The Healing Hall was calm, almost serene. Sunlight filtered softly through the tall, stained-glass windows, scattering fragments of color across the polished marble floor. The faint scent of herbs mingled with the subtle aroma of clean wood, wrapping the hall in a comforting embrace.
Saphy sat perched on her impossibly soft chair, her small hands folded neatly atop the white table before her. For a moment, she allowed herself to simply breathe, listening to the quiet hum of the hall. The faint trickle of rain from the courtyard outside, the distant footsteps of the church staff, and the gentle swish of her own dress filled the space.
Then, from the side hall, a soft shuffle of footsteps echoed. They were purposeful but careful, as if the girls approaching knew the gravity of the moment. Four young figures emerged, dressed in modest nun habits, each moving with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.
The first to step forward was a girl with honey-blonde hair tied neatly into a braid that hung over her shoulder. Her hazel eyes were bright, curious, and kind, and a faint freckle dusted her left cheek. She gave a small bow before speaking.
"Good morning, Lady Sapphire. My name is Marielle," she said softly, her voice almost musical. "I'll be assisting you today."
Next came a girl with short, jet-black hair that framed her round face, and deep green eyes that darted nervously between Saphy and the room around them. She held her hands together, clasped in front of her habit.
"I am Liora," she introduced herself quietly, almost as if speaking louder might startle the marble pillars. "I… I will help with preparations and patients."
The third was taller than the others, with chestnut hair pulled into a tidy bun at the nape of her neck. Her amber eyes held a seriousness that contrasted with her gentle smile. She gave a small curtsey.
"My name is Celestine," she said with a calm, clear tone. "I have been trained in minor healing arts and will support your work however I can."
Finally, the last girl approached, a petite figure with curly auburn hair that bounced slightly with each step. Her blue eyes shone with a mischievous spark, though she tried to hide it behind a polite smile.
"I'm Evelyn," she chirped, her voice lighter and brighter than the others. "I'll make sure everything you need is at hand, Lady Sapphire!"
Marielle, Liora, Celestine, and Evelyn exchanged small, almost reverent glances, then spoke together with quiet determination:
"We'll do our best."
Just as Saphy's attention settled on the assistant nuns, three figures stepped forward from the back of the hall: Sir Alaric, steady and composed; Sir Dorian, grinning mischievously as if the world were one big joke; and Conor Barrete, the dark-armored royal guard whose calm, calculating presence radiated quiet authority.
Sir Alaric inclined his head toward Saphy, his voice even and warm. "Lady Sapphire, I am Sir Alaric, at your service. I will ensure your safety while you work."
Sir Dorian spun his sword lightly on his hip, giving a casual bow. "I'm Sir Dorian, here to keep things… lively. Don't worry too much, little lady. Life's more fun when you're smiling!"
Conor Barrete, standing slightly apart, gave a precise bow of his own, his deep brown eyes steady. "I am Conor Barrete, assigned by the royal guard to protect you. Your work here is important, and I will see that nothing interferes with it."
Sir Dorian glanced sideways at Conor and smirked. "Oh, come on, Conor. Lighten up a bit! A little fun never hurt anyone."
Conor's expression remained unyielding. "Fun is irrelevant, Dorian. Focus is what ensures safety."
Sir Alaric shook his head slightly, hiding a small smile. "Ignore him, Lady Sapphire. He means well, in his own… unique way."
Saphy smiled faintly, her small hands folded neatly on the table. "Thank you, Sir Alaric, Sir Dorian, and Sir Conor. I appreciate your help."
Sir Alaric gave a subtle nod. "Always, Lady Sapphire."
Sir Dorian leaned casually against a pillar, still grinning. "And I'll be around… making sure things don't get boring."
Conor merely adjusted his gauntlet, his calm gaze scanning the hall. "Stay focused, Sir Dorian. This is a Healing Hall, not a playground."
The contrast between them was stark, yet somehow balanced. Saphy felt a small surge of reassurance — with these three at her side, she could face anything the day might bring.
While Saphy and her assistant nuns conducted their first little sessions inside the Healing Hall, outside, the soldiers had already organized a line. The crowd was orderly, each person guided patiently by the armored household soldiers. The citizens of Eddleguard waited with a mixture of anticipation, curiosity, and relief.
At the front of the gate, an elderly man sat behind a sturdy wooden table, a chair carefully positioned for him to work comfortably. His back was slightly bent with age, but his eyes were sharp and attentive. A quill and notebook rested on the table, and a neatly folded stack of papers lay beside him.
He wasn't just keeping a log of patients for record-keeping. He had a far more important task: to ensure that only those who truly could not afford healing came here. The Healing Hall's purpose was clear — it was not a place for the wealthy to bypass other practitioners or merchants of medicine. Those who could pay for private healers, no matter how much they offered, were politely turned away.
He checked each person carefully, nodding, recording details, and sometimes asking subtle questions to confirm their situation. When necessary, he would politely guide them to other healers in the city who could attend to them for a fee.
Saphy's mission had been made clear: to help the common folk, the people who truly needed it, without undermining the livelihood of other healers. It was a delicate balance, but one she was determined to uphold.
And so, as the line grew steadily, with soldiers keeping order and the elderly clerk recording everything with diligence, the small, bright room inside awaited its first patients — and Saphy, poised on her soft chair, was ready to begin.
Seeing the orderly line outside, Saphy folded her small hands neatly on the table and spoke with quiet determination.
"I'm ready," she said softly.
Sir Alaric, standing nearby, gave a subtle nod. With a small hand signal, he instructed one of the soldiers standing at the gate to allow the first person through.
The man hesitated at the entrance for a moment, then stepped inside. His eyes widened as he saw her — Saphy seated gracefully on the white chair, her presence almost ethereal in the soft light. Up close, her delicate features, the shimmer of her hair, and the calm authority in her sapphire-blue eyes made his breath catch.
He froze, caught in a quiet daze.
The serious-looking nun, Marielle, stepped forward and cleared her throat sharply. "Sir… please focus," she said gently but firmly.
"Oh! I'm… I'm sorry," the man stammered, bowing low in respect.
Saphy inclined her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Please, introduce yourself and tell me about your ailments."
"My name is Brennar," the man said, voice rough from work and nerves. "I work on a fishing boat." He swallowed hard, glancing down at his hidden arm. "A few weeks ago, we went out to fish in the northern seas. We caught a massive shark — bigger than any I've ever seen. It fought fiercely… and I got bitten while trying to secure the catch."
He paused, shuddering slightly as he recalled the encounter. "I managed to get it under control and get back to the boat… but the bite… It's been getting worse since."
Saphy nodded calmly. "Please, show me your injuries."
Brennar hesitated, then carefully removed the cloth covering his left arm.
Saphy's eyes widened slightly, though her voice remained gentle and steady. The arm had a massive chunk of flesh missing, the edges ragged and uneven. The surrounding tissue had already begun to show signs of necrosis — blackened and discolored. Despite this, Brennar had done his best to clean the wound before arriving, keeping himself conscious and steady enough to avoid infection spreading further.
Marielle stepped forward slightly, her expression tight with concern, but Saphy raised a hand to calm her. "I see," Saphy murmured, her eyes scanning the wound carefully. "You were brave to stay conscious and try to clean it before coming. Don't worry, Brennar. We'll take care of you."
Brennar let out a shaky breath, relief flickering across his face. "Thank you… Lady Sapphire," he whispered.
Saphy nodded, her small hands hovering over the wound, ready to begin her healing — the first patient of her very own Healing Hall.
Saphy took a calming breath and folded her small hands above Brennar's wound. First, she began with Purification, her magic flowing gently over the damaged flesh. The bacteria, germs, and necrotic tissue seemed to lift away under her touch, leaving only clean, healthy skin beneath. Brennar felt a gentle warmth spreading through his arm, like sunlight chasing away a long, cold shadow.
Next, she began True Healing, her hands steady and precise. The dark black edges of the wound started to vanish as new tissue began forming. Muscle rebuilt itself layer by layer, and then bones, ligaments, arteries, and veins reconnected seamlessly as if the bite had never happened.
Within moments, the wound completely disappeared. Brennar stared at his arm in disbelief. It was whole. Perfect. The night of pain, the fear, the suffering… it felt like it had never existed. He stood frozen, tears slipping down his weathered cheeks, utterly dazed by what had just happened.
"Sir," Marielle called gently, breaking through his stunned silence, "please check your arm. Make sure it is fully functional."
Brennar flexed his fingers slowly, then bent his elbow and rotated his wrist. He clenched and released his fist, tested his grip, and even mimicked the motions he would use on the fishing boat. Nothing felt wrong. Nothing ached. Nothing hindered him.
A shaky breath escaped him. "It… it's… perfect," he whispered, voice trembling. "Lady Sapphire… It's perfect. I… I can't believe it…"
Saphy smiled softly, her small hands returning to her lap. "I'm glad you're all right," she said gently. "Now, please rest a little while before returning to work. Your body needs time to fully recover."
Brennar's happiness knew no bounds. The relief, the disbelief, and the sheer gratitude moved him so deeply that he instinctively wanted to kneel at Saphy's feet. Without thinking, he rose from his chair and took a step forward.
Suddenly, a cold, chilling voice cut through the air.
"Hold right there."
Brennar froze. He looked up to see Conor Barrete, standing like a statue of authority, his eyes piercing and fierce.
"One single step closer," Conor warned, voice low and icy. "This is your final warning."
A cold sweat ran down Brennar's back. Every instinct screamed that Conor would not hesitate if he ignored the warning. He gulped and froze mid-step, unable to move.
Before the tension could suffocate the room, Sir Dorian sauntered in, leaning lazily against a pillar, his grin wide and playful. "Hey, hey, no need to make our rock-star guard look like a nightmare," he said with a teasing lilt. "We don't bite — well, except the sharks, apparently."
Brennar blinked, caught between relief and embarrassment, and let out a nervous chuckle.
Sir Dorian waved a hand toward the door, still smiling. "Now, other patients are waiting outside, and we've got a line forming. If you're done being a drama queen, Sir Shark-Bitten, I suggest you let Lady Sapphire continue her work and head back to your boat."
Brennar's shoulders sagged slightly, but he nodded quickly. "Y-yes… thank you, Sirs," he said, bowing properly this time.
Conor's gaze softened just a fraction, but he didn't move. "Go. And take care of yourself."
Brennar stepped back, humbled, and slowly made his way toward the exit, still overwhelmed by the miracle he had just experienced.
As Brennar made his way out of the Healing Hall, he couldn't resist showing off his fully healed arm to the waiting crowd. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the line.
"By the Seven Virtues… look at that!" an elderly man exclaimed.
"Impossible… that wound was horrific!" a woman whispered, eyes wide.
"I… I've never seen anything like this," muttered a young boy, craning his neck to get a better look.
Brennar, still dazed, raised his arm slowly, flexed his fingers, and let a small smile slip through. "It's… healed. Completely."
The citizens murmured in awe, some crossing themselves quietly, others whispering fervent prayers. The word of the miracle began spreading along the line before the next patient even entered.
---
A few moments later, a woman in her late twenties hurried into the hall. Her hair was messy, strands falling across her face, and her clothes were wrinkled and stained. She clutched an infant tightly to her chest, her eyes wide with desperation, glistening with unshed tears.
The serious nun stepped forward. "Please, tell us your name and your child's name, and the ailments you are concerned about."
The woman's voice trembled, almost breaking. "I… I'm Marella, twenty-eight years old. This is my daughter… my baby… please, please save her! I beg of you! Please save her!"
She broke down, sobbing as the nuns gently took the infant from her arms. One of them laid the small child on a soft towel on the white Healing Hall table, speaking softly to calm both mother and child.
Saphy leaned forward, her small hands hovering just above the infant. The baby's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing shallow and strained. Her skin was flushed and burning, and her tiny body trembled slightly with each breath.
From these initial observations, Saphy guessed it was pneumonia, but she needed certainty before acting. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she focused and activated her skill "Appraisal", specifying the information she needed: ailments, severity, and affected systems.
A soft glow emanated from her hands as the skill analyzed the infant. Within moments, a clear readout appeared in her mind:
Name: Rosy
Age: Six months
Ailments: Stage three pneumonia: gray hepatization, severe respiratory distress, high fever
Her small face turned serious. The situation was very critical, and there was no time to waste. Without hesitation, she began Purification, gently sweeping her hands over the infant. The diseased tissue and feverish energy seemed to lift like smoke, replaced by warmth and vitality. The infant's body relaxed slightly as the infection was cleansed.
Then Saphy moved into True Healing, her hands glowing softly as she carefully stimulated the lungs, rebuilt damaged tissue, and restored proper circulation. The baby's chest gradually began rising and falling with ease, the strained, rapid breaths smoothing into a healthy rhythm.
Within moments, Rosy's cheeks regained a healthy pink, her tiny body no longer trembling, her breathing calm and effortless.
Marella gasped and clutched her daughter tightly, tears streaming freely. "Oh… oh my Rosy… my baby… thank you! Thank you, Lady Sapphire… you've saved her!"
Saphy smiled gently. "She's all right now. Rest a little, and she will continue to recover fully."
Marella carefully lifted her now-healthy daughter, Rosy, cradling her tightly against her chest. As she walked toward the hall's exit, her voice, still trembling with tears and relief, carried over the waiting crowd.
"Everyone… listen! My baby… she was so sick… I didn't think she'd make it. Her breathing… her fever… it was terrible. But… Lady Sapphire… she healed her! My Rosy… she's okay now!"
Step by step, she moved toward the door, her eyes scanning the line of common folk outside. "I saw it with my own eyes… she really healed her! A miracle… Lady Sapphire is a miracle!"
Whispers and murmurs spread immediately through the waiting crowd. Some shook their heads in disbelief, others crossed themselves quietly, and a few exchanged hopeful glances. Marella's words, heartfelt and urgent, made the miracle she had witnessed tangible to everyone waiting outside.
By the time she stepped out of the hall, holding her daughter close, the whispers had grown into quiet conversations, spreading the news: the Healing Hall was no ordinary place, and its healer — a small child — was truly extraordinary.
By midday, the Healing Hall had already seen its first miracles. A fisherman had come in, his arm shattered and decayed, and left whole and renewed. A mother's desperate plea had been answered, and her infant restored to health.
Inside, Saphy remained calm and composed, yet a quiet warmth filled her chest. The assistant nuns moved with gentle efficiency, helping and observing, while the knights and royal guard maintained order and safety.
Outside, the line continued to grow, but the stories of the day's miracles spread quickly. Whispers and conversations passed along the street: a child healer, small and seemingly fragile, was performing wonders that defied belief.
The first day of Saphy's Healing Hall had begun — a day that would be remembered by many as the moment hope and relief returned to the common folk of Eddleguard.
Even as the hall settled into a quiet rhythm, Saphy looked down at her small hands and smiled softly. This was only the beginning.