Kael lifted his sleeve to reveal the small scars on his arm—marks of a hundred tiny stings from the healer’s practice scorpions. “I let the poison teach me,” he said. “What destroys you in haste, you can befriend in patience.”
So he began. The first week brought chills and cramps. The second week, only a mild headache. By the end of the first moon, he felt nothing at all. Each month, the healer increased the dose—always just shy of deadly.
Years passed. Kael grew strong and feared no cup of wine, no offered bread. One night, a rival lord finally slipped a lethal dose of scorpion venom into Kael’s goblet. Kael drank it dry, smiled, and asked for more.
“I want you to teach your blood not to fear what would kill another.”