4 The healer of the tree

— "Where does that voice come from? Help?"

Inside the Izgra ruins, a group of children offered supplicating prayers to a gigantic crystal in one of the many rooms of what was once a glorious castle.

— "I beg you, Your Majesty, help our people." A little girl knelt in front of a blue-hued crystal, while she shed endless tears.

— "Leave it Silvy, the King will not wake up from his dream." One of the children who accompanied the pleading girl tried to make her face the cruelty of her situation. "We will find a way to survive, just as we have done all this time."

The little girl did not listen to the words of her friend, her situation was desperate and her people were hunted without any mercy since unlike other races the Soul Reapers, could not be enslaved.

They were not alive, not dead; the fate of their race was uncertain and their last hope lay in the ruins of Izgra.

— "Let go of me Sefir. I'm sure the King listens to us." Little Silvy removed the concerned hand that was holding her shoulder to continue her prayers.

— "Silvy ..."

— "Mom told me that when the King woke up our people could live in peace." At Silvy's assertion, her friend began to lose patience.

No matter how beautiful and hopeful the stories of his parents sounded, he was perfectly aware that he would be hunted by all races.

— "Face reality Silvy! Our only option is to live in anonymity. Praying to a dead person will not change that!"

— "Stop fighting." Another boy was watching what was happening and in an urge to reassure his friends, he tried to calm the conversation.

— "Do not interfere with this Morth, she must face ..." As if she responded to Sefir's words, the crystal began to shine with more intensity.

The three children were stunned by the event. Most likely, deep down in their hearts, they hoped that nothing would happen even if they reached the ruins where the Spectrum King supposedly rested.

— "Tell me, little girl, what brings you to a dusty place like this?"

From the gigantic crystal in the center of the room, a somewhat gloomy voice began to emerge, but her tone was gentle.

— "Y-your Majesty?" The girl blinked in disbelief at the unexpected event.

— "I never liked being called that way. It would make me very happy if you just called me by my name."

— "Your name?"

— "I see ... I guess my name has been lost in the sands of time." The voice in the glass sounded somewhat sad and distant as she spoke. "Tell me, what brings you to a place like this little ones?"

— "My mother told me about you; she said you could save our people."

— "Save? What race do you belong to, little ones?"

— "Soul Reapers." If the person inside the crystal could move, his eyes would probably have widened at the unexpected response.

— "That is not impossible, our race became extinct a long time ago and I was not able to do anything to avoid it."

— "I say the truth. We grew up in the lands of the beasts, but when we arrived on the continent with our parents we were hunted by angels and while escaping from them, we ended up in the territory of humans."

— "The lands of the beasts you say..." The person in the crystal did not want to hold any hope in his heart, but if what the little girl said was true, he could not allow himself to abandon them. "I understand, for now, I will believe your story. Now tell me, what do you need from me?"

— "Could his Majesty create a home for us?" The little she knelt in front of the glass and lowered her head to the point where her forehead made contact with the ground.

— "A home you say? Are there more of you?"

— "Yes, Your Majesty."

— "I understand, I'll help you."

— "Really?" The little girl's eyes lit up. "What should I do to free you?"

— "I am afraid that without the blood of a hero that is not possible. However, I can take care of them using a spectrum."

— "A specter?"

— "In this place, countless souls in pain rest and it would not be strange that some spectrum has been generated that can control to help them."

The beautiful bluish hue of the crystal vanished and was replaced by a rather sinister jet black. Then, a hooded man emerged from inside the crystal, who gently caressed the head of the girl who was kneeling in front of the crystal.

— "Let's see what I can do to help you, children. By the way, my name is Krom or that's the name the humans gave me. "

***

Priscilla walked through the elegant door that led to the dining room, but not before taking a deep breath to ease her heart. Talking to her adoptive father was always a somewhat uncomfortable situation for her, not only because her adoptive father treated her abnormally well, but also because she had to lie to him on a daily basis whenever he asked a certain question that she could not answer with complete sincerity.

Priscilla was not a liar, the problem was that her father's misunderstanding made him extremely happy, and telling him that his assumption was wrong broke her heart every time he considered telling him the truth.

Priscilla walked into the dining room at a slow pace, taking care of etiquette as she approached the table keeping her folded hands resting gracefully on the front of her hips.

— "Did you rest properly, daughter?" The Duke Brohm Lombardi observed the elegant figure of his daughter as a proud father would. To say that he was having a hard time suppressing the desire to hold her lovingly was not an exaggeration, since Priscilla was the answer to all his prayers.

— "Yes, father." After bowing politely, Priscilla allowed herself to take a seat in the ostentatious dining room.

One of the butlers in charge of serving the food politely removed one of the seats so that Priscilla could sit comfortably. The dining room had the shape of an elongated oval, it was made of varnished wood that gave it an elegant touch and a rather peculiar smell, the carvings on the table supports were simply exquisite works of art.

This dining room had an impressive total of 26 chairs that were used on special occasions such as meetings or casual parties that took place in the Lombardi mansion. In the dining room, there was also a small hall for the servants to attend to the visitors, a small platform for the host, a series of beautiful decorative armor, the red curtains in the room had the family emblem embroidered in gold thread and lastly, there was a beautiful statue of a griffin representing a royalty in a special display room to one side of the room.

— After waiting for Priscilla to take a seat, the Duke finally allowed himself to speak freely. "Priscilla, regarding today's celebration." The duke clasped his hands in front of his body resting his elbows on the table before continuing. "The celebration will take place in the city hall and several influential families will attend."

— "I understand, father." Priscilla hated the idea of ��​having to attend a troublesome event to commemorate her recovery, but she could not disappoint the man who had given so much unconditional affection. With that in mind, she swallowed her annoyance and gave a fake smile as best she could.

— "I know that these events do not make you happy. However, you must understand that it is necessary for the aristocracy to recognize you as my daughter, especially now that rumors about a fight for the succession of my title have begun to spread among the nobility." When the Duke saw Priscilla's face say: I am not interested. The Duke could not help but exhale heavily while shrugging his shoulders. "Well, let's talk about your request. The registration you requested to the magic school was approved."

— "! Really?!" For the first time, Priscilla showed real interest in the conversation, so the Duke couldn't help but massage his temples with concern. Certainly, it was a blessing that his youngest daughter had such a pure soul. Yet when he thought of the cruelty of the aristocratic world he could do nothing but worry about her.

- "Certainly that is the case. By the way, have you managed to remember something from your past?" This was the question that made Priscilla uncomfortable. Her father asked her this, every day without fail and she always gave the same answer.

— "No, father. I only have a few blurred memories as always." His chest ached whenever he repeated the same lie.

It wasn't that Priscilla didn't trust her father, the problem was the nature of the answer. To begin with, she could not tell him that in her memories there were several people being murder by an orange-haired man and that she had arrived at the mansion by accident, that answer would only destroy the happiness of a man who was convinced that she was a gift from heaven for a family that could not conceive children.

In this case, such an action could be considered a white lie that Priscilla desperately kept in the hope of not ending the happiness of a man she had taken genuine affection for.

— "I understand, that's a good thing." Her father's face looked relieved the moment she received that answer, that was the reason why she kept doing such a thing. "Putting that aside, why did you choose the magic school? As far as I remember, you never showed an attitude for magic."

— "I always had an interest in that discipline." Priscilla kept her voice from shaking when she answered.

— "Personally, I would prefer you to focus more on administrative tasks and related subjects. Although, I suppose being a magical researcher is not a bad way to go either." The Duke leaned on the back of his seat as if to emphasize his point while expressing his honest opinion.

— "I will try to learn about those subjects, father." Priscilla kept making a forced smile since she really did not like the idea of ​​dedicating herself to politics or the like because she was simply not made for that.

— "That reassures me." The Duke rose from his seat when Priscilla's food was served. "I'm sorry I can't accompany you, but tonight's preparations are not finished yet and I have to talk to some people."

— "I understand. Take care, please." Priscilla took her cutlery and being careful not to place her elbows on the table while getting ready to taste her food.

Duke Lombardi left the room walking proudly keeping his forehead high. The man in question was a 52-year-old man, with a complexion corresponding to that of a retired soldier, the posture of his back was elegant, his hair and eyes were tanzanite blue, with a generous mustache of the same hue and some wrinkles were beginning to appear on his face.

After waiting for her father to leave the room, Priscilla finally began to eat quietly. So about half an hour passed, until he finally got up and left the room to go to the place where she attended rehabilitation for almost two years.

***

The city of Fraxia is one of the largest cities in the Kingdom of Calph. It was a prosperous and beautiful city, but like any big city, it also had slums.

Despite the pretty façade of the city center, the slums looked rather austere in comparison, a rather grim and secluded sector that even the guards avoided for fear of disease.

This gave free rein to various organizations that locate their respective bases of operations in those areas. Some time ago, a famous rumor had started to circulate among the slum dwellers.

Rumor has it that if they left a note on the tallest tree outside the city, a strange healer would come to their homes and help them with whatever problem they had. Of course, the most recurrent thing was to completely ignore such a crazy story. Yet there were people desperate enough to resort to such an unreliable method.

The truth was that they were in such complicated situations that they did not lose anything if they only left a note at the root of a tree. That was what had led a desperate young man of no more than 13 years to leave a note on the tree to save his grandfather's life.

The boy could not afford to pay for a doctor, nor the medicines that his grandfather might need, so he ended up resorting to such a crazy story. If the rumor was true, a strange hooded man would approach his house and ask for a small compensation; In exchange for that small payment, the hooded man would help him with his problem.

The young man waited two days impatiently, but no one came knocking on his door. With his expectations on the ground, he went out in search of a sporadic job to earn some silver coins to be able to bring food to his table for a few days.

In the evening of the second day, a hooded figure appeared and took the note that was resting under a rock at the base of the tree. The hooded man read the note carefully, from the writing and the content it was evident that the sender had trouble writing correctly.

After rereading the content, a couple of times, the hooded man burned the note, making sure to keep the ashes, and headed to the city. The hooded man's clothing was extremely dirty, mud was visible on his brown fur tunic, the tunic that covered his face and body had a tattered appearance, to the point that it would not be strange to mistake the man for a beggar.

The hooded man walked through the slums on his way to the sender's house, the only thing he carried with him was a small bag whose contents were unknown. By the time he reached the slums, night had already fallen and the city chandeliers lit up the night sky without reservation.

Nothing stopped their advance and the night seemed calm until a voice stopped their way.

— "Hey you! The tramp over there!" A man called him, so he turned in his direction and greeted the man.

— "What is offered to you, My Lord?" The hooded man answered. The man who called to him didn't bother to notice the cordiality with which he responded.

— "Do you want some food? My friend is completely stuffed and it would be a shame to waste the food we buy."

— "If that is the case, I will be happy to accept your kindness." The hooded man answered.

The man in front of him was a somewhat emaciated man, several scars were visible on his face, his hair was blonde and he appeared to be 30 or 35 years old.

— "In that case follow me, my friend is at the end of the alley. Help me get it out and in return, you can keep the leftover food."

— "I appreciate your offer, My Lord." The hooded man followed the man into the alley.

The alley was between two three-story buildings that stood out very much in the slums, the walls of the place were damp and the dirt was clearly visible. Only one thing was evident, no one would eat in a place like that unless they had no other choice.

— "We arrived." The man affirmed after stopping his steps.

— "Excuse my ignorance, but I don't see anyone here." What the hooded man said was correct, the alley was completely empty. There was no sign of food or of the friend the man claimed to have.

— "Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce you to my friend." In response, an anthropomorphic-looking beast fell from one of the rooftops, the beast had features similar to those of a lycanthrope. "I hope you don't hold a grudge against me. Feeding my hunting beasts is very expensive, so I am forced to feed them suckers that no one will miss." Before the hooded man could make a sound, the two-meter beast took his head and slammed it against one of the walls of the alley. "I will enjoy hearing your screams while my beast devours your flesh." The man looked pleased as he waited for the macabre spectacle that would soon take place. "Hahaha!" He laughed with genuine happiness as he watched the head of the helpless wanderer being held by the huge hand of his beast.

Laughter from the expectant man echoed down the alley until the vagabond's handheld the head of his beast back. The grip was such that the beast was forced to drop to one knee.

On closer inspection, the bones of the arm that supported the head of his beast were visible, ghoulish metal spikes protruded from the knuckles of that arm, and sharp claws decorated the ends of the hooded man's fingers.

— "What do you do? Finish off that hobo!" Demanded the incredulous owner of the beast.

What echoed down the alley in response to his request was an unpleasant crunch of crushed bones and flesh being ripped apart. The man watched in astonishment as a pair of creepy skeleton wings emerged from the hooded man's back, embedding themselves in the chest of his beast.

The next thing he saw was his beast's body splitting vertically, while his body made unpleasant sounds of flesh being forcibly ripped apart, his ribs cracking as they were split. The hooded man was using his creepy wings to split the body of his beast-like someone opening a cupboard using two levers. There really was nothing quite as graceful as a clean-cut, instead, they literally ripped apart the body of their creature using the simplicity of brute force.

Shortly after the two halves of the beast fell heavily to the ground of the alley, his body had been divided in an extremely cruel way., the two halves of the beast's face still held the expression of pain and fear that it had while its body was forcibly separated. The fall of the beast finally revealed the completes figure of the hooded man, he was a red-haired young man with bright electric blue eyes with a silver halo decorating the outside of his iris, his features were perfect wherever you look, almost as if a skilled Craftsman had sculpted his face over the years, his sharp gaze intimidating to the man who was watching and his terrifying skeletal wings decorating his back.

— "Since you kindly invited me to eat, I will accept your generous offer." The young man affirmed with a warm smile on his face.

— "Wait. I have no food at the moment, but I can ..." —The man's negotiations were instantly denied.

— "Oh do not worry. What I eat is not what you have in mind." The young man held the man's face just as the beast did with him previously. "I hope you don't hold a grudge against me, but it is expensive to feed myself, so I have no choice but to feed myself from a sucker that no one will miss."

—"! No! Wait! Don't do this! I'll give you what you ask!" The man begged for his life without success, while the young man began to feed on what only until then he understood that it was your most precious possession.

The unfortunate man began to experience one of the most horrible deaths that a living being can have. His body began to slowly dry out as his soul was literally ripped from his body.

To illustrate the sensation, every part of the soul that left his body produced the sensation of loss by ripping. Basically, the first thing the unfortunate man felt was the sensation of being skinned when the part of the soul that represented his skin was eaten away, then the sensation of being quartered when his spirit limbs were absorbed by the creepy young man. The horrible sensation that the separation of the soul causes can be compared to few things.

To begin with, in his spirit form he could not lose consciousness, nor feel the gentle relief of madness, it was just a terrible succession of feeling horrible deaths one after another until his soul was completely devoured and his body turned to dust.

After ending the annoyance, the hooded man simply quietly left the alley and headed towards his destination.