Asher's gaze burned into Ethan like a blazing inferno, his eyes narrowed to slits, his expression a terrifying blend of fury and concern. His brows furrowed deeply, and his jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. The usual carefree spark in his eyes was gone, replaced with a rare, deadly serious expression—as if Ethan's very existence depended on his next words. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, punctuated only by the rhythmic tick-tock of a distant clock, each second amplifying the tension in the small, dimly lit room. The air crackled with unspoken accusations and simmering anxieties.
"Fine," Asher finally growled, his voice low and steady, the words raspy from disuse, each syllable laden with barely suppressed rage. "Since it's kind of the Academy's fault for not warning us properly, I guess I'll help you." His tone held a grudging acceptance, a reluctant agreement born not of compassion, but of a begrudging sense of responsibility and perhaps, a flicker of underlying concern. Then, with a sudden sly smirk curling his lips, he muttered just loud enough for only Ethan and Nick to hear, "Maybe the Academy will throw me a reward for this." His eyes gleamed with a mixture of humor and calculation – the glint of a mercenary, always assessing the cost-benefit ratio, even in the face of danger and potential sacrifice.
Nick, ever observant, caught the gleam in Asher's eye instantly. *That's the real reason he's agreeing,* Ethan thought silently, watching the tension in the room ease just a little. The sudden shift in Asher's demeanor, the subtle change in his tone, revealed a complex interplay of motivations—a blend of genuine concern and self-serving pragmatism that was typical of the fiery-tempered mage.
"Thanks a lot," Nick said, relief flooding his voice, the weight of his anxiety finally lifting. He looked at Ethan with a mixture of hope and concern, eager to see his friend healed and strong again. The worry etched on Nick's face was palpable, a testament to the deep bond between the three friends.
Asher, however, remained unconvinced. He folded his arms across his chest and eyed Ethan with suspicion. "Why does it feel like you're just using us to get something out of this?" Asher's raised eyebrow made the question sting with accusation. His sharp tone, though laced with concern, carried a distinct undercurrent of mistrust. He wasn't easily swayed, and his suspicion was a well-honed instinct honed through years of navigating the Academy's treacherous political landscape.
Ethan, wincing slightly from the still-lingering pain, attempted to explain his actions but Asher cut him off.
Ethan, despite the pain, knew that Asher was right to be suspicious. He had pushed his limits recklessly, almost fatally. The unspoken truth hung heavy in the air—a silent acknowledgment of their shared culpability.
Danny, seemingly unfazed by Asher's accusation, laughed lightly, brushing the question off like a fly. "Do you want my help or not?" His tone was calm, almost amused, but his eyes were sharp, assessing, calculating. He possessed a chilling confidence, the kind that came from knowing the extent of his own power and influence.
"Yes, please," both Asher and Nick said immediately, their voices almost overlapping in eagerness. Their urgent pleas demonstrated their reliance on Danny, their faith in his ability to heal Ethan – a faith born not only from Danny's reputation but also from the desperate need to see their friend recover.
Without wasting another moment, Danny closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. His hand, calloused and strong, hovered over Ethan's chest before he gently pressed his palm against it. A warm, vibrant red light began to glow and pulse from Danny's hand, a radiant aura that spread outward and enveloped Ethan in its embrace. It was a breathtaking display of raw power, a mesmerizing spectacle of arcane energy.
Ethan felt a surge of heat radiate deep within his body, the sensation comforting and powerful all at once. It was as if a furnace had been lit beneath his skin, burning away every trace of pain, every lingering wound. The red glow grew stronger, wrapping around him like a protective flame, a comforting warmth that soothed his ravaged body and soul.
Slowly, almost miraculously, the burns on his skin began to heal. The rough, raw patches softened, colors shifting from angry red to gentle pink, then smooth, flawless skin. Scars that seemed permanent faded away, leaving his body looking untouched, fresh, whole again. The transformation was remarkable, a testament to Danny's immense power and skill.
The warmth was soothing, almost addictive. Ethan could feel his strength returning with every passing second, the vitality coursing through his veins renewing his energy and strength.
"Thanks a lot," Ethan whispered, his voice hoarse but filled with genuine gratitude. The relief was palpable, a wave of emotion that washed over him, leaving him weak but overwhelmingly thankful.
Asher clapped him on the shoulder firmly, a rare softness in his eyes now, a softening of the harsh exterior that belied the depth of his friendship and the genuine relief he felt at Ethan's recovery. "If you ever need our help, don't hesitate to ask, alright?" His tone held a mixture of gruff affection and a hint of lingering suspicion.
Danny nodded, standing and brushing off his sleeves. "Yeah, I'll take you up on that," he said, smirking faintly. The smirk held a hint of something else—a hint of knowing, perhaps, a subtle suggestion that he anticipated another occasion where his services would be required. Then without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the corridor. The sudden silence that followed amplified the lingering tension and uncertainty.
*Time to cash in my reward from the Academy,* Danny thought, his smile widening as he disappeared around the corner, his mind already formulating his plan.
Asher's eyes narrowed, a dark suspicion lingering in his gaze, a lingering question that cast a shadow over the newfound sense of relief. "Why does it feel like that guy got more out of this than we did?" he muttered, folding his arms tightly across his chest, a gesture that spoke volumes about his persistent suspicion.
Nick sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Can you just let it go for once, Asher?" His tone was calm but firm, trying to ease the tension, attempting to steer the conversation away from the lingering doubts that clouded Asher's mind. He knew that Asher's mistrust was often well-founded, but he also knew that dwelling on it would only serve to increase their already considerable stress.
But before Asher could reply, Ethan's right hand twitched—just a tiny movement, barely noticeable, yet it sparked a renewed sense of alertness and concern in the room.
"He just moved his hand," Asher pointed out, his voice sharp, his suspicion reignited by this subtle sign. His focus sharpened; he wasn't ready to dismiss his doubts so easily.
"Are you sure?" Nick leaned over Ethan's bed, eyes wide with worry, mirroring Ethan's own concern. The sudden, unexpected movement had rattled their nerves.
"Yeah, pretty sure," Asher replied, watching carefully. His gaze was intense, focused on Ethan's subtle movements, seeking to confirm his suspicions or relieve his worries.
Ethan's eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing a pair of tired but steady eyes. He took in the faces of Asher and Nick sitting closely by his side, the soft light of the room casting gentle shadows across their features, a tableau of concern and relief that brought a wave of warmth to his heart.
"What happened, guys?" Ethan croaked, his voice still weak but alive, carrying a tone that betrayed his confusion and lingering concern.
"You scared us," Asher said, hugging him tightly, the exasperation in his voice a testament to his anxiety and frustration, yet softened by a profound relief. "Don't you know how worried we were?" His tone, while still laced with irritation, held a palpable note of affection.
Nick smiled softly. "I think what Asher means to say is—we're really glad you're okay." His words, though gentler, conveyed the same underlying relief and concern.
Ethan smiled faintly, a flicker of warmth returning to his expression, a sign that he was both relieved and amused by his friend's reactions. "That's not really what he said," Asher grumbled, though the sharp edge was gone, replaced by a weary resignation.
"You risked your life and scared the hell out of us," Asher added, his voice filled with a brotherly reprimand, a mixture of exasperation and genuine affection. "You simpleton. You almost cost us all our points."
Asher shook his head, still frustrated but less harsh now. "And don't get me started on the Academy. Why didn't they warn us? Why didn't anyone tell us that the last technique hasn't been used in years because it's that dangerous?" His tone, while critical, was laced with concern and a desire for explanations and accountability.
Ethan shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't really the Academy's fault," he said thoughtfully. "More like the clerk's responsibility. He should have warned us about the risks… but that's a story for another time."
Asher snorted, crossing his arms and letting out a tired breath. "Well, next time, I hope someone bothers to give us a better warning before someone almost dies." His frustration was evident, but it was tempered by the relief of knowing Ethan had survived.
Nick chuckled lightly, glad to see Ethan awake and teasing again. "Yeah, but are you feeling alright now?"
Ethan nodded, sitting up a bit straighter, flexing his fingers cautiously. "I'm fine now. No more pushing my luck, at least for today." His voice, though still weak, held a note of determination, a promise to be more cautious in the future.
The three boys exchanged a tired but genuine smile—a moment of quiet relief and camaraderie after the storm, a shared understanding that strengthened their bond. The unspoken pact of loyalty and mutual support that bound them together was as strong and resilient as ever. The unspoken anxieties that had plagued their hearts were temporarily laid to rest, at least until the next mission called.