The Source: Observer Chronicles, Book 3

Chapter 27: Good News

"You must send word for a healer," said Annette, handing him stale cream crackers from the kitchen cupboard.

"I'm not going back. You will never get me anywhere near them again," replied the fire-wielder as he crunched and ate.

"You have no choice," said White Spark.

"Don't you understand what I'm saying? When you spend a lot of time worrying about whether you will be strong enough to lead a team, there is an intense conflict with yourself alone. And when those people on your team tell you-you are not worthy to do that leading, you doubt everything about yourself. They are right. That is why I left. I am not worthy or ready to direct five young people into war."

"Do you wanna know something Reetho, hmm? Nobody is ever ready for anything. It is only when it's thrust upon us that we realise what we are capable of. And that is the truth." You don't have time to have doubts now," said Annette.

Drage's eyes were drowsy and soon shut, listening to the spat before he began to dream.

Reetho looked at him curled up on the sofa and sighed, taking in everything that surrounded him. A broken window, table flattened to the floor with no legs and chairs toppled over, a dusty windowsill which felt as if it could choke someone with how thick it was, the smell of it all, strong.

"You're right. For Drage's sake, if nothing else," said the fire-wielder. Only now he realised a path of retribution was about to stand in front of his face, the words made him think of that.

Reetho knew what was to come but he was still full of dread. He closed his eyes like he was to plunge into the depths of the salty seawater, so it wouldn't sting his eyes. He knew all too well he would have to open them sooner or later, and there would be Darryl before him, the sting. He gulped and took a deep breath before leaving the house to see his four other comrades. The ones he considered his friends (besides Darryl) not that long ago.

* * *

Darryl was about to finish the last touches on the barn and house. They kept putting off the last little parts that added that extra bit of flare, paint pots stood near the doorways of both. Splinters were stuck in Lauret and Darryl's hands from carrying wood out of the forest most of that day; red blotches appeared from the penetration, causing it to look like a rash. They both continued to rub at them, hoping they would go away. Clarabelle took a few paces back and noticed the patchy splashes lashed on the barn.

The sun beamed, emphasising the bad paint job. The house, however, looked well done. Brenda came out and let out a sigh of joy, "I couldn't have asked for it to be any better than this. A huge thank you is in order to all of you, even the ones who arenʼt here with us today." She grinned so wide that the teenagersʼ felt better about themselves.

"It's our pleasure. We did kind of destroy it, to begin with. It's the least we could do," said Lauret, "but we still have a few faults to fix up. And I don't think we can fix the water pipes and hook up the electrics, we still don't understand the science you speak of. We will have to make do with them working in the wine cellar, as well as the only bath for us all down there."

Brenda turned her head to the barn next to the house and noticed the brown paint stronger in some areas. "There are faults in everything my dears. It's what makes that something stand out. This is a good job still." Her smile, still as wide as before. "Come on, I will make something extra tasty for dinner tonight to thank you."

* * *