The Lightning

The room fell silent. The glow of dusk filtered through the window. Dyre broke the quiet with his soft, familiar voice, stirring something in Urotasu.

“We’re all just chuffed to bits you’re awake, Duncan,” Dyre said, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Perhaps you’d like some time alone? Like you usually do? We’ll leave you to it, then.”

Dyre’s blue eyes swept over the family. They nodded in understanding. Eleana gave Duncan a tender smile before rising from her seat.

“Rest well, my dear,” she whispered, her voice brimming with affection—a warmth that felt foreign yet touching to Urotasu.

Alice glanced at Urotasu briefly, her expression unreadable. Without a word, she followed Eleana toward the door, trailed by Julia and Liz. Doctor Martha gave Duncan a respectful bow before departing.

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Urotasu alone with Phoebe in the stillness.

Phoebe let out a long sigh, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. Her orange eyes met her master’s with a genuine smile, her short pink hair swaying in the evening breeze.

“Do you need anything, Master?” she asked, her tone full of care. “Is your head still spinning?”

Urotasu felt an odd sensation in his skull, like tiny waves ebbing and flowing. “Not sure if the dizziness will come back,” he said. “But I’ve got a question.”

“Of course, Master! What is it?” Phoebe replied eagerly, her orange eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Urotasu’s mind raced. He needed information without raising suspicion. His first attempt to reveal his true identity had failed when time itself seemed to freeze. For now, he’d have to play the part of Duncan.

“Master?” Phoebe called softly, noticing his distracted look.

Snapping out of it, Urotasu put on a deliberately puzzled expression. “I’m a bit foggy, you see. Got a touch of amnesia, so I’ve no clue what happened before I came to. What’s the story, and how long was I out?”

—

Meanwhile, in the grand central hall of the manor, Eleana, Dyre, and Alice gathered in silence. The crystal chandelier cast flickering shadows on walls adorned with family portraits. Their faces still reflected shock at Duncan’s changed demeanour.

They recalled Doctor Martha’s parting words: Duncan’s shift in behaviour might stem from amnesia. Her words lingered, sparking both hope and worry.

Alice twisted the silver ring on her finger. “Given how deep that ravine was, the blow to Duncan’s head must’ve been brutal. There’s a chance… the effects could be permanent.”

Dyre turned slowly, worry etched into his brow. “You mean he might not remember us?”

“Didn’t you see his face?” Alice replied. “That bewildered look in his eyes?”

“Aye, I noticed,” Dyre said weakly. “He looked proper lost.”

Eleana spoke at last, her voice deep and meaningful. “It’s possible. But honestly, I’m rather pleased with this change in Duncan.”

“Pleased?” Dyre and Alice echoed, stunned.

Eleana’s blue eyes gazed out the window. “Yes, pleased. If he’s forgotten parts of his memory—including us—and…” She paused. “I hope he’s also forgotten the horrors of that night, nine years ago.”

Unbeknownst to them, Julia stood in the shadowed corridor, overhearing every word. Her expression was cryptic as she watched her family.

—

Back in the pavilion, Phoebe nodded at her master’s question, her cheerful demeanour turning solemn. She paused, her orange eyes fixed on the wooden floor, searching for the right words.

“You slipped out in the dead of night,” she said softly, choosing her words with care. “Then you leapt into the ravine at the edge of the vineyard. You were in a coma for a month until you woke today.”

“What?” Urotasu nearly choked. “This lad jumped into a ravine? Blimey, he’s got more guts than his scrawny frame suggests,” he thought.

Realising his shock was too much for Duncan, Urotasu caught Phoebe’s raised eyebrow and flattened his expression, though a sly grin crept through.

Phoebe stayed quiet, watching her master sink back into thought.

“A month in a coma?” Urotasu raised an eyebrow. “Hang on, that’s a bloody long time to be out in a world with…” He glanced around the room. “…no electricity, no gaming PCs, and definitely no fancy medical kit.”

“How did I survive that long?” he blurted out.

Phoebe lifted her face, her orange eyes gleaming with respect. “Doctor Martha, who examined you earlier, set up a magical ward around your room.” Her hands traced a circle in the air. “It kept your body functioning. I can’t explain the details, but it ensured you could eat, drink, and… well, manage other necessities. I’ve been looking after you.”

“I see,” Urotasu muttered, a faint grin forming as he recalled the green glow from Doctor Martha’s hands. The puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“So this world has magic, but it’s nothing like my old Kanjo. This is… bloody intriguing.”

Curiosity spurred him on. “Am I a sorcerer, then?” he asked, his tone half-joking. “Remember, my amnesia’s pretty bad.”

Phoebe shook her head, looking puzzled. “I’ve never seen you use magic, Master. But…” She hesitated. “Everyone can use magic, though not everyone’s a proper sorcerer.”

That made Urotasu’s eyebrow shoot up, his signature mix of curiosity and arrogance flickering. “Show me your magic,” he ordered, brimming with enthusiasm, like a kid with a new toy.

Phoebe nodded eagerly, her orange eyes shining like gems in the light. She stepped toward the door, where the wooden floor was still wet from the spilled bucket when she’d been startled by his awakening.

“Fluch! Water bending!” Her mantra flowed smoothly, her voice echoing softly.

With a graceful, practised motion, Phoebe waved her hand. The water on the floor rose, gathering into a shimmering orb in the air. It swirled and danced, following her gestures in a mesmerising pattern.

One hand opened the door with a gentle flick, while the other guided the water orb outside, leaving the floor spotless.

“Blimey,” Urotasu couldn’t hide his awe, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. “That’s way cooler than I expected. Magic here’s like a mix of Avatar and Harry Potter!”

Seeing a rare smile spread across her master’s face, Phoebe beamed. “You could try it too, sir. Just say the opening mantra: Fluch.” She added proudly, “You might’ve forgotten, but the Thorington family are lightning sorcerers, so you’ve got lightning in your blood.”

“Lightning?” Urotasu’s grin widened, his cocky confidence surfacing. “That sounds proper wicked. Way cooler than Kanjo’s boring blue energy that made me look like I was holding slime.”

“Fluch!”

Urotasu raised his hand with swagger, feeling a pulse of energy stir within him.

A dazzling purple light sparked in his palms, glimmering like amethyst in sunlight. It felt warm and vibrant, unlike the Kanjo he’d known.

“So you need a mantra to cast magic here? Not like Kanjo, which popped out whenever, like a bad fart,” he thought.

With a bold grin, Urotasu continued, “Lightning release!”

He aimed at the ceiling, determined to make good on his earlier failed plan to blast the roof off now that Kanjo was gone.

BOOM!

A massive explosion shattered the evening’s calm. A bolt of lightning shot from Urotasu’s hands, obliterating the ceiling and streaking into the sky with breathtaking power. Blinding purple light flashed, followed by a thunderclap that rattled the windows.

In the manor’s central hall, Dyre and the others jumped, gaping at the dazzling light from the pavilion. Their eyes widened in disbelief—Duncan wielding magic of such magnitude was unthinkable.

“Hahaha!” Urotasu laughed, brimming with satisfaction, his grin massive. “That’s more like it! Kanjo’s gone, but I’ve got something far flashier! Lightning’s always more dramatic than dull blue light!”

His triumph was short-lived. His body swayed, strength draining in an instant. “Oh, bugger…” he mumbled, his voice weakening.

The world spun, his vision blurred, and consciousness slipped away. “Looks like this lad’s body isn’t ready for… this big power…”

Urotasu crumpled to the floor with a soft thud, leaving Phoebe screaming his name in panic.

In the darkness of his unconscious mind, strange visions emerged. Torrential rain lashed a stormy night, lightning slashing furiously across an angry sky. Amid the raging tempest, a six-year-old boy stood frozen at a doorway, his blue eyes filled with unforgettable horror.

Young Duncan watched his father loom over his mother’s lifeless body, blood pooling on the cold marble floor. A small cry escaped the boy’s lips, drowned by a deafening thunderclap.

“Blimey,” Urotasu muttered in his subconscious. “This lad’s got some heavy trauma. No wonder he turned antisocial and tried to top himself.”

At the end of that dark corridor of memories, a figure stood in silence. A teenage boy with a familiar face but eyes that held deep pain and unspeakable darkness.

Duncan, the true owner of the body Urotasu now inhabited, stared at him in meaningful silence.

“Finally,” Urotasu grinned, even in his unconscious state, “we meet, Duncan.”