Chapter 5 – The Trial of the Healer

The bells of the Temple of Heaven’s Light tolled at dawn.

Han So-yeon awoke to the sound, her chest heavy. She had not slept. Shadows lingered under her eyes, but her hands were steady as she tied her hair and gathered her satchel. Today she would face the priests’ judgment.

A knock sounded at her chamber door.

“Enter,” she said.

It opened to reveal Do-jin, Seung-hwan’s most loyal captain. He bowed slightly. “The Commander sends me. He waits in the courtyard.”

So-yeon nodded, following him. Outside, the palace bustled with soldiers and servants, but as she walked, she felt the weight of countless stares. Ministers in robes whispered behind their sleeves. Courtiers pointed as if she carried disease.

At the gate, Seung-hwan waited astride his warhorse, clad in black armor edged with silver. His presence was iron—unyielding, immovable.

When he saw her, he dismounted. “Are you ready?”

So-yeon drew a slow breath. “As ready as I can be.”

“Do not falter,” he said. His voice was quiet, but it held the gravity of a battlefield command. “The court wants your blood. Show them your fire instead.”

She met his eyes, and for a moment the world shrank to just them—the cursed War God and the unwanted healer, bound by forces neither of them fully understood.

“I will not falter,” she said.

---

The Temple stood at the city’s highest hill, its steps carved from white stone, its golden roof catching the morning sun.

Crowds gathered outside, buzzing with rumor. Word of the healer’s trial had spread overnight. Some came out of curiosity, others out of fear. The priests stood at the top of the stairs, their white robes luminous, their expressions cold.

At their center was High Priestess Shin Na-ra, her gaze sharp as a spear.

“Bring her forward,” she commanded.

So-yeon climbed the steps, her heart pounding. The air smelled of incense and blood—a mingling of holiness and sacrifice.

Inside, the temple’s great hall was lit by hundreds of lanterns. At its center lay a man on a raised platform—an old soldier, his body twisted with burns and rot, his breaths shallow.

Gasps rose from the crowd.

“The Trial,” Na-ra declared, her voice ringing. “This man has been struck by a plague-fire. No priest has been able to heal him. If the girl claims the favor of heaven, let her prove it here. Before the eyes of the gods, the king, and the people.”

So-yeon’s blood ran cold. Plague-fire. She had seen it only once before, in her village—it consumed flesh like acid and spread through the air. No temple healer dared touch it.

“You mean to kill her,” Seung-hwan said, stepping forward. His voice thundered in the hall. “This is no trial—it is execution.”

Na-ra’s eyes did not waver. “If she is truly what you claim, Commander, then she will succeed. If not…” She spread her hands. “Then the gods will speak.”

The ministers nodded. The king sat silent on his throne, ashen-faced.

So-yeon felt the eyes of hundreds on her. She could not back down.

“I accept,” she said.

---

They gave her no tools, no herbs, nothing but her hands.

So-yeon knelt beside the dying soldier. His body was ravaged, half his skin blackened, his breath ragged. The stench of rot filled her lungs.

She pressed her palms gently to his chest.

Breathe, So-yeon. Do not fear them. Fear nothing but failing him.

She closed her eyes, sinking into the quiet she always sought when healing. She imagined her spirit reaching beyond flesh and blood, searching for the thread of life within him.

At first, there was only darkness. His body was failing, his fire nearly gone. But deep within, she felt it—a faint spark, fragile but alive.

She drew upon her strength, weaving warmth through her palms into him. The burns began to soften, the blackened skin paling. The soldier stirred, gasping.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

But the plague-fire resisted. Each wound she closed flared again, devouring her effort. Sweat beaded on her brow. Her vision blurred.

Too strong… too deep…

The temptation rose within her—the forbidden path. The power she had sworn never to touch. The power that could rip disease away in an instant, but at a terrible cost.

Her hands trembled.

“Don’t,” Seung-hwan’s voice cut through the haze. He was watching her, his eyes burning. Somehow, he knew what choice she faced. “Do not sacrifice yourself for them.”

So-yeon’s breath hitched. The crowd shouted for her to continue, priests muttered prayers, Na-ra’s gaze pierced her like knives.

She made her choice.

With a cry, she pushed deeper—not into forbidden darkness, but into herself, past exhaustion, past fear. She poured every drop of strength into the soldier’s spark.

And it answered.

Light burst from her hands, golden and fierce. The soldier’s body arched, the plague-fire hissing as if burned away by the sun. Slowly, impossibly, the rot receded. His skin smoothed. His breath steadied.

When the light faded, he opened his eyes.

Alive. Whole.

The hall erupted in chaos.

“She healed him!”

“Impossible!”

“Witchcraft!”

Na-ra’s face twisted with fury. “This proves nothing. The power she used is not of the gods—it is dangerous!”

But before she could speak further, the healed soldier sat up. His voice cracked with emotion as he bowed toward So-yeon.

“Mercy of heaven… You saved me.”

And then, against all decorum, he knelt before her, forehead to the ground.

Others in the crowd followed. One by one, voices rose in awe, in gratitude. “Heaven’s Healer!” they cried. “Heaven’s Healer!”

So-yeon staggered back, her strength drained. Seung-hwan caught her before she could fall, his arm firm around her.

“She does not need your gods’ approval,” he said coldly, glaring at Na-ra. “The people have spoken.”

But as he held her trembling body, he felt it—her pulse faint, her breath weak. She had given too much of herself.

And deep within, a shadow stirred.

For though So-yeon had resisted forbidden power today, the gods—or something darker—were beginning to take notice.

---

That night, in her chamber, So-yeon lay pale as death. Seung-hwan sat beside her bed, his sword laid across his knees. He had not moved in hours.

When her eyes finally opened, he leaned close. “You are reckless,” he murmured. “Reckless, and stubborn, and…” His voice broke softly. “…and you terrify me.”

So-yeon’s lips faintly curved. “And yet… you still call me a bride.”

His jaw tightened. “You are more than that, healer. More than they will ever understand.”

Before she could answer, a servant burst into the room, breathless.

“Commander! High Priestess Na-ra… she has declared the healer’s survival blasphemy. She demands her arrest at dawn!”

Seung-hwan’s eyes blazed. He rose, hand tightening on his sword.

“Let them come,” he said.

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