The Healer and The Knight

Marge Chavez “Sacrifice I” Oil on panel 30 x 18 in 2025

To some, this may sound like a bard’s tale of dragons and deep dungeons. In truth, it is a narrative rarely whispered — a chronicle hidden like a low-burning ember or a shattered witch’s glass that no one dares to peer into.

To be a Mother is a heavy vow for any soul. How much more so for one who serves as a public servant of the realm? For the Healer, her duties are not a mere task; they are her lifeblood.

The Healer once believed that a child’s perfection was the sole measure of a mother’s power. Her philosophy was carved in stone: a mother does not simply raise a child; she has to be sure to forge legends.

Indeed, the Healer raised three formidable sons. They were the embodiments of scholarly excellence. With an Abyssal Tide-Shaper, a Weaver of Aetheric Laws, and a Golem-Soul Architect already in her lineage, what more could a mother desire?

Not to be greedy, but she sought to forge a fourth — a daughter — wishing for the same success, the same unwavering consistency, and the same polished perfection as her brothers.

But expectations and reality are often strangers. And as they say, when reality finally hits, it hits hard.

This is where the story shifts — when the fledgling begins to wander, even if it’s too hard to let them fly, a mother must teach how to.

Unlike her brothers, the Healer’s youngest was a creature she did not expect.

Shall we call her “odd,” or perhaps “expressive”?

Such a spirit is rare among the traditional noble Houses, and it cut the Healer deeply under the pressure of maintaining a flawless line of glory creation. She tried to enchant her daughter into the likeness of her sons, a move that wounded them both.

Remember what they told us about Newton’s first law of motion? She tried to push her daughter into something, only to get pushed back ‘cause there’s a force of resistance to someone who wants to stay the way they are.

The Healer was eager for the change, but the daughter’s spirit was an unyielding stone made even more unbreakable. But for a child to feel accepted, the daughter wore a “Glamour” — a fake identity to please a mother who demanded longer hair, a modest grace, and the performance of a perfectly honed princess.

The daughter wore this mask only because she saw her mother’s suffering. Yet, as a Healer, the mother instinctively felt something was off with this twist of fate.

She searched through ancient scrolls and modern chronicles of recovery, seeking a way to find comfort while her daughter was suffocating behind the mask.

For a time, the winds died down, only for the storm to return when the “truce” was shattered. A shadow fell upon the daughter’s mind — a chaotic, uncontrolled demon. It was a heavy curse, and the Healer knew that, in her quest for a “perfect daughter,” she had made the darkness deeper.

It was then she realized her daughter might never be the princess of the story, but was instead a brave knight of fierce spirit, which changed the very course of their myth.

Suddenly, the daughter became a symbol — a force of nature, a true Babaylan, reminding the House what it means to embrace one’s true essence.

The Healer was forced to choose: cling to a “Denial of Falseness” or accept the truth of the Living Fact.

“When my daughter was battling the shadows in her mind at such a young age, my Holy Rites became my shield. I craved a miracle so desperately that I wouldn’t have to face both her darkness and her reality. I wanted her ‘cleansed,’ as if her heart were a demon requiring an exorcism,” the Healer confessed.

“That is where my magic failed. I wished for a portal to escape the reality of my life. But the chaos of the mind is no demon. Having a daughter who walks the path she wanted is no sin. It is a human reality. My reality,” she ended.

The Healer did not need a miracle to change her daughter; she needed acceptance to change herself.

She became the sanctuary her daughter required by first healing the distorted imagery that kept them apart.

Inclusivity doesn’t have standards. It doesn’t require a fitting feature — because if it did, it would no longer be inclusivity; it would be a social construct, a mold designed to break those who don’t fit.

This is not a fantasy story. There’s no healer and knight in here, only a mother, her fear, and her daughter.

The end.