After months of training under my first two masters, my body had grown stronger and my mind sharper. But even with discipline and focus, I noticed something strange — the harder I pushed, the weaker I sometimes became. There were nights when my hands trembled after long training, and my head spun with pain.
That was when Master Arken told me, "Knowledge sharpens you, and strength builds you, Mukul. But balance keeps you alive. Now, go to the eastern valley. The next master awaits—one who will teach you the art of healing, not destruction."
The eastern valley was unlike any other place on the island. The air smelled sweet, and the sound of trickling water followed everywhere. The trees carried golden flowers, and the grass underfoot felt almost warm. Birds sang softly, and the light of the silver tree touched even here, turning everything into shades of green and gold.
At the centre of the valley stood a small hut made of white stone and vines. Outside it, a woman sat on a smooth boulder, grinding herbs with her bare hands. Her long silver hair gleamed like moonlight, and her eyes were a deep green that shimmered as she looked up.
Her presence was calm — calm enough to silence the winds. For a moment, I forgot to speak.
"Come closer, child," she said softly, her voice carrying the freshness of morning rain.
I stepped forward and bowed awkwardly. "Are you the next master?"
She nodded with a faint smile. "Yes. I am Master Inara Lys, the Healer of Time."
Her eyes took me in carefully, as though reading every wound on my soul. "So, you are the one the island has summoned. Good. You carry light in your heart — but it flickers unevenly. We'll fix that."
Elder Aarion, who stood behind me, introduced her formally. "Inara Lys—known once in many worlds as The Breath of Life. She healed kings, warriors, and even gods who lost their forms. In your world, she would be known as the first true physician—a master who unites the ancient with the modern, the herbs with the machines, and life with knowledge."
Even among the masters, her story was a legend. It was said that Inara could bring a dying man back with only a touch and stop his heartbeat again with another. Her understanding of life energy was so deep that even Master Arken often consulted her for balance between logic and impulse.
As I sat before her, she placed her cool hand on my forehead. A faint golden light passed from her fingers into my skin, and warmth spread through me. My tiredness melted like snow.
"Your channels are blocked," she murmured. "You've been training body and mind, but the energy within you is irregular — stubborn."
"Channels?" I asked in confusion.
She picked up her crushed herbs, placed them in a bowl, and said, "The human body is not just flesh and blood. It is energy woven into bone. Each of us carries seven rivers inside — the pathways of vitality. When they fall out of rhythm, pain follows. You must learn to listen to your body again before you try to command it."
That was how my healing training began.
Master Inara's lessons were quiet but intense. She taught me ancient knowledge first — how breath could carry energy, how herbs carried hidden vibrations, and how wounds could be closed not by force, but by harmony. Her hut smelt of roots and petals, and her shelves were filled with jars of powder, glowing stones, and even small machines from the modern world that she used side by side with her medicines.
"The ancients used nature," she told me one afternoon. "Modern science uses tools. But both reach for the same goal — to preserve life. I will teach you both."
She showed me how to make simple herbal tonics that healed wounds faster. Then she taught me the basics of surgery — using energy threads to stitch torn skin instead of a needle. I watched, amazed, as her glowing fingers moved with the precision of a modern doctor and the grace of a saint.
She called it 'Soul Medicine'—a technique that joined physical and spiritual healing. "A disease, she explained, "is not just an error in flesh. It begins as an echo in the soul. If you treat the body without the spirit, the wound will always return."
Later, she taught me about modern methods — how a healer could use machines not only to diagnose but also to communicate with the body's rhythm. Her hut had both ancient scrolls and devices that hummed with soft blue energy. "When you grow older," she said, "you will see a world where medicine blends with data and energy. Promise me you won't choose one over the other. Both are truths."
Sometimes at night, she would take me to the lake where the water glowed softly under the stars. "Touch the water," she said once.
When I did, ripples of golden light spread around my fingers.
"This is what true healing feels like," she said quietly. "Movement without harm. Power without violence."
She also taught me defence through healing — the ability to disable an opponent by calming their energy rather than striking their body. " Even your enemies, she said, "deserve a chance to breathe. Victory through mercy is the highest form of strength."
Once, as I watched her cure an injured bird by simply whispering words and passing her hand over its tiny wing, I asked, "Master… Have you ever failed to save someone?"
Her smile faded for a moment. "Yes," she said softly. "Once. Long ago, I couldn't heal the one I loved most. So I came here to learn how to accept that even a healer must face loss."
That was when I understood why she stayed on the island. Like the others, she had once reached the peak of her craft — only to find its shadow. The island wasn't just their refuge. It was their redemption.
Inara's power wasn't loud or dramatic. She never lit up the sky or broke mountains. But when she spoke, even the wind seemed to soften, and when she smiled, every wound—seen or unseen—feelt lighter.
Before I left her valley after that phase of training, she gave me a vial of golden liquid. "This", she said, "is Essence of Continuance. It can heal, but only once — and only if your heart remains pure."
I asked, "Why only once?"
She smiled. "Because life, Mukul, is meant to be lived — not cheated."
And that was how I met my third master—Inara Lys, the Healer of Time—the woman who taught me that strength meant nothing without mercy, that a blade can end life but a breath can save one, and that healing was not just a skill… it was a promise to protect.