Chapter 81 - Empty Husk

The hours slowly turned into days, and days into weeks as time continued to pass by like a blur. There were a few happy moments, such as when a few of my old friends from high school came to visit me, but that's about it.

God, I sound like an old man.

Even if it's been years for me, it's been like two for them. They seemed super shaken up, I hope everyone is doing alright. 

As expected, aside from those two lovable idiots dropping by once in a while, I got zero other visitors. No family, no other friends, not even Jasmine...

Laying down in the cold hospital bed, I felt the tears streaming down my face for what must have been the twentieth time today. Closing my eyes and blinking away the tears, I could feel the searing pain start back up again. 

Over these last two months, no matter what I do, the pain always comes back. With that pain, also comes despair, as no matter how much I try, it seems as if I don't have any circuits for mana within this body on Earth.

This time, instead of in my shattered legs, the pain was mainly focused on my fucked up back.

Strangely enough, as the pain grew more and more intense, it felt as if the world was spinning all around me. As doctors and nurses began to run into my room, my vision turned black. 

///

Snapping my eyes open, immediately my senses are bombarded with foreign yet familiar feelings. My back is distinctly still in an insane amount of pain, yet strangely, I'm not in the hospital anymore. 

Looking down at my arms, my legs, and the woman passed out next to me in this rickety shit carriage, I couldn't help but scream.

Not out of fear or pain mind you, even if those things were harsh enough to force me to, but out of pure unadulterated joy. 

If my body wasn't enough for my mind to accept it, Ivy and the cart were plenty. 

Flinging myself up with wind mana, immediately a multitude of things stand out to me. First, was how strangely easy that was given I haven't used mana in well over two months, at least from my perspective. 

Second, was our surroundings. Instead of in the middle of the woods where I was meditating, or within the campsite, or any campsite for that matter, we seem to be in some sort of large stone building.

It was obviously constructed with earth magic, but the inside of it is what confused me heavily. It looked like the normal campsite that we had been staying in, with the now old firepit and cart exactly where I had left them.

Yet, the entire place was surrounded and sealed off by large stone walls, with an enclosed ceiling to boot. However, the strangest part was the conditions that the walls and floor were in.

The magically constructed walls, floor, and ceiling were littered with scorch and burn marks, as well as deep cuts, and enough small holes to make even the most swiss of cheese jealous. 

Just as I was looking around, I heard a crash of metal, as every instinct in my body screamed to dodge. With much less effort than I was expecting, I blasted myself backward with wind magic, sending myself much farther than intended.

Thankfully I had done so, as a large blunt piece of metal flew directly where I was once standing and where I would have dodged to if I had gone where I had meant to. 

Did I lose all my control in these two months?

Looking towards the direction of my attacker, I saw none other than my dear old Uncle Zerath, staring at me with his cold, calculating eyes, and his hands slightly twitching at his sides. 

"What the hell was that about?!" I can't help but yell.

Those things could have knocked me out cold! I don't wanna be knocked out! What if this is some sick game and this really is another dream! 

"What's your name boy," Zerath said, never letting his guard down.

"V- Antonio Icefield? Please tell me you remember me and this isn't some melatonin esque dream." I say, putting my hands up in a defensive posture.

That little action was useless, however, as, without any warning, Zerath moves at a speed I could never hope to match and appears in front of me, pulling me into a huge hug. 

"Oh good lords above and below, thank goodness you've regained yourself. We thought that awakening your wings at such a young age had driven you insane." Zerath said, struggling to get the words out as he choked back tears.

The loud crashes of metal that Zerath sent after me must have awoken Ivy and alerted the rest of the camp to my presence, yet as they all say Zerath hugging me and crying, no weapons were drawn. 

I have so many questions.

"I have so many questions," I say, speaking my mind as I return Zerath's embrace, which was quickly turned into a three, then four, then six-person hug as the rest of the group realized what had happened. 

"So do we, but just shut up and be happy for once," Teresa said, her usually masked voice filled with nothing but seemingly genuine relief. 

After the big reunion, the massive stone walls fell to reveal we had not moved from where we had left the cart, setting Teresa's schedule back by what I assume is two months, unless time is different here. 

"How long have I been out?" I ask, looking as guilty as I feel for holding up the party.

"Two months and four days, and yes, that does make us behind schedule, but stop worrying about that and worry about yourself," Teresa says, dismissing my next thought and worry. 

Okay, time to address the elephant in the room. 

Looking over towards my mother, my aunt, and my uncle, I take a very deep breath to calm myself.

"Okay, are any of you three going to explain what the hell happened to me? One second I was practicing and meditating, the next I'm in a massive amount of pain and suddenly two months have passed." I say, technically never telling a lie. 

"What happened, my boy is that you're either an unprecedented genius of mana, or a talent born only one in a million years. You're not even fully mature yet by Fae standards and not only do you have such a talent for mana manipulation, but by some miracle, you've also become a fully awakened Faery at such a ripe young age. For reference, most Faeries don't awaken until at minimum sixteen years of age." Zerath said, answering only a few questions and making a ton more.

"What? What's an awakening, what's the age of maturity for Fae, what do you mean I have a talent for magic manipulation, and what do you mean I'm a genius of mana?" I ask, shooting these rapid-fire questions towards Zerath. Yet, it's not Zerath that answers, but Elandria. 

"An awakening is when a Fae first taps into the abilities of their ancestral blood, for Faeries, it's when we first open our wings. It comes with a huge increase in general magical capabilities, and when your wings are summoned, that boost is increased tenfold. Consider your wings akin to a natural spell, they take mana to activate but boost your physical and magical might, as well as allow for flight when not filled with mana." Aunt Elandria said, once again answering only half my questions. Thankfully, before I was able to ask any more, she continued.

"Zerath here called you either a genius of mana or a talent born only once every million years due to both your magical might as well as the fact you just awoke your wings at the ripe age of nine. To do such a feat usually requires great study, focus, and planning, yet you had none of that."

Hmmm, based on how it's being described to me, apparently thirsting after getting a pair of wings of my own really paid off. I wish it hadn't come at the price of my back health, mental health, two months of our journey, and whatever else I did, but it's something. 

"Why didn't you guys just take me with you? Passed out or not I could just ride in the cart." I say as Zerath gives a slight chuckle in response.

"That was the first idea boy, but it quickly fell through after you woke back up and began to blow apart the whole forest. I had to quickly cover you up so that nothing else would get destroyed. Taking you into any city would kill not only the citizens but a large majority of the guard." Zerath said, up, pumping up my ego but continuing to confuse me. 

What does he mean by 'kill the civilians' and guards? Oh god, I have a sneaking suspicion that I've done something horrible.