The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 80: Renovamen

Pendragon.

A Thursday. 11:57 AM, approximately 39 hours after the death of Lane, Alexander.

Unexpectedly and contrary to many beliefs, opening one's eyes is never the first action of a new life. Instead, Alexander's brain and heart pulsed as one in an instant, overflowing his body with warmth to overtake the cold grip of death, rushing into each of his veins and synapses with a rapid, red heat.

His body jostled and jerked, before lurching forward and sitting up, finally opening his eyes. The room was dark and blurry, or maybe that was just his vision. He blinked once, twice, thrice, again and again before he was able to make out shapes and colors and objects.

That was all before he took his first breath.

Alexander scrambled and scurried up as soon as he felt the cold of the metal sheet he laid on, singeing onto his neck, his back, his legs. He rushed to his feet, to the floor. From the second he came into contact with the cold concrete, he couldn't do more than wobble upright and barely force a step forward.

His head was heavy, dense, murky, and his body too weak, too shaky to support his weight.

His lungs struggled to take in air, to force oxygen inside, to keep living. Even as his heart ached and burned deep within his chest, the pounding didn't stop.

Truth be told, the thumping of his heart was the most beautiful pain he had ever felt.

Saliva drooled down his lips and fell to the ground, his eyes widening as he pressed his head against the cold and pale wall. He slowed down his breathing and accepted a deep inhale.

Alexander was alive. His body struggled and fought itself... but he was alive.

He exhaled, his cold breath unleashing a cloud of mist into the air-conditioned room. A shiver ran down his spine with that breath. He didn't know what to say with this new life, whether to thank God or Furcas or Shadowfax first. Instead, he only mumbled, "Thank you..." with a new breath.

A metallic clatter burst out into Alexander's fresh eardrums, leading to another moment of rejoicing in his life. He turned to the side and noticed the woman in a white lab coat, her hands empty and the floor before her drenched in pale chemicals and a steel tray flipped over.

"They were right about you..."

Alexander spun and faced a woman, dressed in a white lab coat and black clothes underneath. Her red sneakers became drenched in whatever fluid fell from her tray. Even so, her attention didn't once focus on her increasingly wet socks. Only the boy who had been born again.

"Hi..." Alexander plainly muttered.

"You're alive."

Alexander placed his hand on his chest, touching the muscle and pausing to feel the thumping heartbeat. He couldn't help but smile. "I'm alive," he said with a light chuckle.

"Jesus Christ, I've never seen anything like this before," she said to herself, pushing up her glasses. She quickly took in the situation and began approaching him. She wore medical gloves of rubber, reaching down to her wrists. And so, with her hands dressed in light blue and smelling of hand sanitizer, she grabbed Alexander by his face and squeezed his cheeks together.

"Is this... really necessary?" he asked through her grip.

"You're alive," she repeated, lowering her hand onto his chest to feel his heartbeat.

She stared at his arm. Though his body was a bit paler than usual, having been deceased for days and hours, his skin remained the color of red cinnamon. It was smooth, almost perfect skin. She smiled. "I remember when there were tears in the muscle. It's all gone, all... healed. You're incredible."