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59. Storming, Forming
🕑 Added 2024-01-23 15:00:05 +0000 UTCThe tempestuous power of the last of the qi storm, condensed into two powerful bolts, drilled toward the stone and the pearl. Wreathed in fog, lightning crackling around them, they flew forth like bullets, locked on to the mediums.
Oz tensed, holding on with all his might. His tired, numb arms trembled, on the verge of giving out. Gritting his teeth, he circulated his qi with all his might, reinforcing his entire body.
The bolts struck home. His hands dropped under the force. The bolts shuddered, on the verge of exploding.
Oz screamed, pushing up with all his might. His shoulders burned, hands shaking. Every tendon stood out on his arms as his muscles tensed. Slowly, his hands returned to their outstretched position.
The plug at his right wrist strained, barely holding on. He poured qi into it, constantly reinforcing it. Not now. I can’t let it break now!
The bolts stabilized. They poured into the stone and pearl. The words on the two mediums glowed with seven-colored light. Oz measured his breathing, watching as the spell settled. The last of the bolts vanished into the stone and the pearl. A melodious note rang out, and a seven-colored halo glowed from the two mediums.
I caught the monster! Wait, hold on. That’s not what I was doing.
Oz lowered his arms hesitantly, almost afraid to after holding on for so long. The second they touched the ground, relief flooded his whole body. Blood flowed into his arms, warming and refreshing them. His vision went dark for a moment, and he came to sagged over, whole body limp, only barely gripping the stone and pearl. With effort, he dragged his arms in front of him and looked them over, anxious. Did I succeed? Please tell me I succeeded.
The two mediums sat in front of him. The words on the stone bore signs of burning, a little worn out, but they remained firmly set in the stone.
Phew. And the pearl?
He turned his head to the left.
The pearl shimmered. Its whole body glowed with the stormy seven-colored light. A faint mist condensed around it, shimmering as it swirled around the words. The words themselves glowed in the same shade of blue as Oz’s own qi. Power thrummed from the pearl, beating into the air.
“Whoa,” Oz muttered.
Linnea ran over, carrying Fflyn in a silk bundle. “Oz! You—you’re alive?”
“Yeah. I’m alive,” Oz confirmed, giving her an exhausted thumbs up. He sat back, propping himself up with his hands, only to flinch back to a forward-sit as his arms protested taking his weight. “Barely.”
“When I saw that storm, I thought you were dead for sure,” Linnea said, checking him over. She pressed two fingers to his forehead. A wave of tingly energy passed over Oz, not quite qi, but something similar.
“What was that?”
“Mental energy. I’m checking your body’s state.”
“Oh,” Oz said, too tired to say anything intelligent.
The energy reached his wrist. Linnea froze. She looked at Oz.
Oz grinned.
Linnea’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to your wrist?”
“It was that, or die from qi overload,” Oz explained.
“You burst a qi passage? Oz, do you know how serious this is?” Linnea asked.
Oz looked at his wrist. A small wound, already scabbed over, marked the inside of his wrist. “Not that serious…?”
“Very serious. You could die from this. You should be dying. Why aren’t you dying?” Linnea looked him up and down, her brows furrowed.
“I plugged it with some qi. It didn’t seem that bad. As long as I keep the qi there, it won’t flow out,” Oz said, shrugging.
“What happens when you sleep?” Linnea asked.
Oz paused. He looked at his wrist. A tiny bit of his consciousness focused on the plug, so little that he barely had to think about it, but nonetheless there. The plug won’t sustain itself if I stop thinking about it altogether. “Huh.”
Linnea sighed. She shook her head at him. Setting down the bundle of silk, she reached into her sleeve, holding out a small jar of poultice. “Here. Take this.”
Oz jolted. “Oh! That’s right.” He rummaged in his robes and pulled out a small metal jar, unscrewing it to show Linnea the green poultice within. “Will this work?”
Linnea leaned in and sniffed the mixture. She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing, then opened them to frown at Oz. “Where did you find a jar of Vein-Healing Poultice? This pure, too…”
“It was a gift from Madame Saoirse,” Oz lied quickly. It’s a gift from Ossian, technically, but if he had it, he probably got it from Madame Saoirse, so it’s not a lie. Probably. He smeared it on his wrist and watched the wound fade away. Internally, his qi passage sealed over. Oz lifted the plug, ready to plunge it right back down, but qi no longer leaked out even without it. He sighed, relieved.
She snorted. “If you had such high-quality goods, why not use them right away?”
“I, er. Forgot I had it,” Oz muttered, half to himself.
“You what?”
“Nothing, nothing!”
Linnea shook her head. Under her breath, she grumbled, “Rich kids.”
Beside Linnea, the bundle of silk trembled, then burst open. Silk spooled on the ground. Fflyn leaped free, racing at Oz.
Startled, Oz raised his arms, ready to block an attack. His whole body tensed, adrenaline cutting through the exhaustion for a brief second.
Fflyn jumped behind Oz and hunkered, his hands over his head. “Don’t put me in the cocoon again! I didn’t do anything!”
Linnea snorted. “That sounds like someone who needs another cocooning.”
“Wait, wait. Fflyn, I succeeded with the possession spell. Do you want to give it a try?” Oz asked, holding up the stone.
Before he could hand it over, Linnea snatched it out of his grasp. “You are not casting the spell now. Rest first, then keep pushing.”
“But I want to know if I succeeded,” Oz complained, stealing the stone back.
Linnea gave him a look. “You succeeded. You survived.”
“I mean, if the spell works,” Oz clarified.
“And what if it doesn’t? Do you have the energy to handle the enchantment blowing up in your face right now?” Linnea asked.
Oz pursed his lips. He looked down.
“Right. Go eat lunch and take a rest break. Replenish your qi. When you’re all full again, come back.”
Oz sighed. “Fine, mom.”
Linnea rolled her eyes at him.
He sat there for another moment, then took a deep breath and stood, dusting off his robes. “I’ll go grab lunch. Fflyn, want anything?”
Fflyn startled. “I get to choose?”
“Sure, why not? I don’t have unlimited groceries or incredible cooking skills, but within reason,” Oz said, shrugging.
Fflyn thought for a moment, then glanced at Oz, suddenly shy. “Chicken?”
“I can do chicken. Grilled or fire roasted are your options, but yeah, I can do chicken,” Oz said, nodding thoughtfully. “Oh, I guess I could bake it in a pill furnace.”
“Cooking in a pill furnace? Are you trying to poison yourself?” Linnea asked, startled.
“I’ll wash it first,” Oz said, waving his hand.
Linnea glared at him.
“Fire—fire roasted is good by me!” Fflyn quickly interjected.
“Fire-roasted it is. I’ll be right back with the chicken,” Oz promised, giving him a thumbs up. He looked at Linnea. “There aren’t any dark mages out here this time, are there?”
“Probably would have attacked by now,” Linnea reasoned.
“Good point. Alright, then. See you in ten!” With a final wave, Oz bounded off.
Linnea stared after him, her red hair flying on the wind, one hand on her chin. A pensive expression showed on her face, and though she gazed after Oz, her eyes fixed on something far distant. After a long moment, she sighed and lowered her eyes, pale lashes lit by the sun.
Fflyn hesitated, then approached her. He cleared his throat, a little awkward. “Can you teach me how to do that? That fey magic stuff.”
Snapping back to reality, Linnea scoffed. She looked down at Fflyn. “It’s suicide. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“But Oz—”
“Oz went from no open meridians to opening all of them in the span of a week. Can you do that?”
Fflyn bit his lip and looked down. He shook his head.
Linnea sighed heavily, looking after Oz again. “That kind of talent… all we can do is watch as it passes us by. You’ve picked well, Fflyn. Now, hold on tight and don’t let go, and let Oz drag you to the top.”
Glancing up at her, Fflyn nodded. He clenched his fist. “Then, is buying my freedom from the Black Blades not a dream?”
“He’s already saved me, without even realizing it,” Linnea murmured, half to herself.
“What?”
“It’s not a dream. You can believe. I don’t know how he managed to stay like this, but Oz is a good person. A really good person. If he tells you something, you can believe him.”
Fflyn nodded. He ran off, sprinting toward the woods to gather wood for the fire.
Linnea stared at the door, still lost in her thoughts. Her expression turned grim, shadows flashing in her eyes. “I only hope you can remain this way, with what is to come.”
Comments
Green0Photon
Clutch that golden thigh! (I think is the saying.)
