Torrack had faced death more than once, but the attack by the curse had shaken him in ways he hadn't expected. Ever since that battle, his connection to Lyra's world had become strained and unreliable. His ability to sense and reach out with his aura had diminished. Where once he could feel the magic and energies around him with ease, now those senses felt dulled, as if he were trying to grasp shadows in the dark.
He clenched his fists in frustration, sitting by the fire in the Brotherhood's hideout, an old, abandoned house just outside the city. The headquarters had become their temporary home, a place to rest and regroup, but it wasn't enough. Torrack had always been strong, always managed to compensate for his blindness through his sharp senses and his connection to the world beyond his physical limitations. But now... now he felt vulnerable. The curse had exposed a deep weakness.
"I can't fight what I can't see," he muttered to himself, clenching his fists tighter. For the first time, the idea of being able to see had entered his mind, something he had never truly considered before. He was born blind, and until now, he had accepted that as part of who he was. But the encounter with the curse, the magic that had nearly killed him, had opened his eyes—so to speak.
Magic was his weakness. He couldn't defend against something he couldn't perceive, and without his aura abilities working as they once did, he needed an edge. Torrack needed his sight, and he needed it soon. The more he thought about it, the more the idea took root. He had heard stories, legends of magic powerful enough to restore sight, heal wounds that no normal healer could mend.
He began asking around in town, quietly at first, looking for anyone who might know of healing magic powerful enough to restore sight to someone born blind. Most people scoffed at the idea, telling him it was impossible. But a few whispers led him to the name of an old healer who lived on the outskirts of the city. According to the stories, this healer, Malkor, had knowledge and power far beyond that of an ordinary man.
His comrades in the Brotherhood were skeptical when Torrack told them about his plan, but they knew better than to try and stop him. Torrack's determination was unshakeable once he had made up his mind. They pointed him in the direction of Malkor's home, warning him that the healer was strange, even for someone in his line of work.
With a goal in mind, Torrack set out early the next morning, guided by the directions he had received. Malkor's home was hidden away from the hustle and bustle of the market streets, tucked into a secluded grove at the edge of the city. The air grew cooler as Torrack approached, the trees thicker, casting long shadows over the narrow path that led to the healer's door.
When he arrived, Torrack could sense the strange energy surrounding the place. It was subtle but unmistakable, like the air itself held secrets. He knocked on the wooden door, and after a few moments, it creaked open to reveal an old man with silver hair and eyes that seemed to pierce through time itself.
"Come in," the man said, his voice soft but filled with a quiet power.
Torrack stepped inside the small, dimly lit home, his heightened senses picking up the faint scent of herbs and the crackling of a fire in the hearth. The room was cluttered with books, jars of strange ingredients, and trinkets that looked as if they had come from distant lands. Malkor gestured for Torrack to sit in a wooden chair near the fire, and the healer took his place across from him.
"You seek something," Malkor said, his eyes studying Torrack with a mix of curiosity and understanding. "Something that was never there."
"I was born blind," Torrack said bluntly. "I want to see."
Malkor was silent for a long moment, his gaze unwavering as if he were reading the very essence of Torrack's soul. Finally, he sighed and leaned back in his chair.
"No human can restore sight that was never there to begin with," Malkor said quietly.
Torrack clenched his jaw, a surge of frustration rising in his chest. "I've heard that before, but I've also heard stories—stories of magic that can heal anything, even blindness."
Malkor smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth barely lifting. "There are stories, yes. Tales of ancient magic, of beings with power beyond our comprehension. But such things are not for men like us."
Torrack wasn't ready to give up. "I've fought things I never thought existed. I've seen—well, not seen, but I've felt power beyond anything I imagined. If there's a way, I need to know."
The healer was quiet again, his fingers tapping lightly against the arm of his chair as he considered Torrack's words. Then, slowly, he stood and walked over to a small chest tucked away in the corner of the room. He opened it and pulled out a rolled-up piece of parchment, worn and yellowed with age.
"I can't give you what you seek," Malkor said, handing Torrack the parchment. "But I can point you in the direction of something... or someone who might."
Torrack unrolled the parchment carefully, feeling the texture of the ancient paper beneath his fingers. It was a map, the lines and markings faint but still legible.
"This is the location of a dragon," Malkor continued, his voice lowering as if he were sharing a secret not meant for most ears. "Not just any dragon, but one who is said to be the oldest living being in this world. His magic is unmatched. It is said that he can heal any wound, restore life to the dead, and perhaps, even give sight to the blind."
Torrack raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, unsure whether to believe the healer. "A dragon? That sounds like a fairy tale."
"Perhaps," Malkor replied with a knowing smile. "But many fairy tales are rooted in truth. This dragon, if it still exists, has the power to do things that no man or mage can. I have only heard of one person who ever encountered this creature... and they were not the same afterward."
Torrack studied the map, feeling a strange sense of hope and apprehension. "Why are you giving this to me?"
Malkor met his gaze, his eyes filled with a wisdom that seemed ancient. "Because I see something in you, something I haven't seen in a long time. You may be blind, but you have a clarity of purpose that most men lack. I believe you are capable of finding this dragon... and perhaps more."
Torrack nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the map in his hands. "And what about you?" he asked. "You seem... different. You said this dragon has lived for centuries, but you—" He stopped himself, unsure how to phrase the question.
Malkor chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of ages. "I have lived a long time, yes, but not as long as the dragon. My magic is simple—healing, nothing more. But there are other forces in this world, forces older and more powerful than anything I can offer."
Torrack couldn't shake the feeling that Malkor was more than he appeared, but he chose not to press further. There was something about the healer's aura, a complexity, a depth that went beyond the ordinary. His magic circle shimmered with colors Torrack had never felt before, far more intricate than that of any other healer or mage.
"I'll go," Torrack said finally, standing up. "I'll find this dragon."
Malkor nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Good. But remember, the journey will not be easy. You may not find what you are looking for, but you will learn much along the way."
Torrack turned toward the door, gripping the map tightly. "Thank you," he said, stepping into the cool night air.
"Take care, Torrack," Malkor called after him. "And if you ever need guidance, you know where to find me."
As Torrack walked away from Malkor's home, the quiet streets of the city felt different. The map in his hand seemed to pulse with potential, guiding him toward something he had never considered before. The idea of seeing—of having his sight restored—was daunting. But more than that, it felt necessary. If he was to face the threats ahead, especially those who wielded magic, he needed every advantage he could get.
The dragon, if it existed, was his next step.
That night, as Torrack lay in bed, the map tucked safely under his pillow, he couldn't shake the words of the healer from his mind. Malkor had spoken of the dragon with such certainty, and yet there had been a sense of mystery surrounding the whole encounter. The healer was hiding something—Torrack was sure of it. But for now, he had a clear goal.