Cole Bennett

The morning sun filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled light onto the small clearing where Cole and Lyrelle sat. The air was crisp and cool, carrying the earthy scent of dew and leaves. Cole leaned back against a moss-covered log, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of dense bread as he watched Lyrelle delicately slice into a piece of fruit with a small, elegant knife.

“You sleep alright?” Lyrelle asked, her voice soft but laced with curiosity.

Cole let out a humorless chuckle, swallowing his bite. “If you count staring at the stars for half the night as sleeping, sure.”

Lyrelle offered him a faint smile, though her sharp eyes didn’t miss the tension in his posture. “Nerves?”

Cole smirked but didn’t answer, instead taking another slow bite of bread. They both knew the answer, but he wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

“Look,” she said gently, setting the knife aside and leaning slightly closer, “Elaris is the best. You saw that yourself when she examined you. If she says she can help you, she means it.”

“Yeah,” Cole muttered, his tone skeptical. “And what happens if she screws up? I don’t exactly have a warranty.”

Lyrelle sighed, her lips quirking into a wry smile. “You’re not a busted cart, Cole.”

He smirked faintly but said nothing, instead glancing at the crutch leaning against the log beside him. It was well-worn, the wood polished smooth from use. After a moment, he picked it up, his movements deliberate as he braced himself to stand.

“You sure about this?” Lyrelle asked, her voice quieter now. “Magic like this—it doesn’t just heal. It… changes things.”

Cole tested his weight on the crutch, his jaw tightening. “What choice do I have? Keep hobbling around until something finally finishes me off? Not much of an option.”

Lyrelle’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the mask of stoicism she usually wore slipped. “I just want you to know what you’re getting into. That’s all.”

He looked at her then, his expression hard but not unkind. “I’ve been through worse, Lyrelle. Whatever this is, I’ll deal with it.”

She nodded, stepping back to give him room. “Alright then. Let’s go. Elaris is expecting us.”

Cole shifted his crutch, moving with a practiced efficiency that belied the pain he was clearly in. “Lead the way,” he said, his voice gruff.

As Lyrelle started walking, Cole followed, his steps slow but steady. The forest around them was alive with the sounds of morning.

As Cole leaned on his crutch, his gaze flickered between Lyrelle and the path ahead. His mind raced, a jumble of thoughts and disbelief. The vivid scenery, the otherworldly beauty of the forest around them, the distant sound of birds unfamiliar to him—it was all surreal. He couldn’t shake the nagging sensation that he’d wake up any moment, back in his truck, fishing rod in hand.

“Still think this is a dream?” Lyrelle’s voice broke his reverie, a gentle tease in her tone.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Feels like it. But the pain in my leg says otherwise.”

Lyrelle gave him a sidelong glance, her delicate features lit by the morning sunlight filtering through the trees. “You’ll adjust. It takes time, but soon enough, you’ll see this world for what it is. Strange, yes, but real.”

Before Cole could reply, the forest path opened into a small clearing. Ahead, nestled among the trees, was a modest stone building with a thatched roof. It had an air of warmth and simplicity, with herbs hanging from the eaves and a small garden blooming just outside. A low stone wall encircled the garden, and a faint trail of smoke curled from the chimney.

Lyrelle gestured toward the building. “Elaris is expecting us.”

Cole stopped for a moment, taking it in. “It looks... normal,” he said, almost disappointed. “Guess I was expecting something more—” he paused, searching for the word, “—magical?”

Lyrelle smirked. “You’ve met Elaris, right? Not everything about her is flashy, Cole. Her magic speaks for itself.”

He exhaled and nodded, remembering how Elaris had healed his leg just a few days prior. The searing pain and stiffness that had defined his every step for years had been eased in moments under her care. The memory of her focus and precision reassured him. “Right. Let’s go.”

They approached the door, and before Lyrelle could knock, it swung open. Elaris stood there, her sharp green eyes flickering between them. Her auburn braid had loosened slightly, a testament to the morning’s work, and her hands were still dusted with faint traces of herbs and magical residue.

“Cole,” she greeted with a small smile, stepping aside to let them in. “I take it Lyrelle has convinced you about the operation?”

“Something like that,” Cole replied, though his tone held faint amusement.

Elaris gestured to a familiar chair near her worktable. “Please, sit”

Cole hobbled to the seat, lowering himself carefully as Lyrelle leaned against the doorframe. Elaris moved around her workspace, retrieving a handful of vials, a parchment scroll, and a delicate piece of crystal that shimmered faintly in the light.

“Cole,” she began, her tone calm but direct, “you understand what you’re asking for, don’t you? This isn’t just about fixing what’s broken. This operation... it’s going to change things. More than just your back.”

Elaris’s sharp gaze softened slightly at Cole’s words, and she pulled a stool closer, sitting down across from him. “No, Cole. You won’t turn into a monster,” she said evenly. “But this process will change you in ways we can’t fully predict. It’s not about the surface—it’s what happens within.”

Cole frowned, leaning back in his chair but keeping his grip on the armrests. “What kind of changes?”

Elaris exchanged a glance with Lyrelle, her expression unreadable. “Nothing unnatural,” she said carefully. “But the magic involved will heal you, yes, and it will alter how your body interacts with the world around you. Beyond that, we can’t say for sure. This type of magic is... temperamental. The effects can vary from person to person.”

“Great,” Cole muttered, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “So I’m signing up for a mystery grab bag of side effects.”

Elaris smiled faintly, though her eyes remained serious. “It’s not a gamble, Cole. We’ve used this procedure before, and it works. But every person reacts differently. Your body will adapt in ways we can’t predict until the process is complete.”

Lyrelle placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. “The choice is still yours, Cole. No one’s forcing you.”

He met her gaze, his jaw tightening. “If it means I can walk again, fight again—hell, live again—I don’t have much of a choice.”

Elaris nodded approvingly. “Good. That’s the right attitude. Just know that this isn’t a decision to take lightly. The process is intense. I will do my best to mitigate the pain. And you’ll likely need time to recover before you can see the results.”

Cole squared his shoulders, gripping his crutch tightly. “Mitigate the pain? You mean you can’t knock me out or put in some magical sleep coma?” Cole swallowed hard, the weight of Elaris’s words settling heavily in his chest. His grip on the crutch tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Wait, wait, wait, wait…So, you’re telling me I have to be awake while you’re digging metal out of my back?”

Elaris’s expression softened slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Yes. I know it sounds cruel, but it’s necessary. I’ll use magic to dull the pain as much as possible and keep the area stable, but I can’t risk fully putting you under. If something goes wrong and I don’t know it immediately, it could be catastrophic. I need you awake to tell me if you lose feeling somewhere a foot, your leg anything. I would need to know immediately.”

Cole’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the floor. “Well, that’s just great,” he muttered. “This just sounds like a great fucking time. Any other pleasant surprises I should know about?”

Elaris folded her arms, her sharp features softening ever so slightly. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Cole. It will hurt, and it will take every ounce of your strength to get through it. But once it’s over, you’ll have a chance at something better. A chance to live without the constant pain and limitations you’ve endured for years.”

Lyrelle, who had been quietly watching the exchange, stepped closer and placed a comforting hand on Cole’s shoulder. “You can do this,” she said softly. “You’re stronger than you think.”

He exhaled heavily, leaning back in his chair and rubbing a hand over his face. “Damn it,” he muttered. Then, after a long pause, he met Elaris’s gaze. “Alright. Let’s get it over with before I change my mind.”

Elaris nodded, her expression resolute. “I’ll begin the preparations. It’ll take some time to set everything up, so use this chance to rest. Eat something if you can.” She glanced at Lyrelle. “Stay with him. He’ll need support.”

Lyrelle nodded silently, pulling a chair closer to Cole as Elaris moved to gather her tools and supplies. The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire as the gravity of the moment settled over them.

Cole leaned back in the chair, his hand gripping the edge of his crutch so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw clenched as his eyes darted around the room, taking in the shelves of jars, the faint glow of magical artifacts, and Elaris’s steady, practiced movements as she prepared her tools. His breathing was steady but shallow, his chest rising and falling in quick, controlled motions.

His fingers tapped a restless rhythm on the armrest of the chair, the sound barely audible over the crackle of the fire. He shifted his weight slightly, adjusting his position multiple times as if he couldn’t quite get comfortable. His lips pressed into a thin line, and every now and then, his gaze flicked toward the door, then back to Elaris.

Lyrelle, watching him from the corner of her eye, reached out and rested a hand gently on his forearm. “You’ll be alright,” she said softly, her tone calm and reassuring.

Cole gave her a faint nod, though his fingers didn’t stop tapping, and his grip on the crutch remained firm. He let out a quiet exhale, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Elaris moved to the side of the room, arranging her tools and potions with precise efficiency. Without looking up, she spoke, her voice calm but commanding. “Cole, I need you to remove your clothes and lie on the table. The process will require full access to your back and affected areas.”

Cole hesitated for a moment, then let out a dry chuckle. “Guess it’s not the first time you’ve seen me naked, huh?”

Elaris raised an eyebrow, finally turning to look at him, her expression unreadable. Her gaze shifted to Lyrelle, who smirked faintly but said nothing.

Lyrelle shrugged nonchalantly. “He tried to drown himself in the bath when we first met. Someone had to do something.”

Elaris’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile before she shook her head, clearly unimpressed but amused nonetheless. “Well, let’s try to avoid any dramatics this time.”

Cole rolled his eyes but complied, unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging it off with a wince. He carefully climbed onto the table, his movements stiff and deliberate as he lowered himself onto the cool surface. The room felt even colder against his bare skin, and he shivered slightly, glancing up at Elaris.

She approached him with a large, clean sheet in hand, draping it over his lower body with practiced care. “Relax,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’ll be covered. Just try to stay as still as possible.”

Cole rested his head on his folded arms, his muscles taut beneath the sheet. “Yeah, sure. Relax. Easy for you to say.”

Elaris leaned over him, her sharp eyes scanning his back. “Relax, Cole,” she repeated, her voice firm but soothing. “This will only work if you let it.”

Cole frowned but obeyed, shifting onto his stomach with a grunt. The table creaked softly under his weight. His muscles tensed as he felt the cool air against his bare back, and he glanced sideways at Lyrelle, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.

Elaris placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, her touch steady and reassuring. “Cole,” she said calmly, her voice carrying a faint edge of warning, “I’m going to use a skill called Paralytic Touch. It’s a precise spell designed to immobilize select muscles and limbs. You’ll still be able to breathe, turn your head, and speak—but everything else will be locked in place.”

Cole’s brows furrowed as her words sank in. “You’re saying if I move at the wrong time, something could go wrong.”

Elaris didn’t look at him directly but nodded slightly, her fingers still resting lightly on his shoulder. “Correct. This procedure requires absolute precision. If you were to jerk or twitch…” She let the thought trail off, the unspoken consequences heavy in the air.

Cole huffed out a breath, his voice low and dry. “Well, that’s comforting. Just strap me down and call it a day.”

Elaris smirked faintly, shaking her head. “No need for straps. The spell is far more effective.” She crouched slightly, her sharp gaze meeting his. “I won’t lie to you—this will feel strange. But it’s necessary. Trust me.”

Without replying Cole rolled onto his stomach, adjusting himself on the table. The padding felt firm but comfortable, and he noticed a hole for his face to rest in, keeping his body straight and aligned. He shifted slightly, exhaling a long breath as he settled in, his hands gripping the edge of the table instinctively.

Elaris glanced down at Cole's scarred back, her sharp eyes catching the subtle twitch of his muscles. It was a small, involuntary movement, but it spoke volumes. Despite his bravado, he was nervous—perhaps even scared. No amount of reassurance could erase the weight of what he was about to endure.

Elaris pressed her lips into a thin line and lifted her gaze to Lyrelle, who was seated nearby. Without a word, she gave a subtle gesture, tilting her head toward Cole. Lyrelle’s expression flickered with mild exasperation, but she sighed softly and slid her chair closer to the table.

As she moved, the sound of the chair’s legs scraping against the floor drew Cole’s attention. He turned his head slightly, his brow furrowed. Lyrelle gave him a faint, almost teasing smile as she settled beside him.

“Don’t get used to this,” she murmured, her voice light but warm.

Cole huffed out a small, dry laugh, the tension in his body easing just slightly. “I’ll try not to make a habit of it,” he replied, though his voice was still tight.

Elaris allowed herself a faint smile at the exchange, her fingers brushing over a vial of tincture on the nearby tray. “Good. Keep that spirit, Cole. It’ll serve you well.”

Elaris placed a steady hand on Cole’s shoulder, her fingers warm and firm against his skin. She closed her eyes briefly, focusing her energy as she spoke with calm precision. “Paralytic Touch.”

A faint shimmer of light spread from her palm, sinking into Cole’s body like ripples on water. His muscles instantly went slack, the tension melting away as the spell took hold. Elaris kept her hand in place for a moment longer, her sharp eyes observing the subtle shifts in his breathing.

“Good,” she said softly, her voice a steady anchor in the room. “The spell is holding. Can you hear me, Cole?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice muffled slightly by the padded face rest in the table. “Still here. Feels… weird.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“That’s normal,” Elaris reassured him, her tone professional but not unkind. “You’ll feel a heaviness in your limbs, like they’re asleep. That’s exactly what we want.”

She glanced at Lyrelle, who gave a small nod of approval before returning her attention to Cole. “Let me know if anything feels out of the ordinary,” Elaris added.

Cole huffed faintly. “Out of the ordinary? You mean besides lying naked on a table, paralyzed by magic, with two beautiful elves around me? Oh yeah this is just perfectly normal”

Lyrelle smirked faintly, shaking her head. “You’ve still got your sense of humor. That’s a good sign.”

Elaris gave a faint smile as she moved to ready her tools. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Elaris picked up a delicate elven blade from the tray beside her—a tool of fine craftsmanship, so thin and sharp it seemed more like an extension of her hand than a mere instrument. Its polished edge glinted faintly in the soft light of the room as she turned it over, inspecting it with a practiced eye.

She rested the blade momentarily on the tray and stepped back toward Cole, her hands glowing faintly as she cast a series of precise spells. “Localized Numbing,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the air just above his lower back. A soft pulse of magic rippled through his skin, dulling the nerves in the targeted area.

“Minimize Bleeding,” she continued, her tone focused. Another faint shimmer of magic flowed from her hands, creating a subtle barrier to reduce the blood flow during the procedure.

Elaris placed the blade against her tools once more, giving Cole a final glance. “Alright, Cole. We’re ready to begin.”

She positioned herself carefully, the thin blade in hand, as she began the delicate process. “Here we go,” she said quietly, her voice steady and calm, as the room fell into complete, focused silence.

Elaris pressed the blade deeper, her movements precise yet cautious. As she worked, the numbing spell began to wane against the intensity of the procedure. The deeper she cut, the worse the pain became. Cole’s breath came in sharp, ragged gasps, his teeth clenched so tightly it seemed his jaw might crack.

Lyrelle, sitting close to his head, noticed his fingers twitching against the table’s edge, his knuckles white. After hesitating for a moment, she reached out and took his hand, her grip firm and steady. “I’m here, Cole,” she said softly, her voice low and grounding. “Just focus on breathing. One breath at a time.”

Cole didn’t answer, his eyes screwed shut against the pain, but his grip on her hand tightened. His body trembled faintly, the only movement Elaris allowed as she continued her work.

“I know this hurts,” Elaris murmured, her voice calm and measured, “but we’re making progress. Stay with me, Cole. We’re almost to the worst of it.”

His jaw flexed, a low grunt escaping as a fresh wave of pain surged through him. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripping down his temple and onto the padded table. “Damn it…” he managed to choke out, his voice strained and hoarse.

Lyrelle’s grip tightened slightly, her other hand brushing against his forearm in a calming motion. “You’re stronger than this pain,” she whispered. “You’ve survived worse.”

Cole’s breaths came faster for a moment before he forced himself to slow them, focusing on Lyrelle’s voice. His body remained rigid, locked by the spell, but his mind clung to her words like a lifeline.

Elaris paused briefly, wiping the blade clean before angling it again for the next cut. Her eyes flicked to Cole’s face, assessing his endurance. “The metal is close,” she said softly. “This is where it will hurt the most. But after this, we can start removing the fragments.”

Cole didn’t respond, his teeth grinding audibly as he braced himself for the next surge of pain. His grip on Lyrelle’s hand tightened further, his breath shuddering as Elaris continued her work.

The room was silent except for the faint sound of the blade and Cole’s ragged breathing. Elaris’s expression remained stoic, her hands steady as she navigated the delicate layers of tissue. Lyrelle stayed by Cole’s side, her presence unwavering, her touch a quiet reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Elaris’s blade reached the metal shard, glinting faintly under the low light. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she carefully maneuvered the blade around it, loosening the piece embedded so dangerously close to his spine.

Cole’s breath hitched, a guttural sound escaping his throat as the pain intensified beyond anything he’d endured before. His body, though immobilized by the spell, strained against itself, his fingers twitching involuntarily as he clung to Lyrelle’s hand like a lifeline.

“Almost there,” Elaris murmured, her voice steady but quiet. “Stay with me, Cole.”

But when she began to extract the shard, the pain became unbearable. A raw, primal roar tore from Cole’s throat, echoing through the room. His face twisted in agony, veins bulging against his neck as he gritted his teeth, but it did nothing to muffle the sound.

Lyrelle’s grip tightened around his hand, her other hand instinctively moving to his shoulder in an attempt to ground him. “Cole!” she called out, her voice firm but laced with concern. “Breathe. Just breathe. You’re almost there!”

Elaris didn’t falter, her hands steady as she worked the shard free. “I know it hurts,” she said sharply, her focus unwavering. “But you have to endure this, Cole. We’re so close. Just hold on!”

Cole let out another strained growl, his nails digging into Lyrelle’s palm as the pain reached its crescendo. His breathing was ragged and shallow, and sweat poured from his forehead, pooling beneath him on the padded table.

Then, with a final, precise movement, Elaris removed the shard. The sound of metal hitting a nearby tray was sharp and jarring, a strange punctuation to the silence that followed.

“It’s out,” Elaris said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. “The worst is over.”

Cole’s body relaxed slightly, his head slumping forward against the padding as he fought to catch his breath. Lyrelle leaned closer, brushing damp hair from his forehead. “You did it,” she murmured softly, her voice gentle now. “It’s out.”

Cole didn’t respond immediately, his chest heaving as he forced air into his lungs. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he rasped, “That… sucked.”

Lyrelle let out a small, relieved laugh, her grip on his hand finally loosening. “You did well.”

Elaris placed the shard aside and began quickly casting spells to stop the bleeding and repair the damaged tissue. “You did well, Cole,” she said quietly, her tone carrying a rare note of praise. “We’re not done yet, but that was the hardest part.”

Cole gave a faint, humorless chuckle, his voice still hoarse. “Good to know... the hardest part’s over.” His grip on Lyrelle’s hand remained, as though still anchoring him to the moment.

Elaris wiped her hands clean, setting aside the bloodied tools with precision. She stepped closer to Cole, her sharp gaze softening slightly as she addressed him.

“Now, Cole,” she began, her voice calm but serious, “this is the complicated part. The pain from the cutting is over, but we’re not done. This is where the magic takes over—and it won’t be entirely comfortable. Healing potions don’t work the same way on deep wounds like this when applied directly, especially combined with the enchantments I’ll be using.”

Cole’s breath was still ragged, but he managed to lift his head slightly, his voice hoarse. “Not comfortable? You’ve got a hell of a talent for understatement, Elaris.”

Lyrelle gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her tone soothing. “It’s almost done. Just focus on breathing, Cole.”

Elaris didn’t wait for further comments. She picked up a small, intricately engraved vial containing a vibrant, glowing liquid. “This is a concentrated healing potion,” she explained. “It’s strong, but when applied directly, it accelerates the body’s natural regeneration. Combined with magic, it can work wonders—or chaos, if not done correctly. That’s why precision is everything.”

She tilted the vial carefully, letting a single drop fall into the open wound. As soon as it touched his skin, a sharp, searing sensation spread from the wound. Cole winced, a low groan escaping him, his body instinctively trying to pull away despite the paralysis spell.

“Easy,” Elaris murmured, steadying him with a firm hand. She began chanting softly, her words a string of unfamiliar syllables that seemed to hum with power. A faint glow began to radiate from her hands as she guided the potion’s effects, coaxing the magic to weave into the damaged tissue.

The sensation shifted—still intense, but less painful—like heat flooding his back and flowing through his veins. It was strange, almost alive, as if the magic were threading itself into his very being. Cole gritted his teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow as the process continued.

Elaris paused for a moment, letting the magic settle before adding another drop of potion. “You’re doing well, Cole,” she said evenly, her hands never faltering. “This is the hardest part for me, too. The balance is delicate, and I need you to stay as still as possible.”

He let out a strained breath. “Not... like I have much of a choice,” he muttered.

Lyrelle smirked faintly, brushing her free hand over his damp hair. “You’ll make it.”

The process continued, slow and methodical, each drop of the potion accompanied by Elaris’s steady incantations. The wound began to close, the torn tissue knitting together as the magic worked its way deeper. The faint glow intensified, illuminating the room with a warm, golden light.

Finally, Elaris straightened, her hands glowing faintly as she completed the last spell. “It’s done,” she announced, her voice firm but tinged with relief. “The wound is healed. Now we’ll see if your body responds the way it should.”

Cole let out a long, shaky breath, his muscles finally relaxing. “Let’s just hope I don’t start glowing in the dark or something,” he muttered.

Elaris allowed herself a small smile. “You won’t. But don’t move just yet. I need to undo the paralysis spell carefully.”

She placed her hands on his shoulders again, murmuring a counter-spell under her breath. As the magic released him, Cole felt a rush of sensation returning to his limbs, his muscles stiff but functional. Lyrelle helped him sit up slowly, her hands steadying him.

“How do you feel?” Elaris asked, her sharp eyes watching him intently.

Cole rotated his shoulders gingerly, wincing slightly but managing a faint smirk. “Like I crap. But... better, I think.”

Elaris nodded. “Good. That’s a start.”

Elaris reached into her satchel and pulled out a small vial filled with a bright, shimmering liquid. She handed it to Lyrelle with a steady hand, her expression calm but serious. “This is a high-concentration healing potion,” she explained. “He’ll need another dose tonight, and one more in the morning. That should stabilize him, depending on how his body reacts to the magic.”

Lyrelle took the vial carefully, holding it up to examine the glowing liquid inside. “Will this be enough?” she asked, her voice low as her eyes flicked to Cole, who was still sitting on the table, clearly drained but alive.

Elaris nodded, her sharp gaze never leaving Cole. “It should be. His body is strong, and with the magic now infused, it’ll work with the potion to speed up the healing process. But...” She paused, her tone shifting slightly, “if anything unusual happens—if his condition worsens or he shows any signs of instability—you bring him back to me immediately.”

Cole, still catching his breath, raised an eyebrow. “Instability? What kind of ‘unusual’ are we talking about here?”

Elaris met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “Unusual would be anything from fevered shaking to uncontrolled surges of energy. If you feel like something’s wrong, say so. This is uncharted territory, Cole. The procedure was precise, but every body reacts differently.”

Lyrelle slipped the vial into a small pouch at her side, giving Cole a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Cole smirked faintly, his exhaustion clear in the way his shoulders sagged. “Good to know I’ve got a babysitter.”

Elaris crossed her arms, her stern expression softening just slightly. “Rest is crucial now. The next twenty-four hours are going to tell us everything we need to know. Stay quiet, stay hydrated, and don’t push yourself.”

Lyrelle nodded. “Understood. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless.”

“Good,” Elaris replied. “Now get him back to rest. And remember—tonight and tomorrow morning. Don’t miss a dose.”

With that, she stepped back, allowing Lyrelle to help Cole off the table. “Take care, Cole,” she said, her voice softer now. “This was the first step. The rest is up to you.”

The early afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of Lyrelle’s home, casting soft light across the neatly kept room. Cole lay stretched out on a cot near the hearth, his body stiff and sore from the morning’s ordeal. A low stack of pillows supported his back, and a heavy blanket was draped over his legs, though he had already kicked it down several times, much to Lyrelle’s annoyance.

She moved efficiently about the room, gathering a few small items and stuffing them into a satchel. Her footsteps were light, but her presence filled the space with a quiet sense of purpose.

“Do you need anything before I head out?” she asked without looking at him, her tone brisk but not unkind. “Water? Food?”

“I’m fine,” Cole replied, though there was a touch of irritation in his voice. “You’ve already done enough.”

Lyrelle paused, giving him a sidelong glance. “Enough? I’m not the one who had metal pulled out of my spine this morning. Forgive me for checking.”

He sighed, adjusting himself against the pillows with a wince. “I appreciate it, really. I just… I’m good. I’ll survive.”

She arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned against the table near the door. “Surviving isn’t the goal here, Cole. Healing is. And that means following instructions. Specifically, Elaris’s instructions, which were very clear: stay in bed, rest, and for the love of the gods, don’t try to get up.”

“I’m not planning on running a marathon,” he shot back, though his faint smirk betrayed his attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll stay put.”

Lyrelle’s sharp green eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unconvinced. “See that you do. Because if I come back and find you trying to prove how tough you are, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

“Duly noted,” he muttered, his smirk fading as the weight of her words settled in. He glanced toward the door, his brow furrowing. “Where are you going, anyway?”

“I’ve got a few things to take care of,” she said simply, hoisting the satchel over her shoulder. “Supplies to pick up, people to check in with. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Her tone left no room for argument, but she stepped closer to the cot, her expression softening slightly. “Get some rest, Cole. You’ll need it. And don’t get up—at all.”

He raised a hand in mock surrender, though the tension in his jaw betrayed his unease. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a faint huff of amusement, she turned toward the door. “Good. I’ll be back in a few hours. Stay out of trouble.”

The door creaked as she opened it, and sunlight spilled briefly into the room before it closed again, leaving Cole alone. The quiet hum of the house settled over him, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearth. He exhaled slowly, staring up at the wooden beams above him.

“Rest, she says,” he muttered, shifting slightly as discomfort pulled at his body. “Sure. Easy enough.”

His fingers twitched, brushing against the edge of the blanket as his thoughts wandered. For now, he obeyed—but the itch to move, to do something, lingered just beneath the surface.

Lyrelle returned, summoned once again to speak with the Verdant Sovereign. He regarded her with his usual calm authority.

"How did the operation fare, and how soon will our guest be on his feet?" the Verdant Sovereign inquired.

"The operation was successful," Lyrelle replied. "By tomorrow morning, he should be able to walk, but he won't be ready to begin training for a few days yet."

Apologies for the confusion earlier—that name was entirely unnecessary. Let me correct it and maintain the focus on the Verdant Sovereign without introducing extraneous elements.

Lyrelle returned, summoned once again to speak with the Verdant Sovereign. His steady gaze met hers as he began, “Yes, but he will be able to walk?”

“Yes, Verdant Sovereign,” Lyrelle replied, her tone steady. “But he might still be fairly weak.”

“Understandably,” the Verdant Sovereign said, leaning forward slightly. “But we have a contact on the outside who is going to meet with him.”

“You have someone coming here? Is it another elf?” Lyrelle asked, her tone sharp with surprise.

“No, Lyrelle,” he replied. “He will be leaving and training with our contact on the outside. He is of no use to us here.”

“You can’t send him away in his condition!” Lyrelle protested, stepping closer. “He might not even make it to the contact!”

“That’s a risk we will have to take,” the Verdant Sovereign said firmly. “We can’t afford to harbor him here any longer than we already have. The council has gathered and spoken again. They believe his presence is weakening our wards. Whatever magic or artifact brought him here seems to be affecting this place. The council has decided that he cannot remain. Therefore, he will be handed over to one of our outside contacts to train with them. Besides, the experience will do him good.”

“This isn’t right, Verdant Sovereign,” Lyrelle said, her voice rising. “He took the oath.”

“He took the oath in order not to die,” the Verdant Sovereign replied, his tone colder now.

Lyrelle’s jaw tightened. “Then I’m going with him.”

“No, you are not,” the Verdant Sovereign said sharply. “Lyrelle, you are a Pathfinder and needed here.”

“You can’t keep me here,” she shot back. “We are free to leave if we choose. If you’re sending him away, then I go with him.”

The Verdant Sovereign leaned back in his chair, his piercing green eyes cutting into her. The silence stretched, thick with tension, before he spoke again, his voice a low command.

“Then so be it. You’ll both be leaving tomorrow. Neither of you will be returning. Ever.”

Lyrelle stormed out of the council chambers and into the city below, fury simmering just beneath the surface. How could they justify this? The decision felt wrong, no matter how they framed it. The city suddenly felt small, suffocating, its familiar streets now a cage. She forced herself to stand tall. Fine. She had a lot to do before tomorrow morning.

Cole lay in bed, staring at the wooden beams above, the steady rhythm of his breathing filling the quiet room. He shifted slightly to one side, then the other, testing his body. Surprisingly, he felt... good. There was a slight stiffness in his muscles, but his back—his back didn’t hurt. For the first time in years, there was no deep, throbbing ache, no sharp twinge waiting to punish any sudden movement.

Cautiously, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up a little straighter, propping himself up on his elbows. He was half-expecting something to seize up or for a bolt of pain to remind him not to push too hard. But it didn’t come. He ran a hand down his thigh and rolled his shoulders. A grin tugged at his lips.

“Not bad,” he murmured to himself. He wasn’t entirely sure what they’d done to him, but it had worked. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he could actually move without hesitation.

He braced his hands on either side of the mattress and prepared to push himself fully upright when the door slammed open with enough force to make the hinges groan.

The sound startled him so badly that he flopped back onto the bed, his head bouncing lightly against the pillow. His heart jumped as his eyes darted to the doorway just in time to see Lyrelle sweep past, her face set in a stormy scowl. Her stride was purposeful, her movements sharp with agitation. He caught a faint trail of muttered Elven words—sharp, biting, and entirely unrecognizable to him but then again words in a proper tone convey there meaning across language boundaries.

From somewhere farther down the hall came a loud clatter, followed by a more forceful stream of Elven. Cole flinched at the sound, recognizing anger when he heard it. He didn’t know who had provoked her, but he sure as hell didn’t want to find out.

As her footsteps grew louder again, he considered getting up to meet her halfway, but the idea quickly evaporated when she stopped just outside his door. Lyrelle turned her fiery green gaze on him, and he immediately froze.

“Be still. Do not get up,” she snapped, her voice like a whip. Without waiting for a response, she stormed off, her boots pounding against the floor as she disappeared down the corridor.

Cole let out a slow breath, staring at the doorway she’d vanished through. He was still feeling good—great, even—but suddenly, the thought of getting up and dealing with Lyrelle in her current mood felt like a terrible idea.

With a resigned sigh, he let himself sink back into the bed, folding his arms behind his head. “Yep,” he muttered under his breath, “I'm not messing with that.”

Lyrelle stormed out of her quarters, her coin pouch clutched tightly in hand, the fabric straining under the weight of every piece she’d ever saved together. Her jaw was set, her shoulders rigid, and her glare was enough to send most people scattering out of her way. Those few bold enough to meet her eyes quickly regretted it, as her scowl deepened with every glance she caught.

"Mind your own business," she muttered under her breath, the words sharp and bitter. Her anger simmered just below the surface, threatening to boil over at the slightest provocation. The familiar streets of the city felt claustrophobic, every turn pressing in on her like a cage. She clenched her jaw tighter and forced herself to keep moving.

Her first stop was back to Elaris’ dwelling. The faint, herbal scent that always lingered around the entrance greeted her as she pushed the door open, stepping inside without so much as a knock. The healer, a middle-aged elf with soft eyes and a calming demeanor, glanced up from their work, eyebrows raised in mild surprise.

"Lyrelle," the Elaris said, setting down a bundle of herbs. "Is something wrong with Cole?"

“No,” she snapped, then exhaled sharply, forcing herself to reign in her tone. "Sorry. It’s just… this whole thing is ridiculous."

Elaris studied her for a moment “what exactly is ridiculous?"

Lyrelle paced the small room, her boots tapping sharply against the wooden floor as she struggled to contain the storm brewing inside her. She finally stopped, turning to Elaris with a mix of frustration and disbelief.

“The council,” she said, her voice sharp, “they’ve decided he has to leave. Tomorrow. Cole’s barely recovered, and they’re throwing him out into the wilderness like he’s nothing but a threat.”

Elaris’s brow furrowed, their soft features creasing with concern. “They’re sending him away? Why?”

“They claim his presence is weakening the wards,” Lyrelle spat, the words heavy with disdain. “Some nonsense about whatever magic brought him here disrupting the balance. It’s absurd.”

Elaris sighed, moving to sit on a nearby stool. “I can understand their concern, but that does seem… extreme. Especially given his condition.”

“Extreme doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Lyrelle snapped. “He’s not ready. They expect him to survive out there and make it to some contact of theirs? It’s reckless.”

Elaris tapped their fingers against the edge of the table, thoughtful. “It’s not like the council to make such a rash decision. There must be more to this than they’re saying.”

Lyrelle scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. “More politics, no doubt. Always politics with them. But it doesn’t matter. He’s not staying here, and they’ve made it clear that if I go with him, I’m not welcome back either.”

Elaris looked up sharply. “You’re going with him?”

“Yes,” Lyrelle said firmly.

Elaris was silent for a moment, their expression shifting between worry and understanding. Finally, they nodded. “I don’t agree with their decision, Lyrelle, but… you know what this means for you. For both of you.”

Lyrelle’s expression softened, just a fraction, but the fire in her eyes remained. “I know. But I’ve made my decision. If they are willing to throw out someone who took an oath for them—someone who just endured what he went through hours ago, not only for himself but to be of service to them—then I’m leaving with him.”

Elaris’s brows drew together in concern. “It’s not an easy road ahead, Lyrelle. You’re trading certainty and safety for… the unknown.”

Lyrelle straightened, her jaw tight with conviction. “Better the unknown than staying here, watching them discard people when it’s inconvenient. If this is how they treat those who stand for them, then I want no part of it.”

Elaris sighed, resting a hand on the table. “You’re a better person than they deserve, Lyrelle. If anyone can see him through this, it’s you.”

“I’ll do what I must,” Lyrelle said, her voice steady. “For him and for my own conscience.”

Elaris nodded thoughtfully, their expression softening. “Then you’re here for supplies—healing items for the road, right?”

Lyrelle exhaled slowly, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “Yes. I want to make sure we’re prepared for anything. I also wanted to ask if you thought Cole would need anything else for his recovery.”

Elaris tilted their head, considering. “No, the potion I gave you earlier will cover his healing. But if you stop by in about thirty minutes, I can have a full supply of potions ready for you—healing, mana, stamina, anti-toxin, and anything else you might need.”

“Perfect,” Lyrelle said with a nod. “Let me know what I owe you. I’ve got a few other stops to make, but I’ll be back then.”

Cole woke from a nap when he heard the door open, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the room. He shifted slightly on the bed as Lyrelle stepped inside, her movements purposeful but quiet.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, pulling a chair from the desk and setting it beside the bed before sitting down.

Cole rubbed his face, blinking away the remnants of sleep. “Honestly? I feel... good. Like, really good. Pretty sure I could get up if I... well... if you let me.”

“Not yet,” Lyrelle said firmly, reaching over to the desk. “But we need to talk.” She picked up a small glass and the bottle of concentrated healing potion Elaris had given her earlier. Pouring out the first dose, she handed it to him.

Cole took the glass, hesitating for a moment as he studied her. “This about why you were so upset earlier?”

Lyrelle’s jaw tensed visibly, her grip tightening on the bottle. “Yes. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

Cole blinked, confusion crossing his face as he handed back the empty glass. “Leaving? Where are we going? I thought I was supposed to start training soon. That you were supposed to start training me.”

Lyrelle set the glass down and leaned back slightly in her chair. Her expression was hard as she explained the meeting she’d had with the Verdant Sovereign—how the council had decided Cole couldn’t remain in the city and that he was to be sent to meet an outside contact.

Cole frowned, his brows drawing together. “Well, that’s just fucking great. So, you’re dropping me off with this contact of theirs, then?”

“No,” Lyrelle said sharply, her voice cutting through the air. “I am not.”

Cole stared at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean exactly?”

“It means,” Lyrelle said, her voice steady but firm, “that you and I are leaving the city. Then the forest. I’m traveling with you—wherever we decide to go—and I’ll train you as we move. We’re heading north. I have a contact that way, and I believe they might be able to help.”

Cole’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No, no, no,” he said, pushing himself upright on the bed.

“Lie down, Cole,” Lyrelle said sharply, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“No, fuck that,” he shot back, ignoring the protest from his stiff muscles. “You told me elves who leave can’t come back. You can’t walk away from your home, from your people, for some random asshole who just popped up out of the blue. I can’t ask you to do that, Lyrelle.”

She leaned forward, her green eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made him stop mid-breath. “You didn’t ask me,” she said quietly. “I made this choice. And I don’t take it lightly.”

Cole shook his head, frustration and guilt tightening his chest. “But it’s not right. You don’t even know me. This is your life, your home—how can you just leave all that behind for someone like me?”

Lyrelle exhaled sharply, standing and pacing to the edge of the room. She turned back to him, her voice firm but not unkind. “Because it’s the right thing to do. And if staying here means abandoning someone who trusted me to help them—someone who swore an oath for this city and its people—then this isn’t my home anymore.”

Cole stared at her, speechless, the weight of her words settling over him. He wanted to argue, to push back, but he could see the resolve in her eyes. This wasn’t just a decision for him—it was a decision about what kind of person she was. What could he say about that…

“I’ve already purchased everything we’ll need,” Lyrelle said, her tone firm but carrying a hint of weariness. “I got you armor, clothing, weapons—everything you’ll need—and everything we’ll need for traveling and your training.”

Cole opened his mouth to protest again, but she cut him off with a sharp look.

“We leave in the morning, Cole. So, you should rest, because tomorrow is going to be long.”

Her words were final, and the weight of them hung in the room. She stepped back toward the door, pausing just long enough to glance over her shoulder.

With that, she left the room, leaving Cole alone with his thoughts.