The Healer (Death/Muerte x Female!reader)

The Healer (Death/Muerte x Female!reader)

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing2h 50m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Oct 3, 2024
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Fanfic
You traveled as a healer and helped those who you felt deserved to keep going. You felt that this life was important and wanted to help others learn that by giving second chances. You dabbled in magic and herbs as well as martial arts. You were once a feared bounty hunter, taking what you want when you wanted it. After trying to take something from an old sorceress, she left you with a scar on your face as a permanent reminder of when confronted with your own mortality. After your face healed, you swore you would never hurt anybody else and help those who were harmed. You learned elemental and plant magic as well to help places in dire times with food or natural disasters. You were a walking saint who only wanted to help. But your powers also make you a target. This means you are tracked and hunted by people who want your magic or worse, your head. One of these attacks leaves in a forest, unsure of whether you could heal yourself enough to get back to your feet. As you start to nod out and lose consciousness, a whistle rings through the air before you succumb to the darkness of sleep.
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β•°β”ˆβž€ ❝ [I stood there in unequivocal revelation, the lagging pain slowly catching up with me, but before I could release a fraction of the pain into my screaming, a bell rang, and suddenly, pilfered from my body was the ability to move. My face neutral and my muscles disabled as I fell face-first into the hard, scathing rock that lay unmoved before me.] 》* 。 β€’ ˚ ˚ Λ› * 。° 。 β€’ Λšγ€Š Imagine awakening in an environment you deemed unfamiliar, your back thrumming in pain, with your mind staying clear of how you ended up there or simply the moments that lead to your position. You try to find a way out and later realize that you can't even remember who you are; your memories purged, your identity unknown. It takes you a good amount of time, pain, and effort, and eventually you manage to gather tiny fragments of who you were along with the trauma of how you retrieved it, but it's okay, maybe it's all worth it as you finally make contact with another person. Turns out she was your best friend. Finally, it looks like all is turning up until you learn of all the inhumane things you've done in your past, things that evade your newfound morals, things that were so detrimental to society that when you hear the reason as to why you've been enduring such agony, you understand why. How many people did you even end up hurting? What did you do that was so bad, that it made millions wish the absolute worst of you? What will you do now?

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