Chapter 8
A Gift From Death
The early morning sun filtered through the windows of the hospital, casting a gentle glow on the corridors as Adom and his father approached Dr. Hermes' office. The familiar setting, a blend of clinical efficiency and subtle warmth, was a reminder of the countless visits they had made over the years.
As they entered, Dr. Hermes, known to his friends as Tom, looked up from his desk, his eyes sharp behind his glasses. "Amadu, you're 2 minutes and 12 seconds late," he remarked, his tone dry but not unfriendly.
Amadu chuckled at his friend's precise nature. "Good morning to you too, Tom," he greeted, shaking his head with a smile.
Tom's gaze shifted to Adom. "Hey, kid. Long time no see. How have you been?" he asked, a hint of genuine concern in his otherwise stoic demeanor.
Adom returned the smile, feeling an unexpected sense of ease in the doctor's presence. "Feeling rather good lately, Uncle Tom. How about you?"
Tom sighed, a small shrug accompanying his words. "Eh, you know, life and its waves. But I'm glad to hear you're doing well. To be honest, people in your situation don't get to say that, like, ever. Mind if we run some tests?"
Adom nodded in agreement. "Not at all."
Tom led them to the examination room, his movements efficient and practiced. The room was familiar to Adom, a space he had spent many hours in over the years. The walls were adorned with medical diplomas and certificates, a testament to Tom's expertise and dedication.
The atmosphere in Dr. Hermes' office was a blend of tense anticipation and cautious optimism as Adom lay inside the state-of-the-art diagnostic machine, aptly named the "Essentia anomaly Scanner." The device, renowned for its precision in detecting magical illnesses, hummed softly as it scanned Adom's body.
In the control room, separated by a pane of glass, Tom and Amadu watched the process intently. Amadu’s hands were clasped tightly, his knuckles white with tension. Tom, noticing his friend's anxiety, tried to lighten the mood. "Relax a bit, will you? You're bringing down my mood," he quipped, a rare hint of humor in his voice.
Amadu let out a forced chuckle. "When did you ever have a good mood, Tom?" he retorted, trying to mask his nervousness.
Tom leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the Auramancer Scanner’s readings. "I know you don't want to be disappointed, Amadu. The hope for a miracle is something you've tried to let go of. But from what you've told me, and from what I've seen of Adom, he shouldn't even be able to attend school by now. Him being here, in this condition, is a miracle in itself. So, maybe, just maybe, believe in it a little, will ya?"
Amadu took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. Tom's words, though delivered in his usual detached manner, held a depth of understanding and empathy. Despite his often stoic and aloof demeanor, Tom was a staunch believer in positive outcomes, a hidden optimist in a sea of uncertainties.
The scanner continued its work, emitting a low, rhythmic hum as it analyzed Adom's magical and physical health. On the other side of the glass, Adom lay still, his eyes closed, a picture of calm in contrast to the storm of emotions his father was experiencing.
Tom monitored the scanner’s outputs, his eyes scanning the complex data with practiced ease. The readings were unlike anything he had seen before. The usual indicators of Shadowfade Syndrome were absent, replaced by readings that defied conventional medical understanding.
Adom's remarkable state was partially attributed to the strategic use of Essentia inhibitors. These specialized compounds had been carefully administered to slow the rapid expansion of Adom's inner Essentia pathways, a condition at the heart of Shadowfade Syndrome. By managing the pace at which these pathways widened, the inhibitors prevented the overwhelming surge of Essentia that could lead to the body's collapse. This delicate balance allowed Adom's system to adapt gradually, averting the catastrophic consequences typically associated with the syndrome.
As the scanner completed its cycle, the room fell silent, the machine's hum fading into a quiet stillness. Tom studied the final report, his expression inscrutable. Amadu watched, holding his breath, waiting for any sign, any indication of what the future held for his son.
Finally, Tom broke the silence. "It's... it's incredible," he murmured, almost to himself. He turned to Amadu, his eyes conveying a mix of astonishment and cautious joy. "There's no trace of the illness. Not even a residual sign. It's as if it was never there."
The air in the hospital was thick with disbelief and unspoken questions as Tom, still grappling with the miraculous reality of Adom's recovery, conducted test after test. After the third confirmation on different machines, he let out a rare, hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the sterile hallways. Adom watched, a smile spreading across his face as he witnessed the usually stoic doctor express such unbridled joy.
Tom, coming back to his senses, caught Adom by the shoulders with an intensity that mirrored the gravity of the situation. "Adom, allow me to take some of your blood," he urged, his voice low and serious. "You are the first person ever to survive Shadowfade Syndrome. There's not a single record in medical history of someone beating it."
Understanding the significance of Tom's request, Adom nodded in agreement. He was aware of the futility of researching his blood for answers, knowing the extraordinary circumstances of his cure, but he consented to Tom's request for a blood sample. It was a small price to pay for the joy and relief reflected in the eyes of the two men who had been like family to him.
Amadu, who had been silent throughout the ordeal, seemed lost in his own world, his eyes reflecting a mixture of incredulity and profound relief. The burden of fear and worry that had weighed heavily on his heart for so long was finally lifting. Tears welled up in his eyes, despite his best efforts to contain them, as the realization that his son was truly cured sank in.
Seeing Amadu's emotional display, Tom cracked another rare joke. "Look at him go. I haven't seen your dad cry like this since the day your mother first refused to date him," he said, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
Adom laughed, the sound light and genuine. This was a side of his father's life he had never heard about. The laughter broke the tension in the room, and even Amadu managed a watery smile, shaking his head at the memory.
The drive back to the farm was filled with a sense of surreal peace. Amadu, still processing the day's events, occasionally glanced at Adom, as if to reassure himself that his son was really there, healthy and free from the illness that had cast such a long shadow over their lives.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
*****
Maria Sylla stood in the kitchen, her hands trembling as Amadu and Adom broke the news. For a moment, time seemed to stand still as the words sank in. The burden of years, the silent, gnawing fear of an inevitable loss, suddenly lifted. Her legs gave way beneath her, and she would have fallen if not for the quick support of Amadu and Adom. Tears streamed down her face, unchecked and free, as she reached out to touch Adom's face, needing the tangible proof that her son was indeed free from the clutches of Shadowfade Syndrome.
The raw emotion in Maria’s eyes spoke volumes – it was a mix of relief, joy, and the release of a pressure she had carried in her heart for so long. The years of watching Adom suffer, the countless nights spent praying for a miracle, the fear of losing her son – it had all been a constant, heavy companion. Now, in this moment of revelation, that weight was gone.
Adom, seeing his mother's reaction, felt a swell of emotions. The relief in her eyes was a balm to his own soul, a confirmation that the miracle they had all hoped for but never dared to believe in had indeed happened. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, his own eyes misting with tears.
Amadu stood beside them, his arm around Maria, sharing in the moment of profound relief. The family, united in their joy and disbelief, remained in a tight embrace, each one processing the enormity of what this meant for their future.
In the midst of their shared tears and laughter, the reality of the situation began to truly sink in. Maria, pulling back to look at Adom, asked in a voice choked with emotion, "Is it really true, Adom? Are you truly free from it?"
Adom nodded, his own voice thick with emotion. "Yes, Mom. It's true. I don't understand how or why, but I am. Dr. Hermes confirmed it."
Maria covered her mouth with her hand, a gesture of overwhelming joy, her eyes sparkling with tears that reflected the sunlight streaming through the window. "Oh, my baby," she whispered, pulling Adom into another tight hug. "We've been given a miracle."
The news spread quickly through the farm and beyond. Neighbors and friends, who had known Adom and his struggles, came by to share in the family's joy. The farm, which had long been a place of quiet perseverance in the face of adversity, became a hub of celebration.
As the day turned into evening, the Syllas found themselves surrounded by well-wishers. The atmosphere was festive, the air filled with laughter and the sounds of impromptu music. It was a spontaneous celebration of life, of hope, and of miracles.
*****
Adom strolled along the river, its gentle flow mirroring the stream of his thoughts. The events of the past days, surreal and life-altering, mingled with his contemplation of the future. The tranquil sounds of the water and the rustling leaves brought a sense of calm, a contrast to the whirlwind of emotions he had experienced. As he walked, lost in thought, the now-familiar blue box materialized before him, breaking the serenity of the moment.
At the center of the box, a message flashed, capturing his attention: [New skill acquired! Skill: Temporal Cognition.] Adom paused, his curiosity piqued. This was the reward 'Death' had mentioned, a new skill born from his encounter with her and his journey through time.
He focused on the box, reading the description of his newfound ability. The words appeared simple, yet they held profound implications: [Temporal Cognition allows the user to perceive and understand the flow of time with enhanced clarity. You do not have the required level to know the key features.]
Intuitively, Adom activated the new skill and a sense of profound stillness enveloped him. The world around him, vibrant and alive just moments ago, now lay suspended in a surreal tableau. The river's flow was frozen mid-curl, birds hung motionless in mid-flight, and even the gentle rustling of leaves had ceased. It was as if time itself had paused, yielding to Adom's newfound ability.
Intrigued, Adom took a step forward, his movements fluid and unimpeded in the frozen world. He marveled at the sensation, feeling as though he were moving through a photograph rather than the living, breathing world he knew. The blue box, hovering in his vision, served as a reminder of the skill's limited duration: [Activation of skill: Temporal Cognition. Time remaining: 03 seconds.]
Adom couldn't help but ponder the mechanics of this phenomenon. His mind raced to make sense of it. He hypothesized that Temporal Cognition might be manipulating his perception of time rather than time itself. Perhaps it accelerated his cognitive processes and reactions to such an extent that the world appeared to stand still. This theory resonated with what he knew of magic and the human brain's processing capabilities.
Eager to test his hypothesis, Adom reached out to touch a leaf suspended in the air. As his fingers made contact, the leaf's position shifted ever so slightly, creating a ripple effect in the surrounding air. Fascinated, he realized that while he could interact with the environment, his actions caused minimal disruptions, as if the world were resisting change in this state of temporal suspension.
He experimented further, picking up a small pebble and tossing it gently. The pebble moved through the air, disturbing the stillness around it, before coming to an abrupt halt, as if caught by an invisible force. The trajectory of the pebble, frozen in mid-air, provided a striking visual of his influence within this temporal bubble.
As the blue box's countdown neared its end, the world gradually began to stir back to life. The river resumed its flow, the birds continued their flight, and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air once again. Adom stood in awe. The blue box displayed :[Remaining time before using the skill [Temporal Cognition]: 01 Month. Hp: +01. Endurance: + 05. Essentia reserve extremely low. Recovery advised. New level (+ 01)! Level : 11. ]
The effects of his brief suspension of time became startlingly apparent. The leaf he had touched, previously suspended in a delicate balance, now fluttered to the ground with a gentle twirl, as if released from an invisible grasp. The pebble, which had been floating in mid-air, suddenly accelerated forward with astonishing velocity, propelled by the force of Adom's throw that had been held in temporal stasis. It whizzed through the air like a bullet before embedding itself deeply into the trunk of a nearby sturdy tree.
The ground where Adom had walked during those suspended seconds bore faint but discernible footprints, each step compressed and then released in a burst of kinetic energy as time resumed its normal flow. The grass and small plants in his path were flattened, creating a trail that echoed his movements, a testament to the physical interactions that had taken place in the stillness of time.
Adom stood there, marveling at the aftermath. The realization dawned on him that while his actions during the temporal suspension were minimal, their effects were amplified and unleashed the moment time resumed its course. This observation confirmed his earlier hypothesis about the skill's mechanics. It appeared that the skill did indeed shield his body from the immediate effects of motion, allowing him to move freely without being subjected to opposing forces.
However, the moment the skill deactivated, the laws of physics reasserted themselves with a vengeance. The energy that had been temporarily held in check was now unleashed, transforming the once-stationary pebble into a projectile and marking the ground with his steps.
As he contemplated these effects, a wave of exhaustion washed over Adom. He felt his essentia reserves depleting rapidly, the toll of using such a powerful skill becoming evident. Those three seconds of manipulating his perception of time had drained him completely, leaving him feeling weak and disoriented.
He staggered slightly, leaning against a tree for support. His head spun, and his limbs felt like lead. The fatigue was unlike anything he had experienced before; it was as if the very life force had been sucked out of him.
Adom realized the gravity of using Temporal Cognition. It was a formidable ability, but its use came at a high cost. He would need to be judicious in its application, reserving it for moments when it was absolutely necessary. The skill's potential for strategic advantage was undeniable, but so were its risks and limitations.
Still leaning against the tree for support, he let out a laugh. It was a sound that mixed disbelief, exhilaration, and a touch of irony. The absurdity of the power he had just wielded struck him with full force. "Temporal Cognition," he mused aloud, the name of the skill rolling off his tongue with a sense of wonder.
He shook his head, a grin spreading across his face, "how irresponsible of you" he mused. The idea that such a formidable ability was now at his disposal felt like a cosmic joke. It was an extraordinary gift, yet so wildly imprudent. To entrust such power to a human – to him, of all people – seemed like an act of reckless abandon.
"This is insane," he whispered to himself. "She's given me the keys to a kingdom I didn't even know existed." The thought of Death, entrusting him with such a skill was both thrilling and daunting.
Adom considered the implications. With Temporal Cognition, he could manipulate the flow of time, albeit briefly. The strategic advantages were immense, but so were the risks. The skill required a delicate balance, a dance on the razor's edge between power and vulnerability. The sheer exhaustion he felt was a testament to the skill's demanding nature.