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Rise of the Archon- Book 2, Chapter 48
🕑 Added 2025-01-03 10:01:52 +0000 UTCMy breathing quickened and grew shallow as my heart began to hammer in my chest. I felt sweat run down my back, my vision shrunk to a tunnel, and sounds grew strangely muffled as my thoughts ran through a dozen questions in quick succession.
Was this a coincidence? Was it fate? Had I made a mistake somewhere? Had I, in my past life, somehow become assigned to this fortress? Was that why I had chosen this place to make my stand? And if so, did all this mean I was doomed to follow the same path as my past self? What could I do? Was there anything I could do? What, what, what?
I forced my eyes closed, taking as deep a breath as I could manage. It was like fighting to breathe through mud. My chest felt tight, and my lungs refused to cooperate. Then, the first thin trickle of Aether flowed into my body, and with it came a hint of control. I seized on that and began to find my focus.
Slowly, painstakingly, my breathing began to deepen. My heart returned to a normal rhythm, and the sounds returned to normalcy. As I calmed, my body relaxed, and my mind cleared.
I was making too many assumptions. This fortress looked the same and fit many of the same criteria, but plenty of castles appeared similar on their surface for the same reason most swords did. If the design worked, why change it? I had no reason to assume any of the others further north along the coast would not fit my visions just as well.
Besides, visiting did not mean I was doomed. I would bet my life my past self had visited Colkirk and Aresford and Aranth and a dozen other places, the same as me. Yet, already, I could spot myriad differences in our lives. I had no reason to believe I was trapped along the same path as him. Not yet, at least.
With one final breath, I opened my eyes to find the guard who led me up to the walls still standing there. He looked...well, shocked was close, but I would name his expression "uncomfortable" more than anything. I could tell by his stance and the way his gaze was distant, focused more on the horizon than anything else, that he would rather be anywhere else with anyone else.
I tried for an easy smile, saying, "Sorry about that. I was lost in my thoughts. You know how it goes."
"Of course, my lord," the guard nodded sharply, his voice tight.
"Oh, and thank you for leading me up here."
"Yes, my lord," he replied with the same tone.
I stared at him briefly, mentally sighing before responding, "If it is all the same to you, I would like to be alone."
The guard swallowed, "Are you sure, my lord? I can stay with you if—"
"It is quite alright, thanks. I can find my own way down shortly."
He hesitated, duty fighting a losing battle in his eyes before he nodded, "As you wish, my lord."
The guard turned to leave, but an idea occurred to me. I cleared my throat and said, "Ah, before you go, do you have a knife I could borrow?"
"...a knife, my lord?"
I realized how it might sound but pushed on and repeated, "Yes, a knife. Or a dagger, I suppose. Either works."
He looked fearful again, but the guard dutifully reached down to his belt and unsheathed a small blade hanging by his hip. With a single, graceful motion, he twirled it in his hand and held it out to me hilt first.
I took the dagger from him, smiling and continuing, "Thank you. I will be sure to get this back to you soon."
The guard bowed low, then turned and almost jogged off. I was sure he thought me half-mad, which I might be if I was honest. But I had also realized something about myself that I had not wanted to confront these past few months.
I had become complacent.
Since striking out on my own, I had become content to take the long, slow approach. I had seen the years until my fated future might arrive, which had fooled me into wasting my time. Then, my friends, allies, and mentors furthered that same delusion. Sure, it was easy to blame Master Lysandra, and to an extent, she was right. There was a point where rushing my training would hurt me more than anything else.
But when I had fought that monster in Aresford and confronted death or transformation into a monstrosity of my own, I had come out with tempered channels and a core beyond my wildest dreams. When I had faced Flynn Sion, a near-invincible foe, it had driven me to force my magic forward faster than I ever would have considered safe or possible.
My greatest improvements came from experimentation and innovation in the face of dangerous adversity. It was not safe nor particularly wise, but it was an undeniable trend. And I had ignored it for far too long.
I stared at my borrowed knife, considering it for a moment before pressing it to the tip of my index finger. The razor-sharp point sliced through my skin with a flash of pain, and I watched a thin, crimson line run from the tiny wound.
My training with Lysandra had turned such a simple injury into something more complex. I knew that impossibly small blood vessels crisscrossed my flesh in dense, intricate networks, and my body would go to work repairing the wound within minutes. First, the blood would thicken and clot, forming a scab. Then, over the course of several days to a few weeks, the body would form new tissue, and the skin and flesh would seal as if never injured.
Of course, there were other aspects I understood only in theory. I knew serious wounds risked infection, which required particular herbal treatments and alchemic materials. As I understood it, scars came about from particularly large, serious injuries that, in some instances, never fully healed. And inflammation played some kind of role, though even Master Lysandra admitted they had not fully uncovered yet.
None of that really mattered. Complex healing cared about such nuances, but a simple laceration? Not so much. All this required was focus, mana, and a rough understanding of the natural process...in theory.
I closed my eyes, drawing upon my Aether and pulling it from my core. It flowed like water down my arm, and I gathered it into the tip of my finger with practiced ease. My will wanted to form the energy into a bolt, an instinct I had to push aside. Instead, I held it in place while focusing on my intent. I pictured my blood thickening, the skin sealing, and the wound vanishing.
My skin grew warm, and an itch broke out across my finger. It was not unlike when Master Lysandra had healed my hand, but not as disconcerting or unpleasant. I was able to push it aside without much trouble, and I continued holding my Aether into place long after the sensations vanished altogether.
Past experiences had led me to expect failure, and I opened my eyes with that firmly in mind. So, when I swiped my thumb across the pad of my index finger and found that the wound had vanished, I found myself at a loss.
"Huh," I said, staring at my finger and leaning in closer before chuckling, "Well, how about that?"
I glanced at the knife again, then pressed it to my finger again, cutting a thin line this time. It took longer, the heat and itching were worse, and I found that it depleted my mana more noticeably, but the result was the same.
Twice more, I cut myself, and twice more, I found success. Deeper wounds took more time and energy, but it seemed as if Aether's raw power translated not just to offensive and defensive magic. In fact, I found healing a remarkably easy skill, at least in such simplistic applications.
Of course, there were pitfalls, even if this was some hidden strength of my Aether. More complex healings required increasing amounts of time, mana, and anatomical knowledge I lacked. Beyond that, all magical healing sapped your lifespan. My experiments would cost so little I would never notice the difference, but I would need to be careful.
I still found myself wondering. Could I craft an automated healing spell that would activate when I was injured? What about enchantments that did the same? How would those interact with my strengthening magic? I would rather improve my defensive magic and avoid injuries altogether, but it paid to have a backup plan.
Unfortunately, I would not figure out such mysteries in one night. So, I sighed and set off to find that guard and return his knife to him, pausing for just a moment to wipe it clean of my blood.
***
Night fell before Master Lysandra returned to the ship. I had decided to remain there until she found me, taking the chance to update my notes on my healing, brainstorm a few future experiments, and even start on possible modifications to my martial combat style. The guards had already finished their practice for the day, but ideally, I would steal an hour or two with them before we left the fortress.
I knew it was Lysandra by the way she knocked, soft enough to be polite yet hard enough to demand an answer. The healer strode in the moment I opened the door, smiling at me in a way that did not quite reach her eyes. She nearly bowled me over, turning over her shoulder as she walked and saying, "Close the door if you would."
"Of course, master."
I closed the door, and the healer immediately cast the spell she had used weeks earlier, covering my room in a strange layer of mana. It seemed a useful trick, and I made a mental note to ask about it in the future.
"Thank you," she said after the spell settled into place, "I'm sorry for bothering you so late at night. Ordinarily, I would wait until the morning, but, well, this could not."
"I have never been one to turn in early," I replied with a smile, gesturing to the book on my bed.
"I'm well aware," Lysandra chuckled, "Though I'd still like you to take a break once in a while."
"Of course," I said, nodding once.
The healer snorted, but her smile faded as she said, "Jokes aside, I would like to apologize to you. I knew Lord Sinnett would not welcome you with open arms, but his reaction was a touch more...extreme than I expected. He's always felt magic should remain exclusively within the nobility, but never to this degree."
"Frankly, I am used to distaste, master."
"Hmm, well, regardless, it poses several issues. First, you'll need to remain on the ship rather than sleep within the fortress proper. His lordship will also never allow you to sit in during his treatments. I doubt he would go so far as to strike you down, but avoiding him would be wise. Unfortunately, most of what I hoped you to learn on this trip will not be possible."
"I can keep myself busy if needed," I responded, thinking of the possibilities with such a glut of spare time.
"Now, now, I said most," Lysandra held up one finger, "I still have quite a few things you can do to assist me, and I'll be asking you plenty of questions to ensure you're keeping up with your studies. I want you to take it easier, not slack off, got it?"
I wanted to be irritated, and a part of me dreaded the long hours stuck grinding away poultices or digging through anatomical texts, but those first minor successes with healing reminded me why pushing through was so important.
"What do you need me to do first?"
Lysandra opened her mouth and yawned loudly. She wiped at her eyes, then shook her head and replied, "Sleep, I think. We've traveled a long way, and it's been an even longer day. We can talk more in the morning."
The healer walked past me and opened the door, pausing just long enough to throw me a half-serious glare, "And I do mean sleep, Vayne. Not practice your magic or play around with sharp sticks. Get some rest. Is that understood?"
It was as direct an order as she would likely give, and I knew better than to ignore it. Lysandra was kind, but she was no pushover. So, I nodded, and the healer examined me again, then exited my room.
I stared at the door for a few seconds, then turned to Cat, who was napping on my pillow. Despite having just agreed to her command, a small part of me wondered if a healing spell existed that might allow me to go without sleep. Then, common sense won out, and I began getting ready for bed. Rest now, and experiment in the morning.
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