Tula woke up screaming. She couldn’t escape the beasts even in her dreams. She felt the pain as they ripped through her flesh with their serrated buck teeth, while her screams were muffled by a furry backside. Never had she conceived that bunnies could be so dreadful, so evil. Yet, she could never look at bunnies, any bunny the same way again.
Hoping to be free of the nightmare, she looked to her dominant arm, the one that she’d used to fight off the evil critters. She expected it to be there, to confirm that the events in her nightmares were just that… nightmares.
Yet, to her horror, all that met her was a stump wrapped in tan bandages and clearly soaked in a rose-colored, fragrant, sticky liquid of some kind. Her pupils dilated as her sleep-addled brain struggled to process its new reality. She tried to move it but was rewarded only with shots of phantom pain reminiscent of her nightmares.
“Hey! Are you OK!?” Michael asked, running from… wherever he’d been.
They were in some cave, not that it was that important. It was cold, wet, and miserable. At least, she thought so.
“Do I look like I’m OK!?” She jabbed sharper than she meant to. “MY HAND IS GONE!?”
Yet, despite her rancor, her returned rationality set off alarms as she saw Michael’s reaction. His was a mixture of regret and irritation as if he were wrestling between the two. He was clearly trying to keep his composure, but… his tightening body language betrayed the truth of his façade.
It was painful to watch. Past the painful bite of her experience, she remembered him saving her… somehow. It was too fast to process, but the next part wasn’t. His desperation when trying to save her, his pleas for her to keep conscious – they were genuine. They also rubbed at her pride that was still raw from being shredded.
“Sigh~” the resignation she heard finally broke her out of her episode. “It looks like I worried for nothing.”
“No…” She muttered under her breath. His pause hinted at him hearing her. “I’m…” she struggled to form the words. “I… was wrong…”
And she meant it too. Hindsight painted the whole episode in colors that looked awful on her. She couldn’t pick a single positive thing about her performance. She’d been an idiot, a fool. She let Hector rile her up in a tizzy and… almost died for it. She’d never be the same. The stump she wore was a badge of shame that she’d never be able to live down.
“It’s fine. We’re not exactly innocent ourselves.” Michael placated, clearly trying to make her feel better.
Wait, that hot sensation running down her face. Were those tears? Was she crying?
And from there, any semblance of pride she may have retained washed away in a sobbing fit.
--- The Djinn of Atlantia ---
Hector watched on dispassionately as his best friend tried with pitiful effort to comfort the dead weight. On one hand, it was funny to see him war with his irritation and regret. He’d only woken up recently himself but was seemingly keeping that detail to himself as Candylocks grated at his patience.
Hector had found him knocked out next to a freshly treated Tula. He had to carry the two here. Funnily enough, Tula’d almost reached the Seven Seasons Cave with her little stunt; she was only a couple miles away. It’d been a challenge to get there, but it was easier than it could’ve been. He was thankful he’d bribed some of the aether class kids to teach him a few things. Carrying heavy loads was a lot easier when you had magic helping you out. It also helped that whatever the hell his buddy had done had scared off the wildlife along the path.
And damn, did he have questions.
At first, he thought the whole thing was silly. Tula ran off like an idiot and paid for it. His friend was just lucky his little hero stunt didn’t get him killed. It wasn’t until now though that he realized how complex his own feelings were about the situation.
Seeing Tula’s awake and crying face… seeing her mourning the loss of her arm to whatever those things did to her… He didn’t think he would ever feel anything other than contempt for her. Yet, here he was… struggling to keep apathy as the dominant force in his mind… and failing.
He didn’t bother trying to help; he’d only make things worse. Instead, he decided to distract himself by fulfilling their mission. The moss they were there for was everywhere in this cave. Although he wasn’t an expert picker by any means, he’d done his homework. All he had to do was pull it up and put it in the bags; simple enough.
The day had already changed to the next, so they were already in the desired state. With that being the case, he just needed to pick them while his friend was coddling the deva. That way they could go home quicker. He didn’t want to spend any longer with her than he had to.
As weak as she was, she’d probably drop out the second she got home. He doubted he’d ever see her again, especially now that her little stump gave her a legitimate excuse to quit.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
--- The Djinn of Atlantia ---
After calming Tula down, Michael decided it was time to give her some space. Hector’d already gathered most of the moss so that was done. With Tula quiet and their tasks pretty much taken care of, he allowed himself to focus on the only other relevant item, the only thing he was truly interested in right now.
“Come.” He called to it, reaching out into the air as if to grip it.
A swirling golden portal answered his call. It was small though, too small to be of any use. It wasn’t big enough for anything to fit through. Fortunately, he remembered what the ‘entity’ did to get the hammer out of it. Although it’d called it practically instantly, he’d still seen the process. It forced copious amounts of aether into it, expanding it rapidly before seizing the hammer from its home.
And so, he did. He pulled on his generous reserves and steadily funneled them through his hands into the portal, expanding it slowly. Yet, it was slower than he remembered, much slower. He increased the flow, increasing the rate of expansion until finally, a handle extended out of it, showing it as complete. He pulled its long body from the portal, letting it close behind him.
Instantly, its consumption hit him, pulling 1% of his aether per second. That was on top of the roughly 20% it took just to summon it. Idly, he thought of trying to draw on the land’s aether like the entity had, but his rationality shattered the idea. They were still on a mission; it’d be foolish to try something that risky for nothing. He hadn’t forgotten how debilitating it was for his unconditioned body.
Despite how taxing it was though, he couldn’t help but marvel at its beauty. It was unnecessarily beautiful. It was like the drawings he’d seen in the books, the ones illustrating the weapons wielded by royalty. It was smooth black stone with intricate golden engravings. He didn’t see any of the glowing runes he’d seen the previous times he’d seen it, but that’s likely because he wasn’t funneling any more aether than it was passively taking.
“Looks fancy.” He turned to see Hector approaching.
“Yeah… it’s kind of odd this thing’s supposed to be used in battle.” Michael replied, still marveling at the intricate design.
“You sure the royals won’t get mad?” Hector asked jokingly. “Kinda looks like something that should be stashed in one of their hordes.”
“I have no clue.” Michael replied with a shrug. “From the little Ellua told me back in Gourta, weapons like these chose their wielders. It may not be so simple for them to claim it.”
He dismissed it, watching as it disintegrated into golden motes.
“Ellua… Ellua…” Hector muttered, trying to recall the name. “Oh, you mean Bastilla’s friend, the crazy one?”
“That’s the one.” He replied, not even trying to refute the descriptor.
“You showed her this little toy before me? Moving a little fast, aren’t you?” Hector asked. His tone was less joking and more questioning than it’d been.
“Not quite. She has one too. I got this during a battle she was having. The whole reason she was interested in us in the first place that day was because she recognized me.”
Hector’s brows furrowed, “Sounds like a story.”
Michael didn’t bother to conceal it. Now that he’d accepted the hammer and all that came with it, life would inevitably change. He couldn’t think of a good reason to keep the whole thing a secret, especially when it would likely lead to massive changes in their lives. One thing his mom stressed to him was that major changes in people’s lives rarely affected only themselves; everyone in Artemia was linked and, while all didn’t need the details, as his best friend, keeping the story itself from Hector seemed like it’d do more harm than good.
So, he told the story, starting from his excursion into the woods and extending to yesterday’s events. Hector joked throughout the tale, faking envy, and citing Michael’s stupidity throughout. It was funny for the both of them considering how uncharacteristically he’d acted through these events.
“You know, Bastilla mentioned something like that. Though, when she said you’d gotten involved in something big, I thought she was playing you up. Who knew it’d be this wild?” Hector commented whimsically.
“I’m surprised you’re taking it so well. Honestly, I thought you’d be a little jealous.”
“Meh.” He casually dismissed. “Maybe a bit, but I’m also not stupid. Big things like that rarely come without correspondingly big problems. I’m not trying to work that hard man. I wanna be that guy on the side that gets all the perks without all the politics.”
“Weren’t you trying to get with Bastilla though?”
“Yeah, she deals with the mess, I get to shack up with a hot babe and live it up; it’s a win-win. She can shine for the two of us.”
“Haha, if only it were that easy.”
As they were palling around, the sound of footsteps interrupted them. They turned to see Tula approaching quietly, hand holding her stump. Her downcast eyes were shadowed by her unkempt hair, reflecting the melancholy that still haunted her mood.
“Hey…” She spoke softly, barely discernable to their ears.
Hector opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. His eyes darted to the stump as his reflexive jeers got caught in his throat, unable to push down the shame that’d marred his mood. As he looked between the remnant tracks where her tears had fallen and the stump she clutched with her trembling hand, he struggled to contain his discomfort. All he could do was stay silent.
Seeing his friend’s acquired restraint, Michael sighed in relief. Turning to Tula, he asked, “You OK?”
“…” Tula didn’t answer that, meeting his question with silence. Before he could ask again though, she panned her eyes slowly between the two, silently informing them that they were both being addressed.
“I…” she paused, struggling to form the words.
“I think we’ve moved past the point of judging you, Tula. Whatever’s on your mind, you can say it.” Michael replied, trying to assuage any fears of judgement. The longer it took for her to speak her mind, the more uncomfortable it’d be for all of them.
“P-please…” She struggled to say before taking a deep breath and shouting, “Please train me!!”
The two’s eyes shot open in surprise, stunned at her request.
Her breathing was labored and her tears had resumed their march as she continued her plea, “ *hick - Please… I know it may be a bother… and I-I may not deserve it, but… I don’t want to feel that… t-that helpless again.”
“…” The cave descended into silence. Only the sound of Tula’s sniffling could be heard echoing throughout.
Hector was the first to speak, “Heh, shouldn’t be a bother at all; hell, it’ll be easy. You got two badasses here, one good arm ready for training, and the motivation.”
Michael nodded, silently affirming Hector’s statement. The message was clear, if Tula truly wanted it, they’d help her the best they could. Whether out of guilt or a newfound sense of comradery, the duo felt responsible for getting Tula caught up. Sure, Michael’s mom would likely do the most, but they couldn’t stand aside anymore. For one reason or another, they wanted to be part of it; this memory couldn’t be allowed to remain a tragedy.