Chapter 86 - The end of book one. We move to epilogues and then straight into book 2

I could sense Alex at my side. He was speaking to me. I couldn’t hear them through the ringing  in my ears. 

My health had to be near the bottom. But I wasn’t thinking about my health anymore. The only thing that I could manage to think about was how unfair this world was. 

Why did things have to be so twisted? I’m a healer. But I was too terrified to try to heal again. Even if I could somehow manage to fight through the pain, my spells weren’t working. What had that soccer mom done?

Alex’s concerned voice finally broke through the numbness. “Layton—-are you ok? Why aren’t you healing? Layton, can you move?”

My body was so broken. Through dry chapped lips I forced out one word. 

“Potion.” 

Alex didn’t hesitate. A red vial appeared. He rested his hand just behind my head and gently tilted it back. I expected the liquid to cause me to cough or convulse. It didn’t. 

Everything that the liquid touched that wasn’t whole, mended. At first all I felt was relief as the vial did its work. Pieces of bone connected and skin began to heal. 

There was just one problem. My health had dipped into the single digits and this potion wasn’t high quality. It shot my health points up by twenty-five, but there was still a long way to go to reach 153. 

Now that my body wasn’t as focused on staying alive the blessed numbness faded and with it pain. It blossomed like a flower from the crimson mess that was my chest. 

I groaned and wheezed. Pain was good. Pain meant life.

“Another.”

Alex obliged, and the second potion added more fuel to the flames. The strength returned to my limbs and I reached out a hand to Alex. Without a word I felt the cool glass of a third health potion. 

I downed it. Clarity returned and I saw that it wasn’t just Alex here. Durkil had come too. While Alex nursed me back to strength Durkil was dealing with the Cyclops. 

An avenging angel in Dark blue majestic armor. He still held the giant ax from the slave raid. In his right, a menacing warhammer. 

He swept through the last dregs of the cyclops down with savage efficiency.

Deavon had come also.

BOOM.

A Cyclops exploded—armor and all. The after image of the bolt that struck him hung in the air. With the steel armor Daevon was an especially dangerous adversary to these enemies. 

With the arrival of our elites this fight would be over quickly. 

Renewed by three weak health potions Alex held out one more as I gingerly shoved myself up to my feet. 

“This is my last one. Maybe Daevon has more?” He said, holding it out. 

I reached out and took it. This would get me over 100 health, I could make due with that. 

“Thank you Alex, this is enough.” I drank it down and felt the worst of the pain recede.

Durkil and Daevon had things well in hand. Only a handful of Cyclops remained—and they were running, not fighting.

Daevon didn’t let them get far. One by one he sniped them down with a well placed bolt of lightning. 

With my fight concluded I expected the field to be quiet. It wasn’t. It was pandemonium. 

“Layton, everyone who survived is through the portals you built.” He walked next to me, voice tinged with concern. “It’s armageddon. We should leave, and regroup.”

“Yeah alright.” My voice sounded robotic in my ears. A tree crashed in the distance and alien shouts of alarm rang out. 

For a moment I stood frozen in front of Tom’s body. He still kneeled, head drooping, held in place by the spear. 

“Alex, will you help me? He shouldn’t stay here like this.” The spear was as long as my body, so I drew out Tranquility and sheared off the top just above Tom’s shoulders. 

Alex doesn’t complain or ask questions, he simply holds the spear in place. There is a light tug as I lift Tom's body carefully upward and free. I had to adjust my grip so he rested fully in my arms.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

-

Together we step through the portal leaving behind the chaos that had consumed the territory. 

When the dungeons and anomalies had been opened all hell had broken loose in a massive free for all. Jordan’s faction of 5,000 had drawn the worst of it—like flies to honey.

What had transpired from there was a disaster.  

The portal opened onto a scene straight out of a war movie. People were everywhere. Members of faction LM moved through the throng of refugees. They offered potions and help where they could.

Children’s cries and injured moans bombarded me as I pushed my way through. Mana pulsed in me–full and ready to be used. I could cast a healing wave.

The only thing that gave me pause was that mind bending pain that had caused me to soil myself last time I used a spell.

A woman sat clutching a deep gushing wound on her arm. Her son held her hand. My heart ached. 

Could I really not try? The pain really was just a small price to pay if I could do something to help. Maybe whatever was done to me before had worn off?

With a deep breath I closed my eyes and with Tom still in my arms I activated my spell and shoved as much mana in as I possibly could.

As the mana moved and coursed through me, I flinched fearing the worst.

The pain never arrived and a wave of healing mana rushed out. A hush fell over the refugees as cuts closed, limbs regrew, and pain stopped. 

I looked down at the mother. She stared in wonder at the now healed wound. It did little to calm the storm in my mind. 

My feet carried me further through the people, Alex at my heels. 

I had known. Every dungeon Mischief and I had cleared something felt off. But it was fun. We earned loot, gained levels. I felt like some kind of hero. 

Even when Jared and his faction had faced what they had with Matt, and Jared it hadn’t taken the excitement out of this new world. 

Maybe that excitement was still there. I didn’t feel it though now. 

I saw Jared push his way through the people. He had spotted me. He opened his mouth and looked as though he was about to speak, looked in my arms and his mouth closed. 

My feet kept moving. Jared stepped in behind me. 

All at once so much had happened. Could I have done things better? Of course I could have. I could’ve acted quicker with Jordan, I could’ve recognized the signs sooner, I could’ve been more aware in my fight with the cyclops. The list goes on and on. 

In the end though, what did it matter? 

This world is death. People were the fuel to growth, our spirit the fuel to someone else’s growth. How could anyone exist in such a place?

When I finally stopped I looked up to find myself in the center of our village. 

Jared and our crafters had created something truly special. In the chaos comfortable homes sprawled up the mountainside with well manicured cobbled roads lined with shard powered lights. 

It was beautiful.

Through it all I had made mistakes but I had also done some things right. This was one of them. Jared’s dream of creating a safe haven was already coming to fruition. 

A feeling stirred in my chest. I looked down at the man in my arms. The man who had done so much harm. The man who sacrificed himself for me. Words formed in my mind. 

A power I didn’t fully understand lifted Tom’s body from my arms. The golden light ignited in his chest brighter and more alive than before. I was forced to look away. 

When the light faded my gaze returned to the town center. 

In the center of the square stood a twenty foot monument of bright marble. 

The monument was Tom standing proudly on a pedestal. He smiled warmly with his hands resting behind his back. A bronze plaque adorned each side of the square pedestal. Each had the same three words. 

“Forgiveness brings peace.”

The ideal sank into my core. It permeated from the monument granting clarity and understanding of its precept. The first ideal of our faction. 

In its presence I understood that when Tom had asked me to forgive him it was not just meant to heal him. It was also to heal me.

I could also feel that just because you forgave someone didn’t mean there weren’t consequences. 

It struck me as I stared up at Tom’s heroic monument. We needed more than just a place where people would be safe from death. That was only the bare minimum. We would build a home where everyone would thrive. Free from the oppression of wicked and Strong. 

With eyes still fixed on  the statue I knew what I wanted Layton Mischief to become.

“Jared.” He stood to my right hand. “We have a lot of work to do.”