- Chapter 032 -

  Fascinating!

  A few more days dissolved into the featureless fog of recovery. Valerie, true to her word, had left him with a small, corked bottle of the foul-tasting purple liquid and a strict set of instructions on dosage. The simple act of being in control of his own pain medication was a small but significant victory, a piece of autonomy regained in a world where he had none. The flat Dr Pepper taste was still a cruel joke, but it was a joke he was now in charge of.

  With the pain managed and his mind no longer a constant, screaming siren of agony, he was able to stay lucid for most of the waking day. The physical work began, a slow and frustrating process conducted entirely from the confines of his infirmary bed. A new medic, a stern but patient woman named Elspeth, guided him through a series of tiny, agonizing movements designed to reawaken the connection to his lower body. Flexing an ankle. Tensing a thigh muscle. Trying to lift a leg a single, impossible inch off the mattress. Each small success was a monumental achievement, a single step on a thousand-mile journey.

  He was in the middle of a particularly grueling set of ankle rotations when the door to his room opened. Valerie walked in, but she wasn't alone. Following her was a man who carried with him an aura of calm, absolute competence. He was older, perhaps in his late fifties, with sharp, intelligent eyes and a neatly trimmed grey beard. His robes were of a fine, dark grey material, impeccably tailored, and from the exposed skin of his forearm, a tattoo of a stylized, coiled serpent pulsed with a faint but steady jade-green light. He had a slight, almost imperceptible accent, a subtle rolling of his 'r's that Mark couldn't quite place.

  "Master Healer Ricardo Vargas," Valerie said, her voice a mixture of professional respect and genuine reverence. "He's just arrived from Titan."

  The Jade Healer stepped forward, his assessing gaze sweeping over Mark with a practiced, clinical eye. "So," he said, his voice a calm, measured baritone. "This is the patient who has the entire medical guild in the capital buzzing." He held a hand over Mark's lower back, the green light from his tattoo intensifying slightly. "Remarkable work, Valerie. Truly remarkable."

  He lowered his hand, his expression unreadable.

  "The damage," Master Healer Vargas stated, his gaze meeting Mark's, "was catastrophic. We saw the initial reports in Titan. Frankly, most of us assumed they were an exaggeration." He shook his head slowly, a flicker of professional awe in his eyes. "They were not."

  He paused, letting the weight of his assessment settle in the quiet room.

  "With conventional healing, even at my level," he continued, his voice dropping to a tone of absolute, clinical certainty, "we could have saved you. You would have survived, yes. But you would have been sitting at home for the rest of your life."

  The pronouncement was so final, so devoid of any medical ambiguity, that it stole the air from Mark's lungs. Sitting at home for the rest of your life. The words were a ghost, a chilling echo of a future that had almost been his.

  "I can show you, if you wish," Ricardo offered, his tone shifting from clinical assessment to that of a seasoned lecturer. He gave Mark a knowing, sympathetic look. "I imagine you have not had the opportunity to meet a Jade-tier Healer before. It may help you understand the scale of what was done."

  Mark let out a slow, steadying breath. He had been through the fire. The thought of seeing a map of the battlefield held a certain grim appeal. "Providing it doesn't involve any more pain," he said, his voice a dry rasp, "I'd be amused to see how you can do that."

  A genuine, warm laugh rumbled in Ricardo's chest. "No, no pain," he assured him, a twinkle in his eyes. "But I must warn you, this has been known to make some patients feel... a little ill. The sight can be unsettling."

  Without further ceremony, the Master Healer raised a hand. He made a series of small, intricate gestures in the air, a silent, complex language of motion. A wave of deep, vibrant jade energy pulsed from his tattoo, washing through the room.

  And then, it was there.

  Hanging in the air above Mark's bed, a perfect, three-dimensional, semi-translucent replica of his own skeleton materialized. It was breathtaking and deeply, profoundly unnerving. The illusionary bones glowed with a soft, internal light, and he could see every detail, every joint, every healed fracture line.

  Mark stared, captivated, his own internal landscape laid bare before him. Beside him, he heard Valerie let out a quiet gasp of her own. Even for her, a seasoned professional, this level of raw, elegant power was clearly not a common sight.

  The sight wasn't sickening. It was fascinating. The nausea Ricardo had warned of never came. Instead, Mark was gripped by a profound, almost academic curiosity. This wasn't just a medical display, to him it was a review, a post-mortem on the catastrophic failure of his own physical self. He needed to understand the scope of the work that had been done, and this was far better than a few x-ray sheets he expected.

  "The leg is obvious," Mark began, his voice quiet but clear, his eyes fixed on the glowing construct above him. He pointed a slightly trembling finger. "That line, on the tibia... that's the compound fracture."

  Ricardo nodded, a flicker of surprise in his eyes at Mark's clinical detachment. With a small gesture, the area Mark had indicated on the illusionary skeleton flared with a bright, angry red light, highlighting the clean, perfectly mended line of the break.

  “You have some experience in the medical field it seems?” Ricardo asked, clearly curious at the unexpected reaction in Mark and choice of words.

  A small laugh escaped Mark as he continued to examine himself, “I’ve a valid First Aid Certificate, and I paid attention in biology class.”

  Ricardo just nodded, wheels spinning behind a curious smile.

  Valerie stepped forward, her professional curiosity overriding her awe. Her own hand glowed with a faint, diagnostic light as she began to point out other areas, her voice a steady, clinical narrative. "The skull fracture was here, on the occipital bone," she said, and a new red line appeared on the back of the spectral skull. "And the ribs..."

  The illusion shifted, rotating smoothly in the air as Valerie's hand moved. "Most of the damage was concentrated on the left side. Ribs six through ten were shattered." As she spoke, a spiderweb of glowing red lines erupted across the illusion's ribcage, a chaotic map of his own near-destruction. "You can see here... and here... some sections were completely unsalvageable. We… I had to... rebuild them."

  Mark stared at the spectral bones. Some of the red lines weren't just cracks, they were patches, sections of bone that glowed with a slightly different, denser light. They weren't his. They were constructs, magical patches on his broken frame.

  The image rotated again, focusing on the spine. A cascade of red light flared along the lower vertebrae, a chilling illustration of the catastrophic damage. Some of the bones were a solid, angry red, indicating they had been shattered and painstakingly reassembled. It was a ruin, a collapsed structure that had been, piece by agonizing piece, put back together. His spine was not much better than his ribs. He was a patchwork man, held together by glue and good intentions.

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  "Remarkable," Ricardo murmured, his gaze fixed on the glowing red ruin of Mark's spine. He looked from the illusion to Valerie, his expression one of profound professional respect. "To have set this, with this level of precision, using a Garnet Heart... Valerie, your work is not just viable. It is exemplary."

  He turned and directly looked at Valeria, his voice taking on a very direct tone. “Let me be very clear, the gravity of what you accomplished here with this person.” He waved his arm over the glowing red spine of the illusion, “is beyond the scope of traditional healers, even at Jade like myself. We can mend, get the body to knit itself back. Reconstruction on this scale is a true achievement, it is basically a miracle.”

  He let the praise hang in the air for a moment before turning his attention back to Mark. The illusionary skeleton dissolved into motes of green light, the air returning to normal. "You are on the path to a full recovery," the Master Healer stated, his tone returning to one of calm authority. "But it will be a long one. I will accelerate the process slightly with my own magic now, to aid the deepest tissues in their mending."

  He placed a hand near Mark's lower back, and a wave of deep, penetrating warmth, far more potent than Valerie's, washed through him. It wasn't a jolt, but a slow, seeping heat that seemed to sink into his very bones, soothing the deep, residual ache.

  "I will also provide you with the details for a minor regeneration ritual," Ricardo continued as he worked. "It is a simple process, designed to be performed once a day. It will encourage the new bone and tissue to integrate more fully, to become your own. It will significantly shorten your recovery time."

  "Master Vargas," Valerie interjected quickly, a note of concern in her voice. "Mark has no prior experience with Ritual Magic. The process may be... difficult for him."

  Ricardo's warm laugh filled the room again. He removed his hand from Mark's back, the pleasant warmth lingering. "His backstory does not change the prescription, my dear Valerie," he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It simply means he will have to get a book and learn."

  For a moment he just stared at Mark, assessing more of what was going on, “I must confess, your case is a study of contraindications as well as astonishment.” He tapped the back of his gloved hand. “I have both a Heart of the Healer, and one of Memory. The latter keeps my own aging mind in check, but also helps patients with difficult moments, offering relief in memory as opposed to pain.”

  As fascinating as the top notes were, Mark knew where this was going, but he would not choose to be ungrateful here.

  Ricardo continued, “The mental trauma that you survived without a Memory or Dream specialist able to help, is remarkable. In all honesty, I would have imagined your sanity would have left you as they operated.” He took a moment before, “I would be fascinated to understand how you managed that, it could be a boon for others in future.”

  Mark groaned slightly, not at the request, but at the attempt to shift his shoulder, “Master Vargas, I think I’m at the limit of people attempting to find how my mind works. For now, I think some things are best left unknown.”

  With a knowing smile, Ricardo nodded, “Of course, I’ll leave my details should you wish to share in future. Truly fascinating.”

  The lingering warmth in his back was a comforting, alien sensation, a promise of a future where pain wasn't a constant companion. But the image of his own shattered skeleton, the sheer, brutal carnage, was still imprinted on his mind. He pushed the thought away, latching onto a different, more immediate question that had been nagging at him since he'd woken up.

  "If I ended up like this," Mark began, his voice a little stronger now, "what happened to Alex?" He looked from Ricardo to Valerie, the memory of that final, devastating impact still sharp and clear. "Lothar... I was on the floor, and I felt that impact run through me."

  "Alex?" Ricardo asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

  Valerie quickly stepped in, providing the context. "Alex Smith, Master Vargas. A Garnet-tier brute from the Militia. The Masons' Guild hired him to 'escort' Mark. He... lost his temper when the initial attempt failed."

  She glanced at Mark, a flicker of grim humor in her eyes. "He'll be fine. His armor took the worst of it, and his Heart of the Warrior provides him a high level of durability. He's got a shattered jaw and a concussion that will keep him on his back for a month or so, but he'll recover."

  She paused, a thoughtful, analytical look on her face. "Frankly, he's lucky. A blow like that... it should have been far worse than what you received. Even with the armor."

  She looked back at Mark, her voice dropping to a low, speculative murmur. "I suspect your quiet neighbor, Lothar, is actually Jade. And he just doesn't want anyone to know about it."

  Ricardo just nodded, a slow, knowing gesture, as if Valerie's suspicion were the most obvious thing in the world. "There are more Jades in the Collective than the official records would have you believe," he said, his voice a quiet, confidential murmur.

  He looked from Valerie to Mark, his expression turning serious. "I would ask that you do not repeat that observation outside of this room. There is a... higher expectation placed upon those of us that reach Jade by the Guilds. A pressure to be involved. Many who reach that level of power come to understand that the games of politics are simply not worth the price of admission."

  Valerie gave a quick, professional nod of assent.

  Mark, for his part, let out a short, sharp laugh that immediately turned into a pained grunt. He clutched at his side, the phantom ache of his shattered ribs a sharp, sudden reminder of the very politics they were discussing.

  "I agree," he wheezed, a humorless smile twisting his lips. "My ribs can attest to that."

  The Master Healer’s work was done. The pleasant, seeping warmth in Mark’s back began to fade, leaving a dull, but more manageable, ache in its wake. The immediate crisis was over. Now came the long, slow project of recovery.

  “What now?” Mark asked, the question directed at both healers. “What can I expect? Months of this?”

  Ricardo stroked his neat, grey beard, a thoughtful, considering look on his face. “Possibly,” he conceded. “But I would estimate six to eight weeks before you are fully mobile again, if a bit slow. There are… a great many variables. Your own body’s resilience, your diligence with the ritual, how your system adapts to the rebuilt sections…”

  Six to eight weeks. Mark stared at him, the number a profound, fundamental shock. Back home, with his injury list, he wouldn’t be thinking in weeks. He’d be thinking in seasons, in years of painful physiotherapy and a lifetime of managed limitations. He wouldn’t be walking in two months, he’d be learning to use a wheelchair.

  Ricardo, misinterpreting his stunned silence for impatience, offered a sympathetic, apologetic shrug. “I am sorry, Mark. I know it seems slow. But to mend this level of trauma, to ensure the new growth is stable… we cannot move any faster.”

  “Faster?” Mark choked out, a raw, incredulous laugh bubbling in his chest. “Master Vargas, back home, this…” he gestured vaguely at his own broken body, “this wouldn’t be a recovery. It would be a permanent disability. We’d be talking months, years, to even learn to walk again, if at all.”

  Ricardo’s professional expression softened into one of genuine, academic interest. He gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Fascinating,” he murmured. He then refocused, his tone returning to one of practical, forward-looking counsel.

  “You are, all things considered, in otherwise acceptable health,” the Master Healer stated. “You should probably begin to make a decision. On a Heart. On a Guild. The sooner you begin that path, the faster your own body’s potential will unlock to aid the healing process.”

  A small, wry smile touched the corner of Ricardo’s mouth.

  “Your ribs, in particular, will thank you for it.”

  Mark couldn’t help it. A genuine, pained laugh escaped him, a sound that sent a fresh jolt of agony through the very ribs they were discussing.

  Beside him, he saw Valerie staring at him, a look of utter, complete bewilderment on her face, as if he were a madman laughing on his own deathbed.

  “We should probably let our survivor here get some rest,” Ricardo commented as Valerie snapped out of her moment of shock, “I hear a rumour that your Library here has a particularly active fragment from the Screaming Sands.”

  Mark pictured the strange twisted metal fragment that had spooked Tori, Valerie answered as they headed to the door, “Yes, I don’t know much about it however.”

  Ricardo’s voice seemed to jump with academic excitement, "Fascinating! I will arrange a viewing, I would love a surgeon's opinion if willing,” he briefly turned back to Mark, “Feel free to join us, I can recommend some books to help with your progress.”