I had that dream again last night, the dream about Collin. We were hiking at Eros Point like we always did, but when I got too far ahead, he disappeared, and I woke. It had been a while since I’d dreamed of Collin, but the effects were profound. The mere thought of Collin brought back a flood of happy yet painful memories.

Collin and I had been best friends since childhood. We were inseparable back then. Collin was the first mortal I shared my caster heritage with, and he kept my secret to his grave. Growing up, I had always been slightly jealous of Collin as he got to spend his afternoons playing after school. Meanwhile, I was expected to memorize incantations and learn Latin. Though I was envious of the “normies” getting to goof off, being a caster had its perks. Namely, being able to manipulate reality as I please, for the most part. However, I am meant to follow a set of rules.

1) Do no harm

2) Respect nature

3) Under no circumstance heal a mortal

The first two rules made sense, but I always wondered about the third. Casters often heal other casters, whether it be something small or huge, but never humans. When I’d ask my parents, they’d never elaborate. They would simply tell me not to. For years I listened, but one faithful day while hiking with Collin, an accident occurred. As we were two teenage boys, horseplay inevitably erupted and ended with Collin tripping down a ravine, snapping his right leg on impact. The fall mangled his leg, leaving his tibia poking through his skin. The pain was immense and immediate, rendering him immobile. Given his current condition, I knew we were too far from home to make it back. Without a second thought, I healed him. Within seconds he was on his feet, good as new. Shockingly there were no terrible side effects. It was as though nothing had changed other than the condition of his leg. And so, life continued like it always did.

Over the next few years, I began healing Collin frequently. It started once a month but quickly grew to every week. Eventually, it progressed to multiple times a day. Towards the end, it got to the point that I started to think he was injuring himself just for me to heal him. He became a man possessed, constantly nagging me to cure minor ailments. Then one day, without warning, silence. Still waiting on some sort of contact later that day, my mom walked into my room. She told me that she had some bad news. I immediately knew something had happened to Collin. Collin had passed away in his sleep the night before. I was in utter shock, 17 years old and dead.

Recognizing my surprise, my mom point-blank asked if I had been healing Collin. When I didn’t respond, she told me why we didn’t heal mortals. Our magic is addictive to them. Being healed by us gives them a euphoric feeling. But worst of all, their genetic makeup only allows them to be healed a finite number of times. Our magic accelerates cell division but doesn’t create new cells. There are only so many times their cells can do this before their life is expended. This admission brings me to the shocking revelation that I am the reason my best friend is dead.