Chapter 389: Not Like Other Healers
Evaline:
I exhaled sharply, realizing exactly where this was going. "I thought you might have... I don’t know... given up on that idea since you agreed to let me investigate."
That earned me a quiet laugh from him. "Given up? You think we would give up that easily on something this important?"
The way he said it made my stomach tighten with a mix of dread and amusement.
"Kieran," I started carefully, "I just spent hours studying, and it’s almost sunset. Can’t we start tomorrow?"
"No," he said, far too cheerfully. "We start now."
I groaned softly, leaning back against my chair. "You and River are unbelievable."
"We prefer the term ’consistent,’" he replied, turning toward the crib where our son was fast asleep.
I watched as Kieran adored our sleeping baby for a moment, his eyes soft and a gentle expression on his face. And then he was finally turning toward the door. "Come on, Evaline. You’ll thank me later."
Reluctantly, I stood up, tucking the pen drive safely into the drawer of my study table. "You mean I’ll curse you later."
He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "That too."
Despite my protests, there was no real annoyance in me, only curiosity and a quiet thrill. Because deep down, I knew he was right.
If I was going to face whatever the future held - whether it was the investigation, or the strange power sleeping inside me - I needed to learn how to control it.
And knowing Kieran, this "first class" was only the beginning.
We walked out of my bedroom only to come across Madam Elira who was here to keep sleeping Lioren company. I smiled at her as I followed Kieran toward the staircase.
As we walked down the stairs, I glanced at his side profile, his expression focused and calm. Somewhere in that calmness, I caught the faintest flicker of pride - the kind a teacher might have for a student who was about to surprise herself.
I didn’t know what awaited me, but one thing was certain - Kieran’s lessons were never simple.
And if River’s version of "training" was any hint, I was in for a long, and probably exhausting, evening.
When we reached the study, the familiar scent of parchment and cedarwood filled my senses. It was one of my favorite rooms in the house - quiet, cozy, and warm. The last rays of sunlight of the day was filtering through the tall windows, falling in golden streaks over the old desk that stood at the center.
Several thick books were already laid out there, stacked neatly. Some had dark, cracked leather covers, others were bound in newer materials, embossed with golden letters that caught the light.
Kieran gestured toward the chair beside him as he sat down. "These are from the Academy’s restricted section," he said. "I got special permission to borrow them."
My brows lifted as I slid into the seat. "Restricted section? You make it sound like we are about to summon a demon."
A faint smile curved his lips. "Not quite. But what’s written in these isn’t something ordinary healers study."
He flipped open the first book, revealing pages covered in old runic diagrams, handwritten notes, and sketches of energy pathways through the human body. "These," he explained, tapping a page, "are about healing through connection - the kind that doesn’t rely on spells or herbs but on instinct, energy, and... emotion."
I leaned closer, fascinated. "Emotion?"
"Yes," he said, his eyes glancing briefly to mine. "The most powerful kind of healing doesn’t come from your mind. It comes from your heart, from what you feel. It’s dangerous, unpredictable, and sometimes it can hurt the healer more than it heals the other person."
I frowned softly. "So... emotional healing can hurt the one giving it?"
He nodded. "Especially if their bond with the person is strong. If you heal someone you love, you risk taking their pain into yourself. That’s why these methods aren’t taught openly anymore. Most healers can’t handle the backlash. Besides, it has been a long time, several centuries, since such a person existed among our kind with this kind of healing powers."
I looked at the sketch again - the swirling lines of light connecting two figures - and felt a strange heaviness stir in my chest. "Then why are you showing me this?"
His gaze softened. "Because you are not like most healers. You don’t follow their rules. You know that too."
For a moment, silence filled the room. The air seemed to hum faintly, charged with quiet understanding. I knew he was right. I wasn’t born as a healer, and my healing powers were nothing like the ones possessed by the healers in our world.
He opened the next book and began explaining the different kinds of energy flow - how light energy could be amplified through emotion, how one’s aura could stabilize or disrupt another’s depending on their connection. I listened carefully, asking questions, taking mental notes.
Kieran was a patient teacher - thorough, calm, but every word he spoke carried authority. He didn’t just explain things, he made me see them.
At one point, he asked me to close my eyes and picture the energy within my body - a stream of light that started at my chest and branched through every nerve, every fingertip. "Now," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "try to feel where it’s strongest."
I obeyed, inhaling deeply. For a few seconds, all I could sense was warmth. Then, slowly, I felt a pull near my heart, almost like a soft vibration spreading outward. It made my skin tingle.
"Good," he said quietly. "That’s your center. That’s where you draw from. Your healing energy starts there... not from your core, not from your mind, not from your hands."
When I opened my eyes again, he was watching me, that faint trace of pride glinting in his gaze.
"See? You are a natural."
A small, amused smile tugged at my lips. "If the first lesson is this easy, I might just be the best student you’ve ever had."
He chuckled softly, leaning back against the desk. "Is that so?"
"Yes," I teased lightly, folding my arms. "If all I have to do is breathe and imagine light, I think I can handle it."