Chapter 9 - Uncanny Valley

The turquoise light finally ceases, leaving behind only the ambient glow of the cottage’s lanterns. 

"My ankle… i-it feels a little bit better." I go to move my foot but Clovis stops me with her hand.

"Not yet, please give it a moment. It’s not fully healed. I was only able to nurse the bone back into place and alleviate some of the pain, you’ll need to come back tomorrow for me to continue."

Clovis rises to her feet in a single, fluid motion. Her crimson eyes hold an unnerving stillness, a depth that seems to look past my skin and into the chaotic mess of my thoughts. 

She doesn't seem tired, or even particularly bothered by the miracle she just performed. It seemed as casual as breathing to her.

"I’ve confirmed it was a bad break." she repeats, her voice still a little dry. "But the bone remembers its proper shape. The river water likely helped begin the process. Tomorrow I will work on getting the flesh to repair itself."

My mind snaps back to the shimmering quality I’d noticed, the gentle warmth. It wasn’t my imagination. It was magic.

"Thank you, h-how did you know I dipped it into the river?" I manage to say, the words feeling utterly inadequate. How do you properly thank someone for rewriting reality on your behalf?

"The water of the river leaves a mark of its work." Clovis replies indifferently.

Before I can poke and prod that response further, Hakota steps forward and places a small leather pouch into Clovis’s outstretched hand. 

The clink of coins in her hand, a distinct but discernible sound. 

So, magic has a price. I guess that makes sense.

"We’re grateful, Clovis." Elara says, her voice sincere with relief as she places a comforting hand on my shoulder. 

Clovis gives a curt nod, her gaze lingers on me for a fraction of a second too long before she turns away to busy herself with a bundle of dried herbs.

Her slender fingers move with practiced efficiency, tying off the bundle with a piece of twine.

The message is clear: our time is up.

The walk back to Hakota and Elara’s home is surreal. Each step on my ankle is a silent explosion in my mind. 

The cobblestones feel rigid and sincere beneath my sandals. A notable distinction to the continued revelation in my mind, I truly can’t fathom how my broken ankle is now set back into place just like that.

I deliberately put more weight on it, testing it, grimacing through the lingering pain just to get a feel for the magic of it all. 

It makes my performance at the gate feel like a lifetime ago, a role played by a different person in a different world.

I watch Hakota’s back as he leads the way. Elara walks beside me, her presence a silent reassurance. They don’t press me with questions; I don’t think I could form a coherent sentence right now anyways.

Back inside Hakota and Elara’s home, the comforting smell of stew wraps around me. Elara bustles about, her initial suspicion about me has now completely vanished.

"You must be starving, and those clothes are a mess." she says, as she presses a folded bundle of cloth into my hands. 

"It’s just a simple nightgown, but it will be better than sleeping in that damp tunic. The stew is almost ready. You’ll eat, and then you’ll rest."

Hakota gestures to a small room just off the main living space. "You can sleep in there for the night. It’s not much, but it’s warm and dry."

"Th-thank you so much for all you’ve done for me, I don’t know how I’ll repay you." My voice feels hollow to my own ears. My gratitude is a pebble drop in their vast ocean of their kindness.

"Don’t worry Shikara, we’re happy to help those in need." they both reply in unison, which makes me feel a little better about their charity. 

Elara’s smile is genuine, crinkling the corners of her eyes. Hakota gives me a gentle nod, his expression one of simple, unassuming decency.

I retreat into the small room, closing the door behind me. It contains little more than a straw-stuffed mattress on a low frame and a small, high window that lets in a sliver of moonlight.

I strip off my ruined clothes, the damp fabric clings unpleasantly to my skin. I pull the clean nightgown over my head. A simple comfort that feels monumental. 

I sit there, on the edge of the bed and just stare at my ankle. No swelling. No discolouration. Just my own two feet, ready to carry me.

A quiet knock comes at the door, and Elara enters with a wooden bowl of stew. Steam rises from it, carrying the rich aroma of meat, root vegetables, and herbs. She places it on the floor beside the bed along with a wooden spoon and a cup of water.

"Eat." she says softly. "It’ll help you feel better." She doesn't wait for a reply, just gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving and closing the door behind her.

I pick up the bowl. It’s warm in my hands. I lift the spoon, and take the first bite. I don’t even hesitate to consider what might be in this stew. Food is food afterall. The stew is thick and savory, the meat tender and what appear to be vegetables are soft. 

With each spoonful, a little bit of heat spreads through my chest. I eat slowly, deliberately, focusing on the sensation of the meal, my first meal in my new life.

Finishing the stew, I set the bowl aside and lie back on the straw mattress. I stare up at the wooden ceiling, the moonlight from the high window paints a pale stripe across the beams.

Alone, in the quiet, the dam holding back the flood of  today’s events finally breaks.

Monsters. Elves. Magic. The words are a ludicrous procession marching through my mind, yet I saw them. I felt them. 

Clovis’s pointed ears, the impossible healing. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a hallucination. It was real.

All I wanted was a chance to live, to be brave, and I’ve been thrown onto a stage grander and more daunting than I could have ever imagined.

My mind is a whirlwind, but my body has reached its limit. I close my eyes. 

The rustle of the straw, the close hum of Hakota and Elara’s voices, the memory of turquoise light, it all becomes a tranquil hiss as I enter a dark sleep.