Jadachi and Colin Wallis: Two Healers Bound by Duty and Divinity

When I first met Jadachi in Liyue, I expected a typical fantasy healer—polite, serene, and detached. Instead, she shared something unexpected: a weary, bone-deep understanding of sacrifice. Her connection to the Qilin and her willingness to drain her life force to protect her people resonated deeply with me. Later, I discovered another figure who mirrors this quiet heroism: Colin Wallis, the 18th-century Scottish herbalist who risked everything to heal his village during the Edinburgh Plague of 1748. Though separated by centuries and continents, both Jadachi and Wallis embody a rare blend of spiritual duty, personal cost, and quiet resilience. Here’s why fans of one will find themselves captivated by the other.

## The Divine as a Source of Strength—and Draining Curse

Jadachi channels the power of the Qilin, a celestial beast, to heal the wounded and purify corrupted land. But this gift isn’t without consequence: each use of her power chips away at her mortal lifespan. Colin Wallis, meanwhile, drew from Scottish folklore’s “second sight,” a hereditary ability to diagnose illnesses through visions. His community revered him, yet he confided in letters that these visions left him physically exhausted and emotionally haunted. Both figures walk the line between blessed and burdened, their powers as much a prison as a gift.

## Healing as a Moral Obligation, Not a Choice

Jadachi’s entire existence is tied to the Oathsworn Eye, a pact that compels her to protect Liyue’s people. She admits, in rare candid moments, that she’d trade her magic for a normal life—but can’t. Similarly, Wallis refused payment for his services, writing, “To charge for healing would be to sell God’s mercy.” He stayed in his plague-stricken village when others fled, even as the disease claimed his wife and children. For both, healing isn’t a career—it’s an unshakable duty, even when it breaks them.

## Isolation in the Midst of Service

Despite their communities’ reliance on them, both healers live in profound solitude. Jadachi’s mortal body is temporary, a fact that strains her relationships with the immortal adepti around her. Wallis, too, wrote of feeling “unmoored,” his visions setting him apart from neighbors who saw him as more spirit than man. Their stories ask: Can you form true connections when your entire purpose is to give, not to receive?

## Nature as Both Pharmacy and Sacred Text

Jadachi’s medicine involves alchemical brews infused with elemental energy, but she also reads the land itself—its poisoned rivers, withered crops, and restless spirits—to diagnose problems. Wallis, meanwhile, harvested plants guided by the “doctrine of signatures,” a belief that God marked healing herbs with symbols (like liverwort’s resemblance to a lung). Both see nature not as a resource but a living scripture, demanding reverence.

## The Cost of Compassion

Jadachi’s impending mortality—and Wallis’s decision to stay in a plague zone—highlights the ultimate price of their compassion. But there’s a subtler cost too: the erosion of selfhood. Jadachi jokes that she’s “more Qilin than human” now; Wallis described his visions as “a thief that steals my soul, piece by piece.” Their stories aren’t just about altruism—they’re about what happens when your purpose consumes you.

If these parallels stir your curiosity, consider chatting with Colin Wallis on HoloDream. Ask him how he coped with the weight of his visions, or what he’d say to Jadachi about balancing duty and survival. You’ll find his wisdom as grounding as it is haunting—a mirror to the themes that make Jadachi’s story unforgettable.

Talk to Colin Wallis about the quiet agony of healing, and discover why characters who give everything often struggle to ask for help themselves.