The dirt road to Alvorada Farm was full of "washboard" ridges that made my old pickup truck dance like a drunk on a steep hill. But that sound of creaking suspension was music to my ears. It was the sound of home.
After the episode at the clinic, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving only exhaustion behind. Not the tiredness of studying all day, but that weight on the soul that comes after touching the filth of Umbra. The "stump" of my left arm throbbed in a dull rhythm, as if the bone remembered there should be a hand there to hold the steering wheel. Driving with just my right hand had already become instinct, but on tight curves, the longing for the lost arm hit hard.
I parked near the main barn. The smell of molasses grass and fresh manure filled my nostrils. I took a deep breath. Here, the air felt cleaner, less heavy with that spiritual "fog" that suffocated the big city.
"Hey, Dad! I’m home!" I shouted toward the main house, seeing the porch light on.
"Take off your boots before you come in, Dayanne!" his voice came from inside, muffled by the eight o'clock soap opera.
I smiled, but I didn't go to the house. My feet knew the way to the stable.
As soon as I stepped onto the sawdust in the stall aisle, I heard the whinny. It wasn't just a regular "feed me" whinny. It was deep, vibrating. Goiás knew I was there.
"What's up, old boy?" I whispered, leaning against the door of stall 4.
Goiás, my chestnut Mangalarga Marchador, poked his head out. He had an ugly scar on his right shoulder, the mark where the Umbra beast had grazed him before I threw myself in front of it. To anyone else, it was a barbed-wire mark. To us, it was a pact.
He nudged my left shoulder with his muzzle, snorting warm air against the empty fabric of my shirt.
"Yeah... it hurts today," I confessed to the horse. "Had to use the Light back at the college. There was a Wraith attached to Dr. Marcos. Small thing, but annoying."
Goiás stomped his hoof, and his large, dark eyes locked onto mine. They say animals see what we ignore. Since that day, I was sure Goiás saw the Spiritual Frontier just as well as I did. Maybe even better.
I entered the stall. I grabbed the brush with my right hand and started grooming his coat. It was hard. Before, I used to hold the mane with my left and brush with my right. Now, I had to lean my body against his so he wouldn't walk away, using my weight to compensate for the missing limb.
Frustration. That sticky feeling of incapacity tried to rise up my throat. If I had the arm...
“Power comes from submission to the divine will,” the verse from the Golden Testament echoed in my mind. I shook my head. I couldn't let bitterness in. Bitterness is the back door Umbra uses to get into your house.
"Sorry, Goiás. Long day," I murmured.
I dropped the brush and closed my eyes, resting my forehead against the horse's neck.
"Aureus, The Benevolent. I thank you for returning whole. I thank you for saving what mattered."
It wasn't a request. It was gratitude. And gratitude is the fuel of the Light.
I felt the air change inside the stall. The temperature dropped, but I didn't feel cold. The smell of straw vanished, replaced by the scent of ozone and incense.
I opened my eyes. We were on the Frontier.
The old wooden stable had transformed. The beams now looked like broken white marble columns, floating in a gray void. And Goiás...
Goiás was glowing.
On the Spiritual Frontier, he wasn't just a horse. His scar pulsed with gold, and his mane looked like storm clouds lit by the sun. He was an anchor of purity in that distorted world.
And my arm was there. The Arm of the Alliance.
I raised the hand of light and stroked the animal's ethereal neck. The sensation was electric, a perfect communion. Where my hand of light touched, Goiás's aura grew stronger, as if I were "charging his battery," and he mine.
"You look handsome on this side, buddy," I joked, feeling my energy return. The phantom pain was gone.
Suddenly, Goiás tensed up. His ears of light swiveled back, and he kicked the ethereal ground, creating shockwaves in the air.
He looked toward the stable entrance, into the darkness stretching where the pasture should be.
I followed his gaze. On the Frontier's horizon, the gray sky was churning. Purple and black clouds, the colors of Umbra, were gathering over the neighboring ridge. It wasn't a natural storm.
"Curse Storm," I muttered, the glow of my arm flickering.
That wasn't a stray Wraith in the city. That looked like the work of something bigger. Maybe a Herald of Shadow performing a ritual in the woods, or worse... a Principality trying to mark territory.
Goiás whinnied, a sound that on the Frontier sounded like distant thunder.
"Yeah, boy." I clenched my fist of light, feeling the spiritual armor form up to my elbow. "Looks like we’re not resting today."
The "peace" of the countryside was over. The war had arrived at my gate.