Tournament of Kings

Chapter Twenty-nine: Rebirth

Relma felt like she was falling through an endless void of nothingness. Her body, if she had one, she was numb and unfeeling, yet she felt more than ever. As if she was more herself in the nothingness than she ever had been amidst everything else. Or perhaps she merely felt who she was now that it had all been stripped from her.

As she opened her eyes, she wished something more was around her. She did not need it; she could exist here as the only being for eternity. But she desired things other than herself.

Into the darkness came light. A great light emanated from her in an all-encompassing wave. When it faded, there was a world around her.

And then she awoke. Her eyes opened blearily, and she saw Aunt Pan sitting over her knitting. She felt detached again. Relma had a splitting headache on some level, but it didn't bother her on another. "Aunt Pan?"

"Well, you are lucky to awaken," said Aunt Pan, not looking up. "After what you did."

Relma's mind was a blur. "What did I do?"

"You brought back the dead," said Aunt Pan. "Not an impossible task, given it was a recent death. But a very difficult one and generally not worth the effort. People are usually back in a generation anyway under a new name.

"I've only done it once or twice."

"Oh, come on, you could at least pretend as though I did something remarkable," said Relma, more herself now.

"You did do something remarkable," said Aunt Pan. "And you did it very well and in the perfect context. Gel Carn is positively abuzz with rumors of your nature. But, if I were you, I shouldn't try anything like that again."

"Why not?" asked Relma.

"The universe tends to even itself out," said Aunt Pan. "Pull the threads of fate one way, and you mess with other stories. That is why a subtle touch is best."

"Are you saying I should have let Ajax stay dead?" asked Relma.

"Of course not," said Aunt Pan. "While there might be a price to pay, it won't be nearly as bad as it could have been. You see, you were willing to give up your life."

"What?" said Relma.

"When you defeated Fayn, you fully believed her guilty," said Aunt Pan. "But you willingly went to what you believed would be your death solely to save her and Ronald. Of course, we didn't allow it, but you did not know that.

"Magic is a strange thing, Relma. It is based on the soul of the one who uses it. The power does not come from some magical spring within you. It comes from who you are. Deals with spirits are merely one way to channel it.

"In giving up your life, metaphorically speaking, you were able to draw back the life of another."

"Somehow, I don't think I'll be able to go around bringing people back," said Relma.

"Of course not." scoffed Pan. "This was a miracle, not healing magic."

"What's the difference?" asked Relma, feeling she already knew the answer.

"Healing magic is inspiring the elements within the world to restore the body," said Aunt Pan. "Taking the power inherent to yourself and others and bringing it into play. A miracle is when a force outside the normal order intervenes to perform a wondrous deed.

"The former is business as usual for some people. The latter is never routine."

"So how did I perform it?" asked Relma.

"Another, greater force worked through you," said Aunt Pan. "Quite frankly, I'm very well pleased with how things turned out.

"The Tournament of Kings is a beginning of sorts. And in my experience, the beginning of things almost always foreshadows the end. A reign that begins in blood will end with blood. However, a reign that has its source saving lives will end far better."