Shadows Over Arcadia Chapter 61: 60. I Can't Fix You

Read chapter 61 of Shadows Over Arcadia by Zacheas on NovelPedia.

I am Ren Drakemore, age 9, second prince of the Kingdom of Arcadia—and I am currently on a quest to gain power and influence in the Kingdom of Hyperion. https://shadowsoverarcadia.com/api/storage/objects/uploads/94d9f12d-768f-4ec3-a12d-51b487be4617 There’s a sharp spark of green light that stings my eyes, gone as quickly as it came. For a moment the room seems dimmer in its absence. The old farmer, perched nervously on the cot, blinks in confusion. Alastor and I had been watching his right arm, the ignition point. Alastor withdraws his hand, shoulders sagging as he slumps into the chair beside me with a weary sigh. “Was that it?” the farmer asks, still blinking. I rub the stars from my vision and lean closer to the gash in his arm. The acrid smell of sweat and earth clings to him, mixing with the metallic edge of his fresh blood. The wound looks unchanged. I furrow my brow and activate my diagnostic eye just to be sure. “That was the right spell this time,” I say with a sigh. Beside me, Alastor sways unsteadily. “But again, you burned far too much mana too fast.” “Sorry,” Alastor mutters weakly. “I don’t know why…” “You can’t heal me?” the farmer asks, disappointment heavy in his voice. “I can take care of you, sir.” I place my hand over the wound. A steady green glow fills the room, and the torn flesh pulls itself together with a sinewy squelch. “Thank you, m’lord,” the farmer says, his voice breaking into joy as he runs a hand over the smooth skin where the cut had been. He looks up at me, eyes shining. “For healing me, and for what you did for my fields a few days ago.” “Revitalizing your crops is a temporary fix,” I respond distractedly, my head resting on one hand propped on my knee while the other taps restlessly. “Maintaining the aqueducts and using the techniques I taught you are what will bring lasting improvement.” My words come out almost absently, my mind still far away, struggling to understand why Alastor’s spell had failed. I have been instructing him for a week now, and he still has not managed to successfully cast even the simplest healing spell. This is baffling, because he mastered the diagnostic eye almost immediately. When he activated it at the end of the first day, we were both excited. It seemed he might have the rare aptitude for healing magic. Yet the first signs of his struggle appeared even then. Though the diagnostic eye requires very little mana, he could only maintain it for ten minutes before exhausting himself. “Is he going to be all right, m’lord?” the farmer asks. “What?” I look up, and no sooner have the words left my lips than something lurches forward from the edge of my vision. Thud. The farmer stumbles back just in time as Alastor pitches forward, his head striking the cot’s frame before he collapses unconscious at our feet. “Alastor!” I drop to the floor beside him and heave him onto his back. A small gash marks the skin above his right eye, his leather cap knocked askew, his mouth slack. Blood trickles down his cheek, but his chest rises and falls. I let out a breath of relief, place my hand on his forehead, and cast Heal. Something catches my eye in the emerald glow of the spell, something usually hidden beneath his hat. I see… “The ladies at the counter will take your payment,” I tell the farmer as I pull Alastor’s cap back over his head. “Ah, yes, m’lord.” The farmer bows awkwardly and hurries from the room. My eyes remain fixed on Alastor, sleeping peacefully on the floor before me. What a terrible teacher I am. I have no idea what he is doing wrong or how to fix it. His mana pool is small, and healing is mana intensive, but that alone does not explain why it pours out of him uncontrollably with every spell. I tried repeating everything Lady Muara told me, but it was no use. This was not a problem I ever faced. Again and again he bottoms out his mana and collapses after a single healing attempt. I draw the dragon’s blessing mana crystal from the cord around my neck. A gift from Jad