chair he’d made. The chair swayed gently, the wood warm beneath my hands.

Caleb stopped chopping wood and looked at me. After half a year, he’d filled out a bit—not muscular, but healthy, faint lines of muscle visible under his shirt.

His face was like carved marble, and the slanting sunlight highlighted the red mark between his brows, lending a mysterious allure to his cold features. The light made him look almost ethereal, like a painting come to life.

“I want roasted chestnuts.”

Caleb wiped his hands and went inside to fetch some for me. The smell of roasting nuts filled the cottage, cozy and familiar.

Watching him peel chestnuts, I held back for a long time before asking tentatively,

“Caleb, do you want to learn magic?”

The chestnut in his hand burst open. His posture stiffened, and the room seemed to freeze.

I’d been afraid the topic of magic was too painful for him, so I’d never brought it up. Now it seemed that being abandoned by his family and mocked by the world for his inability to wield power was indeed his deepest wound.

But the plot had to move forward—otherwise, how could I go home? So I rubbed my hands, bracing myself to push his limits.

“Your channels are blocked, right? That can be fixed. I’ve repaired broken cores before, trust me just this once. Want to try tomorrow?”

“It can’t be fixed.”

“The only Moonshade flower was already taken. It won’t bloom again for two hundred years.”

“I’m just a mortal—I can’t wait that long.”

Caleb didn’t even look up as he peeled chestnuts, his tone frighteningly calm. It was the most he’d ever spoken to me, but I nervously pressed my lips together, feeling the tension crackle in the air.

Hmm, I took the Moonshade flower. To heal Marcus’s core. The memory hit me in a flash—moonlight on my hands, the flower’s cold petals dissolving into potion. The guilt burned in my chest.

I refined it into a potion and nurtured it in Marcus’s body.

“I’m going out for a few days. Watch the house while I’m gone.” The words felt heavy, almost like a confession.

Caleb looked up. “Where are you going?”

“To get the Moonshade flower for you.”

The words felt heavy, almost like a confession. I watched Caleb’s face, searching for hope or anger or anything at all. He just nodded, slow and deliberate, like someone who’d stopped believing in miracles a long time ago. I stood, stretching my aching legs, and tossed him a small smile. "Don't burn the place down while I'm gone," I teased, trying to break the tension. He didn’t answer, but I caught a flicker of something in his eyes—maybe curiosity, maybe doubt. I made a silent vow: This time, I’d make it right.