The petrified eyes were almost desperate. I clenched my throat harder, scrunching my face in pain. I tried and tried, but no sound came out. Calli's hand pulled my bloodied one away.
He placed my arm around his shoulders while his arm lifted my legs. His other arm grabbed the furball. The sound of explosions had stopped, leaving behind an eerie silence. The sounds of life that had once filled the air vanished.
My eyes rang so loudly that I thought my head was going to pop from the pressure. I tried to lift my arm, but my body was too weak to move. My heart was grasped in fear's hands.
…
My body shook and wobbled, and my head hit the hardwood supporting it. I woke with a small groan of pain, but no sound came out. I coughed from the tickling pain in my throat, but the cough was odd, sounding like air barely being squeezed through a tight space. A metallic taste filled my mouth, except nothing was there when I reached my hand to wipe it.
I heard someone exhale quickly with relief. The back of his hand touched my forehead before falling away. "You're still sick," Calli sighed.
I lifted my own hands with ease. I felt my back that had been nearly split in half, but there was no cut. Not even a scar. I looked at him with confusion flooding my eyes.
He smiled comfortingly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes."You still can't speak. Here's the animal you sacrificed yourself so desperately to save."
He twisted his body and lifted the furball that was sleeping beside him. The wagon was small for the three of us, and I glanced at the driver whom I couldn't recognize. I lay in the back while Calli sat beside my head with crossed legs. The furball climbed onto my lap, sniffing my face.
I pushed it away gently with a smile, but the nose returned instantly. Calli continued with a pained smile, "I healed you with magic. I understand, now– why your presence seems so unstable." He lifted his hand in front of him. His upper body was curled protectively towards himself. "When I saw you doing it, I thought everything was going to be okay. Magic can heal people? But I got closer, and I realized it was killing you."
I fidgeted with my hair. Why did I do it? I kept making him worry. I looked at the furball curled on my lap, the image of the crushed body flashing in my mind, and I couldn't bring myself to feel remorse. I placed a hand on Calli's, trying to convey my feelings.
"At first, I was mad. Furious. That place was supposed to heal people– give them safety and comfort. But they all died, and I left the ones that didn't. I'm no better than him, or any of them."
His body curled deeper, and he pressed the end of his palms to his eyebrows. Watching strong people collapse hurt incomparably, and I reached out a pathetic, trembling hand in an attempt to soothe him. However, he gently grabbed my hand, shaking his head. His eyes shone with loathing towards himself, and guilt towards me.
"I thought it was you, Rey. When I heard the first explosion, I ran straight to your room," he paused, turning his head away. "When I didn't see you there– I thought… thought that you had deceived me. I thought that's why the doctor couldn't confidently say what was wrong with you. You never did anything wrong, but you were the first person I thought to doubt. You saved my life once, but I blamed you the next moment it was in danger."
I never considered my position in that place. Everyone there was injured by those from the North, and there I sat ignorantly. I wasn't told, perhaps to keep others safe. I wasn't angry at anyone, not myself nor Calli, the way he had expected. His hand still held mine away from himself. I wrapped my cold fingers around his own.
He looked up, hopeful. However, I watched as he pushed that spark away. "I was going to leave. Save whoever I could on the way. Then, like the Universe had cried for us, golden particles began to glow around us. The cold was driven away, and I watched as the warm lights traveled together. All towards the same spot."
He looked at the sky as he spoke. The sun was setting behind him. A devoted faith was seen in his expression. A man who had found his savior on the brink of death. "But I saw it was you. I thought you were forming something, or that was how you caused the explosions. Why would you do that in such an open place? I wondered. Never had someone's back appeared so vulnerable."
He didn't continue his story from there. He stared at our entwined hands, letting them fall on his lap. Like a toy a child wanted to cherish and protect. "We're headed to the North."
I acknowledged his words with a nod.
I was surprised by his confession. I hid my wrongdoings with shame, pushing them away from outside eyes so I could secretly fix them. If he never told me, I never would've known. Why did he want me to know? Yet, as I looked at the closed-off posture, I understood. No matter what weakness he showed, the simple act of admitting it was a strength unknown to me. He wasn't all powerful, but that perception I had would never leave.
Even as I admired his will to voice his shame, his guilt, his mistakes, I could not do so myself. He had reason, had space for excuses, but I didn't think my own mistakes did. He was the spark to the war, but the one who ignited that spark was me. The blame could be passed down, but I was the one who took action. I was glad to give myself an excuse. Regardless of whether I desired to admit to my ignorant decisions, there was no voice for me to do so. I held my neck lightly.
Calli lifted his gaze, sensing my movement. I moved my hand slightly to my shoulder, hiding my thoughts. He spoke. "I was thinking about that. There's someone I'll ask to check my theory, but… There's a boundary to everything, right? You took the first step, and your lifespan was the consequence. With giving comes loss, just as with loss comes giving. The more you receive, the more something is lost."
He gauged my expression. I nodded, encouraging him to continue. "Magic has a direct connection to the senses. You didn't quite lose a sense yourself, but voice is connected to hearing. Losing your hearing could be inconvenient for others," he trailed off. "It's a bold assumption."
Losing my voice was a punishment for only me. Having a desire to be heard was natural. However, it was such a thought out punishment that it was hard to believe it had just happened. Magic seemed alive, but not conscious. Furthermore, I had a crucial experience that would easily explain the situation.
I searched around. "What are you looking for?" Calli questioned. I used my hands to make a writing gesture. His eyes brightened with understanding. He turned to the driver, tapping the shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to have paper and a pen?"
The driver nodded. "In my bag."
Calli ruffled through the large bag until he pulled out a small piece of paper and a pen. He handed it to me and I wrote, When I was using the magic, it felt like my chest was being pulled apart. Similar to a bad cough. Perhaps the coughing damaged my throat?
He read the illegible scribbles quickly, shaking his head softly. "I couldn't heal it. It's not a natural injury."
I reached my hand out, asking for the paper. He placed it in my hand and I wrote on the back. What if you just can't heal it? Couldn't that be the punishment? Temporary.
"I thought about that. I don't know, I don't think that's the case," he said, tapping his finger. "I don't know how that would feel, though, since nothing like this has ever happened before. To me, it seemed like there was nothing to heal in the first place. It wasn't that it was resisting."
I sighed softly through my nose, running my fingers through the furballs' hair.