Chapter 29C — The Ones You Reach For
Nellie's hands wouldn't stop shaking.
She pressed them together, fingers laced so tight her knuckles hurt, and still they trembled like leaves in a storm.
The trial didn't care.
The corridor had shifted again. The neat, ward-lit hallway she'd started in was gone, swallowed by mist that smelled like burned herbs and old blood. Now she stood in something that looked like a battlefield and a healer's nightmare fused together.
Stretcher-cots formed a jagged circle around her. Ten of them. Maybe more. It was hard to tell—the mist thickened and thinned with each breath, hiding faces, revealing wounds.
Somewhere overhead, a bell tolled, distant and muffled, as if underwater.
[TRIAL: VERDANT HEART]
[CURRENT PHASE: TRIAGE]
[CONDITION: LIMITED TIME / LIMITED AID]
[OBJECTIVE: PRIORITIZE — CHOOSE WHO LIVES]
Nellie tried not to look at the text hanging in the air.
Tried.
Failed.
"Choose who lives," she whispered. "That's a horrible thing to say."
Her voice went nowhere, swallowed like the bell's echo.
She turned in a slow circle.
A man clutching his stomach, breath rattling.
A girl with a crushed leg, sobbing into a blood-soaked blanket.
A boy no older than twelve, eyes staring at nothing, breathing too shallow.
An older woman pressed against the far cot, hand clamped over her own shoulder wound, teeth bared in silent pain.
Every one of them had a core-crystal at their bedside—small facets of light glowing weakly. Life-signs. Essence. Whatever the Academy called it, she didn't care. She understood enough.
Stronger light, stronger chance. Fading light, slipping away.
Half of them flickered like dying fireflies.
"Okay," Nellie whispered. "Okay. Think."
Her mind tried to list symptoms, damage, risk of infection, blood loss. Her training rattled like loose stones in a jar. She reached for the neat charts she'd memorized, the diagrams, the ratios of salve to bandage to pressure.
They slipped out of her fingers like water.
Because none of those diagrams had ever had faces.
"Right," she muttered. "Fine. Then we do it the way the caravan taught us."
Her bare feet padded across the cold floor as she moved to the first cot—a man gasping, eyes rolled half-back. She checked his pulse with automatic hands, fingers finding the side of his neck.
Strong, but erratic.
Skin clammy. Bleeding from the side. Stomach wound.
She grabbed a nearby roll of bandage, pressed down hard, elbow braced. "You're not dying," she told him. "Not yet. I'll be back."
She moved on.
The girl with the crushed leg—skin already going pale-gray around the wound, breath sharp and fast. The core-crystal beside her flickered weakly.
"Shock," Nellie whispered. "You—"
She checked another cot.
The boy.
Small. Too small. His chest rose and fell in tiny, uneven jerks. The light above his head was almost out.
Her heart lurched.
"Oh no. No, no, no—"
She pressed two fingers under his jaw.
Barely a flutter.
"Okay," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "You. You first."
She reached for her satchel—
It wasn't there.
Her stomach dropped.
She looked down, wild, searching for familiar leather and pockets and the clink of bottles. Nothing.
[AVAILABLE AID: 2 HEALING BREWS / 3 BANDAGES / 1 STABILIZE SIGIL]
[NOTE: MORE PATIENTS THAN RESOURCES]
Nellie's voice came out flat.
"That's not a note, that's a threat."
She knelt by the boy anyway.
"Heal-brew," she muttered. "One dose wouldn't be enough, but with the sigil—"
She took the nearest bottle. It was already labeled in neat Academy script: STORM-SALVE. She uncorked it, the smell of bitter herbs assaulting her nose, and poured a measured amount onto her fingers.
"Hey," she said softly, leaning close to the boy's ear. "Hey. I need you to swallow, okay? Just a tiny bit. I know it's gross. I know. But you'll be mad at me for the taste later, and that means you'll still be alive. Deal?"
His lashes fluttered.
He didn't answer.
She coaxed the liquid into his mouth, careful not to spill, careful not to let him choke. The sigil was etched on a clay tile nearby—a simple locking spiral. She pressed it gently against his chest, whispered the activation phrase the caravan healer had taught her in a smoky tent.
"Bind breath, not pain," she murmured. "Leave room to feel."
The sigil warmed under her fingers.
The boy's crystal brightened—just a fraction.
"Okay," she breathed. "Okay. That's one."
Her gaze snapped to the others.
Every second spent here was a second someone else was bleeding.
She moved without thinking.
Pressure bandage on the man's stomach. Splint jury-rigged from broken cot pieces for the girl's leg. A torn strip of her own hem wrapped tight around the older woman's shoulder to stanch the flow.
Her world narrowed to hands and breath and blood.
She lost herself in the work.
Until she lifted her head—
And the world had changed.
The strangers on the cots were gone.
In their places—
Aiden. Myra. Runa. The pup.
Nellie froze.
Aiden lay across two cots pushed together, one arm bent at a wrong angle, his shirt soaked in lightning-burn and dirt. Myra's leg was mangled, twisted under her at an impossible angle, blood pooling under her boot. Runa sat upright, teeth clenched, one hand pressed to a wound near her ribs where something had clearly punched straight through. The pup lay limp and too quiet, fur scorched black along its side.
The crystals over their heads flickered, each one a different level of dim.
Nellie's breath vanished from her lungs.
"No."
The word fell out of her like a dropped stone.
"That's not fair."
Her heart raced.
Her healer's brain tried to leap forward—injuries, triage order, blood loss, risk of shock, they're illusions it's a trial it's not "real"—
But nothing about the way Myra's lashes trembled or the way Aiden's jaw clenched in unconscious pain felt unreal.
She stumbled to Myra first.
"Myra," she whispered, grabbing her hand. "Myra, can you hear me?"
Myra's eyes cracked open, unfocused. "Nellie…?"
Her voice was thin and threadbare.
"We… did it? Trials… already…?"
"Don't talk," Nellie said, panic sharpening her tone. "You're hurt."
Myra tried to laugh. "Since when… is that… new…"
Nellie looked at her leg.
The break was bad.
The bleeding worse.
If she didn't set it, Myra would lose the leg. Maybe more. Her core-crystal flickered in frantic pulses—still strong, but dropping quickly.
She forced herself to look away.
Aiden's crystal glowed brighter than the others—a steady, stubborn pulse sitting solid at his bedside. He was hurt, yes, but… stable.
Of course he is, she thought, a flicker of anger cutting through the fear. He doesn't know how not to survive.
Runa's crystal burned low, but steady. Slow bleed. Internal damage. Bad if left alone.
The pup's core was the smallest light of all.
A tiny shard. A single, trembling spark.
"Nellie."
She didn't know if the voice was real or not.
She turned anyway.
Myra's gaze caught hers, sharp for a moment, clarity cutting through the pain. "Don't… pick me first."
Nellie shook her head so hard her curls whipped. "Don't you dare tell me who to save."
Myra's lips twitched. "Bossy. Even now."
The pup whimpered.
Soft. Frayed. Dimming.
Nellie looked at it—and her breath broke.
"Nononononono—"
She crawled to its cot on her knees, hands already fumbling for the second brew. This one shimmered faintly blue, labeled CORE-STABILIZE.
"Hey," she whispered. "Hey, sparks. I need you to be annoying for a very long time, okay? You can't stop now. You still have to chew Aiden's boots and snarl at every shadow and… and you never even got to chase a storm yet—"
Her hands shook so hard she spilled some of the liquid.
She cursed quietly, teeth gritted.
The pup's eyes didn't open.
Its lightning was all inside now. No visible sparks. Just a faint hum, barely there.
[RESOURCES: 1 BREW / 1 BANDAGE]
[WARNING: NOT ENOUGH TO FULLY STABILIZE ALL PATIENTS]
[HINT: THERE IS NO PERFECT CHOICE]
"Shut up," Nellie whispered. "You're a trial, not a god."
She stared at the bottle.
Then at Myra's leg. At Runa's side. At the pup's small, too-still body.
Aiden.
He'd wake up, if nothing else. Even if she didn't touch him. He was stubborn enough to crawl out of the grave and complain about the mud.
Myra would live if she set the leg and stopped the bleeding soon. Runa… dwarves were tough. Her crystal looked steadier than Myra's, but with deeper damage lurking underneath.
The pup—
The pup's light would go out first.
And the others…
Would never forgive her if she chose it over them.
Nellie's eyes burned.
This is what they're testing, she realized. Not whether I know what to do. Whether I can live with doing it.
Her whole body trembled.
She pressed the brew against the pup's small mouth and tilted its head just enough.
"Storms forgive me," she whispered, "if this is wrong."
The liquid slid in.
For a terrifying moment, nothing happened.
Then the pup's crystal flared—just once—then steadied into a faint, but stable glow.
"Okay," Nellie breathed, tears spilling over. "Okay. Okay—okay. You're— you're not allowed to die. Contract."
She dropped the empty bottle, fingers already scrambling for bandages, splint pieces, anything she could use. She ripped strips from her own clothes, tied off Myra's leg above the break, braced it with whatever she could grab.
"Myra, this is going to hurt," she warned, voice shaking. "A lot. I'm sorry."
Myra tried to grin. "Do it."
Nellie set the bone.
Myra screamed.
Nellie didn't look away.
She wrapped the leg, pressed bandages against the worst of the bleeding, whispered small comforts without thinking—caravan campfire songs, healer chants, half-remembered lullabies from a childhood before this world.
Runa's wound was next.
"Don't fuss," the dwarf grunted. "I've had worse."
"I haven't," Nellie shot back, hands already pressing hard where the blood seeped. "So you don't get to bleed out and ruin my record."
Runa snorted. "Tiny terror."
But her eyes softened, just a fraction.
The last of the bandage went around her side.
Nellie leaned back on her heels, chest heaving.
Every crystal still glowed.
Dimmer.
But glowing.
[TRIAL CHECK: TRIAGE COMPLETE]
[OUTCOME: ALL STABILIZED — NONE GUARANTEED]
[NOTE: YOU CHOSE IMPOSSIBLE AND TRIED ANYWAY]
Nellie sagged.
"I… I don't know if I chose right," she whispered hoarsely.
The mist thickened.
The cots blurred.
For a moment, she saw them not as her friends, but as faceless silhouettes again. Ten. Twenty. A hundred. All of them grasping for her hands. All of them begging: Me. Me. Me.
Her heart tried to tear itself in half.
"I can't save everyone," she said, voice breaking. "I know that. But if you make me choose… I'll always pick the ones in front of me. The ones I can actually reach."
The mist listened.
Then:
[ANSWER ACCEPTED]
[VERDANT HEART: AWAKENED]
[NEW TRAIT GAINED: STUBBORN MERCY]
➤ When forced to choose under pressure, your healing attempts stretch further than they should. You do not always succeed. But sometimes… you do anyway.
Green light bloomed around her.
Soft. Warm. Like moss after rain.
It wrapped her, seeped into her skin, winding around her ribs and wrists and small, calloused hands.
The battlefield blurred.
The cots, the crystals, the blood, the friends—all of it washed out in a flood of white-green.
Nellie reached for Myra's hand.
For the pup's fur.
For Runa's wrist.
She caught none of them.
The world snapped back—
—and she was on her knees in the Academy courtyard.
Cold stone under her bare feet. Cool air on her face. No blood on her hands.
But they still shook.
"Nellie!"
The shout slammed into her like a thrown rope.
She lifted her head.
Myra was already running.
She crashed into Nellie in the next heartbeat, knocking them both sideways. "You're okay—you're okay—you're okay—"
Nellie wheezed. "I might not be if you crush me—"
Myra didn't even pretend not to cry.
Aiden was there a breath later, dropping into a crouch, one hand on Nellie's back. His eyes searched her face like he was checking for invisible fractures.
"You good?" he asked softly.
Nellie laughed a little hysterically. "No. Absolutely not. But also… yes? Maybe? I don't know."
The pup bounced at her feet, barking high and sharp, sparks flickering like tiny fireflies. It leapt into her lap and licked the tears off her cheeks with frantic insistence.
Runa approached more slowly.
She stopped a few steps away, arms crossed, eyes scanning Nellie like she was assessing the structural integrity of a bridge.
"You lived," Runa said.
Nellie sniffed. "Yes?"
Runa's jaw flexed.
"Good."
She reached out and, very gently, tapped Nellie's shoulder with the side of her fist. Almost a pat.
Almost.
"You did well, tiny healer."
Nellie's throat tightened. "You weren't… mad? If I picked wrong?"
Runa frowned. "Wrong for who?"
Nellie swallowed. "I… I chose the pup first, and then—"
"You chose," Runa interrupted. "That's what matters. People who freeze kill more than people who pick badly."
Aiden nodded slowly. "The Gate showed you us, didn't it?"
Nellie's eyes filled again. "All of you. Hurt. And I couldn't… I couldn't save you all perfectly. It wanted to see what I would do."
Myra's grip tightened. "And you did what you always do. You tried for everyone anyway."
Nellie let out a shuddering breath.
The courtyard buzzed with noise—students whispering, instructors watching, the Academy bells tolling another phase of trials. But for a moment, it all felt far away.
[TRIAL COMPLETE: NELLIE TINKWHISTLE]
[STATUS: PASSED]
[NOTE: WEAK BODY ≠ WEAK WILL]
She saw the words. So did Aiden.
His eyes softened.
"Seems the Academy agrees," he murmured.
Nellie wiped at her face with the heel of her hand. "If it throws another trial at me today, I will bite the Gate."
Myra sniffed. "I'd pay to see that."
Runa smirked. "I'd help."
The pup yipped in fierce support.
Up on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, Headmistress Elowen watched them.
Her pale-gold eyes lingered on Nellie—not on the tears, not on the shaking hands, but on the faint green shimmer still coiling around her wrists like new-grown vines.
Beside Elowen, Master Veldt stood with arms folded, expression carved from granite.
"Well?" he asked quietly. "Verdict?"
Elowen's gaze shifted briefly to Aiden—storm-marked, double-thorned, with a lightning cub pressed against his leg—then back to the tiny gnome healer hugged between friends.
"She chose the impossible answer," Elowen said. "And tried anyway."
"Reckless," Veldt muttered.
"Necessary," Elowen replied.
A faint ripple brushed along the outer wards.
Far beyond the walls, in the marsh where fog moved like a thinking thing, something old tilted its attention toward the little healer whose heart had flared that bright for others.
Elowen felt the change.
Her fingers tightened on the balcony rail.
"Another thread," she murmured. "The storm-child won't walk alone."
Veldt grunted. "Good. Someone will need to drag him back when he runs ahead."
Down below, Nellie finally managed to stand.
Her legs wobbled.
Three hands curled around her—Aiden's, Myra's, Runa's.
The pup sneezed lightning and headbutted her ankle.
Nellie laughed, wet and messy and real.
"Okay," she said. "Okay. That was awful. Let's never do it again."
"Bad news," Myra said. "This is an Academy. They absolutely will."
Aiden sighed. "But next time, we're in it together."
Runa nodded once. "Trials. Fights. Whatever comes."
Nellie looked at each of them, one by one.
The storm-scarred boy who kept throwing himself between others and danger.
The loud-mouthed scout who laughed at fear until it backed down.
The stone-strong dwarf who had quietly decided that Nellie was hers to protect.
Her circle.
Her impossible, ridiculous, terrifying circle.
"Okay," she whispered. "Together, then."
The Academy bells tolled again, calling the next wave of first-years to the Gate.
The air tasted of rain that hadn't fallen yet.
Somewhere beyond the walls, the Fog Warden settled deeper into its watch.
Storm-child.
Healer-heart.
Stone-guardian.
Scout-spark.
Threads tightening.
Trials ending.
Something bigger beginning.
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