Elias hobbles his way to the subway, his worn-out leather boots without socks causing agony with every step. Blisters upon blisters throb painfully, providing a fleeting distraction from his broken rib and bruised body. He clutches the ivory vial tightly in the palm of his hand, yearning to examine its delicate craftsmanship and trace the intricate golden veins that adorn it, but he fears attracting unwanted attention.

Descending the subway stairs with the caution of an elderly man, he finally finds solace beneath the bustling streets, where cold rain no longer drenches his overgrown hair. An attempt to wipe the moisture from his stubbled face reveals that his sleeve is even wetter than his cheeks.

Casting anxious glances in every direction, Elias locates a secluded corner devoid of prying eyes. The subway has departed, leaving the tunnel deserted. He takes a moment to steal a glance at the gem held within his palm, opening it up for closer inspection. The vial, a masterpiece of a skilled craftsman reveals a small cork tightly wedged at its top.

Recalling the man in the orange suit’s words about drinking from it, Elias warily scans his surroundings once more. With a careful grip, he manages to pry the cork free, and a sweet fragrance wafts from the empty vessel. Peering inside, he discovers it devoid of even a single drop.

Disappointed yet intrigued, he pushes the cork back into place. His fingers trace the golden chain attached to the vial, and he decides to hide it around his neck, tucking it beneath the collar of his tattered, dirt-streaked shirt.

The man had mentioned something about praying to the EverAm. Elias gazes at the tunnel’s ceiling, trying to envision the god of the sky. What was the EverAm doing up there? Why would he pay heed to the prayer of a man from the Valley? What should he even pray for?

The rain pattering above adds a chill to his already shivering body. He reminds himself not to rub his arms for warmth, fearing it might intensify the pain in his ribs. Instead, he struggles to control his tremors.

“If you can see me EverAm if you can hear me.” Elias ponders, what does one ask of the EverAm? What do you ask of someone so far above you? So unreachable. “Grant me a glimmer of hope in this world and I will endure countless beatings while I await your guidance.” It seems good. He doubts it would pass the critiques of a priest, but he feels a fire in his heart as he says the words. The words resonate with him, despite their potential inadequacy in the eyes of a priest. A fire kindles within his heart as he speaks the words aloud.

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“I am unworthy to address you. Born in the mire of the Valley, even my own mother abandoned me. For thirty years, I’ve hidden my face from you. I speak to you tonight because a stranger showed me kindness and said I should, yet I know not what I am meant to say.” The wondrous warmth in his chest coincides with lightness as if the constriction around his chest slowly unraveled. Strangely enough, it feels as if you are listening.”

He retrieves the vial from his shirt and opens the cork once again. Within, swirling liquid gleams brightly, radiating a white glow. Surprised and taken aback, Elias jolts upright, his breath catching in his throat. The fear of this peculiar and miraculous sight grips him tightly.

Swirling with anticipation, the liquid dances within the vial, captivating his gaze. Overwhelmed by curiosity and a surge of newfound courage, Elias raises the vial to his lips and takes a daring sip. The taste is an exquisite blend of milk and honey, cool upon his tongue and warm as it courses through his belly. It feels alive, and vibrant, like a tempest contained within.

As he focuses on the storm brewing inside him, Elias realizes that he possesses control over its direction and intensity. He pushes the surging power upward, directing it toward his broken rib, and to his astonishment, the stabbing pain subsides. A moan of relief escapes his lips, mingled with tears of joy. With trembling hands, he reaches up to touch his rib, applying pressure gradually until he is fully convinced of the miraculous healing that has taken place. The rib is whole again.

The storm within still rages, and now Elias directs its current downward, toward his bruised legs. He yelps with delight as the swirling energy washes away the soreness, soothing the aches and pains. It even cools the blisters on his feet. Overwhelmed by the transformation, he kicks off his boots, revealing feet that bear no trace of blisters or redness.

“You are…” Elias’s eyes widen, searching for words to describe the indescribable. “Magnificent.” The word feels inadequate, but it is the grandest expression he can summon from his humble vocabulary. Still, the storm rages within him, empowering him, and invigorating him. He feels almost younger, and stronger.

Once again, he gazes into the now empty vial, perplexed by its contents. What had the man given him? He must find him, thank him. No, more than that-he should serve him. Elias chuckles at the audacity of such a thought. But what could he offer in return? What did he truly possess?

Summoning the storm from his hand, he is astounded as his fingertips begin to emit a gentle, ethereal glow. It flickers and dances like a miniature flame, mesmerizing in its brilliance. What do I have? Elias ponders the question, his mind racing with the possibilities.