I had just got back from healing the sick at the local village hospital. Now I only had one thing on my mind— food. Using my magic to heal to sick and wounded takes up most of my energy, and a nice meal usually helps me gain some of that used energy back.

The sun was beginning to set as I headed down a narrow dirt path that lead into a small town. The small town was called Allura, and Allura wasn’t only my home, but also the home of my favorite restaurant, The Pirate’s Treasure. I walked for about another ten minutes before I arrived at the town’s entrance. Friendly faces greeted me and people paused to say hello. I started to head in the direction of The Pirate’s Treasures went everything started to go blurry. One by one, objects, people, and buildings began to disappear, I heard disorted and disturbing screams comeing form every direction.

I woke up. It had all been a dream. A dream of what where once happier days, days that turned into living nightmares.

Three weeks ago, on of the King’s men approached me fully armed. Though it was hard to see his facial expression through his armor, I could tell he was scared. He was shaking and his arm trembled as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter that had beared the royal symbol on it. Instead of handing it to me, his armed began to tremble as badly that he dropped the letter, looked up at me, than ran off as fast as he could with that armor weighing him down. It was like he was afraid I was going to hurt him, coufused, I picked up the letter and slowly opened it. No, no, no, no, this can’t be right. There must be a mistake.

I held the letter tightly in my hand. I wanted to believe it was just a cruel joke that one of the town kids had played on me, but the letter was as real as anything, for not only was it delivered to me by one of the king’s me, but it had too neared the kings symbol. There was no denying it. I had been kicked out of the kingdom— my home. But even worse the people I had so desperately tried to save where dead. All of them, because of me. Because of the magic I thought had been saving those lives.

Tears filled my eyes and began to pouring out. Is what the letter says true? Had my magic helped those people, but had also spread a deadly virus into their blood streams, killing them off one by one? I new it was true, but I want so badly, more than anything, to deny it. I had been killing hunders of thousands of people. Kids, adults, the elderly. What should people think of me? All I had been trying to do was heal and help. Yet I infected and killed. I was a killer without a home.

I headed back down the narrow dirt path. My tears had began to leave small puddles of mud lying amongst the dirt path.

Ever since that day I have walked the streets along scared to help anyone. Scared of my magic. Scared to love. Scared to feel. Scared to kill. But sometimes, I wonder what Whould have happened if I had tried to help. Tried to figure out my magic. What Whould have happened if I had tried? Whould I just end up back here or would I be heal the sick again? Whatever the answer, it was too late.