Chapter 40 - Recovery 

After intensely pushing his untrained body and mind far past current limitations in a reckless bid to rapidly master an advanced spell, Eric abruptly lost consciousness amidst the dew-speckled courtyard grass. The final flickering ember tongues of mystical flame he had desperately sustained above his trembling fingertips at great personal cost winked out of existence as his strength utterly failed him.

An indeterminable amount of time later, Eric finally began to sluggishly regain consciousness, though his senses remained foggy and movements profoundly lethargic, almost leaden. As his vision gradually came back into hazy focus, the first thing Eric discerned through slitted eyelids was the familiar elaborate brocade canopy of his plush royal bedchamber.

Glancing down in confusion, Eric realized he had been tucked snugly under the velvet coverlets, propped up against a pile of goose-down pillows. Had it all been but a vivid dream then? The frantic rush into the misty courtyard, the exhilaration of channeling power beyond his means?

Before this fervent hope could fully take root, Eric weakly turned his heavy head to the side and noticed his mother seated in obvious relief at his bedside, her normally vibrant green eyes slightly reddened from freshly shed tears. Seeing her child awake once more had allayed the worst of her maternal fears.

Standing solemnly over him alongside Lady Ellara were both Eric's venerable grandmother and grandfather, Lady Feywood and Lord Feywood. Though immensely relieved the boy seemed on his way to recovering from whatever mysterious malady had stricken him, their brows remained lined with lingering concern and dismay.

Glancing down, Eric noticed faithful Shadow's great shaggy head was contently resting atop his lap, having kept a constant vigil since his collapse. Catching his dear companion's devoted gaze brought the faintest hint of a weary smile to Eric's colorless lips, despite the lingering sense of dull exhaustion still bearing down on his entire body.

Taking in the assembled scene before her, wise Lady Feywood solemnly took this opportunity to begin educating Eric on the extremely dangerous physical and mental state he had recklessly brought upon himself through such excessive overexertion of his gifts far, far beyond the current limitations of his fledgling training. Her tone was stern, yet underscored by profound loving concern for his well-being.

Although still feeling too weak for the moment to give voice to the swirling maelstrom of emotions within, Eric weakly nodded his head in sincere understanding, genuinely taking this harsh lesson on the critical importance of exercising restraint and patience to heart.

In his youthful ambition and impetuous hunger for swift progress, he had been foolish to push his untrained body and undeveloped skills so far, so fast without due care or caution. But now, in the aftermath of nearly losing himself, the necessary wisdom had crystallized - true mastery would only come gradually, through temperance and diligence, not risky brinksmanship. There would yet be plenty of time to slowly, judiciously expand the boundaries of what his magic could accomplish, as his knowledge and meticulous control grew in tandem.

For now, he needed to focus wholly on recovering his strength, restoring his dangerously depleted inner reserves. But the lessons Eric had learned about sustainable pacing and humility in this moment of hubris would remain with him going forward on the winding journey ahead. He silently resolved to embrace greater patience, and nurture his gifts with the care and attention they deserved. The power that slept within him was not to be grasped, but gently coaxed, like a young sapling needing room and time to reach its potential.