Tyris had tried to retrieve Kenan for the day's chores. When he saw that his son was tranced in a tome, he replanned his day for a negative set of hands and extra tasks. Ava had attempted to wake him at noon-time. If nothing more then just to feed him.

She walked into a scene that made her mother's instincts kick to dangerous levels. Kenan’s skin was shriveled like it was cut off and sun-dried. He laid flat on the ground and his messy hair covered his head. A long groan escaped from him in a ghastly vibration. Kenan slowly moved his head up and blunted eyes searched around to find Ava. The flesh around his neck and cheeks looked stripped down to a frighting level of gauntness. Taken like it was debted away to some insect that devoured muscle from the inside out.

A scream erupted from some deep feared segment of her subconcience but was cut off just as swiftly as it rose. Dion. The fox was curled on his friend's back. His snout came out of the bundle and he yawned. He looked at her. Cocked his head. The strange mix of sly bestial instinct and uncanny canine intelligence struck her. Something seemed off, but right at the same time. Ava hesitated. Whatever strange message the fox showed her, she trusted. Despite the majority of her judgment, she left to do another task.

Hours passed. Kenan's strength was rotted through. Like the foundation work he had laid was shattered when mana was no longer a factor. He was nothing, felt nothing. His mind was shaped and reshaped all the way down to the basics. He crawled. Inch, by terrible inch.

The sun and its glory given by Lathander started to rest on the horizon. Doco had finished his tasks. Not that he had many. The sky felt dark, clouded with mammoth-sized specters. He decided to take a nap before dinner was produced. It was in the hallway just before his door, his foot hit something solid. He used telekineses to siphon his momentum. His foot had caught a prone Kenen. The fox had slinked off somewhere to hunt.

Mana was formed and altered. Kenan was pulled into the air, flipped, and sent upright. “What's wrong?”

It took Kenan too long to piece together the spit and strength. “Bad.”

“Bad? Anything more specific? Got a bad stomach ache?”

“Old...tan…book.”

“Old tan book? The fox’s tome.” Doco peered closer. Studied Kenan. The dehydrated and cracked skin. Dismal tissue. Sucked energy. He had seen these symptoms. Known them well. Fought through them and even clung to them at the worst of times. Images and flashbacks popped behind Doco’s eyes. Soldiering. The march. He winced at the memory but replaced it with a warm smile. “Mana deprivation. Oh, you poor, stupid, foolish boy.”

Weeks passed.

Doco had replaced Kenan’s labored hands and taken the liberty for Kenan’s general needs. Telekinetically fed him, helped him go to the bathroom, bathed him, and other things.

There was only one thing that had been outsourced to Kenan. The objective was to reach the dinner table and the overall win condition was to sit on a chair by himself. The first two days he failed. The prone slither that was a poor imitation of movement didn’t have the speed for it. On the third day, he got close. His arms started to have a deeper pocket of power to pull from. The fourth day followed the pattern as the previous, but the fifth changed the mark. His legs had enough catch for him to push. So he had managed to capture a small amount of success. Six and seventh had the same result but it was faster.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As it donned the second week. Kenan’s lungs returned to normal function and he finally took in real breath. Not shallow fakes just so the body moved. Doco had set down a new directive. Kenan had to crawl on his hands and knees.

Kenan couldn’t disobey. He wanted to be down. Stay on his bed and wait until this ailment is passed. but his mind was too far muddled not to take any direction.

He failed at first. The strength wasn't there. His arms and shoulders didn't have the contraction to spring himself up and keep him there. While his hips and legs turned to paste with the weight. It took days just for him to get into the correct position. The fog in his mind folded and covered in a concentrated effect. He pulled his body. Pulled on his strength and reached deep.

Time shifted and he didn’t know how much had passed. When the thought mist separated to allow a facsimile of sentient understanding. Kenan was in the hallway halfway to the dinner table with his feet under him. Excitement sparked in the wrinkles of his brain that passed and dulled all the way that it left him flat on the ground, unconscious.

A handful of months came and left. The dampness of spring left for the singe of summer.

Kenan had gotten a chunk of his previous motor function back. He could walk, hold a fork for a few minutes, and talk in spurts. His mental capabilities were still far behind what they were. All of the energy for advanced thought was shuffled into the body. So far the only task that Doco and Tyris considered Kenan to have the ability for was to follow his uncle around the stead. It seemed as the days started to stretch for longer periods of time, the farther and longer Doco traveled along the home. Often time in idle wonder or in an avid search for a random weed.

The additional exercise made Kenan feel tortured. His legs bucked and protested when he stood in the mornings. Even his shoulders became exhausted by just the fact they had to carry his arms. To round his anguish was the hunger in his stomach. It was like a dagger that hadn’t been pulled out of his gut and then twisted when he went more than two hours without anything in his stomach. It was nightmarish. His jaw was too weak and too tired to eat all the time but the muscles that soaked everything in him demanded the sacrifice in a greater need. Kenan was thankful that his mother was more than ready to meet the challenge.

It had been when Doco and Kenan took a break from their march. They had traveled to the fence at the edge of their property. They both looked at the endless sea of golden yellow grass that waved from the wind. The former leaned on a post, the latter sat down on the beam in between. “Nephew?”

Kenan had to finish a swallow of soft bread and lard. “Yes?”

“What’s your goal? What do you want? How much do you want out of this, how bad do you want to see results?” Doco asked. There was movement in his eyes. He looked at the plane but saw something else.

There was another period when Kenan shamelessly ate. “I don’t know.” He shrugged. Chomped down another bite, and chewed. Then continued. “At first. I hated this. The struggle. But now? I think there is something in me. Like a worm. Like what Dion had that one time. Remember? In his poop.”

Doco gave his nephew an arched eyebrow but waited for him to continue. “First off, it takes all the food that I eat. Lothander help me, I eat everything but nothing at the same time. But sometimes, it questions certain things. I went from barely being able to crawl, now I can walk. What can I do now? What can’t I? Can I run? Jump? How far, how fast?”

Doco smiled. It stretched to his ears. “I think I used to have that same worm in my ear.”

“It’s in my ear?!” Kenan took his finger and dug. “How the hells is it eating all my food?!”

“Ha!” Doco chuckeled. “Go rest for today. Meet me in the horse circle tomorrow before dawn. Don’t be late.”