Chapter 2. Darkness and Hunger

Varlag was flying into the abyss of darkness. Hunger and cold shackled his body, and he could no longer feel anything. Confused images and visions swirled around him, and he could not concentrate for a single second. At least try to understand what is happening. Voices, faces, and fragments of memories swirled around him, making him feel sick.

His mouth was dry, and he could not reach the goblet of water he'd imagined nearby, nor could he move.

Someone was calling out to him, a barely audible voice asking for help. Then there were shadows. They strangled Varlag, wrapping snakes around his neck. The young man tried to free himself, to scream, but all in vain. He was barely breathing anymore. Everything went dark.

He struggled with all his strength. My whole body ached. His skin was bursting, torn apart by crystals covered in blood, and they were spreading all over his body. His Terrestry turned him to stone…

A voice echoed in his head. "Just like that. Eat everything without a trace. Absorb it—I'm so hungry—If you eat it all, no one will get hurt—If ownership does not exist anymore…"

Varlag obeyed. There is no other choice. He wanted it to end. That feeling again—the surrounding air disappeared, and then everything else disappeared, including that voice.

"Fer—" he said, opening his eyes.

Varlag stared at the ceiling. It was dark, except for a lamp that was barely burning in the corner. The young man was lying on a bed in the infirmary, the other bunks were empty. It's still a Highhome.

How long had he been here? Vaguely and gradually, memories came back to him.

Ferdorcha was sitting next to him by the bed, holding his hand and leaning his head on the edge. He dozed off. Varlag stirred, and the elvin flinched.

"You're awake!" he smiled. His face looked agitated, even paler than usual. It glowed like a wax mask in the dim light. He quickly withdrew his hand, a little embarrassed. "How are you? Are you thirsty? I'll call the healer now!"

Fer was more worried about him than he was about himself and his future. The events of the past test appeared in the prince's mind.

"Wait! We need to talk first—" Varlag tried to sit up, but his head was still spinning.

Fer helped him sit up and handed him the decoction, standing at the head of the bed. Varlag took a sip. No nausea, so he took a long drink. Warmth crept up his throat. After all, his ownership—the Conxury absorbing other powers—had a strong effect on him. You need to learn how to use it without such consequences.

"How are you?"

"Better than you. I was also in the infirmary, but I woke up the next morning. Varlag, you've been asleep for three days—"

"It's the whole eternity!"

So much time has passed! Mentor Katel must have already informed Elfinate of what had happened. But Fer's still here, so all's not lost. We need to convince him to be allowed to stay in Highhome.

"This is bad!" Varlag said. "What did Katel say?"

Fer just gave a strangled smile and said, "He left recently. He's been keeping an eye on us all this time."

"What a concern," the young man groaned.

"The main thing is, you're all right. Well, so are the other students—"

"You'll be sent away?" I have to talk to him! Varlag's strength was returning, as was his mental clarity. You can not let him get kicked out or… Some elvins without ownership also lived here in Highhome, so they did various household chores, including at the Academy itself. But Varlag did not know what to do with people like Fer.

"Nothing can be changed. No one will teach me," Ferdorcha shook his head. "No one can… It's dangerous. And I can not —"

"It's all untrue! There's something else, isn't there? After all, Escura did not manifest itself in any way!" Varlag felt weak and weak again. "Where did it even come from?"

"You know how…" sighed the elvin. "Although the teacher reported it, the hammer reacted to me before it melted—"

"So there's Ferrax. And that's something!"

"But Escura is dominant, and it will not allow another ownership to develop… Mentor Katel will not teach me," Fer repeated absently. "And I can not stay."

"I am conxur!" Varlag flared up. "So I'll protect everyone and be able to consume your Escura if you get out of control. "I'll talk to him!" he jumped out of bed, clenching his fists. "In the end, I'll leave with you!"

"You do not have to ruin your life for me—"

"Fer!"

"And who screams here?" the door opened, and an elf woman (a healer) came in with a tray of glistening potions.

"I'll go, he still needs some rest—" Ferdorcha turned away and walked away, slouching.

"Wait!" Varlag shouted. "Fer!"

"Please rest," he replied.

"Call a mentor," the patient demanded. The elf shook her head. "Please!" Varlag added.

"Let me examine you first," the healer said, placing her tray on the table.

"Well."

The woman studied the beating of his pulse on his neck, throat, and tongue, the movement of the eyeballs, the ability of the limbs to unbend, and much more.

"Does something ache or worry you?" she asked sympathetically after the examination of his health.

"No."

But his heart ached, and he was worried about Fer.