Control Comes from Within

I slowly walked out of my first healing class, still dazed by the events of the past hour.

Any thoughts of Sir Yalmaar were promptly extinguished as I entered the empty classroom at a sprint. So far, being late or absent to any of my classes had some easily avoidable aftereffects I didn’t want to have to deal with.

The completely empty classroom, that was lacking…everything. Students, teachers, desks, tables, chairs. It was just a totally empty classroom.

I peeked inside and saw more of the same, then double-checked my student card to make sure I hadn’t gone to the wrong room. Nope, that blinking icon representing me was in the right place.

Finally, after a few minutes of hesitant waiting and to my immense relief, other students began trickling in, none of whom I recognized. As someone I vehemently hoped was the professor ambled in, I relaxed a bit more. He, or she, I couldn’t really tell at that point, leaned against the wall next to the doorway, and waited silently until the class officially began, marked by the heat emanating from my, and I’d assume everyone else’s, student card.

At that point, there were a few students outside that were frantically dashing towards the classroom when they very noticeably and abruptly crashed into the empty space of the doorway. The first student had it the worst, as he collided with the empty air and broke his nose before the two behind him rammed into his back, pushing him up against the…empty, solid air? Invisible wall? Whatever the case, they all soon fell onto the floor, tangled up as they struggled to stand.

A single snap from the nonchalant androgynous teacher pulled everyone’s attention. They slowly walked up to the invisible wall, which somehow allowed sound to travel through it, despite seeming solid enough to crash into.

“You three…should consider yourselves extremely fortunate. Time is crucial for all healers, students or otherwise. If someone dies because you were late, you will feel pain far more severe than this. On account of this being the first day of classes, I will, however begrudgingly, tolerate your tardiness. But only. This. Once. Is that understood?”

And from the other side of the ‘wall’ came the responses, “Yes, Professor!”, “Understood, Professor!”, and “Yeth, Profethor.” The one with the broken nose gingerly held his sleeve up to his nose to stem the bleeding.

With their acknowledgement, the three were able to walk into the classroom, the ‘air wall’ apparently dispelled.

“You, come here.” The professor gestured towards the guy with the broken nose, as he nervously approached. “Yeth, Profethor?”

The professor laid a hand on the student’s face for a few seconds before he stumbled back, and silently flinched. When he stood up again, he was visibly shocked, as he carefully touched his nose.

His non-broken nose.

“That should be enough. Remember to eat plenty of food later on. Your body needs the nutrients. Inform me if there are any lingering pains or other effects.” the professor said.

“Yes, Professor!” the student said clearly.

“Enough distractions,” the professor said, walking to the back of the room, everyone’s attention either on them or the guy whose nose was broken then healed in a matter of minutes.

“Healing. It is simultaneously simple and difficult. Those of you who proceed to become professional healers will likely deal with minor issues: fevers, coughing fits, broken noses.” At that, some students glanced over to the boy with the healed nose before turning back. “All of which are easy enough to deal with. On the other hand, should any of you end up having to bear the burden of joining the battlefield as a healer, you will likely curse yourself for choosing to study healing, me for teaching you how to heal, and likely the Great Mother herself for placing you in such a situation.”

A few tense moments followed that proclamation.

“Battlefield healing is…painful. And not in the physical sense. You will see people die for all sorts of reasons. The worst is when you do everything you possibly can and still fail. Not everyone is cut out for such work. But not everyone has to be.

“The soldier who needs his arm reattached is just as deserving of healing as the blind elder whose cane left a splinter in her palm. It is not foolish to recognize one’s limits by working as a civilian healer. What is foolish is ignoring those limits and forcing others to pay the price. Regardless of your disposition, the purpose of this class is for you to learn enough about healing that you do not cause undue harm to any would-be patient. With that in mind, let’s begin.”

“Professor, there aren’t any tables or chairs.” one student called out while raising her hand.

The professor looked at her blankly for a few seconds before clapping a hand to their forehead, “Of course, the table! My apologies, everyone. Just one moment, please.”

And just like that, they reached into an inner pocket and withdrew something small before throwing it into the center of the room.

The small thing turned out to be a seed, as it grew larger and more mature in the span of a few heartbeats, before turning into a large round wooden stump, with roots that stretched out from its bottom and rose into the air before forming dozens of makeshift legless chairs that surrounded the stump, with even intervals between all of them.

“Quickly take a seat so we can proceed with today’s lesson. There should be enough space for everyone.” Some of the students approached the root chairs with disdain, grumbling while they did so, while others sat normally, seeing nothing worth complaining about. Eventually, once everyone was seated, the professor jumped onto the stump, startling the ones closest to them.

“How many of you know what the most important part of the body is?” They asked the class at large.

“...The heart?” One girl timidly volunteered.

“Close, but not quite. If a heart stops beating or is wounded in some way, it is difficult to fix but not impossible. Good try, though. Anyone else?”

“The eyes, or skin. Without eyes, you’d be blind, and without the skin, everything would fall out of you.” One boy arrogantly said.

“Skin is important, but not to the level you’re thinking of, young man. And nothing would fall out, as you stated. Your muscles and other organs would simply be exposed to the elements and would have less protection from outside influences. Eyes, I’ll grant you they are important, but only because everyone is too dependent on sight as their primary sense. Once you become strong or wise enough, you’ll realize that sight is only one of many senses at your disposal. Though I wouldn’t attempt healing an eye unless you clearly know what you’re doing. Any more ideas?”

“The brain?” I said, somewhat hesitantly. Was there some obvious reason nobody else had said it before? Was the brain not the nerve center of the body in this world? Did their lungs or, god forbid, essence somehow do something even more vital than the brain’s functions that I was familiar with? It couldn’t be that everyone here didn’t have the basic knowledge that the brain was –

“Correct! And why is that, student?” the professor asked me.

Are you serious! I knew science wasn’t as advanced here, but this is too much! People don’t even know what the brain does?! Okay, focus, I need to say something logically, without introducing any of Earth’s knowledge.

“...If you cut off the heads of most things, they’ll die quickly, if not immediately. Logic says surviving without a head, or what’s in the head, is impossible. As far as I know, the only important thing in the head is the brain.” I said.

Seriously! That’s what you came up with? Cutting off heads? God you’re stupid. DIdn’t you go to college?!

Shut up, it was the best I could come up with on the spot. And you know my degree was in –

“A bit morbidly stated, but correct nonetheless.” The professor said, ending my internal bickering with myself.

“For example, without a brain, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” The professor clapped their hands and slowly turned into a woman, their hair growing longer and their chest filling out slightly.

“Or this.” The female figure slowly morphed into a man with albino-looking skin and pure green hair, a bit taller than the androgynous figure the professor had at first. “Or even this.” The green-haired albino man gradually changed into a reflection of me, only distinguishable from me by the voice and clothes.

“So, what have you learned from this?” he said while perfectly replicating my voice, thoroughly freaking me out.

“...Can you go back to the woman?” One idiot asked.

A painful-sounding slap followed that bold request as the professor changed back into their androgyne form, and most of the class laughed, chuckled, or snorted at the requester as he rubbed his cheek while staring at the girl next to him with a frown. Her face was a mixture of embarrassment and anger which spoke to some level of relationship between the two, as did her decidedly unforgiving eyes and crossed arms.

“While I could heal you of that pain, I think it better you learn the lesson the young lady was trying to teach you, young man,” the professor said with a hint of amusement. Rotating back to the others, “What I was attempting to demonstrate to you all was that the body’s fundamental capabilities lay dormant within most sentient beings. Some things grow back naturally over time, hair, skin, nails, teeth. Others require intervention from external forces, such as organs or limbs. With the addition of essence, things become simultaneously easier and more difficult…but we have a long way to go before I even touch on the concept of essence-based methods of healing. So, students, note-taking time, get out what you need.”

As the students took out paper and quills, the timid ‘heart’ girl asked the question I was curious about.

“Um, professor, you still haven’t told us your name…” she nervously asked, her hand raised.

Once again, the professor slapped his hand to his forehead, “Ugh, I keep forgetting! This damn…” They whispered that last part, then straightening up, they continued, “You can call me…Teacher Passen. Yes, yes, there are others similar to me you call professor, but I am more than a professor while I am here. Suffice it to say elves don’t have professors in the homela–”

“I knew you were an elf! I saw one at the port two years ago!”

“Hunckis, shut up! Can you stop bragging about your family’s boat all the time?!”

“You’re an elf?!”

“Can all elves do that transforming thing that you can?”

“Are you a half-elf?”

I could only cover my face in secondhand embarrassment as a bunch of idiots reacted so poorly, I was ashamed to even be associated with them. Did these kids have no sense of propriety or restraint? Or even common sense?! Obviously the teacher was older, smarter, and more skilled than them, not to mention backed in some way by the academy. How could they possibly think that it would be acceptable to just blurt out whatever they wanted without any thought to the consequences?

As I thought about it, I realized most of the students in my other classes had some type of outburst in front of the professors…Was there just less discipline among the students this year, or was I somehow stuck with the ones that were the loudest and most annoying?

“...Class is dismissed. Everyone get out. Except…you.” The teacher all but shouted, his sudden dismissal taken as a reprieve by most of the class. Their joyous faces were just more proof that they were idiots.

More importantly, the profess– teacher– had a long and pale finger pointed straight at me.

…What could I have possibly done now?

The students gleefully collected their things, discussing the latest gossip about their newest professor and the reveal of his race as they hurriedly exited the room. A few of them, almost certainly the commoners, milled about at the tail end of the group, waiting for the others to leave first before they left.

Leaving me alone with this elf, who wanted me to stay back for some mysterious reason.

“Yes, teacher?” I asked…him…politely.

He crouched on the stump, looking at me with an odd expression as he kept tapping his cheek, evidently lost in thought. I could handle silence. It was a familiar companion. Even uncomfortable silence wasn’t that troublesome for me. But this…inspection and intense scrutiny was a bit much for me.

“Teacher Passen, what did you want with me?” I asked, leaning back to try and create some space between us. Unfortunately, the root chair only went back so far, and I only ended up with a few inches of breathing room before he spoke again.

“There’s something wrong with your soul,” he casually said, his voice barely above a whisper as he continued to angle his head to look at me from different perspectives.

…My soul.

My soul had something wrong with it.

…And he figured it out just by looking at me.

This guy is a goddamn monster. Whether he’s the Einstein of healing, has something insane like soul perception, or some exclusive elvish ability, he’s too talented to be here. Which begs the questions…why is he here…and what does he want with me?

He continued on, his voice completely different from the polite but clipped tone he assumed during the class, “Your soul…it’s…well, I don’t know what it’s doing, but it’s affecting your body somehow. Your head specifically.”

Son of a thrice-damned bitch.

My headaches.

“I’ve had headaches ever since I was a kid, and they just kept getting worse over time.” I blurted out impulsively.

For a long time, I thought the headaches were an early sign of cancer or maybe a brain tumor. But it turned out to have something to do with my soul, something I doubted even existed until a few minutes ago?

“Yes…it’s…odd…” Passen’s voice had an almost reverent tone to it as he kept staring at my face. Finally, he pulled himself away and shook his head a few times before addressing me again. “Your soul shows signs of scarring, which is…rare, to say the least. But perhaps more worrying is that the scar seems to be…regressing.”

“...What does that mean for me, exactly?”

Was my new life on a timer? If I had less time than I originally anticipated, I would have to move up my travel plans. I didn’t mind dying again, but preferably it would be far in the future, peacefully and in my sleep. And I sure as shit wanted to see some magical waterfalls or something before I died. Again.

“I truly cannot say. While I do consider myself well-versed in the healing arts, the study of the soul is much more…complex. All I can tell you is that eventually, your soul scar will deteriorate, the original wound will once more revert to its previous condition, and the effects you felt prior to that will manifest once again. You said headaches?” At my nod, he pondered for a moment before pressing on, “Sigh, I’m sorry, young man, but I honestly do not have a solution for you. For what it’s worth, you have at the minimum a few decades before any symptoms will relapse. After that…”

The words he didn’t say hung in the air, ruining the bad mood I was already in and making it worse. I didn’t need to know I had a death clock ticking away at my second life. I was perfectly fine in my ignorance.

“As your teacher, and more importantly as a healer, you have my word that I will not divulge your condition to anyone else without your permission. This I swear on the Great Mother, the stars above, and the land below.”

He gently placed a hand on my head, slightly rubbing my hair, before retracting it.

“...Thank you for informing me, Teacher Passen.” I glumly yet politely told him as I got up to leave, walking towards the exit.

“Young man,” he called out to me, prompting me to turn around.

“Death comes for us all. But that is what makes life worth living. And should you desire it, you may speak with me. About anything. Consider it a consolation for my diagnosis,” he bitterly smiled.

I nodded to him, then proceeded to walk out of the room, somehow in a worse state of mind than after the previous class.

…At least it was time for lunch. There was no…way…that anything bad or unexpected could go wrong during lunch.

I hurriedly strode to the wooden handrail near a massive stairway and knocked on it three times, hoping I hadn’t just jinxed myself.