Aerax woke in a quiet room, the scent of sandalwood and herbs lingering softly in the air. The ceiling was made of dark wood, an oil lamp glowing faintly in one corner, casting warm and silent halos of light. The space was unnaturally still, so quiet it felt as though one could hear each speck of dust drifting slowly through the air. Beyond the window frame, forest birds sang in gentle intervals, like a slow prelude to a newly begun day, slipping deep into his chest and giving the strange sensation of being pulled back from a nightmare. He pushed himself upright, his entire body aching as if it had been thrown into fire and then plunged into ice water. Cold sweat soaked his back.
But he was alive. Still here. And something within him had changed, though he could not yet give it a name.
The following morning, several scholars from the Royal Library arrived. They wore long robes and carried notebooks, question boards, and wooden cases filled with syringes, blood vials, and measuring instruments. They moved in small groups, whispering to one another and writing rapidly.
"Does your body feel any different?"
"Do you feel headaches or see things differently?"
"Please allow us to take a blood sample. It may hurt a little."
Aerax said very little. Mostly he nodded or shook his head, offering no explanations. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry and burning. Every word felt like it scraped across rough paper. His body was still heavy, as if weighed down with lead from head to toe, yet his mind felt strangely light. The questions drifted past him like passing wind, leaving no trace behind.
They made many notes about his back, where the sacred needles had once been driven into his spine. The skin there was still swollen, each point like a faint burn mark. Aerax reached behind himself and touched it lightly. Cold. Yet deep beneath the skin was a crawling chill, as though a nest of ants moved slowly inside him.
A few days later, Minoros and Leos came to visit. They entered the room, each carrying something familiar. A bouquet of fragrant flowers, a basket of fruit, and a soft woolen blanket. Leos smiled, a little stiff.
"We came to see you. Are you feeling any better? You look completely drained."
Aerax did not look at them. He sat there, the slanted light revealing the weary lines on his face. His voice was low and even.
"I am sorry. But I need more time alone."
Minoros nodded gently and said nothing. Leos bit his lip, as if wanting to speak, then stopped. They left. The door closed softly. In the days that followed, no one came to disturb Aerax. They respected his space and gave him time to think and to recover.
Aerax began to return to physical training. He took his first steps in the small yard behind the building. Each step was slow, sometimes needing to brace himself against the wall. His legs felt unfamiliar, his muscles unwilling to obey. But little by little, he regained sensation. In the mornings, he walked laps around the yard. In the afternoons, he stretched, breathed deeply, and closed his eyes to listen to his heartbeat. No one pushed him. There was no regimen. It was only him.
A week later, he decided to face his fear, water. There was a pool behind the yard. It was not deep, only reaching his chest, but the water was icy cold. The first time he stepped in, his whole body trembled. In the past, Aerax could not swim. He had been afraid of water. Whenever it reached his waist, his heart would race and his legs would tense.
This time was different. He could hold his breath longer than before. He could submerge for a few seconds without panic. His chest no longer tightened. His lungs felt wider, as if they had expanded. The blood in his body flowed evenly, as though it no longer recognized cold, as if it had adapted to the pressure of the water.
At first his movements were clumsy, his limbs uncoordinated. But he did not give up. Once each day he entered the pool and learned to swim by instinct. Gradually his motions grew smoother. He dove down and opened his eyes underwater, seeing every reflection of light, every strand of algae drifting lazily past. At times he could stay submerged for nearly five minutes without surfacing.
His body was changing, not only in skill but in sensation. Each time he left the water, his skin no longer shivered with cold but seemed to retain warmth. Even his scent was different, faintly salty like sea wind. Quiet changes after standing at the edge of death. Now he was feeling his body transform step by step, slowly and steadily.
One windy afternoon, Aerax stood still at the bottom of the pool. Above him, sunlight pierced the surface, ribbons of light swaying like a dance. He looked up and suddenly recalled the prophecy he had once heard, that one day he would become a god. He remembered his goal and the reason he had gone so far into the world.
Nearly three weeks had passed since he woke. Three weeks without interruption, without comfort, without battle or gods. There was only himself, a changing body, and a will that had never gone out.
Aerax closed his eyes and let himself float upward with the water. He felt the blue blood flowing through his veins. Upon his body were the marks left behind by the gods, a reminder that the world beyond and the day he would become a god were still waiting for him.