Death Healer

It was hard for Lily not to feel a knot in her throat. She looked at the man who had barely aged over the years she had known him—her father, Lucianus. There was something inside her that still struggled to form the right words when she stood in front of him. It was, she had often reasoned, because she still felt like he was only a father to the half of her that was a child.

She did love him, though. She had never had a very protective father—for most of her life, she hadn’t had a father at all. Her father had eloped, leaving her family broken. Her brother had lost a few years of Med School after developing a drinking problem, raking in an astronomical amount of student debt in the meanwhile, and that had cascaded back onto her.

Lily remembered losing her temper twice with her mother – the first time, she told the woman that Lily had a right to get what her brother got. The second time... she didn’t even remember fully. She had just been furious. But then, her meeker side had taken over again, preventing her from abandoning her family in a difficult moment – unlike what her father had done – and she simply swallowed her pride and dreams.

Now, looking at Lucianus, she knew she had more to tell the man.

"I've taken my decision," Lily said. “But before that, Dad...”

The man looked at her with a sweet smile, nodding at whatever she was about to say.

“I need to tell you something,” she explained. “I—I have memories of a past life. To be precise, the moment I was born, I already remembered the person I was in another world, another time. I’ve always had these thoughts, these memories that... were just there. Sometimes, it felt like I was an adult living in the body of a child; other times, it felt like I was a child with the hazy memories of an adult. I wanted to tell you. I don’t know how I came here... I’m not sure I belong.”

“Aurora,” Lucianus took her hands into his and furrowed his brow, closing his eyes. “I know.”

Lily was taken aback.

“What?”

“What I can tell you, darling, without breaking my deal, is that I know you were,” Lucianus sighed. “A lost soul.”

“A lost soul?” She frowned.

“The Book of the Dead,” he started, “is a very, very ancient, nigh–indestructible manuscript that, I suspect, belonged to Alchemists.”

“Hadrian mentioned it belonged to the Old Gods,” she frowned.

“He doesn’t have the entire history in the palm of his hands,” Lucianus sighed. “It’s a common mistake to identify all our ancient history as coming from the Old Gods. But no, the Book of the Dead, as I’ve said before, pre–dates them. It was the Alchemists who created it—of that much, I am completely sure.”

“I gained a skill called [Alchemic Constitution]... is that because of the book?”

“I don’t want to take credit for that,” Lucianus attempted a small smile, “but yes, that should be tied to you using the Book of the Dead... that and losing your Light Magic. I received a notice when you were attempting the ritual for [Alchemic Constitution]. Your mother and I gave our blood to you. That should have grounded your soul into this world once and for all.”

Lily’s eyes went wide.

“What does—how?”

“Darling, I don’t want to be mysterious on purpose; it’s just complicated. I knew of that skill, and I suspected Hadrian would suggest it to you. If not, I would have done so myself. I just didn’t know if you were ready for it.”

“What does that mean?” She frowned.

“Our records of Alchemy – and I mean the world’s records – were thoroughly destroyed. What I know is that their users could deal with ancient powers, and they were able to bend and even destroy the divine. That’s what it means. Your connection with the entity could have destroyed your ties to Alchemy, but somehow, you survived it. I couldn’t meddle with it, but... that is why I looked for something that would give you an edge, Aurora, since I brought you into this world with trickery. Your mother is barren; you would have been born dead.”

“W—what,” Lily muttered. “You brought me here? Mom is... what?”

“When I planned for it, I thought it would be in our best interest. I learned from the fragments unearthed in different parts of the world about Lost Souls—people who are bound to live their mistakes over and over again in the cycle of life and death. They thought that every man and woman was bound to a recurring fate by something — perhaps by the Gods — and that the only way to break free was to wield a power older than the Gods themselves.”

“Alchemy?”

“Alchemy. I am guilty of bringing you into much suffering, Aurora. But... if it’s any justification for what I did, you were always destined to be miserable in the myriad of lives you’d have led. Your fate was tightly bound to suffering. You were chosen because of it. Pain makes people easy to control.”

“I—I,” she stuttered. “So, all this time, you knew I wasn’t just a normal child?”

“I didn’t know much about you,” he muttered. “I tried not... not to get too attached to you. I didn’t know about your memories. All I knew was that you were compromised. Things happened and unfolded in a way that led me to believe you would never be free.”

“So, you wanted to abandon me?”

Lucianus shook his head.

“I simply tried not to think about my daughter. But, as it turned out, it was impossible.”

...

12 Years Prior

Lucianus sighed as he cradled a small girl who was looking at him with eyes wide open. She was a few days old, but her eyes already sparkled with intelligence, looking at him with curiosity.

Aurora Claudia did not cry. She had not wept once since she was born. She had moaned a couple of times, but that had been the extent of her bothering her parents and the servants.

“You are such a quiet child,” Lucianus muttered, “you certainly don’t take after your mother.”

He cradled his daughter against his shoulder. At twenty–eight, he wasn’t sure he was ready to lead the greatest family of [Healers] in the entire country and raise a child.

He moved Aurora to hold her in front of his face. He had thought that even with his deals gone astray, he could just ignore the child. Perhaps he could have Adriana disappear and take a new wife despite the [Pope]’s commands. Perhaps there was another way to have an heir that wouldn’t be... compromised.

However, when the man who had been adventuring and fighting since the day he got his class looked into his daughter’s deep blue eyes, he felt his heart tighten. He had never witnessed such innocence, and even knowing what he had done, he couldn’t bear to bring himself to discard this child.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever created, the purest,” Lucianus whispered, tears leaving his eyes. “I hope you will forgive me for my sins.”

In response, his daughter extended her small hand toward him, which made Lucianus smile, thinking she wanted to grab his nose or something that a toddler would do. So, he got her closer to his face, but, to his great surprise, she clumsily patted away the tears on his face—it was an attempt at drying them.

“D–dda,” Aurora said.

“What?” Lucianus was stunned. “Did you just speak?”

It was foolish to ask the toddle such a question, but his daughter seemingly understood what he had asked and tried again, more vigorously.

“Da–da,” she smiled sweetly.

...

Nine years prior

Lucianus looked at his daughter studying the Cursus Curarum with scrolls, books, and parchment strewn around her bed. He observed in silence from the open door of her room, looking in wonder at her hands darting over the paper she used to take small, very well–calligraphed notes.

He knew his daughter was special—he knew very well. She could read dead languages.

That’s the blessing, then, he told himself.

Well, she couldn’t just read dead languages—she could understand, speak, and decipher just about any language, really. Lucianus continued to watch his daughter from the doorway, the twinge of pride in his heart suddenly overshadowed by a surge of regret.

He remembered the time when Lily had taken her first steps. Instead of being there to hold her, he was away at the front, healing and commanding the whole [Healer] corps. His wife relished their time at the front, drunk with power every time her skills or her classes gained a new level. Lucianus, instead, saw it as a huge bother. He didn’t care for the war against the Necromonarchy. He would have much rather stayed with his daughter, just reading a book while she went about doing her own things.

Aurora Claudia was very independent and stubborn—just like him.

The day of her third birthday had arrived – very recently. Both he and his wife, however, had been summoned by the [Pope] to deal with some diplomatic crap. They had returned home days later, exhausted and drained, only to find a small piece of cake saved for them, now stale. Aurora had waited for them to come home and celebrate, but sleep had taken her before they arrived.

...

“How much do you remember from your previous life?” Lucianus asked, straightening his back.

He had come here to offer his daughter a choice, not fully realizing how much he was about to learn about the girl he and Adriana had brought into this world.

“As much as anyone would if they were brought into the body of a baby out of the blue. Still, growing up was—it still felt like being a kid. [Alchemic Constitution] made my past life and my memories more vivid. Before that, it was extremely hazy.”

“Then, I know it must have been weird to grow up with me and your mother,” he said. “We treated you like a child.”

She shrugged, “it was... I don’t know. It didn’t feel wrong. And it’s in the past now, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Do you mind if I ask what your old world was like?”

“Different,” Lily explained. “No magic, no classes, no levels. There were Churches, plural. But they hadn’t burned anyone in a while.”

“Must be nice,” Lucianus smirked. “And what about your old parents? How old were you?”

“I was in my late twenties,” she confessed.

Telling her father these things felt extremely weird, especially after all these years of being treated like a child.

“Oh,” Lucianus widened his eyes. “I thought you’d have been much younger than that. Did you die and...”

“No, I drank something weird; I don’t even know how to describe it. Something like a potion, I guess? I just know that in the next moment, I was in front of Lucas, the God of the Afterlife.”

Lucianus tensed at hearing that name and swallowed hard.

“I see. Were your parents better than us?” He asked, changing the subject with a tinge of melancholy in his voice.

Lily noticed that her father had reacted weirdly at the mention of the God, but it was clearly something the man couldn’t talk about.

“My old mother wasn’t much different,” she said. “She wasn’t beating me, but she... she didn’t like how I wanted my life to be. She controlled my life very tightly. My old father just eloped when I was a teenager. My family almost fell apart because of it. You—Dad, you’re much better than my old family.”

“I only have one daughter to love. And your mother—your current mother, she means well,” Lucianus said. “I couldn’t bring her here because she doesn’t fully understand what I’ve been dealing with. She’s not evil; she just truly doesn’t know better. She grew up in a messed–up family, and it shows. My father never went easy on me either, but I was the only male son. I could do pretty much anything, and I would be excused. The fact that I proved my talent very early on helped as well. But your mother... please, forgive her.”

“I was harsh,” Lily cleared her voice. “I could have tried more.”

“All of us should have tried more,” Lucianus said. “Or at least that’s what it looks like in a moment like this one.”

“Can I ask... was that dark figure, that entity I saw when I was meditating – wait, I don’t think you know about it.”

“Hadrian told me,” the man nodded. “He gave me a thorough debrief on your exploits after I summoned him and the rest of the [Monks].”

“So, was it... was it this deal? Was that what the entity was about?”

Lucianus just looked at her with an apologetic face.

“You can’t tell,” Lily realized.

The man didn’t even reply or react to that.

“You can’t even tell me if it’s related or not,” she raised her eyebrows. “Dad, why did you mess with such a power?”

“Marcus and I were on a search for power,” Lucianus confessed. “I knew the [Pope] was plotting to destroy me a long time ago. I sought power to destroy him instead. It turns out it just takes one traitor in your camp to capitulate, no matter how strong you are. I’m sorry, Aurora. I really am.”

“Dad,” Lily swallowed. “My name – my old name – is Liliana. Liliana Claudia—that’s what the System shows now, after acquiring [Alchemic Constitution]. I go by Lily, though.”

“Of course,” he smiled. “Your mother won’t be happy about that, though: she chose your name. However, it’s your life. You will still be my daughter no matter what, even if you renounce our family name.”

Lucianus got up and walked to the other side of the table, hugging the girl tightly.

Lily sighed into the man’s chest, finally feeling like all the weight from this and the past life had just been relieved. Finally, her father knew who she really was.

“I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too, Lily.”

They stayed like that for a minute before breaking off. They talked for a while before Lucianus felt the need to interrupt their exchange of stories.

“Lily,” Lucianus looked guiltily, “it’s time.”

Lily felt tears break out of her eyes as she saw her father like that. She had spent all this time in the new world hiding her true identity from anyone except Hadrian. And now that her father finally knew her, she had to leave.

She felt deep regret for never telling him before. It was the type of regret one can only experience after having taken someone for granted.

“I’m not coming back,” she swallowed. “I’ll go to the Dungeon. I can’t marry Lumius nor be a part of the Church anymore. I’ll take my chances in the wild—I’m ready to die for my freedom.”

“I expected nothing less,” he smiled proudly. “In fact, I have prepared a few gifts for you.”