With the pain in his side and leg screaming for attention, Eli didn’t dwell on his victory for long. Also, there was still another stage in this weird trial, and there wasn’t much time to lay around, though the warm off-white tiles were starting to grow on him. He hadn’t really noticed before, but their color was actually pretty close to the flooring from his childhood home, though those ones had been larger and without the warmth. He’d always wanted heated flooring, what with the global cooling after the Fall, but it was just another thing he never got around to doing.

Shaking off the random thoughts, he started to roll slowly onto his right side to get a better look at the damage but stopped as spikes and flashes of pain erupted up his spine. He tried to push through it, the agony only reminding him of his poor fighting skills and how he hadn’t been able to dodge the damned golems well enough. Grunting with the effort and trying to overlook the sweat and tears slowly trailing down the side of his face to drip on the tiles below, he finally made it up on an elbow. As the pain continued to grow, he paused, considering the situation. Finally giving up, he rolled back onto his stomach and away from the suffering in his side.

“Screw this shit,” he grumbled. Deciding to try a sadly familiar tactic, he activated Lifesight while on his stomach - it wasn’t like he had to sit up to use his magic. The small black-framed mirror materialized in his right hand. Gnawing on a lip to distract himself from the agony pulsing in his side, he passed his right arm carefully under his neck and body. The mirror was angled back towards his side, and his ability easily pierced his soiled shirt to reveal the damage. He winced at the already discolored tissues along his ribs, the area continuing to darken with differing shades of red and purple. Diving deeper, he imagined the surface tissues turning transparent and his rib cage’s bones sharpened into focus. The cracks were back, their jagged ends looking worse than in the previous stage.

Without further delay, a pulse of healing energy flooded into the area. At the same time, Eli focused on an image of his bones being whole again, his muscles and skin mending under his power. His side went almost immediately numb, or perhaps his ability was working more quickly, the tissues rapidly lightening in color after only minutes of effort. Whatever the cause, the burning pain around his ribs slowly dissipated, which only made the agony in his leg that much more apparent.

Turning the little mirror slightly to see his left leg, he almost dropped the thing in surprised disgust as a wave of dread rolled up his body. His foot was nearly unrecognizable, like something from the torturous Goon nightmares a few days ago. Below the ankle, much of the limb was smashed and swollen with dark fluids barely held in by the grossly distended skin. In fact, he was shocked that it didn’t hurt more than a bad sprain and could only thank whatever weird magic or buffs were keeping him from experiencing the trauma’s true horror.

He tried to push through the sick feeling bubbling in his gut. Lifesight’s highlight function came in handy; the bright edges around the mutilated limb almost made it seem less real. With more sweat trickling down his face, he injected more healing energy into the tissues. All the while, he focused on envisioning the torn muscles, ligaments, skin, and bones shaping and mending, using his right foot as a template.

Starting with his foot, he soon lost track of time while repeated surges of power coursed through his body. Other injuries had been hidden behind the more serious issues, but he patiently worked through the different parts of his body, first tracking any problems through the various sore spots. From there, he went back more slowly, checking the other organs and vital areas. With his determination and power, he slowly pulled his mess of a body back together.

A strange feeling pulled Eli away from his work, and he looked up to see the floating display had returned.

“Piss off,” he muttered with disgust, totally over this whole “trial” crap. A look at his HUD told him about an hour had passed since the last fight. If the prompt was like the last one, he’d have a bit of time until the countdown timer returned. Deciding to run a little experiment, he ignored the trial’s question for now. Instead, he focused on the burning pain radiating from the torn skin along his back.

More minutes passed, and the display was soon blinking out of the corner of his eye like a cheap billboard clamoring for attention. With the searing pain gone, he finally pulled his thoughts away to concentrate on the prompt, noting that the timer was back and with only minutes left.

“Continue the trial,” he said tiredly. Like the last time, he didn’t see many options without understanding what accepting his fate meant in this context.

He glanced around, catching the shift in the dark curtain as it retreated away from him in one particular direction. The same off-white tile floor extended out to follow until a single massive white statue was revealed. Reaching a height over even Boruta, it had to be almost four meters tall.

“Fucking hell,” Eli whispered, gulping around a suddenly dry throat. He wasn’t sure how he could hope to defeat this giant, assuming it retained the same size after the world shifted again. Even swinging his staff at full extension, he’d have a hell of a time reaching the damned thing’s head.

The prompt flashed with a bright light, and the words changed.

“About three hours to live, huh? Well, good for me. Stupid trial bullshit,” he complained, continuing the litany of curse words in his head while returning to focus on his still half-broken body.

He thought he’d done better in the second stage – he hadn’t passed out at least, but his injuries told a different story. If he’d been back on Earth, he didn’t think he’d have kept his left foot with how badly crushed and mangled it had been. There was still some minor swelling, but it was already looking much better with the bones and tissues put back together. The scrapes and gouges along his left side and back were mostly gone, and the broken ribs were better, if slightly tender to the touch.

If not for his bone-tired exhaustion, or the anger and frustration flaring at this whole ridiculous experience, he might have stopped to marvel at his healing powers. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the time with only hours until the final challenge, or at least he hoped it was the last one. There was no guarantee that he wouldn’t get tossed into some new craziness – it wasn’t like he’d volunteered for any of this crap.

Shoving the worries and anger away, for now, he refocused on his healing. He might not survive the next stage, but he wasn’t going out without a fight. Even if he could only stumble forward on a half-broken body, he’d try and meet his end with what little dignity he had left.

***

Wolf was in his office, humming the chorus to an old drinking song while reading the regional resources report. With the recent troubles, he’d expected a sharp decrease in some of their stores, but these documents said otherwise. While Boruta’s attack had badly hurt Wolf’s ability to project power outside his walls, his people had still collected their assigned quotas anyway.

He made a note in a different report where a list of names and topics trailed down one column. Another column had associated dates and details around who was owed what and by whom, cross-referenced with notations in his personal code. Adding up the numbers, he frowned at the results, realizing he’d have to hold back some of the more useful building materials for repairs. Still, a few messages to the right family would help soothe any hurt feelings.

Pulling another report, he checked the projected restoration work for the outer wall and main building. After more than a week of hard work, they’d made steady progress on repairing the damage, but there was still a lot to do. The temporary gatehouse had been reinforced with timber from Herria, most of which came from the old woods around Bishal. Unfortunately, the fortified stone walls were a more significant project. The few masons he’d previously employed for simple maintenance weren’t up to repairing and replacing entire broken sections around more than a quarter of the manor. With Easone family Earth Shapers on their way from the capital, he figured that his manor’s walls would almost leap back up to their previous heights in little time. Fourteen days wasn’t enough time to fix everything, but Wolf was proud of his people’s accomplishments.

A double knock followed by his office door opening brought his head up from the pile of work, but he smiled when he saw Dara’s head peeking in.

“Time for dinner,” she said with a smile. Wearing her training leathers, she’d likely come fresh from her session with Eyonne. Judging by the flyaway dark hair escaping from her tight braid and the new red mark along one cheek, it had been a strenuous effort.

Seeing the emerging bruise, he felt an odd bit of pride and worry. Ever since Dara’s return, she’d thrown herself into her training. Wolf knew she had felt somehow lacking before, without any offensive gifts, so different from him or her mother. His Greater Volk allowed him to shift into a powerful creature out of legend, while Nazani had been a once-in-a-generation prodigy of power – her Divine Flames had truly been a sight to behold. Unfortunately, their daughter hadn’t inherited either parent’s potent gifts. Dara’s Focus, a fine primary gift for managing far-flung holdings and business operations, was vital to the Easone family interests. Even Blessed Jaxon had the talent, which should prove its value. Still, Wolf had sensed his daughter’s frustration at what she perceived as a lack of power.

He had tried to temper her feelings, to convince her of her gift’s value. After all, not everything needed to be solved with violence, but he felt like he’d failed. Perhaps if he’d given in to his family’s repeated hints that had changed into the more recent demands and remarried, things might have been different, but he’d refused. Now, though, it was like Dara was trying to make up for lost time with renewed physical training. She’d even started studying again, borrowing his books on auras, the few he had.

“Little Flame,” he began, shaking his head. “You could have stopped to clean up before dinner. You know what Slana would have said,” he finished, regretting the words almost as soon as they escaped his mouth.

Dara looked down as her face flushed, her hand tightening around the edge of the door for a moment. Her eyes quickly lifted again, narrowed under furrowed brows. With a sniff and a lift of her nose, she finally came in and closed the door behind her, her haughty expression sending a bittersweet jab through his heart.

“Excuse me,” she said, affecting a Capital accent by clipping off the ends of each word yet enunciating the vowels with excruciating relish. “I had thought tardiness would be a greater sin when meeting with my lord and father. In the future, I will endeavor to spend my free hours preparing for our meals together. Please, forgive this wayward child.” She finished this with a contrite bow at the waist with one hand over her heart but immediately counteracted the gesture with giggles.

Feeling one lip inching upwards almost against his will, he finally gave up and chuckled along. “Little Brat should have been your nickname, though the spirits know that you’ve burned me often enough with your wit.”

Her giggles turned into a tinkling laugh, which only made his own smirk grow, glad to see a little levity after the rough days they’d had lately. There hadn’t been many smiles out of his daughter with so many people lost, including her new friend Eli, but life had a way of moving on.

“Alright, lead the way. I’m more than happy to be done with this paperwork for the day.” So saying, Wolf stood up from his desk, idly rolling his tight shoulders, stiff from the hours he’d been hunching over his work. Reminded of a recent message and hiding another grin, he picked up a small bundle of pages and scrolls.

“So I won’t find you back here after dinner?” Dara asked, the humor in her words poorly hidden behind the teasing tone.

He tried for a serious expression but lost the battle against his grin. “Such disrespect,” he said while walking towards his office door. “One would think I didn’t raise you well.”

Her hand suddenly reached out, touching his arm near where he’d been injured. “I’m glad you’re doing better,” she almost whispered with a slight smile, though there was sadness around her eyes.

“Hmph,” he snorted, yet secretly relieved at his body’s progress. Even if he was nearly chained to his office with paperwork, he’d finally been cleared for light training. Plus, he hadn’t had to drink any of Matic’s unsavory concoctions in days.

Dara took the lead down a short hallway but made a quick left turn into his private apartments. Slightly mystified but following his precocious daughter, Wolf couldn’t help the blooming smile at the two places set for their evening meal. With so many demands on his time, he preferred to take dinner with his family and closest companions. Lately, though, he’d spent most of his meals in the manor’s Great Hall as a visual reminder of his presence, power, and support.

“I thought you might appreciate a change. Don’t worry, I already cleared it with Gifted Anda.”

One of his eyebrows quirked up at the mention of his new Inner Commander. With Ghlan gravely injured and healing in Galdish, Wolf’s patriarch Dia Aaric had sent a few temporary Gifted along to help shore up the manor’s operations. Anda was a sharp woman, but like Ghlan, she seemed overly fond of schedules and decorum. It was almost like the academies taught Inner Commanders to breathe and live for timetables and discipline.

“Well, if she’s not knocking on my door reminding me of my proper place in the Great Hall, I suppose I can share a meal with my daughter.”

They sat down, Dara pouring drinks for the both of them. There was little conversation, eating the simple fare that the kitchen had prepared. With the damage to the manor’s basement and granary, the unique and extravagant food stocks were depleted, but the cooks persevered. It wasn’t anything special, but it was filling, and Wolf took comfort in knowing that his people would be eating the same. Unlike some, he didn’t believe in having special meals on the battlefield or at home unless diplomacy, honor, or custom required it.

“Alright, my lovely daughter,” he said, wiping a corner of his mouth to clean off the remains of the sweet cream pastry he’d just finished. He refrained from picking at the crumbs on his plate, but mainly because his daughter’s wit would demand some sort of quip in reply. “Now that I’m happy and fed, what did you want to ask me?”

“What? Can’t your loving daughter care for her wonderful father? Why must I want anything?” Dara assumed a hurt expression, yet her twinkling eyes told another tale. “But since you asked, I was just wondering if you’ve heard anything about an auric specialist? I know we discussed it before,” her words cut off, and she cleared her throat. “Before the attack. I haven’t wanted to bother you with everything happening, but,” her voice trailed off, likely noticing his widening smile.

He leaned over, picking up a small, tightly bound scroll from atop the bundle of papers he’d brought with him. He tried to hide his feelings, but the expectant look in his daughter’s eyes told him how poor a job he was doing as he passed her the scroll.

Without waiting for his words, she untied the shiny metallic blue ribbon, an Easone Family marker, and unrolled the scroll. Her eyes flashed, reading the overly flowery words, her face lighting up as she leaned forward over the small paper in her hands.

“It seems that our family has heard of your needs and will provide a well-regarded tutor,” he said, his tone light. “Perhaps you’ve heard of Gifted Aeilem?”

Dara’s eyes widened as she looked up at him, her mouth dropping open with surprise. He blinked away a bit of dampness and cleared his suddenly tight throat. “I know you’ll do well, Dara. You’ve come so far with your control in little more than a week and without much help from me.” He reached across the table, squeezing her suddenly limp hand. “I’m so proud of you.” She squeezed back briefly with an erupting smile before her attention unerringly returned to the tiny scroll.

He leaned back with a grin and took a sip of his drink just as a strange feeling passed through him, fear crawling up his spine as if death itself was approaching. Jerking up in his seat, he glanced around the dining room, but there were no threats nearby, and the manor’s alarm remained silent. Yet the sensation was eerily familiar, reminding him of a particular young man’s aura.

“Do you feel that too?” Dara frowned, her eyes lifting to meet his.

A sudden spike of agony flashed through Wolf’s body, yet somehow muted as if happening to someone else. The phantom misery only held a few heartbeats before it abruptly vanished along with the dreadful presence. He might have thought it his imagination, except for the dawning hope in his daughter’s eyes.

“Eli?”