Nic was recovering swiftly, however, not how Jalee intended—cura, the ancient healing art of the pyree.

"So that is how your leg healed so fast." Nic exclaimed when Caleb confessed the methods. Caleb nodded and explained further that the blade was poisonous and had forced himself to heal in slumber. When Nic discovered him, he had already banished the poison from his system. His leg healed within the week—his limp was feigned to avoid suspicion.

Nic practiced in bed—in case Jalee walked in—his eyes were shut, concentrating on his body's energies. Caleb stood somewhere in the room, as still as a mountain, waiting for Nic to see some sort of light. An aura, he had called it, attributed to every single object and creature. Caleb explained the Will was not involved, it just took practice. Two days of practice and Nic still saw nothing. 

Caleb had demonstrated, adding to the effects of Jalee's tonics and salves. Nic could stand and walk without much pain, but he could not admit such progress to the healer. The scar would remain, for if Caleb removed the scar, Jalee would breath fire and never cease her complaints. 

Nic clenched his jaw and snorted. "I do not see it."

"Concentrate."

"What do you think I have been doing?"

"Patience, Nicholaes."

"I don't have that."

"Concentrate."

Nic rolled his eyes under their lids, and focused on the task again. He tried to picture his body sitting on the unmade bed, his injured back, his stiffening legs and balled fists. The same blackness remained. 

A humming caught his attention in the recess of his mind. He ignored it. It's tune became louder. Deeming it harmless, he focused on its sound. To his surprise a slow light began to pulse with each hum. He redoubled his efforts and the small light grew in response. It widened, swelled and stretched, until he could see the shape of his body. It took all his willpower to not punch the air in triumph.

His aura seemed to be battling to glow. Caleb had described a healthy aura to be a pulsing form of light energy, glowing in blackness. Nic focused on what was causing the disturbance. As he expected it came from his back. The cut fell from his neck, followed his spine and stopped at his lat rib. 

Now what? The thought caused the light to flicker out.

"I saw it!"

"Brilliant, now—"

"He saw what?" 

Caleb spun around and swallowed, hard. "Ah Jalee, how good to see you. How is our wonderful healer today?"

Jalee narrowed her eyes. "Answer the question."

Caleb lowered himself into one of the armchairs. "Ah, but some things are better left unanswered."

"Don't play games with me Calebrean. I shall know what is going on here, and if it is what I think it is, someone is going to pay dearly and just a hint, he is sitting in this room."

Caleb lifted his hand to his chin and swept his gaze over the healer's face, "May I ask what you are thinking?"

"You know very well what! If I find out you have been using your cursed methods to heal this boy, I will throttle your throat with my bare hands until your face turns a bright blue, followed by a deep purple!"

Caleb rubbed at his throat as if feeling her fingers there already.

"I saw the emblem on Caleb's sword. " Nic blurted out.

"What was that, dear?" All traces of her venom vanished as Jalee turned to Nic.

"Your original question's answer. I saw the emblem on Caleb's sword hilt – it was a diamond with a flame in middle. Caleb asked me if I had ever seen it before."

Caleb smiled behind Jalee's back, "You know, healer, you should not be too quick to assume anything. Things are not always as they appear to be."

Jalee's braid whipped across her chest as she spun on the pyra. "Caleb don't you have something to attend to?"

"No, not that I know of, " Caleb said through his deep laugh, " But I will take a hint. I will talk to you later, Nic. Keep practicing the you know what. And don't tell you know who."

Jalee grabbed a pillow from Nic's bed and threw it at Caleb, who slipped out the door with a last chortle.

"Stupid man! His head is far too big for his body if you ask me. It will get him into real trouble one day, mark my words."

Nic said nothing, but smiled.

"There is no hope for you I suppose."

"What do you mean?" he asked, schooling his face.

"Well, with a teacher like him, your fate is decided."

Nic let out a little laugh, "And what would my fate be?"

"A trouble maker, talented and skillful, but stupid. You will place your nose where it does not belong and always find yourself in hopeless situations. To put plainly, you are doomed to be at the start of all troubles or at the end of them. Either way you are doomed."

 "Will it be fun?"

"Ha!" she threw her hands over head. "It has already begun."