Page 119 of Unbound

"Tell them it was me. They want to believe you are one of them. It is the simplest explanation, and humans love simple explanations for complex truths."

"It’s like nothing ever happened," Beck says, reaching for my arm to examine it. His fingers are surprisingly gentle for someone so large. "No scar. Just… nothing."

I put on a smile. "Typhon said it was him. He just thought the wound look bad enough to justify it. I guess he doesn’t mind letting me suffer small scrapes and bruises, though.”

Mireen shakes her head slowly, as if still in awe. "That's... incredible, Nessa. Do you think he could heal others, or just yourself?"

"Could I heal others?"I ask Typhon through the tether.

"In time, with practice,"Typhon confirms."Even now, perhaps, though it would cost you more. You do not just command the flesh to mend—you reforge it with your own essence. It is not without price."

"What price?"

"Energy. Life force. The same power that flows through your veins. Healing yourself is like moving water from one part of a lake to another. Healing others is like transferring water from your lake to theirs. It can be replenished, but not instantly."

"I'm not sure," I admit to Mireen. “He healed Raith, but it cost him. He was even larger before that, and he’s still not back to his original size.”

Ambrose's eyes haven't left my arm. "You should document this. Keep records of whenever it happens. Note the circumstances, the sensations, everything."

"Why does everything have to be a research project with you?" Beck asks, rolling his eyes. "Is this why Noraveen broke up with you? Did you try to document the circumstances and situations when you blew your load too early?”

"She broke up with me because her ex got killed in a training accident and she realized she loved him," Ambrose says flatly.

Beck rubs the back of his neck, wincing. "Sheesh. Way to make it awkward.”

"And I document and study because knowledge is power," Ambrose snaps. "And power is survival."

Beck claps his hands together, his earlier distress evaporating. "Well, bummers aside... We're going to crush the Crucible now. Nessa already has a fucking water dragon that can eat our enemies. And now we know it can heal our wounds in a pinch. We're going to be unstoppable."

"Speaking of our team," Ambrose interjects, "we still need to decide on our fifth. The Crucible is only a week away now. Is Brunhild really our only option?”

"Is your arm okay?" Mireen asks quietly as the boys begin to debate, her concern cutting through her usual veneer of toughness. The rat in her pocket scurries up her uniform to perch on her shoulder. This time, she doesn’t seem to even notice.

I flex my fingers, rotate my wrist. "It feels fine. Better than fine, actually." And it does—there's a strange vitality flowing through me, as if the healing had not just fixed the wound but somehow improved me. Despite that, I also feel a kind of small part of me is hollowed out. I wonder if it's the life force Typhon talked about that needs to recover.

"Is this normal? I feel... different."

"Your power grows, angry human. With each use, each manifestation, you become more of what you truly are."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"Something this world has not seen in a very long time. Something both wondrous and terrifying."

His cryptic answer does nothing to calm my nerves.

Beck points at Mireen. “Gods, Mireen. You told me you were done keeping the fucking rats.”

“That’s not what I said. You just chose not to listen properly, Beck.”

“So whatdidyou say?” Ambrose asks slowly, eyes distrustful as he studies the rat, whose whiskers twitch from Mireen’s shoulder.

“I said I was finding new homes for them. I just… slip them under doors at night. Legacies have the best rooms, so I usually start there. And they all know they can come back to their momma if they’re ever hungry or need something. This rat,” she says, reaching up to scratch its belly, “was my first. He still gets to stay in my room, don’t you Bartemus?”

I smile, watching as she nuzzles her nose toward the rat, who leans in and lets her. “So you’ve been filling the legacy rooms with rats, Mireen?”

“Usually just one per room.” She sounds a touch defensive. “Unless they were sibling rats or particularly good friends, then I send them in small groups.

“And what about my room, Mireen?” Beck asks, sounding like he’s on the verge of hysterics.

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