Rekindle

Chapter 13 (Ridley)

It takes a while for me to calm down about Alister leaving. I'm still salty, but I've accepted that I lost the argument.

Alister left me in charge of keeping Barrick alive. He said I wouldn't go unpunished if anything happened to him. Knowing his strength and abilities, I fear what punishments I'll be given if he comes back and Barrick is dead.

Right now, he's doing okay. Well, he's still alive, anyway. I have to keep myself from convulsing every time I look at his wound. How much pain is he feeling right now? It can't be tolerable.

Barrick still hasn't spoken a word since Alister left. Puffs of shaky breath escape his lips every few seconds, discomfort and anxiety evident in beads of sweat and tense muscles on his face.

Gentle wind blows through the open balcony door, cooling his red cheeks. His cherry hair is plastered to his forehead by perspiration.

I remember a story I had overheard about him during his therapy. One of the healers had tried to ease his pain after his therapist lost their patience and beat him. They said they had never heard someone in so much distress. They wanted to cry just seeing him so vulnerable.

Only weeks before, his energy signal was lost during a mission in Distance. Two Pyres were sent to investigate-- it was odd for someone of his rank to have problems on a mission-- and returned with him traumatized and unstable. He was taken straight to the therapy ward, where he was put in an emotional quarantine. That was the first time anyone had seen him show weakness. His cries could be heard from the other side of the street. Therapists would leave his sessions mortified, all saying the same thing: he couldn't be saved.

For months there was no progress. People were desperate for a solution. Some considered euthanasia, convinced that he was damaged goods. Others started believing this was the result of him angering Lord, that he was being disciplined. No one really knew what was going on; the most they could get out of him was something about an infant. Everything else was incoherent pleading and blood-curdling wails.

Everybody had given up on him, but his sister refused to let him go. She knew there was a way, and she was determined to find it. As he got worse, she became more obsessed with finding salvation for him.

Finally, after five months of watching her brother suffer, she came up with an answer. No one knew until afterward, but she had asked Lord Mavis to swap their sanity. It took a couple months longer, but eventually Barrick was mentally stable again. In exchange, his sister had taken his room in the ward. He had no memory of his quarantine, but it was evident that the trauma still scarred his mind.

His sister is the last thing keeping him sane. Without her, he'll fall back into delirium. His sanity is linked to her soul. If she's gone, so is he.

My thoughts are cut off by something warm splattering across my arm. Barrick is coughing hard, his throat gurgling with the same substance. In the dark, I can't see what it us, but I have a feeling it's blood.

I ease him forward, trying to clear out his passage way. After a minute or so, his coughing ceases, but now he trembles from the exertion. His eyes reflect a ghastly sheen, nearly entirely a milky white.

While he settles again, I move to the bathroom to clean myself off. I click the light on to reveal a watery red speckling on my arm and shirt. It's runny with fluid, giving a musky smell. I grab the towel from the rack and rub it against my arm, wiping it as clean as it will get.

Peaking out the door to check on him, I ignite the tip of my index finger to illuminate the room before I flip the switch off. At his side again, he gives a weak smile. I give one back, but question whether it's just to reassure him or if I genuinely am happy.