Talea Lightheart - The Healing Step

Talea Lightheart - The Healing Step

The halls of Losend’s Haven, the largest hospital in the city, never knew silence. The murmurs of the sick, the hurried steps of healers, the weary sighs of caretakers. It was a place where suffering clung to the air like mist.

And yet, when Talea Lightheart walked among them, the weight of exhaustion lifted.

To many she was simply a nurse, a kind soul with warm hands and a soft voice, one who never turned away those in need. She did not wear a healer’s sigil, nor claim grand mastery of medicine. She simply was there when needed. And wherever she was, relief followed.

A dying man, his lungs battered by illness, found himself breathing easier after only a few words with her. A fevered child, whose skin burned with sickness, cooled beneath her touch. Those too weak to stand felt strength return as she sat beside them, her mere presence weaving vitality into their weary bones. Even those too far gone to save were gifted with last moments of peace, and painlessness.

But more than healing, she brought joy.

Talea did not only mend bodies, she mended spirits.

In the quiet corners of sick houses, where despair often took root, her laughter sparked like flame in the dark. She told stories of distant lands and brighter days, of dawns yet to come and songs still worth singing.

A soldier who had lost a leg to infection looked upon his ruined body with hatred. “What life do I have now?” he muttered bitterly, staring at the empty space where his strength had once been.

Talea sat beside him, handing him a carved wooden flute. “One full of music, if you let it be,” she whispered as she taught him his first notes.

Days later, the halls of Losend’s Haven carried the sound of his playing, a melody of hope, of defiance against sorrow.

To the elderly, she spoke of love never forgotten. To the young, she filled their dreams with possibilities. And to the healers, those whose hands shook from battle against death, she reminded them why they fought.

No miracle was declared. No divine proclamation marked her as Igna’s Chosen. But all who met her, who felt her presence, her kindness, were blessed nonetheless.

She was more than a nurse.

She was Life Itself, walking, talking, praising, & guiding, even as her mere presence promoted healing.

None ever saw Talea Lightheart fall ill.

She never grew weary, never faltered in her endless journey through Losend’s hospitals and sick houses. Some whispered that she had no need for rest, that Igna’s divine will sustained her beyond the limits of mortal flesh. Others believed her strength came not from gods but from simple, boundless kindness.

Perhaps both were true.

But what mattered was that wherever sickness struck, wherever spirits faded, her gentle steps followed. She never stayed, never built a home, because her work was never done.

And in the years to come, as Losend flourished, as its healers became the finest in the land, as its people endured through plague and hardship… they whispered of a figure, clad in humble linen, whose presence brought life and whose smile carried hope.

The Lightheart.

Igna’s Chosen.

And the light of life that would never fade.