Prophecy of the Nexus

Chapter 20

When I opened my eyes, I was met with a fuzzy, white universe. I blinked, and the clinical walls of the infirmary came into view. I wanted to lift myself up, but my limbs were heavy, and I ached all over. Still, I needed to sit up. I willed myself to move. I needed to know what was going on. The last thing I remember was lying on some grass after the battle. I struggled to get move up in my bed. "Need a hand?" Someone said to my left. I turned my head to see a grinning Marcus. He was sitting on a stool next to me. His arm was in a sling, and he looked a little pale still. However, when he moved, it was with his usual energy. Marcus helped prop me up on my pillows so I could get a better look at him. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

I hesitated. I lifted one hand into the air. Though I could do it, it took a lot of effort. "Sore mainly," I replied. Even my head was aching. All the memories of the fight were floating back into my mind. If you had told me I would have helped delay a goliath a month ago, I would have laughed. But a small bud of pride sat in my chest. Marcus and I made a great team.

"I'm not surprised," Marcus chuckled. "Sir Petra was fretting over how much Divine energy you had put through your body."

I laughed a little too. The idea of Sir Petra fretting about me was pretty amusing. Though I was sure as soon as I was back, that feeling would fade away. "How are you doing?" I asked, studying the sling.

Marcus just shrugged. "Nasty tear on my arm that hurts like a bitch, but nothing that won't heal." He swung it from side to side to show me he was fine. "Nurses said I'll be out for a couple of weeks but not too long."

"If you want, I can try and heal you," I offered, wanting to be helpful. I had been the reason he had been cut in the first place. I owed him that, at least.

But Marcus shook his head. "No, Atticus wants you to rest. You've been out for three days."

"Three days!" I exclaimed. I had never passed out before, not even when I had a fever when I was young. Also, three days was a long time for me not to know what was happening. I didn't like the thought of people talking over my unconscious body, deciding my future. Then something dawned on me. "You've spoken to Sir Atticus?" I said.

Marcus nodded. There was no time to lose. I flipped the duvet over and swung myself out of bed. This required more energy than I expected and nearly toppled out of bed. "Hey," Marcus yelp, half catching me. He placed a hand on my shoulder to help steady me. "No, you can't get up. Sir Atticus will come and chat to you in the meantime."

"You don't understand, though," I said, looking around for my clothes. Thankfully, there was a stack of my clothes in a basic wardrobe next to my bed. I pushed off the bed and wobbled slightly as my legs dealt with my weight for the first time in three days. Marcus was up now as well, looking around uncomfortably. "Sir Atticus needs to know what happened."

"I've already filled him in," Marcus replied, checking for any nurses. He watched as I staggered over to the wardrobe and yanked my clothes off the hooks. For a guy who had faced off against a goliath, he seemed to fear getting in trouble. "He'll probably be in meetings all day."

Marcus's words didn't put me off. I started pulling on a jacket and looking for my shoes. "You weren't there for all of it," I said. I pulled my trousers over my medical gown and tightened the belt. "I know my prophecy now."

Marcus's eyes widened. "You're kidding?" He said.

I was about to reply when I remembered what my prophecy actually was. I was going to open the Vale to face Koralax or, worse, unleash him on the world. My destiny was going to end two millennia of Arknight tradition at the age of twenty-one. I collapsed on the bed as the wave of realisation came over me. What was I going to do? My destiny was to take on the Demon King? Not even Primemaster Aurelian had done that. Even Sir Atticus would find that challenge difficult. But would he, now I knew he was a Prophet. I turned away from Marcus. I didn't want to look at him for a second. After all, I was a terrible liar, and if Sir Atticus wanted his prophecy a secret, I would trust him for now. I gazed at my bedside table for a moment. It was packed with cards. Sure, they were nothing more than folded pieces of paper, but each one had a picture on the front of it. "What are these?" I said. I picked one up. It had a cartoonish stick man figure throwing spears at a poorly drawn ghast. I opened it. It was from Lex.