(Nathan)

  Nathan g Dyn. "Do you know that guy?" They both watched the elf with too many bdes king dowreet. Lifeforce showed the adve 34% health. A moment ter, it dipped to 32%, then jumped back to 34% after the rugged elf healed himself again.

  “That’s Charles.” Dyn stood motionless, the cloth bag swaying from his fiips—the same one Charles had tossed to him before running off.

  The rugged elf had vanished for nearly half an hour, only to reappear in front of them, telep without warning. His body atchwork of cuts and scrapes, his clothes just as ragged. Nathan worried the uy looked worse.

  “We should get you back to the hospital, fast.” Nathan watched Dyn’s health bar. It was rising—just far too slowly.

  Dyn’s face remained deathly pale, his nose, lips, and ears bed with frostbite. “You’re from the hospital? How’d you know I was gon hurt?”

  “I didn’t,” Nathan muttered. ‘This is all my fault.’ He hadn’t unlocked maoration abilities. ‘I never should’ve left him alone.’ But he had more than enough offensive abilities—he might’ve been able to fend off the assaint.

  “I’m your caseworker for this tract,” Nathan sighed. “I’m so sorry this happened. Once you’re patched up, I’ll make sure your tract gets reassigo someone more petent.” He cast Metabolize again.

  “Why?” Dyn’s health still hadn’t hit double digits.

  Nathan rechecked Dyn’s head, growing. False Life should’ve been suppressing any traumatiesia, shock, and even his cussion. “Because I panicked a you alone.” He gently grabbed Dyn by the jaw, turning his head side to side. “You sustained serious injuries while I wasn’t there to protect you.”

  Dyn shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve died,” he said casually.

  Nathan waited for his wful orb to chime in—nothing. ‘Is Polygraph broken? abilities even break?’ It wasn’t like when Meekan spoke; Dyn wasn’t skirting around anything. ‘Did I hear that right? He’s died before?’

  “Oh, hey, there’s some healing potions in here.” Dyn peeked into the bag, holding it open with both hands. “ I just use one?”

  ‘Oh Mother, please don’t let him use the terrifying adventurers’ expeions.’ Then again, it might e down to that if they didn’t reach the hospital soon.

  Nathan shook his head. “Not yet. You’re not in danger of dying right now. The hospital’s just a short walk away.” He pointed dowreet.

  “Yeah, we stopped by st night. They couldn’t help with my vermilion ivy rash. Wait—that’s weird. It’s not burning, itg, or tingling.” Dyn stared down at his legs, baffled.

  “I take care of that for you.”

  “You ?” Dyn looked up. His eyes brightened with hope, a smile spreading across his face.

  “At the hospital.” That was enough to get the chubby man moving. “But we o hurry.” Natha off down Market Street, and, thankfully, Dyn followed.

  “What’s the rush? The day shift going home early or something?”

  “No. The ability I used on you is going to expire,” Nathan said, carefully avoiding its name, “and when it does, you’ll be in a lot of pain. It’s masking how serious your injuries really are.”

  “’t you just…” Dyn wiggled his fingers. “You know, do it again?”

  Natha his eyes fixed ahead, refusing to answer—or lie. “What do you mean, you’ve died before?”

  Dyn unched into the story of his not-s escape from the Ebonscale stronghold as they headed to the hospital. He was just getting to the part about nding in the ke when he suddenly went quiet.

  Nathan had been diligent about recastiabolize each time it wore off, but Dyn’s health hovered at 11%. False Life made him feel like he was over half health, masking his other injuries. Nathan watched as Dyn doubled over, shivering.

  “N-N-Nathan,” Dyn’s teeth chattered, “I d-don’t feel so good.”

  Nathan quickly scooped Dyn up, cradling him in his arms. The shivering, chubby man was heavy, but still within Nathan’s strength to carry. He hurried the rest of the way to the hospital, hauling Dyn as gently as he could.

  “We need help out here!” Nathan shouted as he he hospital doors, hoping Sabath would hear him. Moments ter, Sabath appeared, holding the door open as Nathan squeezed inside. “Fetch me a stretcher.”

  Sabath darted into a nearby bay where the stretchers were kept. He raced back around the er with one, parking it in front of them. “Who’s this guy? What happeo your tract?” Sabath asked.

  Nathan carefully id Dyn oretcher. “He is my tract.”

  Sabath shot him a puzzled look. “Mother have mercy. What did you do to him?”

  ‘Abandoned him,’ whispered an intrusive thought. Nathan shoved it aside. “Nothing. We’re taking him to my office.”

  Sabath walked the stretcher backward as Nathan pushed. He hit the double doors with his back, and they swung open, log into pce as the three of them passed from the reception area into the main thhfare. The doors would automatically close after fifteen seds.

  “Make a hole!” Sabath called out as they raced down the hallway. He quickly switched from walking backward to jogging alongside, steering the stretcher.

  “Sincir!” Nathan spotted a colleague with a poteh restoration ability.

  Without missing a beat, Sincir hurried after them, calling out, “How I help?”

  “Very low health— you stabilize him?” Nathan asked as they rouhe er, his office just down the hall.

  “Of course,” Sincir said. The hallway lights flickered and dimmed as the elf cast his healing ability, abs the light and verting it into health. Sincir’s body glowed mint green as the stretcher slowed, allowing him to catch up and pour the healing energy into Dyn’s frail frame.

  Nathan watched Dyn’s health surge to 87%. “Thank you. We’ll take it from here.”

  Sinodded and jogged back to his station. Natha a wave of uselessness wash over him. Mender was his archetype, but he hadn’t unlocked a single health-rest ability. He didn’t t Metabolize; it would be powerful when bined with healing-over-time abilities—too bad he didn’t have any.

  “Thank you, Sabath.” Nathan parked the stretcher in the ter of his office, stepping on the foot pedal. The wheels shifted into stationary posts. Their stretchers served triple duty as exam tables, patient beds, and transportation.

  His office, like all physis’ offices, was a dual-purpose space. The front half was for examinations, treatments, and procedures. ets, a sink, and a tertop lined with various medical devices filled the area, though Nathan rarely used any of them—he relied on a more effective ability to diagients. The back half of the office housed his desk, a rge fy couch, and a simple chair.

  “You found him like this?” Sabath asked, bending down to open a et and pulling out a linen b.

  “Yes. Wait, no,” Nathan quickly corrected himself. “First, I found him unihen there was a fire.” Nathan helped Sabath drape the b over Dyn, who had passed out in the hallway.

  “A fire? Should we expect more injuries?”

  “No. Well… actually, yes.”

  “Quite the tradi today,” Sabath mused. He was unapologetically blunt, trying to ground Nathan.

  “Sorry, an injured adventurer—maybe more—might stop by. If they haven’t already, but not because of the fire.” Nathan held Dyn’s wrist, cheg his pulse. ‘Quick. Is over 100 normal for a human?’

  Sabath stepped aside, giving Nathan space, ready to jump in if needed.

  “I made a mistake. I ran to get help with the fire instead of staying with him.” Nathaured toward Dyn. “He was attacked, and... I almost didn’t make it ba time.” He turo Sabath. “ you get his tract reassigned? He’s been through enough—he deserves someone petent.”

  “Did you know he’d be attacked?”

  “No, but—”

  “Did you really need help with the fire?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No,” Sabath said bluntly, turning and walking out of the room.

  “No?” Nathan hurried after him.

  Sabath spun around, his expression firm. “I’m not reassigning the tract.”

  “But I made a mistake. He—”

  “That’s your problem. Don’t make it mine. Sounds to me like you made the right call with what you knew. Besides, do you have any idea how much paperwork it takes to reassign a tract?”

  Nathan looked away, shaking his head slightly. “No.”

  “her do I.” Sabath resumed walking toward his station. “And I pn on keeping it that way.”

  Nathan stood speechless, watg the sassy elf walk away.

  “Water?” a raspy voice croaked from his office.

  Nathan hurried to the sink, grabbing a mug from the et. He filled it quickly and brought it to Dyn. “Are you hungry?” he asked, helping Dyn sit up to drink.

  Dyn ed both hands around the mug, taking a greedy gulp. “Sadly, no.”

  “And that’s a bad thing?” Nathan asked, w if loss of appetite was a symptom.

  Dyn propped himself up on one elbow. “No. It’s a fk thing.”

  Nathan adjusted the stretcher, ining the top half so Dyn could sit more fortably. ‘Did he say fk? Where’d he find that?’ Fk was an a elven provision his people used to explore new or inhospitable worlds. It kept for an exceedingly long time, providing the body with a day’s worth of nutrients. His people had settled on Xel’oria millennia ago. ‘Surely fk doesn’t st that long?’ Curious to firm he heard correctly, he asked, “Fk?”

  “Yeah.” There was a hint of annoyan Dyn’s voice.

  Nathan pced both hands on the bed railing. “How long have you been off your world?”

  Dyn sched up his fa thought. “Four, maybe five days?”

  “Not even a week, and you’ve already found fk?” Nathan’s brows and ears perked up.

  “I don’t know how you stomach that stuff.” Dyn grimaced. “It’s awful.”

  “I’ve never had fk,” Nathan admitted. He’d only heard of it, a lost tradition buried in elven history.

  “I’d offer you some, but thankfully, Charles hasn’t given me another loaf.”

  ‘The scary adventurer has access to fk?’ Nathan had to admit, the thought the a provision was tempting. “That expins why you’re not hungry. When did you st eat?” He wao make sure Dyn’s meal would be ready.

  “Last night.”

  “You’ll join us for dihen. We should talk about... well, everything.” Desigo hold even lithkai, the stretcher barely shifted as Nathan sat on the end. Dyn looked small, like a plump child in an enormous bed. With almost nothing to go on—one person couldn’t represent aire raathan wondered if all humans were six fingers shorter than elves.

  “What about magic? we talk about magic?” Despite everything, Dyn’s harrowing experience hadn’t dampened his spirit.

  “Sure, that’s an excellent idea. I’d like your permission to use some magi yht now, if you don’t mind.” Nathan waited for his response, not wanting to make any more assumptions on Dyn’s behalf.

  Instead of answering, Dyn tilted his head and asked, “Does magic always require permission?”

  ‘This poor man.’ The question twisted Nathan’s gut; he didn’t want to force his magi Dyn. They’d only just met, and Nathan didn’t even know him well enough to say if he’d want to be brought back after death. ‘What have I done?’

  Nathan frowned. “Yes and no. Ideally, morals guide us, along with the rules aions of the League of Adventurers, which dictate the proper etiquette for using magi ses like you and me. However, nothing really stops adventurers from using it—except for the occasional innate bang that requires a willing target for particurly powerful abilities.”

  “Like abs a magic orb?”

  Nathan nodded. “Exactly, that’s one example.”

  “What do you mean by rules aions?”

  “They’re more like agreed-upon guidelines and are only enforceable on lised adventurers. For example, if you know the person is another lised adventurer, you assume permission to save their life. But if they’re mundane or you’re unsure if they’re lised, you should get sent before using magi them.”

  “Well, I’m gd you didn’t wait to save me,” Dyn replied with a relieved smile.

  Natha a bit of his guilt lift as he took a deep breath. “I’m truly sorry about that, but I didn’t have time to ask. My other choice was to let you die, and your tract requires that I take care of both your physical aal health.”

  “Alright, go ahead. Magic away.” Dyn spread his arms wide, grinning.