Chapter 8: The Burden Within
As Ian stood up from the wet bench, he looked back.
Charlotte was gone. Most likely dealing with her patients that had racked up during the event not so long ago.
As he turned to the street he couldn't really see any damage from the explosions.
Even though the glass had cracked in the windows here and there, it wasn't so bad.
Then, he looked down the bigger road toward where he suspected the dead zone of the explosion would be.
Chaos.
'Holy shit.' He thought. Eyes wide.
The cobbled road was disintegrated into millions of dust like particles.
'Sand?' It wasn't a weird thought.
By the side of the roads heaps of these particles had collected into piles. Some bigger than himself.
"What the hell happened here? And how the hell did Ryn hold that freak off?!" He thought loudly.
As he looked closer, he could tell the sand-ish particles had moved through the cracks of the ground as it had rained. Yes. The ground.
As if things weren't bad enough, the clinic door opened behind him.
Then reveal Ryn.
Being flooded by the kids Ian had just helped.
"Guys look! It's the knight from yesterday!" One of them exclaimed.
'Right...yesterday...When I was sleeping like a baby...' Ian thought, biting his lip slightly.
He didn't know if Ryn saw him.
Though, he felt his eyes on him as he walked up to him after the kids had cleared.
'Nice weather. Isn't it sir?" Ryn started.
Ian looked out on the road. Ryn following his gaze curiously.
Ryn didn't deserve this.
He was just doing his job.
Still… Ian couldn't stop the feeling twisting in his chest.
"Yeah. Nice...weather." Ian mumbled. His real thoughts deep in the hack of his head.
With the embarassing memories and other stuff he'd most likely reflect over before bed.
There's an awkward silence for a moment. Before Ryn decides to break it.
"Must be nice getting to move again." He looks at Ian, seeing his slightly troubled gaze towards the city.
Ryn decides to continue since Ian didn't answer. "I've been watching the streets like a hawk for the last few days" He chuckled awkwardly.
He wasn't helping. Yet, he didn't know that what Ian was feeling wasn't terror or contemplation, but envy.
Ian hated how Ryn was talking to him like this. At least right now.
He knew he doesn't deserve it and is a nice person. Hell, he even tries speaking and having a conversation in a half destroyed city, laughing.
The space around the clinic had been spared or repaired. He couldn't tell which of them.
He saw the sand-like particles slip down into the cracks with the water, disappearing into the darkness below the stones.
Ian watched them for a moment longer than necessary. They vanished so easily.
"So… things are calm now?" Ian asked quietly.
Ryn nodded.
"For the moment. Patrols have been doubled. If Thar returns, we'll know sooner."
Patrols.
Preparation.
Plans.
Everyone was doing something.
Everyone except him.
Ian swallowed.
"I-I could help!" he exclaimed suddenly, louder than intended.
Ryn blinked. Caught off guard from his offer.
"Help, sir?"
Ian nodded quickly.
"Yeah. I mean… I'm better now. I can walk. I can move. I don't have to just sit around."
Even as he said it, he could hear how desperate it sounded.
Ryn studied him carefully. Unsure of how to respond.
He wasn't judging. Nor was he dismissive.
Just, calm.
And that somehow made it worse.
"I appreciate that," Ryn said slowly.
Then came the words Ian already feared.
"But your condition is still unclear."
Ian's stomach tightened.
Ryn continued gently.
"We still don't understand your ability. And it clearly puts strain on your body. So, it would be best for you to rest in my opinion."
Ian looked away.
Of course.
Of course it did.
'Rest...that's all I've been doing...' Ian cursed in his mind.
"I can handle it," Ian said quietly.
Ryn shook his head.
"I don't doubt your resolve, sir."
That word again.
"Sir". He had never really understood why Ryn referred to him as "sir". But it hadn't been bothering him until now.
"But forcing yourself would only make things worse."
Ian felt something sink inside his chest.
Not anger.
Not even disappointment. Something quieter.
But, he could tell he wasn't lying. And he couldn't deny there was some truth in Ryn's words either.
He nodded anyway.
"Right."
Silence returned.
Ryn seemed satisfied.
Ian felt hollow.
Across the street, workers shoveled piles of sand-like dust into wooden crates, then lifted up on horse-drawn carts that bobbed up and down as they disappeared down the broken road.
The piles were enormous.
Evidence of a battle he hadn't even seen.
A battle he hadn't even been there for.
Ian stared at them.
Then finally said:
"Guess I'll stay out of the way then."
Ryn frowned slightly. But said nothing.
And for the first time since waking up, Ian wished he had never gotten out of bed.
8.2 Intervention
As Ian stepped back into the clinic, the air somehow felt lighter.
It was louder than outside, voices overlapping, footsteps moving between rooms — yet the weight pressing on his chest eased slightly.
The clinic was small. Crowded. Busy.
But it was a place where people still had a purpose.
At least it had once been a place where he had a purpose.
He walked down the hall, before stopping outside a room where Charlotte was healing an elderly woman.
He leaned against the doorway.
She looked over. Nodding, as if acknowledging his presence
He felt like the last cookie in a bowl. The one that no one wanted to take since it felt greedy or impolite.
He decided to speak.
"Do you need hel-"
"Not right now Ian, I'm trying to concentrate." Charlotte butted in, cutting him off.
"Right." He responded. Standing straight.
He turns and walks off. With both the old lady and Charlotte's gazes piercing his back.
"Now where was I..." Was the last thing he heard from the room.
He walked through the clinic for a while. Before settling in one of the soft lobby couches.
There were other patients there. Most likely in line to be treated.
A thought struck him. 'How can she heal people for so long? I mean, her mana has to deplete...right?'
He settled back into the red cushion.
'Charlotte's hands never stopped moving. Ryn's gaze never left the streets. And me? Im sitting in a red couch with my own useless hands in my lap. It's.. almost comical.' He thought.
Looking down at his hands he'd lie if he said he wasn't tempted to chop them off and throw them away. What were they good for anyways?
What was he good for anyways?
'What do these people gain from having me around here? All I can do is heal a person. But it ends up hurting me like a double-edged sword.'
Ian leaned his head on the backrest. Staring up into the white lobby ceiling, expecting it to be blue like the ones in the rooms.
It felt hollow. Like watching someone unwrap presents on your birthday, or peeking into your friend's older brother's room. A place that wasn't yours to be in.
The changed color reminding him.
He doesn't belong here. Not a bit. He's a sad shut in that got dumped by his girlfriend. Not some wound transfer in another world.
A part of him wished he had stayed home, shut away in his old life, rather than being stuck here… a boy who could heal, yet belonged nowhere.
He was just as useful here as back home.
'If only I had moved on...' He thought, the words bouncing in the empty room that was his head.
If only.
'Who would care if I just. Disappeared here and now? Ended?' A self deprecating thought twisted his mind. Scrambling the remaining of his brain.
"I would." A voice called out.
Ian looked up. Caught up guard. He didn't say that out loud.
"I would." The voice repeated.
It was the voice that had been haunting him ever since he came to this world, more or less.
Ian looked around once more before suddenly standing up and running to search for a more secluded place.
Ian stumbled into the bathroom.
He sat down on the toilet seat.
"Who...who are you?"
No answer.
"Hello?! Helloo?" Ian called out, clenching his fists as he now stands up.
The words "I would" echoed in his mind.
'Am I going crazy? Is this all just a dream?' He thought, laughing to himself.
He looked out the small bathroom window bordering the ceiling. Seeing that it was already night.
'Right...I didn't wake up in the morning.' He remembered.
Ian walked out of the bathroom after flushing and washing his hands. Getting stuck in the moment as the water ran over his hands.
'How does this medieval world have pipes like this?' He wondered.
The real reason he flushed the toilet and washed his hands was to draw away any form of suspicion.
Ian figured he was being watched by at least someone. If it was only the voice, he didn't know.
He realised he was tired on the way to the room he was borrowing.
It felt weird to think he was borrowing a clinic room like he lived here.
He walked inside falling back onto his bed.
The paper he had practiced magic on long before was still on the floor. He hadn't bothered to pick it up yet. Leaving it like a reminder.
He hadn't eaten all day. The proof was on the desk. Untouched food Charlotte might've prepared while he was knocked out.
He wasn't sure if he had eaten at all these past days he was out. The only way would have been being fed somehow.
But he couldn't care less at this point.
"It doesn't matter." He said to himself as he was laying in bed.
The soft pillow being just as soft as before he got up a few hours ago by now.
His head was still foggy from sleeping for five days. He wasn't sure if his body even needed that much time.
Each time Ian blinked his eyes lingered closed for a moment longer.
He was tired. But how? he had most likely turned the clock after sleeping for so long.
A quiet breeze that snuck through the half open window was the last thing that managed to keep him awake.
8.3 Dream
He opened his eyes. He only saw the sky. White. But not cloudy.
"Where the hell am I?" He muttered.
He looked forward as he noticed he was looking up.
It felt too real to be a dream. He felt the ground clearly under him. Slightly...soggy?
As he realised this he looked down. Seeing damp ground under him. And water.
Fingertip shallow water.
But it was like it was avoiding him. Forming a waterless circle around him.
He took a step forward. The circle followed.
He continued walking. Taking careful steps forward until he was sure it wasn't gonna run onto him.
He looked forward once again. Water was all around him. In every direction it looked to stretch for miles.
Something caught his attention not far ahead though, as he saw something in the horizon.
Or someone?
He walked towards whatever it was.
He got closer. Walking over the almost endless shallow water that seemed to avoid him.
It was a person. Long blonde hair trailed down the persons back. Wearing a white dress like cloth.
He stopped behind them.
A gilded and white staff in the left hand making contact with a dry part of the ground.
Ian only saw the person from behind. So it was still unclear what the hell he was looking at.
"Nice weather, isn't it?" It said. It was a woman's voice. Slightly soft. But still powerful in a way. Present.
Ian responded on mere memory.
"Yeah. Nice...weather..." It was like he was speaking automatically. Like a script being read in his head and played through his mouth.
This all felt familiar. Déjà vu hitting Ian.
Right...
He had this exact conversation with Ryn today, not so long ago either.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Ian asked. Clearly wary of the person facing away from him.
He looked down. Noticing the water avoiding a radius around her as well.
She suddenly turned around. The water creating slight waves as she does.
Her beautiful light blue eyes piercing Ian's own leaving him speechless.
"My name is Veyra. Goddess of balance and judgement."
"I have been watching over you."