CHAPTER 120: THE SHAPE OF A MIRACLE

[Leif’s POV—Healer Wing—Moments Later]

The sound of my boots hitting the floor was faster than my thoughts could follow.

Every corridor blurred past in streaks of white stone and flickering torches. My pulse hammered against my throat—loud enough to drown out everything else.

Nick.

He’s awake.

For the first time in days, the words didn’t sound like a prayer—they sounded like a miracle. By the time I reached the healer wing, the doors were already open. Light spilled from the chamber—warm, steady, not the feverish glow of magic but the soft gold of morning.

Inside, Eryndor stood near the bed, his hand pressed lightly against Nick’s chest, murmuring diagnostic spells under his breath. Thalein sat beside him, exhaustion carved deep under his eyes.

And Nick—

Nick was sitting up. Barely, but sitting. His eyes fluttered open when he heard me. His lips parted in a weak smile. "My lord..."

The sound of his voice—rough, small, alive—nearly undid me.

I didn’t even realize I’d moved until I was beside him. "Nick," I breathed. "You idiot..."

He tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough. "Sorry, my lord... I heard you say no one gets to die under your rule, so I decided to obey."

I exhaled, half a laugh, half a sob. "You could’ve picked an easier way to prove loyalty."

His smile softened, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes but tried to. "Wouldn’t be as impressive, would it?"

Eryndor stepped forward then, resting a hand on my shoulder. "He’s stable," he said quietly. "But weak. Whatever magic touched him left traces. His body’s purging the last of it."

"Traces?" I asked sharply.

Thalein nodded from across the room. "Faint residue of void energy—burned and sealed, not active. Luminael’s purification was absolute. But..." He hesitated. "There’s something unusual."

I stiffened. "Unusual how?"

Nick blinked between us, confused. "Am I dying again?"

"No," Thalein said quickly. "But when Luminael burned out the corruption, something else filled the void it left behind."

My heart skipped. "Something else?"

Eryndor’s expression turned careful. "Light. Divine light."

The air shifted. For a second, it felt like the whole room took a breath.

"Divine...?" I whispered.

Nick frowned, glancing down at his hand. "You mean this?"

He raised his palm—and my stomach dropped. A faint glow pulsed beneath his skin. Gold, soft, rhythmic—like the echo of a heartbeat that wasn’t his own.

Zephyy, perched by the window, hissed softly. "Master... that’s your light."

My head snapped toward him. "What? My light?"

Zephyy’s eyes gleamed, slit pupils narrowing. "The sword, Luminael—it used your divinity to cleanse him. Some of it stayed. He’s carrying your light for now."

I mumbled, "Nick is carrying my light? But how’s that possible?"

Alvar’s brows furrowed, eyes narrowing as he studied the faint gold glow under Nick’s skin. The air shimmered softly between us, as if even the light itself was listening.

Nick blinked down at his hand, flexing his fingers. "My lord... it tingles."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You’re tingling? That’s your reaction?"

He hesitated, glancing up sheepishly. "It just... feels warm. Like... like a piece of you is still with me. It’s strange, but—comforting." He smiled weakly. "Feels like a blessing."

I blinked. Then scoffed. "You idiot. Are you seriously happy that you’re glowing because you almost died?"

He chuckled faintly. "When you say it like that, no... but if it means I’m still alive because of you, my lord—then yes. Maybe I’m a little happy."

Eryndor stepped closer, folding his hands behind his back. "It’s temporary," he said, voice steady. "The divine residue can’t remain forever unless..."

He paused, glancing at me. "Unless Leif bows before him."

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

Alvar’s head snapped up too, his tone edged with warning. "Bows?"

Eryndor nodded gravely. "When a divine being saves a mortal in desperation, a fragment of their essence lingers to stabilize them. That’s what’s keeping Nick’s body balanced. But if the divine bows and swears an oath before that mortal—"

Thalein finished for him quietly. "—then the power no longer lingers. It belongs. The mortal becomes its bearer."

The room went silent.

Eryndor nodded once. "That’s why divine beings never bow before humans. It’s both a blessing and a curse. Once power is given—"

"It can’t be taken back," Alvar murmured.

I rubbed my temples, exhaling slowly. "Well, lucky for everyone, I don’t make habits out of bowing. Not even accidentally. So no one’s ascending today."

That earned a weak chuckle from Thalein, breaking the heavy air just enough. Nick smiled faintly, still dazed, his hand glowing softly on the blanket.

I sighed and stepped closer, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. "For now, rest. We told your mother you slipped and fell—she’d panic if she knew the truth. Once you’ve fully recovered, go see her, alright?"

Nick’s eyes softened. "Yes, my lord."

He hesitated. "And... thank you."

I squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Don’t thank me. You scared the life out of all of us."

And for a moment—just a brief, peaceful moment—it felt like the world exhaled.

Then—

"NICK!!!"

The shout nearly made me jump out of my skin. The door flew open, and a small blur of ribbons and curls launched itself across the room.

Alina.

She bolted straight past everyone and climbed onto Nick’s bed like she’d been launched from a catapult. "Nick! You’re okay! You didn’t die! I missed you!"

Nick blinked, startled, then broke into a small laugh. "Miss Alina, easy! You’ll knock me out again."

She pouted, hugging him tighter anyway. "You were gone for days! No one gave me snacks while you were asleep! Everyone’s mean!"

I chuckled under my breath, folding my arms. "You little rascal. You batted those big sparkly eyes at every maid in this house and still got snacks; don’t lie."

Her eyes widened in pure, scandalized innocence. "That’s not true! ... Maybe a little true. But Nick gives me the best ones!"

Nick smiled, patting her hair gently. "You’re just saying that because I don’t tell you to eat vegetables."

Alina gasped. "You knew?"

Everyone laughed softly—Eryndor shaking his head, Thalein hiding a smile, but Alvar was in deep thought.

I ruffled Alina’s hair, earning a dramatic pout. "Alright, little monster. Let the poor boy breathe."

She nodded solemnly, then whispered to Nick, "When you’re better, we’re having snacks again. Don’t you dare almost die again, okay?"

Nick laughed softly. "I’ll try my best, Miss Alina."

Zephyy hopped onto the windowsill, tail flicking lazily. "Mortals," he muttered. "One dies, one cries, and one gets snacks. You lot are hopeless."

I smiled faintly. For once, Zephyy was wrong. Hopeless wasn’t what this was. This—this fragile, ordinary, imperfect peace—was what hope looked like.

And for a brief, fleeting heartbeat, even the light in Nick’s hand seemed to hum in agreement.

***

[Hallway—Later]

"Zephyy acts like he didn’t miss Nick but he was glued to his bed like a furry sticker," I muttered as we walked down the corridor. "Sometimes I wish you could hear him. He’s insane. Hilarious. But insane."

I was holding Alvar’s hand because... yeah. Stability anchor. Emotional support warlord. Whatever.

He wasn’t even listening.

Silence.

"Alvar?" I called.

Nothing.

Man was staring ahead like someone unplugged his soul and left him buffering at 2% battery.

I squinted. Then pinched his arm.

"Ow—! Leif!" he flinched, rubbing the spot. "That hurt."

"Good. Then listen when I’m talking," I huffed. "Where was your mind, huh? Thinking about some girl?"

He blinked like I had slapped him with a fish. "Elowen."

I froze.

Then my fist curled instinctively.

"Oh?" I said sweetly. "Elowen, hm? Interesting. Fascinating. Wonderful. Let me just go ahead and—"

"NO—NO—not like THAT—" he waved his hands as if swatting flies, desperate. "I meant—her powers!"

I stared flatly. "...Continue before I test slice you."

He swallowed. "Leif... did you ever save Elowen in desperation? Like... life-or-death?"

"Why are you bringing this up?" I asked slowly.

He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because Elowen carries traces of your divinity. Faint—but unmistakable. And she... has been waiting for you to make an oath to her."

My steps faltered.

"...An oath?"

Now that I realize...Zephyy once mentioned too that Elowen has borrowed someone’s power and she was always desperate to let me...take an Oath for her.

"So," he continued quietly, searching my face, "did you ever save her desperately? Did you ever give her your light?"

Silence stretched between us.

I didn’t answer. Because... I couldn’t.

I wasn’t the one who lived that past. I wasn’t the original Leif who bled in this world before I arrived. I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

Alvar watched me, waiting. Hoping. Maybe fearing.

But I had nothing.

No memories. No truth. Only the shadow of a life that wasn’t mine.

And all I could do was stand there, staring at him, feeling that seal inside my chest pulse once—like a heartbeat trying to remember something that wasn’t mine to recall.

And I hated it.