Three days. That was the price in time to decide that death by infection at the farm would be sweeter than one more minute in that sterile white room.
Against the stuck teeth of the backpack's zipper, I waged a silent war. My left hand—the only one remaining—trembled, cold sweat running down my back and soaking the hospital gown. Slippery and clumsy, my fingers failed at fine motor coordination, fumbling for the cold metal with the frustration of someone operating on the "wrong" side of their body.
"Running away, Ms. Gabrielly?"
Sharp and precise, the voice invaded the room from the doorway. There was no need to look to confirm the intruder's identity. Dr. Silas. The only doctor whose expression bore not the usual pity, but the cold clinical curiosity of someone analyzing a microscope slide.
Defeated, the backpack slumped onto the mattress. My eyes met his.
"I was discharged yesterday. The nurse said the only thing missing was the ink on the paperwork."
"Surgical discharge, indeed," the room shrank as Silas entered, bringing with him the dry, definitive sound of the key turning in the lock. "But your rehabilitation hasn't even begun. And I don't mean physical therapy."
The blinds came down with a snap, slicing the sunlight until the room plunged into semi-darkness.
"What are you doing? Open that up." Dizziness came quickly upon standing, forcing me to seek support on the cold bed rail.
"Dayanne, what did your eyes see on the cliff?" The question came from the shadows, where he now stood with his back turned.
"Mud. The smell of rain. A horse falling."
"And what stopped gravity from taking the animal?"
"Me."
"With only one arm?" Silas spun on his heels. The gloom hid his eyes, but the weight of his scrutiny was palpable. "Goiás weighs four hundred and eighty kilos. The physics required to hoist him, added to the leverage at the moment the rock fell... Logically, your spine should have snapped, your body torn in half."
A bitter taste rose in my throat. I had redone the calculations a thousand times during those three sleepless nights. The math of survival didn't add up.
"Adrenaline," I murmured, the standard excuse sounding weak even to my own ears.
A dry laugh, devoid of humor, echoed through the room.
"Adrenaline makes muscles run or lift a car for two seconds. Adrenaline does not create matter."
His hand rose and, suddenly, the air pressure changed. Under the bed, where darkness should have been static, shadows trembled, rippling like puddles of water disturbed by an invisible stone.
"The modern world is a shell, Dayanne. Skyscrapers, internet, cars... all solid illusion superimposed on a greater truth. The Spiritual Frontier."
My back hit the cold wall as I retreated.
"Your eyes see it, don't they?" He took a step forward, relentless. "The shadows moving."
"Stop!" The scream scratched my throat.
"Two forces dispute this territory. Umbra, the Malevolent, who wishes to destroy and dominate. It is the force that topples buildings and corrupts minds." His finger pointed to the void where my arm used to be. "And Aureus, the Benevolent, father of those who preserve. The guardians of the status quo and of humanity."
"I'm a vet, mister!" Tears of frustration and fear welled up, hot on my face. "I'm not a priest, I'm not a soldier. I just wanted to save my horse!"
"Exactly!" His hand struck the bedside table, the crash making my heart race. "You didn't ask for power to kill. You didn't ask to get rich. You sacrificed your own flesh to preserve an innocent life. That is an Act of Faith. That is Fervor."
From his lab coat pocket, a silver glint appeared. A scalpel.
Before logical thought could intervene, the metal flew. Silas hurled the instrument with lethal force, not at me, but aiming for the flower vase beside me.
Pure instinct took control. There was no hesitation, only an overwhelming desire to prevent destruction, to maintain order in that small corner of the universe.
CLANG.
The sound of metal colliding against tempered glass reverberated, but the vase remained intact.
I opened the eyes that fear had closed.
Before me, floating where the flesh and bone of my right forearm should have been, it manifested. The "Aegis." A geometric shield, woven of pure translucent golden light, pulsing with mathematical perfection. The scalpel was embedded in the light, suspended, slowly melting into harmless sparks that vanished into thin air.
My breathing stopped. It didn't burn; the light was warm, welcoming like a familiar embrace. It was stable. A Blessing, never a Curse.
"You were Chosen, Dayanne." Silas's voice softened, his hands lowering. "There are no returns. Aureus saw value in your sacrifice and granted you the tool to keep protecting."
With a trembling blink, the shield's light undid itself, retracting until it formed the ghostly outline of a complete arm.
My legs gave way and I fell sitting onto the bed, my gaze fixed on the empty space.
"What... what am I?"
"A bridge. Between the mundane and the divine." He pulled up a chair, the creak of the furniture the only sound in the post-miracle silence. "You are still the student, the farm girl. But now you possess a bond. Welcome to the First Circle. I cannot explain everything now, but... I believe that in time you will discover."
On the table, a card landed. Heavy, expensive paper, boasting an address in the capital and a discreet symbol: a stylized sun.
"Go back to Minas if you want. Try to hide this arm of light under long sleeves. But the shadows..." he pointed to the dark corner of the room "...they will smell your light. The servants of Umbra do not tolerate Order. Stay there, and you will put your family and your horse on the front line."
My fingers touched the card. The texture was real, unlike the nightmare I was living.
"What do you want?"
"I coordinate a group. People like you. Police officers, hackers, doctors... awakened to the war. I can teach control. I can teach evolution, how to transform this shield into a fortress."
He stood up. The key turned again, and the door opened, allowing the aseptic light from the corridor to dissipate the abnormal shadows.
"The choice is yours. The common world was left behind the moment you held that rein. Welcome to the Frontier."
Silas left, leaving the door wide open.
I looked at the card. I looked at the stump of my arm. As I closed the phantom fist, the light responded, vibrating with a promise of silent strength.
Going back home was impossible. Not while I functioned as a lightning rod for monsters.
I sighed, defeated by the implacable logic.
"Dad is going to be furious," I murmured.
This time, there was no fight with the backpack. My eyes fixed on the zipper and will took form. A hand of solid light materialized, pinched the metal clasp, and slid it to the end with perfect precision.