Terakiel awoke suddenly, painfully aware of the pulsating thump in his head. Just how often had he passed out in the past several days? It had become a frightfully common occurrence since he'd awakened to his powers. For his and Aisen's continued safety he'd have to figure out some way to rein in the destructive energies inside him--but he hadn't a clue where he might start. Aisen seemed to be at least somewhat knowledgeable about the subject. He'd be well served in asking him for some help.
The cavern was now flooded with light, the now unremarkable, cracked stone no longer seeming to draw all eyes to it. Like the stone in the clearing before, it was dead. Terakiel could no longer sense anything special about it. Why had this happened again? Was he going to find another one of these stones around every corner? How many of them populated this great forest?
After a moment of bleary-eyed gazing around the cavern, Terakiel's eyes came to rest on the hole in the cavern wall he'd created. It was no longer obscured by rocks and dust and the pale blue sky could be clearly seen. Shafts of sunlight filtered through, warming his bare arms to a degree. He was frustrated and tired of being cold. Although it had been necessary to dress his wound, he wished there'd been another way. He touched the strip of filthy cloth binding his midsection and finally pulled it loose. It was soaked in grime and sweat of days' worth of travel, and still stained brown with blood. The wound on his lower back was more or less healed, however.
Although his headache was making it difficult to think clearly, he suddenly remembered what had happened before he passed out. He'd channeled a torrent of energy--more than he'd ever done in his life. It had consumed his body with fire. He felt as if he had been disintegrating. It was terrifying. Only hours before he was sure he was going to die.
But what of Aisen? Did he make it up?
He whipped around again, wincing at the pain in his head, scanning the surface of the cavern for the blond man. What he found instead was another prone form at the edge of the cavern. It wasn't Aisen. The figure's pale brown hair was cut short; it fell just below the ears. As his vision cleared, he could tell that the figure was female--and judging from her slight stirring, she was breathing.
On the other end of the cavern was Aisen, his arms and legs splayed out in what looked like a very uncomfortable manner. Despite his unusual positioning, he was sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling ever so slowly. He had made it and evidently he was well--but what of this woman? Where did she come from and why was she here? Had she been following the two of them? What strange motivations might she have?
The planar stone was covered in cracks and fractures, fragments littering every inch of the cavern floor. It too was completely destroyed. Things had progressed in much the same way as before. . . Had this woman been summoned here in much the same manner?
He struggled to remember what had happened before he lost consciousness. He had felt the world slipping away as it so often did when he communed with the Strand. The trickle of energy that he'd felt flowing into him exploded into a terrifying flood. He'd only been trying to conjure a light--something that had seemed so simple before. His training should have aptly prepared him to perform such a simple task--but wait.
Terakiel had never had any sort of training. He'd never imagined such powers might even exist! Tombolin had ascribed such things to the mythical Lakarans. Humans were not capable of accessing such energies. Why then did he remember, albeit vaguely, being taught of the Strand? It was important that you never let too much of it flow into you, lest you destroy yourself. He knew that with certainty as it had been repeatedly drilled into him--but by who? Where?
The young woman was lying on her stomach, wisps of her fine hair tumbling messily over her eyes. The way she had the side of her face pressed to the rocks looked extraordinarily uncomfortable. It was clear that history had repeated itself. Terakiel had plucked another unfortunate soul from the Exod and brought them to the vast unexplored wilderness of Lakara. He felt yet another pang of guilt. He had some of her memories, as he had Aisen's.
Aisen had seemed so knowledgeable about the nature of the energies Terakiel had access to, yet. . .he'd not found anything in the man's memories about training. Granted, he didn't have all of his memories, or even a large fraction. What memories he inherited were seemingly chosen at random and possibly entirely inconsequential. They were also very hazy. He would recall certain things unexpectedly that seemed out of place--a sure indicator that he was remembering something that had happened to Aisen.
He felt as if he had more of a complete picture of this young woman's memories. He recalled clearly being given instruction in the ways of the Strand, although not where this instruction had taken place. Her fondness for her sister was palpable as well. He couldn't help but feel happy when thinking of her, even if he'd never met her before in his life. Names of the characters that populated her mind never seemed to coalesce. Much as Aisen and Terakiel did not know each other's names beforehand, Terakiel currently could not begin to imagine what this woman's name was, nor the name of any of the people in her life.
Faces of countless people rushed through his head in a blur. He had definitely inherited many more of her memories than Aisen's. She was. . .a musician of not inconsiderable skill. She had been trained as a Strander since she was very young--as was customary in Sidean culture. Aisen had mentioned a place called Sidea. Was it possible that they'd known each other in that place? What were the chances that Terakiel would pluck a random stranger from the void and it turned out that that person was an acquaintance of Aisen's?
Of course, Terakiel had no way of knowing how big a city this Sidea was. There were too many memories floating around in his head to make sense of them all. Knowledge has a way of locking itself away in the brain to recall when needed. If it was all at the forefront all the time it was simply too overwhelming. It was impossible for him to know everything he'd learned--or this woman had learned, or Aisen had learned--all at once. He could not even begin to internalize all the new information that he'd acquired.
Suffice to say, he'd gotten someone else involved in his personal affairs unintentionally. Was this going to keep happening? How many more people was he going to put in danger for no reason at all? This was supposed to be his own personal journey--he did not want or need to rely on others to do what he must do.
What am I doing? Before Aisen came along I was just running, wandering aimlessly. I had no idea where I was going to go or how to get there.
Terakiel let out a long sigh. He couldn't imagine he'd been asleep for long. He was weary beyond comprehension and his entire body ached terribly. Aisen and this woman he'd gravely inconvenienced were deep asleep--ostensibly getting some well-deserved rest. The myriad of unfamiliar new thoughts rushing through his head made it impossible for him to even close his eyes. He wouldn't be getting any more sleep soon--but he couldn't bring himself to wake them, even though he was positively brimming with questions.
Groaning pitifully, Terakiel struggled to his feet and hobbled over to the jagged hole in the cavern wall. They were definitely high up, but there was a ledge on the outside linked to a path hugging the mountain. It was thin and quite precarious but probably their only option for getting out. He shot a glance at the two sleeping figures. He hoped they were up for some climbing.
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