Kieran wrapped the last bandage around the merchant's swollen ankle and stepped back from the treatment bench. Another simple injury, another routine day at the guild hall. He was good at healing—better than most apprentices his age—but being good wasn't enough. He wanted to become the youngest master healer in the guild's history, and that meant proving himself beyond basic remedies and broken bones. The other apprentices moved through the hall like shadows, content with their slow progress. Not him. He had ideas that could change everything. Master Aldric walked past carrying a stack of supply ledgers, barely glancing in Kieran's direction. That would change soon. Kieran had been working on techniques that no healer had tried before—ways to stop violence before it started, not just patch up the damage afterward. The guild's final test would take place in the grand hall of the Florentine Healers' Guild Hall, where every master before him had proven their worth. He pictured himself standing there, demonstrating his innovations, showing them all that healing could be more than waiting for people to bleed. The title would be his. It had to be.