*****************************

Blake 'Deathguard' Nightingale

I ignore Prix screaming, knowing she is pretty dramatic, and speed toward the library. The ghostly hand on my back bestows me additional momentum and gives me more balance so I don't fall. This all extends to Prix, too, keeping us moving at a rapid pace. Kwakiteh nods to me as we run, shooting ahead with an odd voice that enters my mind from hers.

"I'll look ahead. Could still be an ambush or something."

I thank her for her care but don't receive a reply and continue on my way. In less than a minute, we traverse a vast portion of the empty and isolated Pridestead, arriving at the library with the laboratory of Eli Weiss hidden underneath. On our way, and especially as we near the library, I notice more and more hints of red along the stones of the city. I don't want to believe it, but I already know the truth. These people were led somewhere by the Nahullo. Perhaps even all of them are already dead. Biting my lip, I climb up the broken and ruined marble steps with Prix still on my back, and I'm surprised as I reach the top.

Wyatt has returned with that Mannequin thing standing eerily still behind him. So have Lennon and Kwakiteh, the two of them sitting on chairs they somehow found undamaged. The slightly older man is rocking back and forth while snoring, utterly unmoved by the scene before him.

I rush forward, bringing Prix to Earl as he works on four men, Virgil, Johnny, Bonfire, and Abraham. Though, the man built of flames is already treated and put on the side. His injuries did seem the least extensive.

"SET ME DOWN!"

Prix screams at me from her position over my back, and I oblige, placing her right before Earl.

"I brought her!"

The genius looks up from Abraham and glances at me for a second with a squint in his eye.

"Brahghg!"

"You brought her vomiting."

"Oh. I thought she was tougher."

Sheepishly, I try to ignore Primrose's words while she keeps Johnny's lungs pumping. And as I feel bad for Prix, I gently tap her on the back. Similar to how I've seen mothers do it to their babes.

"There, there."

"Stop it!"

She pushes my hand off her and kneels beside Johnny. Immediately, even still with a green face, she asks for an update.

"What's the issue with them? Walk me through one by one."

I sit beside Prix, disregarding her stink eye as Earl speaks while cutting open a thin line along Abraham's nose.

"Johnny has some non-physical injury hampering his recovery while his spine is compromised. Without Primrose, he'd have died minutes ago from not being able to breathe. I don't know how to fix that, whatsoever, so please try. Bonfire is fine, just a semi-major concussion—no need to look over him. Abraham has a brain aneurysm, and the only thing my medical book from Scott tells me to do is to place a clamp on it and close up the wound. Thankfully, Kwakiteh over there can see where it is and point me to it. As for Virgil... I'm not sure. He was Flickering in and out of reality for several minutes, but it stopped suddenly. Not much we can do for that."

Prix nods to Earl, shifting to Johnny and rolling him onto his back. I offer my help, hoping that I can do something to help him live.

"Is there anything I can do? Anything at all?"

The medic shakes her head at me while Primrose wags a hand at me.

"Shoo! You'll only get in the way! She needs focus, Blake. Don't distract her!"

My head lowers instinctively, but a hand places itself on my shoulder. Looking up, I find Wyatt. He presents me with a wry smile and a hand to help me up. I take it.

"Sorry. I'm not much help, either. Daydream is on Virgil right now to keep him physical, and I think it helped. But, I have nothing else that will aid."

He pulls me aside and continues, asking me a question as that Mannequin silently follows. Apparently, he finds it uncomfortable as well.

"Can't you transfer Vigor like you did that one time to me? That might be enough to help him. Just ignore her. I have to wait till Earl can take control of her. It's bizarre, I know."

I shake my head as disappointment flows through me. I used all my Vigor stored up in that fight. I could Leech some, but no one here is healthy enough. Except... except for Wyatt. Recently, he hasn't been all that hurt after battles.

He's grown so much from that scrawny little kid. He even has some real muscle now. Nothing like Johnny, but still.

"No. I don't have any stored up. The only person I'd feel comfortable taking it from would be you. Is that fine?"

Wyatt takes only a moment to think before nodding. He then holds out his hand, offering up bits of his own life. I need him to know what this means.

"You sure? When Vigor is taken, it's not just energy. It's lifespan, too. I don't know how much, but it'll be reasonably significant. I'm not even sure it if will work. Is this worth it to you?"

The young man's gaze hardens, and he answers without hesitation as he glances at the gunslinger.

"Yes. Do it. Johnny has done enough for all of us. Without him, I'd have died long ago."

I nod, knowing a similar experience. There is not a person among us from Rustbank or Starkbluffs who doesn't feel similar. Johnny protects us all. So, I reach out and grasp his wrist, Leeching Vigor from him.

Vigor is odd. It's Ether, but it's not. It makes one more energetic, muscular, and physically powerful. It even increases lifespan, which is the reason why Abbots can live so much longer than other Sigileds. Many think that the Prime is part Abbot, attesting it to his century and a half or so of life. But even that comes to an end eventually.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Warmth enters my hand, but I don't let it disperse and heal my minor wounds or store it. Instead, I give Wyatt thanks and move to Johnny. Wyatt wobbles worryingly, but the kid stabilizes after a moment, letting me concentrate on helping.

"Here, I can help a bit. I have some Vigor I can spare."

Prix points to a spot on Johnny's open spine. I almost flinch at the sight, knowing that the man is hurt, but I gather my resolve. Kneeling and leaning over, I place my forefinger against the area—the top of his vertebra on his back. It's corroded, almost slush, and I can see it spreading outward like a plague. The injury is insidious, something only a man as awful as the Viceroy could manage.

I then release the Vigor, gradually compelling it to enter Johnny. And it does. I watch as the flesh and bone around where I indicate slowly recover. As I do so, however, my Vigor fights against whatever was placed within his spine. And as my Vigor battles, it dies out, leaving none left after just ten seconds.

"Damn. That only helped a little. Thank you, Blake. I'll keep on it. It seems as though Vigor fights the symptoms of the wound. We'd need so much more for it to be truly impactful you might kill someone."

Prix thanks me, but my heart still sinks. Even with that, it didn't do much. Good thing I refrained from taking a lot of Vigor from Wyatt. It wouldn't have helped in the end.

I take a good look at Johnny, the once-powerful man lying unconscious and frail, and my knees go weak. Tears bloom in my eyes as I get memories of Dragoon's death coming back. I can't. I can't. I can't.

Dragoon's death broke me for a long time. It wasn't just him who died either. Dozens of our group were killed in just a day, all of them left to bleed out or die of infection. Bile rises in my throat as I attempt not to puke like Prix earlier.

I step away, unable to watch another idol die, as my hands reach out for anything to help me walk. And my feet journey me over to Earl while I'm lost in thought. He's already sealing up Abraham's nose and skull, closing the wounds with careful stitches. I plop next to him as I see Wyatt several feet away, sitting beside Virgil's unmoving form.

Seconds pass as Earl works, tending to the unconscious half-Nahullo, and ensuring that he will be fine. My eyes lose focus as I watch, the acts blurring.

"Not too good of a fight for us. Sure, no one died. But... that remains to be seen whether it will stay that way. Abraham should be fine now. A week or so, and he'll recover wholly. However, he needs to be more careful with his Nightmares and Forces. Having several Nightmares die at once is too much of a repercussion for him to withstand as he is."

Earl's voice reaches me, but I don't really pay attention. I merely observe him with unfocused eyes. I don't want Johnny to die, but there is nothing I can do. Transferring Vigor hardly did anything, and if I want to save him, I'd have to bleed someone entirely dry. Not that I can even do that. I can only accumulate so much Vigor from others per day before it has adverse effects on me.

"As for Bonfire, he's okay. The dumbass had a bad matchup and didn't retreat—wind against fire. You'd think he'd be the victor, but not when the wind can smother the flames. I believe Virgil will be fine. I'm unsure what's happening to him, but the Flickering has mostly stopped. Plus, he's not reappearing in different places like he used to. However, there is always the chance that that is a bad sign and not a good one. He might drop dead at any moment or never reappear."

Again, he speaks, refusing to stop. It grates on me, but I don't stop him. It's better than listening to Johnny's raspy breathing forced by Primrose. I simply attend as he continues even further, but my attention is picked up by the first word in his next rant.

"Johnny is... questionable. Prix could probably keep that wound at bay indefinitely, but it's not something I can help with. It's some kind of self-replicating Ether that devours his flesh, bone, blood, and Ether. Kind of like an Occultist's Bloodcurse, but more powerful. In fact, that might just be what it is. Too bad the only Occultists I know are Wyatt's left-hand and Edward in Blackreach. But the former is hibernating, and the latter is far away. We might make it there in time to heal him, but with any kind of delay, Johnny could die. If we..."

Earl continues down this rabbit hole, listing off a dozen ways Johnny could die until I can't handle it any longer. My nails dig into my skin, and my teeth grind before I break. A curdling feeling takes over my stomach as I just want to die myself.

"Shut up! Stop! I don't want to hear about how he will die! I want to help! I'd do anything, but nothing matters! I'm useless! We all are!"

The man stares at me, slightly shocked by my outburst but recovers quickly. I feel even worse as he looks down.

"I'm sor--"

Earl waves me aside as he removes his duffle bag from his shoulder. The genius then reaches into his bag, taking as much as he can out of it. Like an animal digging for food, he unloads his backpack onto the ground, searching for something. I even spot the ear that Marshall helped arrange Ray's Sigil to cement in. But even three months later, it hasn't fully formed into an Arca. Angelic Sigils are utterly different from anything else. Though, we're starting to believe that Motherbound don't form into artifacts. On the bright side, after today, there should be several more artifacts to form. The bad news is that Clarence took Irham's body.

Yet, that ear is not what he wants. He spreads it all out as he grabs several vials. Earl then lifts them to his eyes, murmuring just loud enough for me to hear as he reads the slight text written on them with some ink. Seven vials of eyeballs exist, each with odd colors and shapes of pupils.

"Daedriks' Lightning... Sint Holo's Venomous Gaze, Kudo's Rapture, Blightraven's... Haze? What the fuck? Shit. Abanaki's Touch! This one!"

After only going through five, Earl hands a vial to me, offering the eye inside as I gape at him, confused. The pupil floating within the liquid stares into mine with a light green shape that reminds me of a sapling. Earl opens his mouth while pointing to the vial.

"These are Ails, made by Eli Weiss. The ones made from Angels grant the Power that the people had in life without any of the disadvantages of an artifact. The only bad parts are that they consume Vigor over time and slowly go blind with each use. Once they are blind, they lose any Sigil's powers they once had. It appears as though Eli managed even to get Blightraven's mist that he used before his death, but this one has a healing Power, or at least one, with some finagling with your Sigil, can be used as one."

I take it from him immediately and read the text on the vial, enraptured. I can save Johnny?! My heart accelerates as I learn the effects of the eye.

This Ail is built from Abanaki Gerusai's two eyes. The demon, known as the Life Bringer, will now, in death, give his Power to humanity.

Abanaki's Touch, shortened to Abanaki for brevity's sake, takes Ether from the air, converts it to Vigor, and delivers it to one's body. It does it in a process that takes advantage of the transference of solids in the air to Ether and then into Vigor, capitalizing on Abanaki's skill as a Virtue. Due to this trait, this was the only Ail from an Angel able to be used by those in the Basic Realm. Abbots and those with little life left will gain the most from this eye. However, while Abanaki is in effect, the left eye will be entirely blind. Additionally, one must not take it too far. All things are poison in large enough quantities, even life.

Recommended to be implanted in a left eye, for that was his dominant eye. The installation process is detailed in my journal. Should you not have my journal, then you should not have this eye.

As I finish reading, I turn to Earl immediately. Anger rises at the fact he kept this from me until now.

"Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?! This is incredible! Converting the air to Vigor! What the hell! I could--! That's... put it in my eye!"

But the boy-genius raises his hands in defense, offering me a whispered warning.

"We need to be careful with this. It came from Eli, and they were all just sitting there, ready to be taken. Who knows what he did to them? They could be traps for all we know. I want to test them and experiment with one or two before letting any of us use them."

I shake my head and hold it out to him, shaking my hand with force.

"That doesn't matter! This is an emergency! I'd rather risk that than let Johnny die!"

Earl looks me in the eye, and I refuse to budge even an inch, returning an unblinking gaze. He sighs and sets out his hand with an open palm.

"Fine. Lay down. I need to put you to sleep for this. The journal says it's a requirement."

I nod and lie down on a clear section of the library free of rubble. Earl then steps over to me with a syringe, stabbing it into my arm.

"I will perform so many tests on you after this, but for now, just be careful. If anything feels wrong or like you are going to die when you wake up, say something. Saving Johnny is the goal, but having you die before you get to is a waste, okay?"

"Yeahh..."

My words already begin to slur as I agree. Though, I'm not really being honest with this. If I die to save Johnny, that is entirely worth it. After all, I'd have another shot in the Underworld. He wouldn't. Angels don't get a second chance. And... he'd come for me, right? I hope that he would.

And rapidly, my vision blurs as Earl continues to work around me setting things up. I hardly hear him as he asks me to do something before everything goes black.

*****************

I wake up confused, worried, and drowsy, but adrenaline effortlessly breaks through it all. My eyes! Johnny!

Without waiting a moment, I open my eyes.

A world I never knew existed unfolds before me. It's as if I've stepped into another realm, one painted in shades of crimson. The whole library is suffused with red, an eerie glow that casts everything in a surreal light. As I look around, auras of crimson glow even brighter around people. I can see Vigor.

I can see Vigor!

The bizarre effect occurs in both eyes despite only my left being transplanted. I blink, trying to adjust to this new reality, my heart pounding with awe, disbelief, and confidence. I can do it! I can save him now!

I lift my hand to my face, gingerly touching the eye, allowing me to see this crimson world. As my fingers make contact, a surge of sensations courses through me. I can feel my inner Vigor, the remnants all beings have flowing within me—the rhythmic pulsing of life. I feel more control over it than I had before, somehow, as if the eye deepened my connection with the substance.

As I gaze around, I notice pulsing veins in the air, tiny but visible lines of Vigor that rest within the wind. They snake through the atmosphere like ethereal threads, weaving a tapestry of connections I never knew existed. With a gentle hand motion, I grasp one of these flowing veins, feeling the stringiness as I pull. A voice reaches me from the side as I feel tension within my eyes, and a vast warmth suffuses me while the left side of my vision goes black.

A colossal wave of Vigor enters my body as the eye pulses, bringing the pain.

"Ow!"

"Are you fine? What's wrong!?"

I shake my head to Earl as I slowly stand, the vestiges of sleep unable to stop me. I wave a hand to him as I stumble over to Johnny, observing how the Vigor in the air flows. I always thought Vigor was the essence of life, but if it exists in the air, is it any different from Ether? Is the air alive? Is the world alive?

"I am fine. Using the eye hurts, that is all. Let me save him!"

Or are they two sides of the same coin? Vigor for the form, Ether for the soul? I do not know, but I place myself next to Johnny and immediately get to work.

Inhaling a deep, hearty breath, I resolve to heal Johnny. With all this Vigor, I can heal anyone! Though, it's probably far more efficient to use on me. Plus, it's not infinite.

Earl did say they slowly go blind. Even the text held a warning on too much use. I can only hope it doesn't make my other eye blind, too.