Chapter 33 - Pilse Arc
Snow begins to lightly fall around Sonny’s body as he lies at the base of the mountain, unmoving, but alive. The world is quiet now, almost too quiet after the violence that came before. The wind begins low, then grows sharper, thinner air cutting across the stone. Hours pass.
Somewhere in the distance, two figures move through the thickening snowfall. A man and a woman from a nearby village push forward cautiously, guided only by instinct and the memory of the thunderous sounds that echoed earlier across the mountains.
The woman slows first. “…There,” she says, squinting through the snow. “Do you see that?”
The man follows her gaze. They rush forward. Sonny’s body lies flat on the ground. Torn clothing. Blood-soaked bandages. Completely still. The man drops to one knee beside him, hand shaking slightly as he presses two fingers against Sonny’s neck.
A pause. “…He’s alive.”
The woman exhales, tension leaving her shoulders for only a second before concern returns.
“Alive?” she asks. “Like… actually alive?”
“Yes,” the man mutters. “Though, he’s definitely unconscious."
Snowflakes collect on Sonny’s face. He doesn’t react.
The woman glances up at the sky. The snow is slowly picking up pace.
“A storm is brewing. We don’t have much time,” she says. “If we leave him here, he will freeze to death.”
The man doesn’t argue. He shifts his stance and prepares his back to carry the body.
“Help me lift him.”
Together, they hoist Sonny up. His body is heavier than expected, weight loose and unresponsive. The man adjusts, tightening his grip as the woman secures Sonny’s arms in place.
“Can you carry him all the way? We are a couple miles away.” she asks.
“I’ll manage,” he replies, though strain already shows in his voice.
The wind rises. They begin the walk back.
By the time they reach Pilse, the blizzard is relentless. Snow lashes against rooftops. Wind howls through the basin. Still, the village lives on. Lights burn in windows. Doors open and close. Life continues as if the storm is just another night.
The pair push through the streets, heading straight for the clinic. Inside, warmth hits immediately.
A staff member looks up, startled. “What happened?”
The man carefully lowers Sonny onto a bed. “We found him near the mountain. He wasn’t moving.”
The woman steps in beside him. “We went to investigate those booming sounds from earlier. It sounded like something tearing the mountain apart. We thought something collapsed.”
She looks back at Sonny. “But all we found was him.”
The staff member calls for the doctor. Sonny remains still. He does not stir when they move him to a medical bed. He does not react when his bandages are shifted aside.
“Has he done… anything?” the staff member asks.
The man shakes his head. “Not a blink. Not even a twitch. Nothing.”
“He’s breathing and has a pulse,” the woman adds. “That’s it.”
The doctor arrives and begins his examination. His hands move carefully, methodically.
He frowns. “I don’t understand.” The room quiets. “He has no active injuries,” the doctor says. “None. No internal trauma I can detect either.”
He gestures to Sonny’s torso. “But this… this level of scarring… it should’ve killed him over time, let alone whatever happened out there.”
The woman crosses her arms, uneasy. “You’re saying he just… fell asleep in a battlefield?”
The doctor doesn’t answer directly. “We will keep him here until he wakes. We’ll monitor him.”
The group takes a pause.
“We should notify the chief,” a staff member adds.
The man and woman exchange a glance, then nod. “We’ll handle that.”
The storm continues. Time moves slowly in Pilse, but the village does not stop.
Hours later, the door to Sonny’s room opens again. The chief steps inside, accompanied by the village foreign affairs official, a young woman, calm and observant. Her eyes move immediately to Sonny.
The chief speaks first. “Any movement from our stranger?”
The doctor shakes his head. “His body doesn’t match his current state.”
The woman steps forward. “May I take a look?”
The doctor hesitates, then steps aside. “Careful,” he says.
“Do we know anything about this person? Who he is? Where he is from? Any affiliations?” the chief asks.
“He has some deliberate markings on his chest, but we unfamiliar with them,” the doctor responds
The chief turns as he takes a seat to wait. “Keep me updated on anything you find out about him while I am not here.”
Inside the room, the woman studies Sonny closely. Her eyes catch everything. His clothes, the fabric construction and texture are different.
“…This isn’t from here. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen,” she murmurs.
She reaches toward his bandages. Torn. Burned. Stretched thin. Stained with blood. She pauses over his torso. The scars are layered. Old over older. A history mapped into flesh. But no fresh damage. No cuts, bruises, or lacerations.
Her brow tightens. “How does someone look like they just fought a war…” she whispers, “…and not be dying?” She steps back. Nothing adds up.
Outside, the chief waits. “Well?” he asks.
She exhales. “The doctor was spot on. His condition contradicts itself. His body is heavily scarred but perfectly intact, but his clothes make it seem like he was in a war.”
The doctor nods slowly. “The only explanation I can come up with is… magic.”
The word hangs. The chief’s expression hardens slightly. “Keep watching him,” he says. “Closely.”
A day and a half passes. Sonny does not move. The foreign affairs official returns daily. She claims it is assigned duty from the chief, but even she knows that isn’t fully true. Something about him pulls at her curiosity. An outsider. In Pilse. Found at the base of a mountain where those sounds came from. This is out of the ordinary for Pilse.
Late on the second night, something changes. A small movement. Fingers twitch. Then stillness again. Then, Sonny’s eyes open. He stares upward. The ceiling feels wrong. Like he is out of place. His body doesn’t feel like his own. No pain. No strain. No destruction. It’s unsettling.
Slowly, he sits up. His muscles respond, but there is a delay. Like signals are traveling through something unfamiliar. He looks at his hands. Opens them. Closes them. Flexes again. No resistance. No tearing. No feedback. His breathing slows.
“…Am I alive?” he murmurs, quiet but deliberate.
The question isn’t confusion. It’s verification. He was dead, but now he is sitting in a strange room, healthy and alive.
He closes his eyes slightly, instinct pulling him inward, ready to reach Draco.
Before he can settle, the door opens. A caretaker rushes inside.
She stops mid-step. “You’re… you’re awake. Oh my.”
A mix of relief and worry floods her expression.
She turns immediately. “Go. Get the doctor. Now. Notify the chief.”
Sonny looks at her, calm outwardly, but inside he feels a strange disconnect. Too quiet. Too stable.
“Where am I?” he asks.
“Pilse,” she says with hesitation. “A village in the mountains. We… we don’t get visitors.”
“My body hasn’t felt this fresh in a very long time. You must have a great ether healer.” Sonny compliments.
She steps closer. “Pilse doesn’t use power here. Magic, energy, or ether… none of it. It’s forbidden for residents. You were found in this state, but unconscious.”
Sonny repeats her like he’s trying to make sense of her words. “No magic, energy, or ether?”
She smiles slightly. “We live simple lives.”
Sonny watches her. Simple. The word feels distant.
“You were found outside,” she continues. “At the base of a mountain. Completely unconscious. If those scouts hadn’t brought you in…” She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t have survived.”
Sonny processes the words, one by one. Alive. Found. Rescued. No memory of leaving the battlefield. That confirms how he got here, but he still doesn’t know why he’s alive.
