My eyes widened as my Mana Sense revealed ‘Annabelle’s’ depleted reserves gathering to power a spell structured in a way that gave me the heeby-jeebies. Oh no. No. No. No! Can’t let her do that! Don’t do that!
Surprisingly, her guardians failed to prevent me from stopping her, as all their attention had been drawn to the gasping and writhing ‘Mitchel’. ‘Annabelle’, for her part, had been so focused on her task that she practically jumped out of her tanned skin when I grabbed both of her worryingly cold hands that she clasped in a prayer-like position.
The two armored boys behind me placed their weapons near my neck to warn against doing anything rash, but I ignored their threat and focused on the flustered female feline. Let’s be honest, the safety of a regenerating rapture reject like me is secondary at a time like this.
I spoke to ‘Annabelle’ as gently as I could, given the circumstances. “Wait. Please wait. There’s no need to go that far.”
How far, I don’t know exactly, but it’s pretty clear by the look in her eye that it’s close to, if not right on, self sacrifice.
“Let me try something. And if that doesn’t work, tell me the spell you were going to cast and I’ll do it for you.”
Her massive pupils widened at my words, reflecting the little orangish light that came from my campfire, and she nodded slowly.
But the swords stayed put at my throat.
“Absolutely not!” The mage lady stomped her foot, passed the ailing youth over to the ranger, and withdrew a wand before pointing it at me–its tip sparking blue. “What makes you think we trust you? What makes you think we’ll just allow ‘Mitchel’ to be subjected to your hedge magic?! What can a blasted druid even accomplish here?! You talk to bloody plants, not break curses!”
I kept my eyes on the wand, but rolled them after Uriel buzzed.
Notice: Wands, among other apparatuses, can store spells for later use or be ingrained with a spell for rapid fire casts. In either case the effect can be triggered with a simple input of mana rather than through the usual means.
Spells used in this manner reflect the power of the device's maker, though they can still be countered in the same way.
“First of all, I’m not a druid.”
Nyx.
In that instant her wand’s power flared, then burnt out resulting in her recoiling with a gasp. “Second, there’s hardly time for this squabbling.”
Tase.
I tapped a finger against the flat side of the swords at my throat, and with a little magical creativity, imagined them being jolted by, well, a taser.
And to my pleasant surprise, that’s exactly what happened.
Seems like I have a bit of freedom when messing with magic, and can at least alter existing magic if not make up my own spells. After all, that first attempt with the lightning bolts was wholly accidental, and Craig did confirm that there wasn’t any spell named ‘spark shower’.
I then tapped ‘Wittness’ against the ground, wrapped up the mage lady and tased guards in roots and vines so that they wouldn’t interfere, then patted the dumbstruck ‘Annabelle’s’ head, and advanced on the wide eyed hunter and the still spasming ‘Mitchel’.
His movements had gotten weaker, and since he still wasn’t breathing he was probably turning blue right about now–not that I could really see given how dark it was.
The hunter didn’t offer up any resistance when I checked the young man’s wrist for a pulse, and instead weakly asked. “Y-you really are going to help, right?”
I just smiled, and urged Uriel to assess the situation before things could get any worse.
After a tense second, it buzzed twice.
Name: Calden Dresdeth a.k.a. 'Mitchel'
Species: Human (Beast blood)
Health: 2/110 (200 max)
Mana: 1/10 (100 max)
Endurance: 0/50 (160 max)
Strength: 7/70 + 10
Agility: 4/44 + 6
Speed: 2/83 + 7
Toughness: 1 + 12
Spirit: 10/100
Status conditions: Cursed poison (severe); Depleated spirit (severe); Enfeebled (severe); Spirit soothe (ongoing); Rejuvinate (ongoing)
Titles: Noble Heir; Hearty soul; Follower of Matweirden; Follower of false gods (hidden)
Abilities:
Leadership lv: 8
Mana sense lv: 3
Mana manipulation lv: 3
Command lv: 10
Endure lv: 33
Battle cry lv: 14
Body sensory magic (Beginner) lv: 78
Hardy body lv: 21
Poison resistance lv: 43
Curse resistance lv: 12
Beast blade sword style (Adept) lv: 47 Notice: Individual is afflicted with a cursed poison and is on the brink of death from physical and spiritual deterioration. Extreme measures must be taken immediately.
Extreme measures, huh? Let’s hope this new ability meets my expectations then.
I willed ??? protection to activate, but all I got was a vague feeling in my chest with no real response. Crap. Gonna have to try harder then.
I held my breath and gave it another go by inverting my extended senses to look inward, and focusing all my newfound brainpower into finding a way to draw out that vague sensation, or otherwise make the ability activate.
Then the system spoke.
That cool female voice rang in the chaos of my frantic thoughts, gathered up my myriad ideas, and dragged them all together deep into the center of my consciousness; which happened to be focused on the core of my being; where that infuriating vagueness resided. After all the mental haranging this frustratingly aloof system has put me through, this better work!
Before I even had a second to react, that feeling within me expanded into an incredible warmth that reminded me of how I felt when I was dreaming up this world–only now it quickly started to burn as if I wasn’t capable of containing it. It flowed through my chest, up my arm, and out my outstretched palm before it seeped into ‘Mitchel’--not that I saw anything special happen.
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There wasn’t even a flash of light, a pop, or anything.
Just an overwhelming, pervasive, stillness.
And things proceeded this way for a second that lasted an eternity. A silent second where it felt like the world had stopped, breathless, to watch the poor boy’s reaction; and to drag out my own struggle to stay conscious for as long as possible.
Because this whole process hurt me.
Body, mind, and soul.
Much more than anything in the past.
Even that eternity alone wasn’t THIS painful.
And when it finally ended, that’s when the unspeakable soreness hit.
Naturally, I collapsed, gasped, and, unable to rasp, I used my failing strength to flop onto my side to get a better look at my patient. Though my tired eyes had to fight with my heavy eyelids as they tried to blanket them. He better be alive, because so help me, I don’t think I can cast a spell like this.
My eyes didn’t cooperate any longer, and closed against my want and will. However, I heard the hunter heave a relieved sigh before he slumped nearby, and I decided that that would have to be good enough for now, and stopped resisting my impromptu nap.
Thank goodness… I haven’t been this tired since… Since… .
#
Calden Dresdeth was the son and heir to Dorain Dresdeth, the Marquis of Dresdeth, a prosperous region along the Western border of the Almassara Empire. His parents were human like him, but his house had a long history of sympathizing, and intermarrying, with the ‘bestial’ races that called the region their home before the Empire was established. And his father now served as the predominant voice that protected those people from the humano-centric views the rest of the nation had developed.
A position they paid dearly for, as his family is known for the long string of ‘accidents’ that have picked off their loved ones from generation to generation.
Such as the runaway cart that plowed through a protest to claim his great grandmother’s life, or the brick that came loose to drop a wall on his mother, or the military misfortune that resulted in his father losing his dominant arm. But their family and their god preached perseverance, so they endured with heads held high.
They had no other choice.
And then he fell ill. So ill that none of the healers of body, mind or essence that his family employed could do anything, and he knew it would have claimed his life already had the very people his family fought to protect not stepped up to protect him in turn. With ‘Annabelle’s’ exceedingly rare and heavily restricted spirit healing and harming magic ability.
At first, he readily surrendered to treatment at her hands. It was his father’s order after all, so he went to the allied territory so that he could be preserved until the petition for the aid of the god of beasts was answered, and a true solution obtained.
But it’s been three months and Lady Matweirden hasn’t answered? How long are we supposed to wait? Why would she let us shoulder so much alone? Aren’t we supposed to be blessed? Favored? How can she still be silent?! If I die, the family all but dies with me! Doesn’t she care?!
Many more months went by with no response from his family’s revered deity, while ‘Annabelle’ and her house paid out their noses in their efforts to sustain him. As longtime vassals of his family, he knew they wouldn’t abandon him and didn’t mean to hurt him, but he didn’t want to burden them anymore and didn’t know how to tell them that their every effort only delayed the inevitable; and forced his soul to suffer as his body, mind, and spirit deteriorated around him.
And as if that wasn’t enough, now they were forced to go on the run. In his state he couldn’t know the details, but he suspected the culprits behind his family’s so called misfortune had either gotten sick of waiting for his death, or had managed to outmaneuver his father at court, and were now bold enough to risk a direct attack on ‘Annabelle’s’ home.
So he, his guardian knight and vassal mage, along with ‘Annabelle’ and her family’s most trusted knight and huntmaster were sent out into the wilderness to hide, flee, or otherwise elude the danger.
However, he needed more support now that he could no longer rest all day, but they could carry only so many mana potions and drops, so his treatments ultimately became fewer and farther between. Which only amplified his agony twofold.
He lost count of the days. The nights all blurred together. Every step became an effort like trudging through waist deep water. And he could no longer see a reason to go on.
But those around him refused to let him surrender.
Just let it end already. Let me go! I don’t care why it started anymore. I just want this to stop! Why won’t they let me rest?!
He screamed this in what little remained of his conscious mind, as the rest of his faculties failed him. In another day he’d be little more than a crawling corpse, and his near mute senses barely managed to remind him that ‘Annabele’ was reaching her limit too, as the comfort of her spells got weaker and came at more distant intervals.
At last, they stopped, and he nearly dropped.
He didn’t know or care what they were doing, but it was taking longer than usual for them to let him sit, and that infuriated him.
How… Much… Longer?!
He tried to move on his own, but only managed to tremble and wobble.
Then a pulse of mana passed them, and something large and strong moved them from the shadows and into a white light that engulfed everything all around him. Strangely his clouded eyes could see it, and he wasn’t blinded or uncomfortable in its presence despite being wholly uncomfortable and disgusted with his very existence.
His shuddering intensified as that light seemed to seep into the cracks in his being. He felt what had to be his last adrenaline rush, and he recovered enough of himself to question how he was seeing anything at all, since it had been days since he could make out anything that wasn’t right in front of him. So how can I… see a light? And why is it so warm? Comforting? Beautiful? Surreal?
Is this… death?
He wanted to reach out, to go to it, but he couldn’t move. His body no longer answered him, and his protectors wouldn’t let him go no matter what he wanted, so all he could do was watch in growing frustration.
And then the light pulsed, and several more waves of mana washed over him.
Had ‘Annabelle’ not been supporting him his proximity would’ve toppled him on the spot. He thought for sure they’d be enough to dislodge his soul from the ruins of his corpus, but instead, he almost felt more alive.
So much more alive, in fact, that the shock to his failing system paralyzed his dying lungs.
He swam inside the unreal moment, blissfully unaware of his pain or impending death as another pulse came, followed by several more in rapid succession.
Each one pieced some of the fragments of his broken being back together, and with his ever greater awareness he realized he was dying, and feared, not death, but separation from this soothing light before him.
No! Not. Yet! That. Light! I. Need. To. See. More!
He squinted, and the light took on a humanoid shape as it drew closer.
Close enough to touch.
He thought he’d reached out, to feel its warmth, but realized that he still couldn’t move. His frustration flared into desperation, and fury exploded in his burning chest as breath continued to elude him.
And then the light touched him.
Everything, everywhere, all at once.
That’s what he felt, or what he thought he felt as something unfathomable, uncontainable, unstoppable, surreal, flooded every corner of his existence. Not judging, examining, weighing, calculating, or scrutinizing, but healing all that he was, and wrapping him in its inexplicable, inescapable, insurmountable, embrace.
At last he was restored.
Whole.
And the pain went away with the fear of the death he once craved.
Then, as he drifted serenely through the soft clouds of near consciousness, a calm female voice spoke like cold rain upon an unsuspecting camper.
Deep in his soul he felt compelled to answer.
He took a deep breath that saved his starved lungs, and said… .