Chương 18: Hero

Arien woke choking on a scream. For a few seconds, he did not know where he was. There was heat first. Too much of it. Then pain, dull and spread through every part of his body, as though someone had taken him apart during the night and put him back together badly. His throat burned, his nose was completely stuffed, and something heavy pressed against his chest. Blankets. Not mud, rain, or wind. Blankets.

He pushed himself onto his elbows as the familiar room came into focus: the hearth, the low ceiling, the smell of smoke, broth, and too many people sharing too little space. He was home. Then he remembered the road. Sir Samwell bleeding into the mud. Will lying too still beside the carriage. Arien pushed himself upright too quickly. The room tilted, his stomach lurched, and he collapsed back onto the pillow with a strangled sound that might have been a groan if his nose had not been completely blocked.

Then he sneezed and sent an impressive amount of mucus across his face. Disgusting. It was good to be alive. But who had saved them?

"Mom, Arien's awake!" Lisa shouted right next to his ear.

"Can I go to Essi now?" Arien turned his head slowly and stared at her. Lisa stared back with the bright impatience of someone who had fulfilled her duty to the sick and now wanted to leave immediately. At twelve, Lisa had already developed strong opinions about appearances, village gossip, and who liked whom. Especially when the appearance was hers, the gossip was about her, and the liking involved her.

"You can go," Mari said from the doorway.

"But be back before dinner." Lisa vanished before their mother could change her mind. Arien wiped his face with the edge of the blanket and immediately decided that had been a terrible idea. Mari entered with a bowl in both hands. She looked exhausted. Dark circles sat under her eyes, and every movement seemed too careful. The smell reached him a moment later. Broth. Meat broth. His body, traitor that it was, promptly forgot the storm and focused on the broth.

He reached for the bowl before remembering he could barely sit upright.

"Slowly," Mari warned, sitting beside him.

"What happened?"

"You nearly died." For a moment, she looked as if she regretted saying it so plainly. Then her mouth tightened. She lifted the spoon.

"Open."

"Mom—""Open." He opened. The broth was hot, salty and perfect. After the third spoonful, he tried again.

"Sir Samwell?"

"Alive. Thanks to Sul and Father Varix. The priest found you on the road and brought all three of you back." All three. The words settled slowly.

"Will?"

"He had a bad cut on his head, but Father Varix said he would recover. Sir Samwell's leg was pierced through, but with Sul's blessing..." She exhaled, and only then did Arien realize how tightly she had been holding herself together.

"They will live." Arien closed his eyes and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

"The rider," he whispered.

"That was Varix?"

"Who else could ride through a Morth Storm like that?" Mari said.

"Half the village is already calling him the Hero of Three Meadows." Arien sank back against the pillow, remembering the glowing figure on the horizon. Mari made him finish the broth, checked his forehead again, and tucked the blankets around him with unnecessary care. Arien wanted to ask more, but sleep dragged him under before he could shape the questions. Over the next few days, Arien recovered in bed and thought about the storm. Mostly, he thought about whether he regretted it. He should have.

He had risked far more than he had promised himself he would. Worse, he had done it for people he barely knew, in a world that would burn him without hesitation if it ever learned what he was. Yet no matter how many times he turned the thought over, regret never came. Curiosity had nearly ruined him before. This had been different. Will had been lying in the mud, small and still and bleeding into the rain, while Sir Samwell was dying beside him and using the last of his strength to save a child.

Arien could not make himself believe that walking away would have been wisdom. He had spent too much of his previous life alone. He did not want to make the same choice again. That Varix had been declared the hero suited Arien perfectly. He had not saved Sir Samwell for recognition, and being a village celebrity sounded like a major inconvenience when he already had to hide both his magic and his memories. He also thought about the plank.

More precisely, about what he had felt when it came flying toward him: that familiar darkness, waiting just beyond everything. The Void. He was glad he had not had time to be properly afraid. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings. There was also the matter of the four new Skills that had appeared after the storm. New skills available to assign: Danger Sense (uncommon): Danger rarely announces itself.

Allows you to perceive threats before they fully manifest. When assigned, increases the chance of detecting danger and sensing hostile intent directed at you. Arien stared at the description. The flying plank. The feeling that something was wrong a fraction of a second before it happened. Yes, during moments of crisis, it seemed invaluable. Unshakable Mind (rare): Your mind is your fortress. When assigned, it increases resistance to manipulation, suggestion, compulsion, charm, and illusion magic.

His expression darkened as he remembered Sir Samwell's Command. The helpless certainty. The feeling that his own body had stopped belonging to him. The Skill sounded almost absurdly useful, which probably meant it was dangerous to ignore. And then… Lightning Aspect (rare): When thunder roars, enemies flee. When assigned, it increases understanding, control, and efficiency of lightning magic. Wind Aspect (uncommon): A leaf dancing in the air can summon a hurricane.

When assigned, it increases understanding, control, and efficiency of wind magic. Arien grinned. Surviving longer was sensible, and protecting his mind was important, but lightning and wind were actual magic. His fingers itched to assign both. But what if he assigned everything, only to later discover more important foundational Skills? What if he didn't assign Danger Sense and one day a tree fell on him, killing him instantly? He would curse himself in the afterlife. He sighed.

In his previous life, he had been the type of player who seldom used consumable items, always saving them "for later." Apparently, gaining a second life had done very little to cure him of that habit. He read through the four Skills again. Survival, protection of his mind, two new forms of magic. None of them felt easy to dismiss, and he still had no idea what he might discover tomorrow. Arien closed his Status. This was going to take hours.

A week later, when there was no trace of the fever left and the family was sitting down to their evening meal, a soft knock came at the door. Terry began to rise, but Mari was already crossing the room, wiping her hands on her apron. She opened the door and straightened slightly. Father Varix stood on the threshold, his red robes partly hidden beneath a travel cloak.

"Father," Mari said, bowing her head.

"Please, come in."

"Forgive the unannounced visit. I was returning from the Feryns and thought I would look in on your youngest." Varix stepped inside. Terry rose to greet him while Wod and Sari looked up from the table.

"Terry," Varix greeted him.

"Father." Then the priest's attention found Arien.

"Ah! And I see our little stray is already back on his feet. I expected him to be bedridden for at least another week." Under the priest's steady gaze, Arien instinctively edged behind Sari. The first test flashed through his mind: grey eyes, cold darkness, and that strange pressure he still did not understand. Almost without thinking, he reached for his Mana Sense and immediately noticed something unusual.

Ambient mana normally ignored people and objects, passing through flesh, wood, and stone without changing course. The one near the edges of Varix's body behaved differently. The currents folded back on themselves and turned inward, returning mana that should have drifted away. Arien followed the pattern from the edge of his perception, fascinated despite himself.

"The fever broke a few days ago," Mari said with satisfaction.

"Sul is watching over him, perhaps Mal looks kindly upon him as well."

"Indeed, Mari. The gods always look favorably upon their faithful."

"Then why did they let the Feryns' barn burn down?" Sari asked.

"Be quiet, foolish girl." Mari's sharp voice made Arien tense up.

"Forgive her, Father. She doesn't know what she's saying."

"Easy, Mari." The priest didn't seem angry. He looked at Sari and spoke gently.

"The gods test us in many ways, but they always seek our salvation. Even death is nothing compared to the reward we receive when we join them in due time. But I'll speak more on this at the next sermon. May I have a moment with Arien?" Mari bowed her head.

"Of course, Father." Varix's gaze remained on Arien.

"Alone?" Mari's hands tightened on her apron.

"Uh… maybe I should—""It's all right, Mari. It won't take long. I'll return him to you shortly."

"Of course, Father. Come, children." Chairs scraped. One by one, the family filed outside. Only Sari cast Arien a worried glance before leaving. His own unease grew as he tried to guess what Varix wanted from him. Had Sir Samwell told him something?

"Relax, child. You're not in trouble. I only wanted to see how you're doing."

"I'm well, uh… Father. Thank you for saving me."

"Thank Sul, boy. And yourself. Sir Samwell told me what you did. The belt. The plank arrangement with the horse." A brief pause.

"He said you stopped walking when he ordered you to move." Arien said nothing.

"He wasn't angry," Varix said.

"Impressed, I think, though he'd phrase it differently. A four-year-old who can resist a Knight's Command is not something you see often." The mana at the priest's edges folded again, very slightly. Arien kept his eyes on Varix's face and watched the movement from the edge of his perception. Varix held his gaze for a moment longer, as though waiting for something more, but whatever he was looking for, he seemed not to find it.

"Arien likes to help." The priest laughed.

"Very good, very good. Perhaps your parents will send you to a monastic school? The Knights of the Radiant Pantheon could use brave boys like you."

"Knights like Sir Samwell?"

"Yes and no. Sir Samwell is a King's Knight. Our knights serve Sul. There is no greater honor."

"And the pri—Father? Are you a knight too? You rode like there was no storm at all." The priest laughed again, shaking his head.

"I am no knight. I am a servant of Sul, and it is he who grants me power. The power of faith. The greatest power there is. Your mother thinks you might have a future as a man of the gods. You're calm, you're observant, and you're braver than you should be at your age." He studied Arien for a moment, as though deciding whether to say more.

"I wouldn't dismiss the idea. I think—yes, Mari?"

"Father, I just wanted to make sure everything is all right. Arien no longer has a fever, but he's still a bit weak."

"That's fine. I'll return your son now. He is a fascinating and strong young boy. One day, Three Meadows will surely be proud of him." He moved toward the door, then paused with his hand on the frame.

"One more thing. Every good thing we do, no matter how small, drives the Abyss further from us, and Sul takes note of it." His tone made it sound like a simple fact.

"Rest well." Varix said his goodbyes and was gone a moment later. The rest of the family returned almost immediately, with Mari leading the way. She spent the next several minutes questioning Arien about the conversation in exhausting detail. What had Varix asked? What had Arien answered? Had he really mentioned the Knights of the Radiant Pantheon? By the end of it, Mari seemed almost disappointed that Varix had not already set him on the road to Jakar to begin training as one of Sul's knights.

By the time everyone went to bed, however, it was not the Knights that occupied Arien's thoughts. He kept returning to one question. Was Sul watching over him, or simply watching him?