The Anomaly's Path-Chapter 77: Soul Weaving

The morning sun had risen over the ridge, painting the world in shades of gold and amber. I stood at the edge of the clearing, watching Roran from a distance.

He was still kneeling before Clara’s grave, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed.

But something was different now.

The crushing weight that had pressed down on him for fourteen years seemed lighter somehow, as if the story he had finally told had cracked something open inside him. The sunlight fell on his face, and for the first time since I had met him, Roran looked like he was actually breathing.

Not just existing. Breathing.

I smiled a little, then turned my gaze away from him and looked toward the girl sitting against a rock a few feet behind me.

Mia was slumped against the stone, her back pressed against its rough surface, her breathing uneven and shallow. Blood dripped from her nose, and thin red lines trailed from the corners of her eyes, staining her pale cheeks.

She looked exhausted, drained, like she had given something away that she could never get back.

I sighed and walked over to her. I crouched down so my face was level with hers.

"So," I said, keeping my voice dry. "Are you going to tell me what exactly happened? Why you followed me all the way here? And... what did you do back there?"

Mia wiped the blood from her nose with the back of her hand, leaving a red smear across her skin. She did not meet my eyes.

"...How did you know I was following you?" she asked, her voice weak but still carrying that familiar edge of defiance.

I stared at her. "Mia, I am a ranker. I have senses that are far sharper than a normal person’s. I sensed you the moment you left the village." I paused. "...And if you think Roran did not notice you, you are wrong. He knew you were there the whole time."

Her cheeks flushed. "Oh..."

"Yeah. Oh."

She looked away, her fingers fidgeting nervously with the hem of her sleeve. I waited, giving her the space to find the words.

"So," I said again. "...Are you going to tell me what you did to Roran? How did Clara appear? What exactly happened back there?"

Mia’s gaze darted away, and she started fidgeting with her sleeves, her fingers twisting the fabric like she was trying to untangle a knot that would not come loose. "Well... um..."

I watched her struggle. I understood. Everyone had things they did not want to share. Secrets they kept buried. I was not going to force her to open up if she was not ready.

But then I looked at her face—the blood still dripping from her nose, the exhaustion deep in her eyes, the way her body sagged against the rock like she might lose consciousness at any moment.

I sighed.

"Let’s go," I sighed.

Before she could utter a protest, I scooped her up. She let out a small, startled yelp. "What... what are you doing?!"

I ignored her, shifting her weight until she was settled firmly on my back. Her arms instinctively wrapped around my neck, and her legs hooked around my waist. "Hold on tight," I commanded.

"What? No! Put me down!"

"You can barely stand, Mia. You want to walk three miles like this?" I started down the path. "Hold on or fall off. Your choice."

She grumbled something under her breath but tightened her grip. Her fingers clutched my shoulders, and her chin rested against the top of my head.

"You are messing up my hair," I said.

"Good," she muttered.

I snorted. We walked in silence for a while. The village was still a distance away, and the path was uneven. My boots crunched on the dry leaves, and the morning birds sang around us.

Then Mia spoke, her voice soft and hesitant.

"...It was because of my power."

I didn’t interrupt. I simply kept my pace steady and listened.

"But you have to promise me... you will not tell anyone."

I shook my head. "You do not have to tell me, Mia. Especially if your power is something like this. I would not have told you either."

"No." Her voice was firmer now, steadier. "It is okay. I want to."

"No," she said, her voice growing firmer. "It’s okay. I want to. My power is called Soul Weaving."

I slowed my steps. The name alone carried an heavy weight.

"I inherited it from my mother," she continued. "She used to tell me it was a blessing, but..." Her voice trailed off, and I could feel her remembering something—a past memory, a ghost, something she did not want to visit.

Then she shook her head and pressed on.

"My power is strange. Very strange. Honestly, I do not fully understand it myself."

She explained and told me about how she could heal not just the body, but the soul itself. How she could sense lingering fragments of the dead, the pieces of people that remained after they had passed on.

How she could give those fragments a moment of peace—a chance to say goodbye.

"Back then, when I healed you after you washed up in the river, I used my power to accelerate your body’s regeneration. That is why you recovered so fast."

I nodded. "So that is why my body heals faster than normal."

"Yes."

"And Roran?" I asked.

Then she explained what she had done for Roran.

How she had reached out and touched the lingering soul of Clara, the fragment that had been clinging to this world out of love and regret. How she had given that fragment enough strength to appear before him, to speak to him, to give him the closure he had been missing for years.

"It was not really her," Mia said. "Not fully. It was just... a remnant. A piece held together by regret and love. I just... gave it a voice."

I was quiet for a long moment, letting her words settle. Then I said, "It’s an incredible ability, Mia. If you ever mastered it, you’d be unstoppable. You have immense potential."

She did not respond.

"But a power like that doesn’t come for free," I continued, my voice turning serious. "What’s the cost?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

"Mia?"

She still did not answer. I was about to speak again when her voice came, low and heavy.

"It drains my life force."

I froze. My feet stopped moving. I stood there in the middle of the path, the morning light warm on my face, but I felt cold.

"...What did you just say?" My voice came out barely a whisper. "Can you repeat that?"

Mia’s grip on my shoulders tightened. "I said... it drains my life force. Whenever I use Soul Weaving, it costs me a piece of my own life."

My jaw clenched. "You mean... every time you use this ability, it shortens your lifespan?"

She did not answer.

"Mia."

"...Yes."

I started walking again, but my steps were heavier now, weighted down by something I could not name. And you used it on me? On Roran? How many times have you thrown your life away for people who didn’t even ask?"

"I do not use it every time!" she snapped. "I know my limits. I only use it when someone really needs it. Otherwise, I use normal medicine and herbs."

"And how many times have you used it?" I asked.

She was quiet.

"Mia."

"Well... um..."

"You’re an idiot. Do you know that?" I said, my voice rising as I started walking again. "You are a complete, utter idiot. How in the world are you still alive, using your power like that?"

She suddenly clamped her hand over my mouth, her face turning bright red. "Shut up, you maniac! There are villagers nearby!"

My eyes went wide. I waved my hands in the air, trying to pull her hand away, but she held on tight. I could see the villagers nearby, some of them staring at us with curious expressions.

Mia’s cheeks were flushed. "Be quiet!"

She realized she was holding on too tightly and let go. I took a deep breath.

"...What the hell? Do... not ever do that again."

"Then don’t shout my secrets to everyone!"

I shook my head and started walking again. We moved in silence for a while, the village gates growing closer with each step.

Then Mia spoke again, her voice softer this time.

"Thank you... for worrying about me. But you do not have to worry. I do not use it often. I only use it when someone really needs it."

I did not respond.

"Besides," she continued, "only you and Elder Marta know about my power. No one else."

I nodded. "Figured."

We reached the orphanage. I stopped at the door and called her name but she did not respond.

I looked over my shoulder. Mia was asleep, her head resting against mine, her breathing slow and steady.

I sighed and carried her inside.

"...Idiot."

_

The next morning, the orphanage was its usual chaotic self. I sat at the long wooden table, nursing a bowl of porridge while Lily tried to steal Tobin’s bread and Sera watched them both with those eerie, knowing golden eyes. I ate slowly, thinking about my training.

My body was nearly healed, and in a day or two, my new katana would be forged.

Then—

The door creaked open.

Roran walked in.

He looked better than he had in days. His hair was still messy, and his clothes were still wrinkled, but there was something different about him. His eyes were clearer. His shoulders were less slumped.

...And he was smiling.

That same flashy, confident grin that I had seen the first night at the Rusty Mug, before everything had fallen apart.

He grabbed a plate, piled it high with food, and sat right down next to me. "Morning, kid."

I stared at him, my spoon halfway to my mouth. "...Morning."

We ate in a strange, companionable silence amidst the noise of the children. When I finished, I stood up to head to the woods. "I’m going to train."

I had only taken two steps toward the door when his voice stopped me.

"Leo."

I turned. Roran was stretching, his back popping loudly. "Let’s go. It’s time for your real training to begin."

I blinked, stunned. "...What?"

"You heard me," he said, standing up and flashing that sharp, confident smirk. "I’m not going to say it twice."

A slow, genuine smile spread across my face. I adjusted my posture, feeling the shift in the air.

"About time, old man."

He snorted and headed for the door. "Don’t push your luck, brat."

Together, we walked out of the orphanage and into the light of a new day.