Rebirth (A17)

A17. Space and time have converged and now they’re mine

He stares at the sky, cut open and bleeding, left to die among the rot and decay around him.

It would be enraging, if he had anything left in him to feel anger. Mostly, he is just tired. He can feel his life seep out of him and spill back into the earth below him, and he’s powerless to stop it. His hand feels too heavy to move. His heart is slowing, too lazy to beat, and he closes his eyes in prayer. One last prayer…

A long forgotten tingle shoots up his arm and courses throughout his body. His eyes shoot open as his next heartbeat threatens to rip out of his chest. It can’t be! It is. A second heartbeat joins the first, and each breath is easier than the last ever so slightly. His hand trembles as he brings it to his wound, and the warm comfortable tingle of healing washes over him.

Why now, after years of being unable to summon this power?

Shakily, he rises to his feet. The world swirls around him, but he’s not dying anymore. Not from this wound. Or maybe he has died and this is his rebirth. His breaths move his chest in their heave and he inhales greedily. It takes a breath, maybe two, for the pain to kick in. He buckles with it, ending up in a new heap on the floor, but the pain is short lived. The strength in his bones returns, and he stands again.

Surely, it is the Gods. It must be because he is not done yet, and there is work they require him to do.

He takes a stride forward, and the magic propels him though the space, turning his steps into bounds and allowing him to clear the area. His next breath is alive with the magic in the air, and it sears his lungs, burning away his failure. He mutters a prayer, and his body springs forward with energy he hasn’t had in years.

Space and time have converged and now they’re his, the world is ready to be molded by his hands. Let the Gods guide him further still and let their will be done.