Chapter 47: Healing Words and Royal Decrees

The infirmary of the University of Magic was a quiet sanctuary after the roaring chaos of the arena. Soft, enchanted light glowed from floating orbs that drifted slowly along the white marble walls. The air carried the clean scent of medicinal herbs, cooling salves, and faint ozone that still clung to Elias’s skin. Rows of neat beds lined the long room, each one surrounded by gentle healing auras that hummed at the edge of hearing. Outside, the distant sounds of the university continued — footsteps, muted conversation, the occasional burst of laughter from students who had just watched history unfold — but inside the infirmary everything felt hushed and deliberate.

Elias lay on one of the central beds, upper body bare except for the clean bandages and the cooling salve a senior healer had carefully applied across his chest, shoulders, and arms. The worst of the burns were already fading under the combined work of the salve and his own lingering voiceless healing. What remained was a deep, dull throb rather than the earlier sharp fire. He stared up at the smooth ceiling, replaying the final moments of the duel in his mind.

I won. Barely. But I won.

The door opened with a soft click.

Liora entered first, violet eyes wide with a mixture of pride, residual worry, and something close to disbelief. Selene followed close behind, silver hair slightly disheveled from the press of the crowd, her expression still carrying the tension of someone who had watched every near-fatal exchange. The moment she saw him conscious and mostly intact, she crossed the room quickly and stopped at the side of the bed.

“You did it,” Liora said, voice low but filled with genuine awe. “You beat the princess. In front of the entire university. Against circle casting. I’ve never seen anything like that display, Elias. Your growth is… stunning. Truly.”

Selene sat carefully on the edge of the mattress and, after a brief hesitation, took his hand. Her fingers were cool. “I was so scared when that last barrage hit. The whole arena shook. For a second I thought—” She stopped herself, then continued more quietly. “But you kept standing. And the healing… how did you do voiceless healing like that? It’s supposed to take years of specialized mastery. Most divine casters still need the full chant.”

Elias managed a tired, crooked smile. “I’ve been practicing in secret for a long time. It’s still not perfect. It costs more than it should, and I can’t use it forever. But when I need it… it works.”

Selene’s grip on his hand tightened slightly. “Why didn’t you answer my letter? I waited for weeks. I thought something had happened to you in that village.”

Elias looked away for a moment, gaze settling on the soft light of a healing orb. Guilt flickered across his face. “I wasn’t in a good place when it arrived. The mention of school brought up a lot of old memories I wasn’t ready to face. By the time I could think clearly again, too much time had passed. I’m sorry.”

Selene’s expression softened. She gave his hand a small squeeze. “It’s okay. You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Liora rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, careful of the remaining tender skin. “You’ve come a long way from the quiet boy I used to teach in that little garden. I’m proud of you, Elias.”

They stayed with him for a long while. Conversation drifted between the duel, the state of Willowbrook, the strange political pressure that had brought him to the capital, and the smaller changes in each of their lives since they had last seen one another. For the first time in many weeks, Elias felt the tight knot of isolation in his chest loosen. He was seen. He was supported. The weight of the village’s survival still rested on him, but in that quiet infirmary room it did not feel quite so heavy.

Later that same day, once the healers cleared him to walk, Elias and Elaric were summoned back to the throne room.

The great chamber was as imposing as before — high vaulted ceilings, banners of the royal crest, polished marble that reflected the light of floating chandeliers — yet the atmosphere had shifted. The earlier hostility had been replaced by something more measured and thoughtful. The king sat upon the throne with one elbow resting on the armrest, blue eyes studying the two of them as they approached. Courtiers and guards lined the walls in silence.

Elaric and Elias knelt as protocol demanded. This time the king raised a hand almost immediately.

“Rise.”

They stood.

“You have proven yourself, Elias Voss,” the king said. There was a clear note of respect in his voice now, tempered by calculation. “I am a man of my word. Willowbrook will stand under the protection of the kingdom. As for the regional lord who abandoned his duty and then sought to punish those who defended themselves — such negligence will not be tolerated. Willowbrook is hereby removed from his authority. The village is granted self-governance under the direct oversight of the crown.”

Elaric bowed deeply, the tension that had lived in his shoulders for weeks finally easing. “Thank you, Your Majesty. The people of Willowbrook will not forget this mercy.”

The king’s gaze shifted fully to Elias. “In addition, I grant you a full scholarship to the University of Magic. What you displayed today is not common. The kingdom would be foolish to ignore it.”

Elias bowed in turn, though his reply carried the same quiet stubbornness he had shown in the arena. “I will attend out of respect for the offer, Your Majesty. But I still have no great desire for formal schooling. I will think on it carefully.”

A short, genuine chuckle escaped the king. “Still bold, I see. Very well. The offer remains open. Use it or do not — the choice is yours.”

When they were finally dismissed and the heavy doors closed behind them, Elias walked beside his father through the long palace corridors in silence. Relief mixed with a strange, lingering uncertainty. Willowbrook was safe. The walls could stay. The people would not starve under a vindictive lord’s blockade. Yet the road ahead still stretched long and unclear. The scholarship. The university. The growing weight of expectations he had never asked for.

Outside, the late afternoon light of Cairone painted the white stone in warm gold. Elaric placed a solid hand on his son’s shoulder as they descended the outer steps.

“You did well,” he said quietly. “Better than I could have asked.”

Elias nodded once, eyes fixed on the distant spires of the city. The village was secure for now. That was enough.

Everything else could wait until they were home.