Chapter 36: Resurrection Spell
Ethan answered the phone casually, tone light: "Hey, Mary? What's up? Does a patient need my help?"
Ragged, labored breathing came from the other end.
"...I've... been stabbed..."
Metal clanged somewhere behind her, the scrape of her dragging her own body.
Ethan snapped upright, heart leaping into his throat: "Where are you?! The clinic?"
Her choked whisper: "Yes..."
A loud crash—phone hitting the floor—then silence.
Ethan shot to his feet and sprinted out of the restaurant without even a word to Max and Caroline.
The neon outside Rayne Clinic had long gone dark; the building lay in cold shadow, only a faint blue glow from the sign clinging to the glass.
Mary braced herself against the wall, left hand clamped to her abdomen. Warm blood pulsed between her fingers.
She summoned every last scrap of strength to lift her right hand, fingers fumbling in her pocket for the key—
A clink—the keys hit the ground, the sound cutting through the quiet of night.
Gritting her teeth, she knelt, groped until she found the key, slid it into the lock.
As the door swung open she toppled inside.
Cool air rushed over her; the familiar, comforting scent of disinfectant.
She hadn't the strength to stand—she crawled forward on hands and knees, leaving a smeared red trail across the polished tiles.
Past the reception desk, down the corridor, every movement tearing at her gut.
She collapsed outside the treatment room, then, seconds later, forced herself onward.
A broken machine running on the last spark of will.
At last she reached the center of the room, unable to rise, lying on the cold floor, pulling a suture kit to her side.
She drew a breath—her lungs tasted of copper.
Trembling fingers lifted the needle.
The first stitch pierced flesh; she jerked as if electrocuted.
Second stitch.
Third stitch.
Blood soaked the thread; her fingers slipped. The needle clinked on the tiles like a death knell.
She snatched it up, sewed again—movements slower, dreamlike, driven only by instinct.
At last—the final stitch.
She tightened the knot, let go; the needle fell beside her.
The instant it was done she went slack, head lolling, lashes fluttering, breath thinning.
Cold from the floor seeped through her back; her world dimmed.
Darkness swallowed her whole.
When Ethan reached the clinic he found a man lying unconscious outside and a trail of blood leading in.
He shoved through the door; the reek of blood hit him—everywhere, blood.
"Mary?!"
His shout echoed through the empty clinic; no answer.
He followed the smeared crimson trail. Mary lay on the tiles like a trampled flower.
Her wound crudely stitched, the sutures tight, yet blood still welled between them, pooling darkly.
Her hand hung at her side, fingertips caked with dried blood.
Ethan knelt, fingers to her throat—nothing.
No pulse at the carotid;
no rise of the chest;
warmth already fading away.
He closed his eyes, drew a steadying breath, and gently straightened her body, palm resting on her cold sternum.
"Then let's try this."
He didn't cast yet; first he forced his own breathing to slow.
When it was calm he began the spell he had practiced most—
"Resurrection."
Light washed over Mary. Beneath its glow Ethan saw motes of light—some drifting into her, many more wandering aimlessly.
Mary's body gave no response.
Those motes... fragments of her soul?
He paused, adjusted his breathing, focused, cast Resurrection again—more motes awoke, drifted, seeped into her.
Sudden understanding flashed in Ethan's mind:
—if every fragment returned, she might wake.
So he kept casting.
Resurrection's energy gathered the motes, weaving a net of soul—and then—
a low, damp, echoing voice slithered through his thoughts.
"She is dead... you waste your effort."
The voice came from neither outside nor within.
It was wind from the edge of the cosmos, pouring through cracks into his consciousness.
Void whisper. Ethan's throat went dry: "Get out."
The Void paid no heed.
"The Light... fades."
"Can't you feel it? Her soul drifts from your world."
"The Holy Light has abandoned her..."
Ethan clenched his teeth.
"Only Shadow... can retrieve her."
He ignored it, kept casting, though his heartbeat skipped.
"The soul has traveled too far."
"The Light... cannot illuminate the path back."
"But Shadow can."
Ethan's heart jolted—if the soul scattered too far, Holy Light failed, and these motes were "fragments of her soul"?
Turns out the Void entity could solve a whole medical mystery in one casual line.
He kept channeling Resurrection; the motes merged into a shimmering outline of her soul.
The Void seemed to watch—and smile.
"Her wounds are too severe..."
"Even should she wake, Shadow must mend what is broken."
Thanks for the reminder.
He suddenly recalled—last time he resurrected a turkey it lasted seven seconds; follow with a Healing spell and it lived a full minute.
He chose the safest ability.
Guardian Spirit—summon a guardian to watch over the target, greatly boosting healing received; if the target dies, the spirit sacrifices itself to restore life.
A warm, solemn phantom unfurled wings above Mary; the air stirred like a gentle breeze of power.
Sensing its temptation fail, the Void changed tactics.
"She lives..."
"You can feel it, can't you?"
The room seemed several degrees warmer.
Sweat dotted Ethan's forehead; he had poured in nearly all his focus.
He drew a long breath and chanted once more—
"Resurrection."
This time no blinding flash, no violent burst.
Only a softness almost too faint to perceive.
The faint light seeped into Mary's skin, her blood vessels, spreading along the stitches like circuits being restored.
Then the Void showed its fangs.
"Let Light and Shadow intertwine..."
"Weave Shadow into your Light."
"Just a thread—and she will be bound to you forever."
"She will owe you life... owe you soul."
"She will obey your word."
"Submit to your will."
"Forever your... servant."
Ethan: "Shut up."
The Void's final whisper:
"You will call upon me again."
"Because Light... cannot save everyone."
Ethan stopped—he was at his limit, no energy left to cast.
He watched Mary, tense with desperate hope.
Suddenly Mary's chest lurched.
"—hack!"
She sucked in a ragged breath; her heart began to beat.
Ethan let go, trembling all over.
Mary curled in pain, breaths ragged; her eyes opened, meeting Ethan's in confusion.
Ethan's voice was hoarse: "Hey... welcome back."
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