I had expected anger or perhaps tears. I’d thought she might lecture me or yell at me or tell me how ashamed my mother would be. I’d thought—rather embarrassingly, in hindsight—that she might even fall on her knees and beg me to stay. Instead, she’d looked relieved. Not relieved to lose me—my absence, so soon after my mother’s, would put a strain on the center’s resources, and the trainees would need to speed their progression to full healers—but relieved that I was choosing to follow my heart, even if it led me into the misty unknown.
