Lina Kell's perspective
The bell rang.
It was subtle, just a soft metal chime echoing through the shelter's wooden beams—but enough to drag me from sleep. I stirred, blinking at the dull ceiling above me. My body ached. My arms were heavy. My breath still fogged from the cold.
Then I heard a voice beside me.
"Morning."
I turned.
She was already up.
Alliyana—the strange, silent girl from yesterday—was fully dressed, hair damp from washing, cloak fastened tight. She stood by the door, adjusting the collar of her shirt like she hadn't just worked six straight hours casting magic.
She looked the same as she did when she first stepped off the carriage. Small. Serious. Completely unreadable.
Meanwhile, I had barely pulled my blanket off.
I scrambled upright, suddenly conscious of how unprepared I looked.
"You're… already ready?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
She glanced at me. "Been up for a while now."
My face flushed. "R-Right. I'll get ready too."
I slipped out of bed, grabbed my scarf, and half-ran to the wash basin. The cold water hit like knives, but I wasn't about to complain. I'd just told her I wanted to learn. I wasn't about to start dragging my feet now.
When I came back, Alliyana was waiting, arms crossed.
I looked around the room. Most of the others were still asleep, their bodies sprawled across the bunks like sacks of rice.
"Why are they still lying down?" I whispered.
"Our shift's not until six," she said.
"Oh."
"Go back to sleep. You still look tired from last night."
I shook my head. "I want to come with you."
She looked at me for a second—then shrugged.
"Suit yourself."
We walked through the courtyard. Snow clung to the stones like white moss. The fortress felt half-abandoned in the morning light, the wind weaving through the towers with no one to listen.
I followed closely behind her, trying not to trip.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Training grounds."
I blinked. "Training grounds?"
She didn't elaborate.
We arrived a few minutes later. The place was nearly empty. A few sets of training dummies, some practice weapons left in racks. But no one was there. It was too early. Too cold.
She stood still, hands behind her back, just… looking.
I didn't ask why.
After a while, she turned and started walking again.
"Now where?"
"The kitchen."
"The… kitchen?"
"Yes, ma'am," I muttered under my breath, jogging to keep up.
The kitchen was warm and smelled faintly of garlic and boiled meat. A few workers moved quietly, chopping, stirring, hauling crates.
Alliyana walked straight up to one of the head chefs and asked about food supplies.
"Can we request a larger portion?"
The man looked down at her. Then at me.
"We're rationing," he snapped. "Everyone gets the same. Get lost, kid."
Alliyana didn't flinch. She just nodded and left.
We found a bench outside and sat down. The wind had calmed. The sky was turning pale.
I glanced over at her.
"…So why'd we go to the training grounds and the kitchen?"
She shrugged. "Preparation."
That was all she said. I waited for more, but nothing came. I nodded anyway.
After a few minutes of silence, she turned to me.
"Want to learn something?"
I perked up. "Yes!"
She stood.
"Follow my lead."
She explained it plainly. We'd be self-casting heal on ourselves—one minute on, five minutes rest, repeat for half an hour.
I furrowed my brow. "But we're not injured."
She gestured toward the distant gate, where two soldiers paced back and forth with spears in hand.
"How do soldiers train?"
I blinked. "They practice?"
"Exactly. Healing's no different."
"But… isn't healing other people enough practice?"
She looked at me. "How long have you been healing others?"
"Um… about four years."
"Has it gotten easier?"
I opened my mouth—then paused.
"…No," I admitted.
She nodded. "That's because mana doesn't flow straight from your hand into someone else. It flows through you. Your body is the conduit. Self-casting teaches you how to make that flow smoother. Easier."
I stared at her, stunned. She kept going.
"Mages do something similar. I read it in a book. They run circuits—low-intensity casting to improve mana circulation. But I think this is better. Self-healing does more than train the flow—it activates the cells. It stresses the system. Makes you more resilient."
I nodded, furiously trying to keep up.
She started mentioning things like neurological fatigue and energy regulation. That lost me a little, but the way she said it—like she'd tested it on herself a thousand times—I couldn't help but believe her.
She raised her hand.
"Start."
I copied her, hand over my chest. Focused. Cast.
Warmth bloomed under my skin. My heartbeat quickened slightly. It wasn't the same as healing someone else.
It was… different. Heavier. A surge of discomfort flowed within me. Is this what the soldiers felt when I healed them? It's rather uncomfortable. They have to bear this for hours at a time?
I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. She wasn't even blinking. Completely still.
I couldn't help but think:
She's not a little girl. She's something else.
Someone worth following.
And so I did.