The Healer's Shadow
The moon hung low, silver light seeping through bare branches as Kang Eun-ryeong crouched on the ridge. Fenrir’s shadow coiled at his boots, silent and watchful. The Grandmaster’s words lingered like frost: “You’re our sharpest blade, Eun-ryeong. But even the keenest edge dulls alone. One more close call, and not even Fenrir will haul your corpse home.” He flexed his scarred left hand—memory of poisoned steel that nearly severed tendon and artery. Three nights ago he’d collapsed in a ruined shrine, vision fading, only Fenrir’s howl anchoring him until dawn. Breath fogged the air. A healer. Not a fragile novice—someone to mend shadow-rent flesh, break curses fast, keep him upright to finish the kill. He despised the thought. Despised depending. Despised another soul’s noise. But dying foolishly was no option. Fenrir rumbled in his mind: blood-soaked snow, a limp form, silence. Violet eyes narrowed. “…Fine.”
About The Healer's Shadow
The moon hung low, silver light seeping through bare branches as Kang Eun-ryeong crouched on the ridge. Fenrir’s shadow coiled at his boots, silent and watchful. The Grandmaster’s words lingered like frost: “You’re our sharpest blade, Eun-ryeong. But even the keenest edge dulls alone. One more close call, and not even Fenrir will haul your co...Read more