Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

I wake without the smell of medicine.

No healers arguing over my head, no runic instruments beeping beside the bed, no one waiting to tell me how much of myself I’d wrecked this time. Only a pale ceiling, curtains half-drawn, and the weight of a whole chaotic morning pressed down inside my muscles.

I stay where I am.

The ear Rahul struck still rings, though the sound has pulled further off. My arms ache from the shoulders to the fingertips. The rest of my body feels like it was packed with sand while I slept.

Nothing says I’m injured.

It’s worse in a less urgent way. My body accepted everything I threw at it over the last few days, and the moment the fight ended, it decided to collect all at once.

I move my eyes across the room.

Small wooden pegasi sit on a shelf near the window. Some have their wings painted white; others still carry flakes of blue paint. Old stars are stuck to the ceiling, forming constellations that probably never existed. Beside books on combat and OXI control sit illustrated stories, their covers worn soft with use.

A cloth doll dressed as a valkyrie rests on a dresser.

Her spear was sewn crooked.

The blanket over my legs has clouds embroidered along the edges. The larger furniture looks like it was moved in years later, wedged between things nobody ever had the heart to take away.

’A child’s room?’

The door opens before I can work out which child owns a bed big enough for me.

Freya comes in carrying two cups.

No Permafrost, no combat clothes. She wears a plain white long-sleeved shirt and dark trousers, her hair tied back less carefully than usual. She stops when she sees I’m awake.

"Where am I?"

Freya sets one of the cups on the table beside the bed. The other stays between her hands.

"My room."

I look at the pegasi again. Then at the valkyrie doll.

By the time my eyes come back to her, a smile has already escaped.

Freya turns her face away.

I don’t have to say anything.

The woman who crossed an arena with a scythe of ice sleeps under stars glued to the ceiling. There’s a part of her nobody sees when Permafrost covers her shoulders. Maybe this room is the only place that part can still breathe.

"Why am I here?"

Freya pulls a chair over and sits beside the bed.

"The healers checked you at the arena. No fractures, no bleeding, nothing that justified admitting you. Your OXI was low, your muscles were overworked, and you hadn’t slept right in days. They also said Rahul’s blow left a mild problem in your ear, but it should pass."

"Did they say that before or after deciding a valkyrie’s room was a medical facility?"

Her hands tighten around the cup.

"The recovery rooms were full of the wounded. My room was close, and you needed quiet. It was a practical decision."

The answer comes out fast enough to make clear Freya had it ready, waiting for the question.

She pushes the other cup toward me.

"Your group had to stay at the arena."

I sit up slowly. The room tilts for an instant, then settles before I need to brace myself.

"What happened?"

"The sale lost control the moment the barrier opened. People were fighting over places in line and trying to buy over the limit. Oliver went back to help Richard. Veric is coordinating the guards over the Royal COMM, wound and all. Rhayne woke up and refused to rest until she knew you were stable."

I take the cup.

"So everyone’s acting normally."

Freya looks at me over her tea.

"Your definition of normal explains a lot. Starting with the state you’re in."

I drink. The tea is sweet, hot, and better than I expected.

"Thank you."

She nods, still holding her own cup with both hands.

I open the HUD to check how much was left, even after sleeping.

[OXI: 2,490 / 2,500]

I stare at the number for a few seconds.

"How is my reserve full?"

"Oliver made you drink three LDPs while you were out. The healers topped off the rest with infusion healing."

"He made me drink in my sleep?"

Freya hesitates.

"He pinched your nose shut until you swallowed."

I close my eyes.

That explains the strange taste at the back of my throat.

The reserve was full, but the weight in my body stayed. My arms trembled faintly holding the cup. The stiffness in my muscles hadn’t gone, and thinking too long still ratcheted up the pressure behind my eyes.

OXI was fuel.

It didn’t replace rest, didn’t rebuild muscle fiber in an instant, and didn’t make my body any tougher against the strain I kept forcing on it.

I was still Rank D. A miserable Rank D. And my progress was still too slow for my plans.

In the last few hours I’d taken Pegasus Wrath, fed Horizon with my own reserve, held Soul Link, summoned Duvilin, used Memory of Lightwaves, and executed Hope. Then Rahul finished the job with an open hand, right across my ear.

My reserve had come back. The body that had to carry it was the same as before.

I needed to grow stronger.

First, my father. Then I can turn to the Trenches.

If I kept facing people at Freya’s level inside a Rank D body, one of these days an LDP would hit my tank a second too late.

"Dryden..."

The Trenches held the risk I needed. They also held resources I wouldn’t find staying near Azure Prime. Once my father was safe, I could—

"Dryden..."

I’d have to prepare a route, gather information on the newest zones, and decide who to bring. Walking in without a plan would be—

"Dryden."

I turn my eyes back to Freya.

She’s already set her cup on the table and is watching me with a serious expression.

"That was the third time."

"Sorry... I got distracted... I was thinking."

"I noticed."

Freya breathes in deep. Part of the awkwardness fades, replaced by something she must have been holding since the arena.

"Who was that archer?"

I don’t answer.

She holds my gaze.

"He appeared when you called. He destroyed my Permafrost and Deep Echo’s plates without touching either of us."

Her fingers close around the fabric of her own sleeve.

"And why did he call you Master?"

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