Bridging Worlds: Book 1 Celestoria's Time
A New Connection

Eamon, Geran, and Rosche followed the old man as he led them to an isolated and simple hut, illuminated by the warm glow of candlelight.

“Come on,” the old man invited them, and they entered the humble abode. Inside, he gestured towards a wooden bed. “Put him down there,” the old man instructed, referring to the wounded young man who had been their primary concern.

Rosche, ever the inquisitive one, couldn’t help but ask, “What can we do now?”

“First, go get some water,” the old man directed. “There’s a well outside. Heat it up.”

Rosche nodded and promptly left the hut to fetch water from the well.

Turning his attention to Geran, the old man pointed at the bag he had been carrying. “And you, bring me that powder I’m smelling in your bag.”

Geran complied, retrieving the healing powder from his bag.

“Help him up,” the old man instructed Eamon.

Eamon stepped forward and assisted the wounded young man in sitting up. The old man then pressed the wound, causing the young man to awaken with a pained groan.

As Rosche reentered the hut with the heated water, she carefully placed it near the bed where the young man lay unconscious.

The group watched over the young man, hopeful that he would recover from his ordeal.

“I don’t have the power to cure you,” the old man began, “but I know very well that you can do it yourself.”

Eamon and Geran exchanged puzzled glances, unsure of what the old man meant.

Meeting the young man’s gaze directly, the old man continued, “You must have been poisoned for so long that you can’t even do it yourself. So, I’m just going to lend you a hand.”

Understanding dawned on the young man as he comprehended the old man’s intentions.

“Now, I want you to use your Pyrotoxin Cleansing ability to remove the poison from your system,” the old man instructed firmly, locking eyes with the young man as he employed his mind control to guide him.

As the process unfolded, the young man began to cough up darkened blood, indicating the expulsion of the poison. The effort left him drained, and he lost consciousness.

The room fell into a tense silence as the small group anxiously awaited the outcome of the young man’s efforts to heal himself.

As the young man fell unconscious, Rosche couldn’t help but express her concern. “Is he okay now?” she asked, her voice filled with worry.

The old man turned to her, his expression somewhat reassuring. “He has successfully expelled the poison from his body. Pyroclasmists have the ability to heal themselves, but unfortunately, he was too weak to do so,” the old man explained.

“So, he’s a Fire mage,” Rosche mused.

Geran chimed in, “Fire mages rarely venture out of their own lands. I wonder what brought him here.”

Eamon, who had been watching the young man intently, added, “Perhaps he has a specific motive for being here.”

Both Rosche and Geran turned their gaze to Eamon, intrigued by his insight.

The old man, about to head to his room to rest, offered a suggestion, “Or you could simply inquire when he wakes up.”

“We can do that,” Geran agreed.

Before the old man left, Roshe expressed her gratitude, saying, “We wanted to express our gratitude for your help.”

The old man replied, “Who said I’m providing my services for free.” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Rosche asked, “Do you require any assistance?”

The old man declined but added, “No, but i might ask for a favor.” As he was about to head to his room for some rest, Rosche asked one final time, “Mister, I forgot to ask... What is your name?”

The old man paused and responded, “My name if Sylvanus Ironforge.” He then left them, leaving the three of them in astonishment at the revelation of the old man’s true identity.

Sᴇarch the FindNovel.net website on G𝘰𝘰gle to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.