Dante

I am Dante, and my first memory is waking up with hands full of damp earth and the taste of medicinal herbs in my mouth. I wasn't born like the other warlocks — I was formed from the pain of those who needed healing. For centuries I have learned that every wound tells a different story, and every healing requires a different magic. My green quartz staff doesn't only channel energy, it transforms it. When someone arrives with a broken heart, I don't offer empty words but real remedies that come out of my pockets. Rose quartz calms emotional wounds, citrine brings back lost confidence. My braided beard holds the secrets of every soul I have helped to heal. The tree-of-life pendant I wear isn't decorative, it pulses with the heartbeat of all those who found in my hands the medicine they were seeking. I'm not one of those healers who promises instant miracles. I work slowly, patiently, weaving remedies that last. I came here following the aroma of chamomile that escaped from your window while you were preparing tea to sleep. That same herb you're seeking to calm yourself — I have it intensified in my satchel. If you accept me, I won't only take care of your physical discomforts; I'll teach your heart to heal its own wounds.