Page 245 of Vallenna Rises: The Healer and the Warrior

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More than my own life.

“She died in childbirth with Saffra,” Tobias said. “My youngest never met her. I sent word to Hale, for a healer. They didn’t make it in time. Sebastian was nine.”

Tears fell down Kara’s cheeks.

“If I’d have had a healer in Thorne, stationed here permanently,” Tobias pressed on, “Rhyana would not have died. I’ve lived with that mistake for eighteen years. But I clung to my petty justification. Thorne don’t use healers.”

The words made her flinch. She rememberedhimsaying that to her during the Arcalon when she’d first tried to heal him.

“But the truth is, if I could go back, I would have a healer here. It’smyfault,” Tobias said.

Kara stayed silent. What could she say? Tobias gazed at her; the weight of his regret sat heavy between them, so sharp and raw it felt like her own.

“I see that same regret in you. ‘If only I’d been faster, stronger, closer.’ But Kara–” His voice cracked. “You cannot carry what was never yours to carry. The soldier who separated you, Silas who struck him down – that’s where the blame lies. Not with you.”

Her tears fell harder the second he mentioned Silas’s name. They were silent for a long time, two people bound by their grief.

“In his memory,” Tobias said at last, “I will not make that mistake again. Thorne should never go without a healer.”

Kara’s head jerked towards him, shock breaking through the misery. She’d never expected that.

“I know he’d have wanted your gift used for more than sorrow,” Tobias said, looking to the gravestone. “Perhaps you could be that for us. Thorne’s Healer. This is your home now. For as long as you want it.”

Home.

He was right. Hale still refused her, and she would never leave the place he was buried. Never. But her magic hadn’t so much as stirred since he died. She wasn’t sure it ever would.

“Thank you,” Kara whispered. “But I don’t even know if I can cast anymore... I haven’t since...” The words died in her throat as her gaze fell on his name carved in stone.

“I know,” Tobias said, nodding. “But your magic is part of you. It will come, when you’re ready.” He rose slowly, brushing the dirt from his hands. “Thorne will wait as long as you need,” he said, steadily. “You are not alone.”

He turned and left her. But his words remained. Something he’d said had taken root.

If I could go back.

The words struck like a spark, catching, then burning into her. She thought of Tobias’s wife. Of his regret. If only there had been a healer. If only someone had gone back, done something different. Time magic existed, didn’t it? Not here, not in Vallenna, the knowledge was forbidden. They’d sworn an oath to Occarlia. But there, it wasreal.She’d studied Occarli histories as a child. A shimmer of gold bloomed faintly over her skin. Hope. Dangerous, impossible hope. She held the power of the Arcanth, didn’t she? If anyone could reach for it, she could.

What if I could go back?

Kara knew instantly what she would change. She’d kill the soldier that separated them. The one who’d grinned at her panic. She would slit his throat and be glad of it. The healer who’d cried over killing now craved one with savage certainty. She dug her hands into the earth, gold humming in earnest now, hot over her palms, andbegged.

“Please,” she pleaded to the Arcanth, the Gods, the bond that was gone but maybe not entirely. “Please, let me go back, just once. Let me save him. Please.Please.”

Silence.

Her words vanished into the empty air, leaving nothing but his gravestone in front of her. No answer. No mercy. She bowed her head against the stone, ready to scream again. Force it to answer. The gold flared up her arms, racing over her skin like angry snakes, her magic twisted and anguished.

“Please!” Kara sobbed, pouring everything into it – her grief, her fury, her love, every wretched piece of her broken soul. “I’ll give you anything. Anything. Just let me save him!”

She clawed desperately at the ancient power inside her. The golden light that had destroyed the Dracanth.

Please. PLEASE.

And then–

I want nothing from you.

The voice was not a sound but a presence within her. Ancient and endless. It reverberated through her, through the shattered remains of the bond. The shock of it jolted her backwards.