“To be possessed by a fear of the future is natural, it is the unknown. Without falling victim to the fallacy of inductive reasoning, there is no possible way in which events yet to come can be predicted. But to be possessed by a fear of events that have already passed is a sickness. To obsess over that which has been and will never again be is madness. One does not cross the same river twice, and the bed that felt so vast and warm in your childhood no longer fits you as an adult. Change is the only constant in this universe and accepting that change within yourself is vital. When something happens to a person, it is that person’s responsibility to put it into the greater context of the continuum of all events in their life, and to shape themselves using the tools provided to ensure that all weaknesses of character that those events provoked are repaired. Self-reflection is at the core of every successful philosophy. One cannot improve if one does not know oneself, but neither too can one improve if they dwell endlessly upon the past instead of moving forward. Change is inevitable, but whether that change is growth or entropy depends on the choices we make.”
—The Psychology of the Wizard, Remo Aurea
There was no gentle awakening for Sylvas this time. The medic slapped him fully across the face to rouse him. “Ow.”
“Oh no, I seem to have bumped you.” The half-elf said in monotone. “How terrible. I hope that I have no exacerbated your injuries or caused you pain.”
Sylvas narrowed his eyes. “I’m fine, thank you for your concern.”
“Not content to shatter every bone in your body through magical means, you decided to go all natural this time around?” There was a smile plastered over the medic’s face which spoke to a world of pain in Sylvas immediate future. He glanced from side to side, but it seemed that once again he was the last of the injured to recover.
Aching all over, Sylvas grumbled. “If I could have avoided falling then I would have.”
“Would you though? Would you have?” The medic drew uncomfortably close. “Because it feels like you would have seen the opportunity to take a swan dive and went right for it.”
Sylvas spent a lot of time keeping everything that he felt to himself, but at this particular moment, with his bones painfully knitting back together and more than one organ feeling distinctly bruised, his composure slipped just a little. His answer came out low as a growl. “It was a live combat drill. What was I supposed to do?”
The half-elf flung her hands up in the air. “The same thing as every other student on campus; come in and get your extremely minor injuries patched up after getting hit by some spell or another, not fling yourself from the top of a high place and make no effort to break your fall.”
As his heart beat harder and his anger mounted, the periphery of Sylvas vision darkened. “I didn’t fling… Bael broke the tower I was on.”
“Do you think that I’m unaware of your capabilities? Do you think any information on what you’ve done to yourself doesn’t come to me? You have a gravity affinity and an embodiment that allows you to exploit that to reduce your own weight at will. So far, you’ve used it primarily for the purposes of self-destruction, but surely even someone as intent as you are on dying is aware that it could also have been used to prevent your fall from being so lethal?”
Sylvas rallied, “If I’d done that, then…”
“Then you would have lost the game that they have you playing. I’m aware. But what you and the others do not seem to be aware of is that there are consequences to your actions. The Crest preserves you in whatever state you were so that I can patch you up, but instant death can outpace the Crest with ease. Not to mention the ongoing problems that you are liable to cause yourself with these constant injuries. Your bones broke so easily this time because of how thoroughly you shattered them before. There was no time for them to harden and thicken after your prior injury. Every time you throw yourself into a life and death situation, it ticks closer and closer to being a matter of certain death, and you don’t seem to care.”
Sylvas lay sullenly staring at the ceiling for a moment, then grumbled out. “I care.”
Apparently, that wasn’t good enough. “I am going to be recommending you for psychological evaluation.”
“Oh come on!” He tried to sit up but the strength of his arms betrayed him and he did little more than flop.
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A slate had been summoned to the medic’s hand, and the request was being sent. “If there had been one or two incidents of self-harm, it would be one thing, but this is a disturbing pattern.”
Sylvas tried not to grit his teeth, since they too felt fragile still. “I am not trying to hurt myself.”
The medic rolled her eyes. “Then why are we on a first name basis, Sylvas?”
“I don’t know your first name.”
“Suicidal and rude.”
He called after her as she walked away. “When can I leave?”
“When I say you can leave.” She replied, curtly. Then with a flick of her wrist and a little kinesis, the curtain around his little cubicle swept shut leaving him alone again.
Pain was familiar. His oldest companion that had followed after him all the way from his dead world to wherever he fled. If he was honest, most of it had been self-inflicted. His drive to succeed and be accepted had made him push far beyond what anyone else would consider a sensible limit, and his desire to win, to be the best, had resulted in him making decisions that ended in what could only be described as pyrrhic victories. He fought and he won, and he fought, and he won, but the costs went on mounting, and the price he had to pay always seemed to be his own suffering.
“I am not trying to hurt myself.” He repeated softly to himself but in the privacy of his thoughts, he could be more honest. I’m willing to hurt myself when I need to. But that’s… that’s courage. That’s conviction. That’s what the Ardent want from me.
That last thought left him stewing in his own thoughts. He had completely given up all his autonomy when he joined the Heralds back on Croesia, and now he was doing the same thing again. Letting his body and his mind be used by whoever was in charge without any care for the damage it was going to do him. Why?
He wasn’t stupid. He could recognize that no small part of the Ardent training was conditioning, trying to shape their minds into the perfect little soldiers to go out and fight the threats that a regular military couldn’t. He wasn’t oblivious to his own past either, when he had been offered a chance at becoming part of something bigger than himself before, he had charged ahead completely blindly, giving up everything to become the Herald’s chosen one. And now, with his Affinity and his drive and his talent, he was trying to become the Ardent’s chosen one too. The most favorite son of a parent that considered him nothing more than a game-piece.
There was a black hole inside of him that had nothing to do with the pull of gravity and everything to do with loss. He couldn’t even remember his parents, and each time that he thought he might find somewhere new to belong, it had been snatched away from him. His whole world had died, because he had been so eager to please. So desperate to do whatever it took to be important. Too important to throw away.
When the medic came back, Sylvas stopped her in her movements with a loose grip on her wrist. “I’m sorry.”
She stared at him blankly. “You’re sorry?”
“That I didn’t learn your name. That I didn’t listen to what you were saying.”
The stare had gone from blank to looking like a valiant attempt was being made to bore a hole in his head by the power of a glare alone. “And this is when you promise to never darken my door again?”
Sylvas opened his mouth to make that promise, but caught himself in time. “I’ll be back here. Probably a lot more than either of us want me to be. I’ve got an affinity so rare nobody really understands it, I’ve got embodiments that use that affinity in ways nobody understands either. I’m going to end up hurting myself sometimes, not because I want to, or because I’m not being careful, but because it’s… inevitable.”
Settling onto a chair by the side of his cot, she waved at him to continue. “And here come the excuses.”
“No excuses. You were right, I’ve been reckless.” It pained Sylvas to admit to anything of the sort, but until he had worked out exactly what fault in his personality drove him to such excesses, he had to play nicely. “With my safety. With… everything. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”
She wasn’t buying anything that he was selling. “So, I’ll just cancel the psychological evaluation now you’ve had a whole five minutes of introspection, shall I?”
“I’d prefer that.” He answered with blunt honesty. There was no point in beating around the bush.
“Of course you would. And that’s what this little speech was all about, right? Getting out of it so you can go back to doing whatever you feel like?”
This took more effort than Sylvas would have liked to admit to squeeze out, but after a few deep breaths, he pressed on. “Honestly, I’d just like a bit of time to think about all of this without anyone else trying to climb into my head beside me. If you think that I’d be better off talking to somebody about this right away, then… that’s what I’ll do. But I’d like some more time to think.”
The medic opened and shut her mouth again. Then again. Only speaking the third time when she seemed to have made up her mind. Even if she did look particularly angry at what that mind had settled on. “The first hint, the first suggestion of you putting yourself in harm’s way, and I’ll be writing all of this up. Do you understand me?”
Relief flooded through him. It was bad enough that she knew there was something wrong with him. He didn’t need everyone all the way up the ranks learning about it too. “I understand. Thank you.”
“I’m not kidding, at the first whiff of self-destruction, you get your ass back down here and I pull you off duty. No arguments. No questions.”
He managed a smile. “Yes boss.”
“I am not your boss, I am the only person on this entire planet who doesn’t think your life is an asset to be spent.” She pinched at the bridge of her nose as she motioned with one hand towards the door. “Please do not embarrass me by making this a mistake.”
“I won’t.” Sylvas stated as he nodded back at her. “I promise.”