“He’s awake!”

Dim light bleeds through the gaps in the ceiling. It's warm, and all the pain I had felt is gone. A bed is beneath me, and a large blanket had been laid over me, and a wet cloth clings to my forehead as I sit up. Someone tries to hold me back, but I push him aside. The blanket falls off of me, and I become aware that my armor was gone, as was my hoodie, and my jeans. Thankfully, whoever decided to strip saved my decency by keeping my underwear on.

“Please, lay back down. I don’t know if you should be moving yet.”

It was a woman’s voice. I glance up. An elderly woman with the first hints of white hair beginning to grow once more on her once-shaved scalp. I recognize her as one of the people who was in my father’s boat on the climb up to the island.

Ah, so that all wasn’t some fucked up fever dream.

“Where am I?”

“You’re back in the fort.” The woman says, “We were looking over you.”

“It was a bit sketchy at first.” The man cuts in.

He was one of the men who had been crawling around in the mud for fistfuls of berries. His black hair was beginning to come back in as well. Thin wrinkles hugged the corners of his black, almond eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“The...uh, spike in your leg tore your femoral artery when we took it out.” The man extends a hand, “I’m Brendan Lee, I work at Monte View Hospital. Well, worked, I suppose.”

Unconsciously, I run my finger over my thigh where the spike had been embedded. Rough bumps let me know of the scar there.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days.”

Three days? I try to push myself up, but once more the doctor holds me down.

“I have to see my dad. Did you save him?”

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The doctor’s quiet, and the door behind him swings open.

“Give the man some room to breathe, good God.”

The general steps behind the doctor and places his hand on his shoulder.

“You already know, don’t you?” The general says.

“Heh...I guess I do.” I chuckle softly.

“Your job’s not done, is it, soldier.”

I swallow the bead forming in my throat and shake my head. There were still things I needed to do. The first of which was to lead these people to Earth and destroy this outpost. The second of which, was to find and rescue Dylan. I could only pray that it wasn’t too late for her. Only then, would I...would I...

I shake my head, my shoulders heave, and my eye burns as heavy tears begin to roll down my face and drop on the bunched-up blanket by my waist.

“I’m...I’m sorry general.”

He sets the amulet that had been around my mother’s neck on my lap. A warmth comes out of it as I let my grief overwhelm me. The others excuse themselves and leave me alone for my solace. I whisper a thousand, ‘I’m sorrys,’ to the amulet, and to the shadows clustered all around me. I don’t know how many hours I passed drowning in my sorrow, but when my reserves were finally spent, the dim light of early morning bleeding through the ever-foggy skies of Efra was significantly brighter.

There was a part of me that wanted to succumb to the grief. Why should I have to go through this? Why should I have to be the one to fight for a world that was never kind to me before? Why should I have to be the one to suffer?

Master. Where are you?

Mister? Are you okay?

Ah. That’s right, I don’t have time to sulk. Dylan might be in danger. If I let my grief take me, what would become of her? I push myself off the bed and look around. I need my clothes and my wand. At the very least. At the very least I can save her, right? That’s reason enough to keep moving.

There was a bit of soreness from my shins while standing, and that was understandable. I run a finger over the scar, and another wave of regret floods through me. I should have gone on the attack sooner; if I had, then maybe….maybe. I walk to the nearest wall and slam my head into it. Dust falls from the rafters as the building shakes. I need some air. I look around for my clothes.

My jeans and hoodie lay in a pile of scrapped cloth near the bed. I pick up my jeans and examine them. Deep red blood stains the left leg...or what’s left of it. Both legs have been torn in hundreds of locations. They were well, well beyond saving. My hoodie was much the same; torn, burned, and bloodstained.

Echoes of the battle play out in my bed and my head swoons. I sit down on the edge of the bed, and let the feeling pass. A strange warmness radiates from the amulet around my neck, I pull it off and look at it. The purple, triangular stone embedded within the gold glowed. Glowed? It’s a familiar glow, though I can’t really place where I had seen it before. Although, I didn’t really mind. It was a comforting warmth, and a comforting glow, like a hug. Reynard would know what it is.

I glance at my wrist. Where is my Shard? It’s not with my tattered clothes, nor is it by the bed I had been laid on. I hold onto my wrist as I look around. My arm feels unbearably naked; even more than my bare chest and legs….where was anything of mine? My wand, my scale shirt, and eye patch? The room was empty. Ah, am I going to have to go out naked?

I pat my stomach. What was, for most of my life, my source of shame now felt flat, and rigid. The hair that had been with me since my early teens was still there, however. Maybe I should shave when I get back? I’ll think about it later.

“I hear you’re awake.”

Another familiar voice calls just before the door opens up again.

Nyt walks in and I cross my arms over my chest. The Ir’s eyes travel down to the amulet hanging around my neck. Bandages cover most of her body, and her right arm is in a makeshift sling. Ah, that was my fault as well.