Chương 3: The Fish Bone

Aaron was shocked. Before yesterday, the soul had shone to his eyes, blazing like a flame and bright with power. In it, he could see details—spiritual imbalances that made its flame uneven, past traumas like shadows that disrupted its surface, or bodily injuries that damaged the soul, tearing out little pieces of it so that mana leaked. Now, his cold mana flowed into Mr Philips' abdomen and it was as if his flesh faded away, becoming translucent.

His innards became immediately clear from his skeleton to his organs to the very fibres of his muscles. As he focused, each detail came into clarity, so clear he felt like he could touch it. He could feel the movement of blood and muscle as if it was his own. It was so much different from how it used to be. He couldn't detect anything about the man's spirit anymore, but he got a deep insight into his anatomy and physical health. He looked closer.

He had seen what a stomach looked like in anatomy classes, but this was different. Alive and filled with blood. His eyes roamed. Mr Philips had a small scar on his left ankle just above the outer bony prominence. It was jagged and decades old, probably caused by falling and cutting it on a branch or something similar. His liver was aged and strained from years of alcohol and his lungs were damaged from decades of working in the coal mine, yet strangely the upper portion of the lungs was healthy.

He focused on the abdomen and saw, clear as day, a medium-sized fish bone sitting sideways over the exit to the stomach. Food was stuck behind it, and the stomach was spasming. Aaron sensed his connection with his tome firing up. It showed him a message. Not through a sound or sight, but a sixth sense felt within his soul which he had always called his mind's eye. [Skill proficiency increase] True Sight: Level 2 Level 2 was a good start, but it was going to take some serious work to regain his lost progress.

Excitement filled Aaron at his success. This was more to him than just helping his patient. The very fact that he could meant that necromancy could be used for good. He could continue to help people. To help his brother.

"I'll be back in a moment sir, I have a suggestion which might help you, but I want to run it past the master first."

"Truly?" Mr Philips' bloodshot, watery eyes lit up slightly.

"Oh thank you, Healer Barrows! Please hurry." With morbid delight, Aaron rushed out to find the master. He hastily ran up two flights of cobbled stairs on the spiral staircase leading to the top of the tower above the clinic. The door was open and the master sat at the back of the room in front of a worn wooden desk. It was messy and piled high with tomes and scrolls. It was a windowless room with sharp flickering shadows dancing around the room from the dim candlelight centred on his desk.

As Aaron approached Master Addison, he did not look up at Aaron once. He stayed seated in his chair, leaning over a scroll, reading and tracing lines with his finger. He stood in front of the desk in silence and awaited the master to be ready to speak with him. The room was teeming with character and history. The wooden flooring and bookshelves must have not been changed in a century. There were thousands of books, trinkets and pictures on the shelves around the room, all worn and covered in dust.

"What do you want, Aaron?" The master muttered. His head was still firmly buried in his book and he did not sound pleased to see him. Master Addison was often disinterested and dismissive, but this was important enough to demand his attention.

"Sir, I'm sorry to intrude…" The old man looked up from his book and interrupted him.

"Speak plainly, boy, I don't have time for your mutterings""Right, sir. Sorry." Aaron hid his frustration behind a fake apology. His normal strategy was to antagonise him as little as possible and say what he needed to get him to listen.

"It's Mr Philips downstairs. He has a fish bone stuck in his stomach. I could sense it with my sight ability."

"Irrelevant nonsense!" Master Addison announced abruptly.

"We do not treat the cause—not inside the body. Prove to me you are not completely incompetent and tell me how we heal something such as this." Aaron gritted his teeth and held his tongue. Playing to his ego was usually the best way to get things done. He recited the teachings of the spirit healers like a mantra.

"The particulars of the ailment are not our concern. The body will always repair itself if the spirit is healed. Opening up the body isn't worth the risk of infection and further damage when the spirit can do the work for us." Master Addison grinned arrogantly. It really irked Aaron the wrong way that he got such a high out of belittling people. At least it was easy to fake sincerity and stroke his ego enough for him to teach and help when needed.

"Come!" The master commanded as he strolled out of the room, chest high and hands locked behind his back. Aaron followed him down to the clinic. The master approached Mr Philips and, without saying a word, lifted his top and put his hand on his stomach. Mr Philips looked startled and very uncomfortable, but Master Addison clearly could not care any less. His bedside etiquette was often lacking, but since he was the most senior healer there, everyone seemed to just put up with it.

"This is a clear case of an unbalanced spirit. This man had been a glutton and over nourished his soul with luxury and comfort. He needs to experience suffering to restore balance." Mr Philips' jaw gaped open and he quickly grabbed his bedsheet and tried to pull it back up over his abdomen.

"No, no. I think I feel better now. No need for th..." Before he could finish speaking, the master yanked the bedsheet away and the hand which was placed on his abdomen began to glow blue. It sizzled violently and a foul-smelling smoke arose from between his fingers. The patient called out in pain, screaming and grabbing to remove the hand from his abdomen, yet Addison was much stronger than his thin stature would let on.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Despite the stench of burning flesh, Aaron pinched his lips and kept a straight face. The procedure was barbaric, but questioning the master or breaking professionalism was a sure way to get fired. Other apprentices had lost their jobs for less. After what must have felt like an eternity to Mr Philips, but was in fact exactly four seconds, he began to vomit into the bowl placed by his side.

Violent and explosive as before, the bowl filled with vomit until… Tink. A fish bone, long with small spines along its length, hit the bottom of the metal bowl. The old man stopped and an uncomfortable silence filled the room. It was unlike Addison to hesitate and it left Aaron feeling uneasy. The sounds of coughs and groans in the room came into focus. Stifling his pride as haunched his shoulders over slightly to try and not appear too proud of himself, as it would only irritate Master Addison.

The old man was rubbing his chin and staring at the bowl vacantly. It was unlike him to hesitate like that. Aaron had never seen him stutter and had certainly never seen him lost for words before. Where his hand had burned Mr Philip's abdomen, no mark was left, only clean light pink skin with a gentle hue of smoke over the surface. The spell had caused pain but thankfully not left any lasting damage.

"Follow, bring your tome." Master Addison left the room, leaving the patient in shock, slouched over a bowl. Aaron followed, filled with dread knowing his master would not react well to seeing his blacked tome missing all of his healing skills. Perhaps he somehow already knew. He'd never reacted like this before, even when his healers had made serious errors. They arrived in the Master's room at the top of the tower and he didn't give Aaron a chance to sit down before grilling him.

"That tome was given to you on your ascension day when you were identified as a Gifted. The library's mages looked into your soul and allocated you the healer class. You were apprenticed to me to learn how to heal. So tell me how you use your Sight to do that."

"I had a class evolution yesterday and it changed my abilities. I was hoping to get some advice." The master snatched the book from his hands and placed it upon the pile of dusty tomes on his desk. The vigorous placement of the book released a puff of dust from the literature below. He flicked through the pages, rapidly scanning the text. His eyes went wide, then turned to a concerned frown.

"Do you know why this has happened? Is there any way to change it back?"

"No, it's permanent. Once a class evolves, it's impossible to reverse the change. This is old magic and nothing like I have seen for many years." The master spoke, now uncomfortably close to Aaron, level with and staring at him. Aaron could feel the sharpness of his eyes. They were stern, piercing and spoke with more warning than any number of words could convey. Just last week, he had thought that Necromancy was a myth or a story told to children.

The fact that his master had heard about it and was warning him was very concerning.

"Aaron, you must not use this magic. It is dangerous to mess with matters of the body. You must remember my teachings. Heal the spirit first and the body will follow. You can't change back, but with some practice, you might be able to focus on the spirit aspects of your class and still be of some use in my infirmary." Master Addison's tone was disconcerting. He usually spoke with bravado and absolute confidence and enjoyed gloating and humiliating his inferiors.

His bedside manner was lacking, but his patients didn't mind as they knew he was the best and had their interests at heart. He was hard on his apprentices, but they knew this was because of his passion for his craft. This is why Aaron looked up to him. He wanted to give back to the world and heal people. The master continued, "You might have thought Necromancy was a legend, but it's very real.

Our ancestors used this magic, but it comes with the very real risk of harming people more than healing them, or even corrupting their spirits. I fear that if anyone finds out about your power, they might seek to harm you out of fear." The master had spoken more words to Aaron in the past five minutes than he had in the previous five months. Aaron's feet were locked in place, not out of fear, but curiosity and unsettlement. Thoughts rushed through his mind.

Spirit healing is not always effective, surely Necromancy can be used for good if harnessed correctly. People were afraid of the idea of Necromancers, but if he was able to use it for good, surely they would understand. Aaron contemplated his next words carefully, but felt it right to bring better care to the people of his clinic.

"Sir, I want to learn to use this power for good. As you said, this is what our ancestors did." The mood of the room suddenly shifted, and Master Addison's voice grew louder.

"Did you not just listen to me? I forbid it!" All of Aaron's instincts told him to back down, but he couldn't let it rest. His class might say Necromancer, but he still felt like a healer. He needed to at least try to persuade Master Addison.

"We heal the spirit, but at what cost? We cause pain to our patients, they have to sit here and wait days or weeks to get better. What if my powers are better at healing particular conditions, or can be used alongside a spirit healer? Isn't this worth a try to improve these people's lives?" Master Addison's face grew increasingly red.

"Stop this foolishness at once. This is my hospital and you will listen to me. Do not bring this power here. You do not understand what you are messing with, but to manipulate the flesh risks corrupting the spirit. Always."

"Well, help me understand!" The respect in Aaron's voice was mostly gone and replaced by frustration.

"Leave this place!" He shouted, pointing at the door.

"You'll be on laundry for a week and then see how you feel about it." Aaron drew a deep breath, preparing to argue further, but he knew better than to test the master's patience. As disrespectful and belittling as it was, it seemed that deep down the man was acting at least somewhat out of concern for him. But that didn't make him right. Aaron stood tall and turned to the door, not giving the master the satisfaction of seeing any hint of negative emotion in his face or his stride.

If Master Addison feared his power, then he would simply need to prove why he was mistaken.

The short walk through the city back to his home felt like an eternity as his mind raced. The hustling sounds of the city bounced off him as he stomped through the damp streets. It was as if none of it existed, just him and his thoughts and his anger. Why shouldn't he try to improve things? He had trained hard for three years and earned the right to speak up and suggest ways to improve the infirmary. Why is he treated with such blatant disregard? A flash of black caught Aaron's eye at the side of the path.

A ball of feathers writhed around on the spot. Aaron ran over and looked down to see blood marbling through a puddle beneath his feet. Faint squawks echoed in succession from the beak of a juvenile crow. For a moment, time stopped. He fell to the ground, knees smacking hard onto the wet cobblestones. But he didn't care. After such an awful day, the last thing he needed was an injured animal on his mind. The crow fluttered around the floor.

It lay on its side, flailing one wing, except it just spun in circles, splashing around in the rain, soaking itself. It couldn't get up. It looked scared and in pain. Aaron's heart filled with dread, his breath caught in his chest. He must have been attacked by an animal or a cruel person and broken its wing. He grabbed the crow's soaking wet feathers and stood it up, but when he let go, it fell straight back to the floor. It wouldn't survive without help.

He threw his coat on the ground and opened his book on it, but of course all of his Spirit Healing abilities were gone. He tried to channel Lesser Spirit Heal on the bird, but it was like reaching into an empty void inside of him. Nothing happened. Aaron tried again, and again. He tensed his whole body in frustration, trying to reach for his healing spells, but nothing worked.

People brushed past him, and rain pounded down on his exposed head and the back of his tunic, but the only thing that existed in that moment was him and the crow. The squawks began to fade and the puddle was no longer marbled, but deep red from the blood. Screw it What's the point in having power if you can't save a life? The book squelched as he slammed it shut and he began to picture the bird's injuries in his mind.