Trash of the Society

While sitting against the wall, Arawn wondered what it meant to be someone's project. It sounded like it was pitiable, but at the same time, he couldn't understand why would anyone bother. It would require a lot of time and effort, and he didn't see how he was worth it.

Sylvester poked his head into the room and quickly located him near the desk. He shook his head and raised his hand, signaling for him to come over.

Outside the room in which Eliot slept, the doctor stood in new clothes. They were spotless once more, and his hands had been scrubbed clean as well. "Let's drink some tea and talk if you're really not going to rest. I'd like to know what happened to that idiot of a friend of mine."

The man's bedroom was as simplistic as the rest of the house, but looked stunning at the same time. The large bed in the middle had colorful covers and its headboard was carved with birds in flight. They were so realistic that Arawn was certain they'd flap their wings and leave the wood the next moment.

The drapes were a rich burgundy color, matching with the wood of a large bookcase and dresser. Both of them were also carved meticulously with various animals, most of which Arawn didn't recognize.

Sylvester disappeared for a moment, then returned with steaming cups. He handed one to Arawn and sat down on the bed. After a slight hesitation, Arawn did the same.

The liquid in the cup was hot, so he waited before drinking, but the smell was tantalizing. It was sweet and inviting.

"Lemongrass," Sylvester explained. He took a sip himself. "So do you mind telling me what happened?"

"How do I know I can trust you?" Arawn asked while keeping his eyes on the man, following his every move. It was great that the man had helped Corwal, but was he really on their side?

The doctor pushed up his glasses and gave him an evaluating look. "I don't want your whole life story, just why Corwal is here and how he got injured like that."

A pang of guilt hit Arawn, but he kept his face straight. It wasn't the time to let his guard down. There had been a couple times when he trusted the prisoners without reason, and not one of those events had a pretty ending.

"Tell me what you did earlier. It shouldn't be a secret if you really think I'm harmless," he said.

"Calling you harmless would be a stretch. I did see you flinging ether like it was child's play. But fine, I'm sure Corwal is teaching you all he knows anyway." The man smiled, knowing he was right, and took another sip of his tea.

He then put the cup on the dresser to free his hands. "How much do you know about the ether? Are you able to use any of the elements?"

"Just started learning."

"I see. Well…" Sylvester scratched his temple. "Those who cannot connect to any of the elements fall into three categories: nobodies, artificers, or doctors. As you should've realized, I chose the hindmost.

"What people like me do is tell the ether in the body to return to its original form. Ah, how should I explain it. You see, ether is in everything, and though it doesn't have consciousness, it remembers its original form, or well, the form of its host.

"Once that form is broken, the ether doesn't do anything by itself. It just exists. But those skilled in its usage can push it to recreate the original form. Since ether is energy, we use it and its memory of the original shape to regrow muscle and skin, bones even. However, all of that requires extreme expenditure of energy on the doctor's part, so miracle healings are rare and far in-between."

He sighed then, picking up his tea again. "I really don't know how to summarize it in a few words. It's something we're taught for ten years or more, depending on one's ability with the ether and how fast they can grasp the concept."

Arawn was barely listening to him anymore. He stared at his tea, but all that he saw was the damp walls of the Gutter. Back there, he'd been certain that the only way for him to repay for his mistakes was to never show up in anyone's sight again. The moment he died, the disaster that threatened to erupt at any moment would cease to exist.

Everyone had told him that he was a monster and that his magic was foul and heretic. He was a demon of slaughter sent to wipe out humanity.

And he'd believed them. Every single word they'd said was imprinted deep into his heart, for he knew he wasn't like the others. His power was beyond comprehension.

It was true that he had done things for which he could never be forgiven, but that didn't mean that he couldn't do anything to repay for his mistakes. Even if his wrongdoings could never be outweighed by any amount of good deeds, that didn't mean he shouldn't try, right?

How was it then that no one had ever mentioned to him that there was a way? For so long, he'd thought that ether could only maim and kill. Even Corwal hadn't shown him anything besides controlling his power so it wouldn't hurt others.

"Everything all right?" Sylvester asked. "You're glowing."

Arawn didn't hear him through the sudden fury at all the mages who'd pushed him into the prison without giving him a chance to learn to be good. If he'd mastered the art of healing, he could've been helping people instead of rotting in his cell. If anyone had just bothered to teach him anything, he wouldn't have had to kill the people around him every couple years when he lost focus and his power went out of control.

"That's enough! Calm down!" Sylvester shouted out. "You need to calm down!"

That was the last thing on Arawn's mind. He wanted to hurt somebody. Badly. All those mages, what were they thinking? He wanted to barge into their pretty houses and smash them to pieces. Why had they sent him to live in dungeons instead?

Sure he was an abomination, but had they once thought about what he wanted? If they had just given him a chance, he would have readily agreed to use his whole life to pay back for his mistakes. Bah, he would have volunteered for it. He wanted to be something more than just a monster that killed all those around it.

But it was not an option for him. They had given up on him without a second thought. In their eyes, he wasn't worth being taught.

His energy was being sapped. Arawn blinked, having no idea when he'd even called it to himself, but he could suddenly feel the ether being taken from him. An even greater fury surged within him, and he lashed out, sending blades of ether at the offender.

Only then did he notice Corwal leaning against the door, his face back to being as pale as a sheet of paper. Panicked, Arawn tried to recall the ether, but as always, it refused to listen. He could do nothing but watch as it closed in on his friend.

Corwal's eyes narrowed when he saw the blades, and he raised his hands, palms forward. Water rushed before him from another room, and even Arawn's tea rose to assist him. It couldn't destroy the ether blades, but it slowed them for a fraction of a second necessary for Corwal to drop to the ground.

Crouching, he glowered at Arawn. "Can't you allow me at least a single night's rest? I'm sick, you know."

Arawn jumped off the bed and rushed to his side. He helped Corwal up with guilt eating him away. Apologies were at the tip of his tongue, but none of them felt potent enough. Just moments ago, he'd thought how he didn't want to be a monster, and then tried to kill his only friend.

Was that not a good enough proof that the mages had been right? He was too unstable to risk letting out into the world.

"Don't cry!" Corwal shouted out, his eyes going wide. He straightened with Arawn's help and patted his shoulder awkwardly. "It's fine. I'm not angry, okay? You just need time and you'll learn to control your outbursts. Really, nothing happened. You don't need to worry about it."

"Is that so?" Sylvester asked from behind him. His gaze was as sharp as a knife when he leveled it at Corwal. "Then how do you explain my room?"

Arawn risked a glance back and winced. The ground and walls were drenched. Some of the water had even splashed on the bed. But worst of all, there was a huge slash mark going through the wall right where Corwal's head had been earlier. The ether blades had passed through the wall and a couple more behind it before running out of energy.

"I'm sorry... " he murmured with his head down.

"You should be. Who's going to pay for the repairs? And how am I even supposed to explain it? I suddenly felt like punching my walls with ether?"

With a grimace, Corwal turned to him. "I'll pay you so calm down yourself. What—"

There was a knock on the door at the front. They all glanced at each other, and Sylvester sent them a glare before marching off to the door. The guards questioned him about the lights and the loud noise. Not in the mood to play, Sylvester answered them in a few flippant words and threw the door closed in their faces.

"Is that going to be okay?" Arawn asked in a soft voice.

"Fine. He's the lord's personal doctor, so you could say he's the second most important person in the household. No one would dare to cause him trouble in fear he'd mention something to the lord."

Sylvester scoffed while returning to the room. "Like I'd do that. Poison in their prescription is what would await them."

That sounded even worse, and Arawn suddenly decided not to get on the man's bad side. A droplet of water that fell on his head made him remember that it might be a bit too late for that though.

"Can I ask what happened now? Or should I just vacate my own house in fear for my life?"

Two pairs of eyes focused on Arawn, and he wished he could become invisible. Guilt and embarrassment warred in his heart. There wasn't a single good explanation for what he'd done.

"Did you say something to anger him?" Corwal asked, turning his head to face Sylvester. "You do have a bad habit of being too careless with your words."

"Excuse me?" Sylvester looked like he'd just been slapped. "That's it. We're not friends anymore. Get out of my house."

"He didn't do anything," Arawn said in a small voice. "He just told me how healing works, and I… I…" He didn't know how to finish without sounding like a loon.

Then again, would anyone even be surprised? His actions rarely matched with what normals humans would do.

"You what?" Corwal asked without any accusation in his voice. He sounded like he really wanted to understand what had happened. "We won't know how to help you if you never tell us what's happening in your head."

Arawn swallowed and lowered his head. "I grew angry… They said I should be locked up because I'm a monster, but… but…" He looked up, eyes shining. "But I use the same power as everyone! If they had just taught me, I could have become a doctor too! I could have helped people instead of killing them! But they didn't even give me a chance to try!"

"It probably never even crossed their mind, with your power," Sylvester said with a bitter smile. "Who would even consider it?"

"Huh?" Arawn stared at him with a blank expression.

Sylvester looked at him with pity. "Those who cannot use the elements are weak; their control of ether is abysmal. That's the only reason they become doctors or artificers. Anyone with any real power joins the army, becomes a guard, or enters a mercenary outfit. Only the so-called trash of the society go around healing others or creating things."