Chapter 14

The barbed wire was like a crown of thorns and a cruel mockery of manipulated twine. With the wire wrapped tightly around his arms, his captors lifted his limbs in a ridicule of a broken marionette, pulled by relentless and cruel strings.

A punishing puppet master.

Micah was past the point of scheming up poetic metaphors to his abductors' intentions. All that mattered was that he'd lost feeling in his limbs long ago due to their painful and purposeful arranging.

Positioned on the ground next to the dying and gnarly maze of the academy's gardens, Micah could only stare blankly at the other side of the hedge. One leg curled inward and the other, by painful contrast, curled outward. His left arm stretched far above his head while his right arm angled awkwardly to the side. A fitting position for a discarded toy.

He'd tried to move to a more comfortable position long ago, but the bindings were tight and the barbed wire dug agonizingly into his skin. If he wanted to move his legs, he'd have to put all his weight on the wire holding his arms up.

He'd attempted to do so, ignoring the pain, but it'd been futile.

Whatever drug they'd given him no longer caused his world to spin and his emotions to flare. When they'd first hung him here, he hadn't remembered much besides the bag over his head. There was a distant memory of smelling something sickly sweet, and Micah vaguely recalled his captors' awkward fumbling as they restrained him against the maze.

They'd hadn't spoken to him. They hadn't done anything especially damning, just humiliating.

They'd left him here to die.

Micah blinked sluggishly, his body shuddering madly. Despite his senses returning to him, the drug was still in his system. His entire body flushed with sweat, though he was cold to the bone. Small tremors shook his frame and a fluid-like heaviness settled in his lungs. Every time he breathed, his lungs rattled. He couldn't seem to take a full breath, and when he managed, he would cough dryly.

He was tired.

Micah closed his eyes against the pain and the cold.

He should have sensed the attack before it happened. He should have fought harder against the attackers. His sword remained sheathed and attached in his back holster, a sign he hadn't even lifted a finger against the captors. Yet, the toxin he inhaled instantly numbed his reflexes and shrouded him in a reality not quite real.

His face burned with humiliation.

He was a fool.

Weak.

Blue flames suddenly appeared around the corner of the maze and curled lazily around him like a serpent's tale. Micah stared at them unseeingly. They were small, hardly even an inch high, yet they shined with startling intensity.

Either his attackers were returning or worse…

He stiffened in displeasure as the man came around the corner. He hated that Josiah saw him like this. It was beyond mortifying. Micah's body strained against the restraints, ignoring the blood as it dripped from his left wrist and cascaded down his face like tears.

In a flurry of dark robes, Josiah stopped before him.

The silence and stillness was deafening.

Time came to a sudden halt as Josiah fell to his knees before Micah, the action appearing particularly powerful in its reverence and esteem. The Igni lord could have cut him down from the restraints while he remained standing. Micah wouldn't have expected anything less. Yet, he kneeled amongst the flurry of his blue flames, gazing up at Micah.

Micah, who focused intently on Josiah's dark clothing, gradually raised his gaze to the man across from him. He couldn't summon his dislike for him, for he was too preoccupied with the startling concentration across the man's face. Josiah reached for him, trailing his fingers just barely across Micah's cheek.

"I will find the men who did this to you and they will suffer immensely."

Micah sensed the utmost sincerity in those words and knew it to be true.

A hiccup escaped his mouth.

And then another.

He couldn't breathe.

He closed his eyes tightly against the fatigue and the lack of oxygen. With a rustle of robes, Josiah shifted closer, cradling his face. Lips pressed firmly against his sweaty and bloody forehead while the barbed wire around his limbs turned brittle and shattered under Josiah's sorcery. Micah fell forward, shamelessly burying his face into the crook of Josiah's neck.

The man abruptly wrapped his arms around him and lifted him from the ground. Though they were nearly the same height, Josiah carried him with ease. Whether he was annoyed at Micah's heavy panting against his throat or not, he did not adjust his positioning.

"Do you know who did this?"

Micah barely heard the question, nearly comatose. "I was weak."

Josiah was silent for a long while. In a rare act of affection, the man spoke through Micah's veil of lingering unconsciousness. "You are a great deal of things, Ezra, but weak isn't one of them. For one so young, you've greatly exceeded my expectations."

* * * *

It was a repeat of their first encounter, though Micah Egan was just as unconscious to it as he was this time around. At least this time, he was not screaming in pain and clawing at his chest, but rather gasping for air.

Truthfully, Kendra didn't know which she preferred.

She placed down the needles she had sterilized, watching as the Igni lord glided into the infirmary and slammed the door closed behind him. Usually fearful of the man, she tolerated his presence tonight, simply because she knew the severity of the situation. Cradled against the man's chest, Micah did not move.

As Lord Josiah lay him fluidly on the bed, the boy's face was unnaturally white.

Healer Destan, who had arrived quickly after receiving the call, hurriedly hovered above Micah and touched his forehead. His expression turned grim. "Fever. The poison has settled into his system." He licked his lips, a habit, Kendra knew, that spoke of his anxiousness. "His hiccupping and shallow breathing indicate the fluid is in his lungs. A sign of progression."

"A progression that can be stopped," Lord Josiah said with a hint of threat.

Kendra was very glad she called for Destan. She wouldn't have been able to work under these specific conditions.

"It is a water Elemental drug, My Lord," Destan replied somberly. "It is a drug specifically unique to the Unda people. Typically, only water Elementals can extract the drug from an individual before it settles in the system and acts as a poison. You see, once they inhale the drug, it travels through the bloodstream, giving the user a euphoric release. If it is not extracted in time by the water Elemental, it will gather around the user's lungs and gradually become a lethal poison."

Destan placed a hand on Micah's forehead. "In Mr. Egan's case, the drug has progressed to a poison. Now that it has settled and materialized around his lungs as an actual toxin, I firmly believe we can extract it through traditional methods. I have called for assistance with this."

"If we would have gotten to him sooner—"

"It wouldn't have mattered." Destan shook his head. "We would have been powerless to extract it from him with his unique… condition. If we had gotten to him sooner, we would have had to wait until it progressed. I hope, for his sake, the poison is centralized."

Quickly looking away from Josiah's sharp regard, Kendra focused on Micah's comfort. Reaching for the young man, she unbuttoned his uniform. As she peeled off his dark jacket, she noticed the blood and the ripped fabric of his white tunic. There were holes pierced into his wrists and biceps, as if a thorny vine or barbed wire had wrapped snugly around his limbs.

She tutted, grabbing the disinfectant and swabs. It was unusual healing this way. Slower, clumsier, and uglier. Micah could possibly scar this way and Kendra thought he was far too attractive to have blemished skin. Her eyes fell on his bloodstained face, noticing the especially handsome features slack with something akin to death.

But he was not dead. Not yet. No matter how painful and shallow it sounded, she revered the sound of his breathing.

It indicated life.

It represented chance. A chance they had to save him.

"Healer Kendra, please prepare the chest tube insert. You can deal with the wounds later. They are not pressing at this moment."

Draining the lungs by inserting a chest tube was very new to her. Water Elementals who dabbled in healing learned specific techniques based on their abilities. As there were enough water Elementals in the field —an esteemed position among nobility now that there was no war—healing the traditional way was a dying art. Moreover, there was no one like Micah Egan who resisted Elemental magic.

As far as Kendra knew, Destan was also inexperienced with the traditional method, though he seemed in control of this situation.

She watched as he disinfected the skin on Micah's chest.

"Will we use anesthetic?"

"I'm afraid we don't know how anesthetic or pain tonics will react with the poison in his system. Let's hope he's in a deep sleep. Otherwise, this will be unpleasant for him."

Across the room, Josiah settled in a chair and watched the proceedings closely. Kendra looked away quickly, her body trembling with unexplained panic. She felt insignificant and small under his intense gaze. Any mistake she made, he'd see it.

He'd pounce.

Trying to phase out his regard, Kendra focused on her task. After disinfecting the tools, she handed Destan a scalpel and the chest insert. He bypassed the tools and conjured a sphere of water. Kendra knew what he was hoping to achieve. He was looking for the precise area the fluid pooled in Micah's lungs. But would it work if Micah was immune to their power?

Destan probed the sphere in the air and sent it on a dizzying spin.

As the sphere spun, it flattened. Under Destan's guidance, it suspended over Micah's chest, humming and possessing a life of its own as it searched for a coagulation of fluid across the lungs. If it worked, it would reduce in size and hover over the area of concern.

Only, it continued to spin, taking far longer than anticipated.

In a rare act of frustration, Destan growled and flung his hand to the side. The sphere splattered across the wall and dripped down the walls of the infirmary.

Destan held out his hand, taking the scalpel. Kendra watched in concern, knowing the man was just as inexperienced as she was to heal this way. Though he possessed far more knowledge on how to heal the traditional way, there were boundaries. Without their gift, it was as if they had to heal blind.

"Do you want to wait for—?"

"No. This needs to be done immediately. His pulse is slowing."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Kendra's fingers were against Micah's pulse. She gazed at the clock, her hopes crumbling as the pulse beneath her fingers refused to regulate.

Josiah stood.

"Destan," Josiah called softly. His tone was lethal. "Do you need further encouragement to succeed?"

"I know what's at stake, My Lord," Destan said sternly, pressing his hand upon Micah's chest. "Varuna help us all," he pleaded to the god as he dug his scalpel into the young body beneath him.

The doors to the infirmary slammed open once more and Kendra sighed, never having realized how much she would appreciate the appearance of an Igni Healer. The man was familiar to her, though she did not interact with him often. She knew he held an esteemed position to the Igni royal family before and even after the war.

"Agni," the man cursed. "Drop it."

Healer Brenton closed the doors behind him and offered a quick, respectable bow towards Josiah all in a matter of seconds. He appeared suddenly beside Destan and surveyed the situation. He was an older man with fine wrinkles carving deep into his face.

"He needs to be elevated, Destan." He set down his bag and fished out a set of gloves. "Dulcis Waters, correct?"

"Yes." Destan set down the scalpel and reached for Micah. "A progressed stage."

"Let me make that determination."

Kendra helped prop more pillows underneath Micah's unconscious form, elevating his torso at a sharper angle. Destan did not appear dejected at the reprimanding, but rather grateful of the interruption.

Brenton listened to Micah's chest with a stethoscope. "You are right." He motioned to Kendra. "Time is critical. The fluid is centralized in his left lung. Raise his left arm and tuck his palm behind his head. Use restrains if needed. He must remain in position."

She quickly grabbed Micah's tie and used it to restrain his arm in position.

"I brought a numbing agent. Slather it near his ribs. Then identify the fifth intercostal and midaxillary line. The skin incision has to be over the rib and in between the midaxillary and anterior axillary lines. Below the intercostal level." Brenton flicked his wrist and a sphere of fire hung suspended above Micah, allowing for extra lighting.

After Kendra applied the numbing agent, Destan marked the area where the insertion would occur. He handed the scalpel to Brenton, who had just finished assembling the chest tube and preparing the tray of sterile gauze and the appropriate instruments.

She watched as the Igni Healer conducted a deep incision down Micah's side in the same direction of his rib. Discarding the scalpel, Brenton then reached for a clamp and bluntly dissected a tract in the tissue by opening and closing the clamp.

Kendra stared, fascinated.

Never one to be squeamish over blood and gore, she couldn't help but be mesmerized.

"It's entirely barbaric," she admitted aloud as he took his finger and probed it inside Micah. While she was familiar with healing with her Element, she could not dispute the raw power of traditional healing. She now understood Destan's fascination with learning Igni healing.

It was powerful.

Bloody.

"The insertion of the tube must be as close as possible to the upper border of the rib," Brenton informed. "It will minimize the risk of injury to the nerve and blood vessels." He then grabbed his clamp once more. "You must enter the pleural space." By now, blood coated Micah's side from the gaping, grisly wound. "You need to apply force for this and a twisting motion," Brenton instructed an observing Destan and Kendra. "You must be in control. Entry too far into the chest could result in damage to the lung and diaphragm."

His wrists moved as he twisted the closed clamp into Micah's side.

"A rush of air and fluid will be your indicator you've succeed." Brenton sounded pleased when a rush of fluid seeped from the wound. "Open your clamp while inside the pleural space and withdraw. This will enlarge the dissected tract through all layers in the chest wall, allowing for the chest tube passageway."

A soft exhalation sounded from Micah and Kendra moved away from the instruction to focus on him. Destan would inform her on the procedure later.

Her professional countenance softened when she saw the tear escape the corner of Micah's eye. Pressing a hand against his forehead, Kendra brushed aside his sweaty hair and marveled at his hot skin. They were wary giving him any sort of tonic just in case it interacted negatively with the Dulcis Waters. However, if they did not act, Micah could very well succumb to the infection inside his body.

Her fingers dropped lower and cradled his head as she checked his pulse.

Frowning, she dug her fingers deeper into his pulse point, panic setting in. Her eyes landed on Lord Josiah, the blood in her veins turning to ice as realization settled across the man's face. He stood up slowly and glided towards the doors to the infirmary.

"We need to stabilize him, Destan," Kendra informed. "Quickly!"

"We're draining the poison around his lungs," Brenton said. "Hopefully by the time a tonic reaches his system, the poison will be out of his body." He nodded to Destan. "Give him the tonic. His fever is too high to risk not giving him anything."

"We're losing him," Kendra urged as Destan hurried to gather the tonic.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lord Josiah slipping out of the infirmary. She didn't understand. Kendra possessed knowledge she shouldn't about Micah and Lord Josiah. She'd sworn to keep such information to herself. The two possessed an intimate relationship. So why now, when Micah struggled for life, did he leave?

Did he feel too powerless? For a man in possession of such infamous power, the Igni lord undoubtedly felt useless standing on the other side of the room, watching events unfold. Yet, it was a crucial time in Micah's recovery.

Stabilization.

Destan returned, opening the stopper of the prepared tonic and tipping Micah's head back to administer it.

Before the start of the school term, Destan instructed Kendra to brew as many tonics as possible for this very reason. Micah may need last-minute treatment. Moreover, it was always ideal to stock up on tonics, even if a water Elemental could heal without them. Ingesting or applying tonics, in addition to water magic, helped speed the process of healing for the patient.

"That will centralize the infection and eliminate it," Destan informed as he rubbed Micah's throat to force the liquid down his esophagus. "Let us hope we were not too late."

Kendra hovered uncertainly over Micah's head, her hands still situated near the young man's temples. She watched as Brenton secured the chest tube before cleaning the area and covering it with gauze.

"So this is him," Brenton murmured fondly, his eyes settling on Micah's face for the first time that night. "He appears unassuming."

Unassuming?

Kendra held her tongue, knowing it was not her place to speak about private matters involving the royal heir. However, as she looked down at Micah, she realized that this was the first time Brenton lay eyes on him.

He looked dead. Broken. His eyes were not open to deliver their usual spark of focused intelligence and defiance. A trait that undoubtedly held many captive. Micah was anything but unassuming. He had a way of making people want to venture closer, a way of making them want his attention, yet keep their distance out of uncertainty.

Micah appeared coolly untouchable, though, at times, she could see he possessed an air of compassion.

Destan laughed once. "Don't let his crippling weakness fool you. The boy is quite capable, let me reassure you." He looked towards the area Josiah once occupied. "Lord Josiah knows it. We should take initiative from that."

Brenton inclined his head with agreement. "If My Lord thinks highly of the boy, then I will certainly reconsider my initial judgement." The old Igni Healer removed his gloves after making certain the chest tube was in proper and stable place. He then raised the bed sheets and settled them just under Micah's chin.

"It will be interesting," Brenton murmured quietly as he studied Micah's bloodstained face. "To see what changes will sure to come with his reappearance at the capital. I cannot think King Calder will remain ignorant of his son's presence for long."

"There are plenty of people already suspicious of the boy's identity," Destan confirmed. "He's brought attention to himself as being biracial and the top of his class. Lord Josiah has kept his distance from the boy to remedy gossip, though the talk has tempered only slightly."

"Only slightly," Brenton repeated thoughtfully. "I imagine, whomever did this to him, was well aware of his status as the royal prince and his immunity with the Elements."

Kendra and Destan both looked at the man sharply.

"The boy recently humiliated the noble children for the top position as first-year cadet," Destan informed. "It is likely a cruel prank from them to reestablish their standings."

"Perhaps."

Brenton wiped his hands clean with disinfectant wipes. He said nothing more on the topic, but rather, focused on setting out ingredients on the table. The tonic ingredients appeared foreign to Kendra, though she figured it was an old Igni brew.

She watched him steadily, unnerved with his insinuation. While there were a handful of people who knew Micah's real identity and ability to withstand the Elements, all of them were sworn to secrecy. Kendra could not fathom Lord Josiah's reaction if Brenton's prediction proved accurate. It was an assassination attempt on the royal heir.

"What are you brewing?"

"A tonic to release the toxins inside the boy's body." Brenton motioned Destan over. "If we got to him sooner, I would have started with this. However, I did not have any prepared and it would have taken too long."

She watched the two men brew the tonic together while she sat next to Micah. His breathing eventually evened out, yet his fever remained high. Kendra combed over his unruly hair with her fingers and worked to clear his face from blood. As she watched the clock and continued to check his pulse, her optimism faltered.

His fever should have drastically died by now, only, it was just as strong.

"He's not taking to the antibiotics," she whispered to her mentor.

Destan appeared at her side quickly, replacing her fingers with his own. He watched the clock as it ticked down the seconds, his eyes turning distant. "I know he isn't immune to tonics and medications. It should have worked."

The Igni Healer bottled the tonic and shook it ferociously. "Let us administer this and then give him another dose of antibiotics."

With the help of Kendra, they got Micah to swallow the tonic that would eliminate the toxins from his body. It had to be similar to antibiotics, though she knew it specifically centralized and eliminated poisons. Micah's body remained limp. Heavy. He did not stir as they jarred him from the pillows and lay him down further on the mattress.

His breathing grew deep and slow, his color becoming paler. They could not stabilize him fast enough.

The ball of fire Brenton conjured suddenly extinguished, as did the other lanterns lit across the infirmary. Kendra turned at the sudden darkness, spying Lord Josiah standing near the doors. Next to him, a frail, cloaked woman stood.

"Out," Josiah whispered.

The three Healers paused in their ministrations, clueless.

A long-fingered hand lifted and pointed to the doors. "Get out," he ordered once more, this time with far more authority.

Kendra stood under Destan's impatient hand to her shoulder. The hairs on her body stood on end as they approached the door and closer to the two figures shrouded in darkness. The woman, with long, stringy blond hair, had a hood covering her features. Kendra's instincts told her to flee.

And flee quickly.

"Micah…" Kendra trailed off.

"I believe he is in capable hands," Destan informed stiffly, most likely just as unnerved as Kendra. "We just need to wait."

* * * *

Micah stirred from the warm daze of nothingness at a sudden, soothing presence. It seemed familiar somehow, at least familiar enough to arouse his consciousness. Their footsteps were light next to the silent glide he'd come to recognize as Josiah's gait.

"Poor soul."

It was a woman with the softest, most musical voice he'd ever heard. Micah wanted to stretch towards it like a deprived flower reaching desperately for a sliver of sun.

A hand covered his forehead and stroked back his unruly, loose curls. "He has grown faster than I had expected." She sounded deeply amused. "I will credit your sheer determination. I often forget how stubborn you can be."

"He has matured quickly, though it takes extreme persistence from both him and I."

"As I've warned you before…" she trailed off mysteriously. "This is good for you. It will test your patience. "

"I knew you'd be mulling about nearby," Josiah said quietly with a crushing ferocity of anger. "Couldn't help yourself to watch a tragedy of mine to unfold, could you?"

"Always the pessimistic." Her hand continued to pet Micah. "Perhaps I wanted to watch my son grow. I confess myself attached when he was born. He is destined to possess enough beauty to bring you to your knees and enough power to put you in your place."

Josiah did not respond for quite some time.

And then, "I have foreseen it."

"Alas, it appears as if half his soul is already dwelling in a warm, blissful place. He is content and rather happy there. He has no qualms leaving this place behind and embracing death. Many of us are not so inclined to follow his same willingness." She laughed. "Do not get upset, I will bring him back. Just this one time."

"There will not be a next time."

"No, there will not. For next time, I will bring him with me promptly." Her voice turned hard and Micah shied away from her. The voice, which was once pleasant, took on a condescending tone, as if Josiah were a mere, insignificant insect under her powerful influence. "His soul belongs to me when you cannot properly hold on to him. I will gladly take him."

"He was created for me."

Possessive. Rightfully angry.

"By me," she countered haughtily.

The two fell into a stalemate or perhaps a mutual understanding.

A hand uncurled from his hair and slid down to the side of his cheek, turning his head to rest firmly against the pillow. His eyes slowly opened and he looked up at a woman with long, white hair and pale, ice-like eyes. His eyes, a part of him whispered, though he was in no frame of mind to grasp and hold that piece of information.

He would not remember any of this when he woke.

With child-like wonder, he reached toward her, needing to be closer. Wanting to be closer.

She smiled kindly as his fingers touched her cold cheek. "Not yet, my sweet darling." Her smile turned forlorn as she sat on the mattress and peered down at him. "I'm afraid I will have to summon the rest of you back here."

When she frowned, he frowned.

With a delicate curl of her wrist, her long fingers pressed against his temple. Then something horrible happened. A weight, so heavy with its force, slammed into his chest with startling suddenness. He blinked at the feeling, his toes and feet turning cold, his whole body turning heavy and sore.

Pain was back. Cold was back.

Horror.

He choked out a desperate sob and shuddered with discomfort.

"Hush, hush, my son," she soothed mournfully as she embraced him into her cold embrace. He sobbed uncontrollably. "I know this world is a cold, dark place. But you are not alone in the darkness."

She lay him back down, covering him with a heavy blanket.

"Rest, Ezra."

* * * *

Much later that evening, orange eyes gazed down at the palace floors. To an outsider, the dark figure appeared to be looking at nothing in particular, perhaps even appraising the fine details of the amethyst and cream-colored rug sent over as a gift from the Terra Kingdom. Rather suddenly, a slow, contemplating smirk curled the edges of the man's mouth.

Clasping his hands behind his back, Lord Josiah turned his shoulder on the concealed runes, leaving them undisturbed.