Oblivion Heal Major Wounds Novels & Stories

I had to cut it away to see the wound properly, and when I did, I sucked in a breath. The gash across his ribs was deep—unnaturally so. Dark tendrils still crept along the skin’s edges, the lingering remnants of the curse. “Don’t hold back,” he said. “Just get it out.” I closed my eyes for a second, centering myself. Then I placed my hands over the wound and let the power rise—not as fire, not as destruction—but as warmth. Steady. Controlled. Healing. It took everything I had. By the time I opened my eyes again, the corruption had receded, the wound was sealed, and Cian was breathing easier.

He said nothing, but let her grief spill out in silence. At the river crossing, Mira stayed behind with her healing circle. She had insisted on healing the wounded before they proceeded. Her soft chant summoned the weak, the wounded, the suffering spirits whose pain was new. Diva knelt by a broken warrior named Jarol, whose leg had been nearly severed by darksteel. Mira laid a hand on his shoulder, murmured a blessing, and the wound closed. Jarol gasped, tears of relief sliding down his grime-streaked face.

Only my bond could save him. I turned back to the Guardian. “How am I supposed to convince everyone that I am the true Healer when another woman carries the same mark?” I asked urgently, already knowing Sarah would never believe me. “The last time I tried,” I continued, “I became the object of ridicule. I couldn't even heal a simple illness. How am I supposed to prove the truth now?” “It is because your wolf spirit has not awakened yet,” the Guardian replied. “A mark can be forged, but not blood. Ask the priestess to order both of you to summon the spirit of any healing herb. Only a true Healer can command it, just as you summoned me.”

They carried hooks… not steel needles, but jagged obsidian claws etched with symbols that pulsed faintly with dark energy. The healer’s breath hitched in her throat. She staggered back, pressing a trembling hand against her lips as bile threatened to rise. “Begin,” the doctor commanded. One assassin forced the Darian’s arm down, pressing a claw into his flesh. As the healer gasped, the skin split, only to close again instantly. His gift of rapid healing fought desperately to resist.

The man's eyes fluttered open, gratitude shining within them. I couldn’t pause to savour the moment; there were too many others who needed me. I stood, searching for the next person to save. The cries of the wounded pierced my heart, each one urging me forward. Behind me, I sensed Alexander approaching. I turned to him, urgency in my voice. "Their wounds—they’re unnatural. Those dark rogues, their bites rot the skin, but I can heal them." Alexander surveyed the chaos, his brow furrowing. "There are so many, Olivia. How will you heal them all?"

Their cries of pain echoed through the clearing, a stark reminder of the cost of war and the sacrifices that must be made in defense of our realm. As the healers tended to the injured warriors, my friends' magic intertwined with theirs, creating a harmonious symphony of healing and protection. The wounded warriors felt a surge of energy and resilience as the combined magic of vampires, elemental power, nature's healing touch, and illusions worked together to mend their bodies and spirits.

I am so ashamed that I was born as a healer! First, let me tell you about my clan so you can understand my resentment toward my own clan. Healers are humanoid beings with a superior ability to heal. We are knowledgeable in medicine and apothecary. We know the herbs and simples that can restore vitality, ease pain, anesthetize, and neutralize poisons, and with our varying abilities, we can divine a being's state of health or sickness. Pre-awakening healers are just skilled at creating medicines, but once our major powers awaken, we can heal anyone with a single touch or command, depending on how huge our awakenings are.

they spared and spared and spared, when Lycan knew that his brother wanted to hurt him to feel better he let him hit his shoulder and draw blood. Claus tore his garment and in a show of care used it to soak his brother's blood , his excitement made him run back to the witch with a cloth soaked with his brother's blood. the witch used the cloth to curse Lycan into a beast and a man. two residing in one body . and then she cursed Claus to be a wanderer and undeserving of his brother's forgiveness that when the two sets eyes on each other, the urge to kill each other would emerge but Lycan being a man beast would have the greater power because Claus and his descendants would always be weak.

Zen asked out of curiosity. Would this NPC explain it? Father Clarence smiled kindly and adjusted his round-framed glasses. “It works differently in terms of efficiency. A beginner healing salve can stop the bleeding and close small wounds. An intermediate healing slave can staunch the bleeding of bigger wounds, including sword stabs and close them. It hurts a little, but you will survive if the wound was not fatal. An advanced healing salve can close up fatal wounds and has a regeneration effect. It is mostly used for regrowing amputated limbs, but the materials for such a healing salve is rare and difficult to find.”

In the heat of battle, the beast’s claws slashed through the air toward me. Liam moved without thinking, throwing himself in front of me as a human shield. The sharp claws left three deep gashes down his back. "Liam!" He fell to the ground, his blood staining the mud. I rushed to his side, my hands pressed against his wounds. "Moonlight Heal... Life Share... Vein Reconstruction..." A silver light enveloped him, and the wounds began to close at a visible rate. The other team members stared in awe at my calm, decisive healing.