What Lies In Me

Chapter 8

 It's been a few hours now, and I can't seem to get to sleep. At some point I realized that it was already nearly midnight, and that we were all exhausted, so we ended up finding places to sleep here at Jackson's house. I hope the others are having better luck of trying to get to sleep than I am. I can't stop myself from racking my brain, going over the day's events, thinking, thinking, pondering on and on and on.

From waking up on a bench in the middle of campus, to being attacked by something that can only be described as a monster, and even to finding out that I have the ability to heal myself instantly... It's all so hard to swallow. And as much as I tried to deny it earlier, I have a strong feeling that I really was the one to melt the ice. I don't know how I did it, but I'm certain I was the cause.

I pull out Jackson's knife and make a tiny slit on the end of my finger, while focusing on my finger being whole. As soon as I pull the knife away, the droplet of blood covering the cut glows, then evaporates. There is no longer a cut on my finger, nor is there a scab or scar. It has no blemish or indication of a cut. I hold up the knife to cut my finger again, but stop myself. As amazing as being able to heal instantly is, there's no reason to cut my hand over and over again.

I sigh and turn over onto my stomach. None of this makes any sense. It would all make a lot more sense if it was a dream. The pain and fear were real, though, and I can't deny the reality of what I've seen, and what I've felt.

How is this going to change my future? I can heal myself now. I might... no, I do have superhuman abilities. What now? I thought I had my future set before me. I thought I knew what tomorrow brought. More importantly, I thought I knew who I was. Who will I become? This discovery will change me. I'll never have to suffer a bleeding wound again.

A thought occurs to me. I immediately jump to my feet, throw a shirt on, and run downstairs and out to the garage. I pick up the rod that I had dropped a few hours ago, fumbling with it a little bit in my haste. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the knife and make a small slit in the palm of my hand, flinching at the sharp, stinging sensation. Once again, I grasp the rod and close my eyes, picturing the same flaming sword as I had before. If I am right...

I hear the sound of metal bending and cracking. I open my eyes. My heart races. The rod I was holding has changed its shape into a metal blade. It is slightly longer and thinner than the rod was, and is shaped like a medieval broadsword. Aside from the hilt also being made of steel, it is exactly the sword that I had pictured in my mind.

. . .

I stare at it in shock. I wasn't even trying to change the shape of this thing. All I wanted to do was heat it. I reach out slowly with my other hand to touch the blade.

"Ah!" I cry out and drop the sword, pain lancing up my fingers. It clatters as it hits the ground, but it maintains its shape. The blade of the sword is hot.

"So, that worked too..." I mutter to myself. I hold up my cut hand, and look at it. The cut is still there, with a very small amount of blood leaking from it. I grasp the tips of my burnt fingers with my bloody palm and focus on the normal state of my hands, and a few seconds later, my hands are both fine. Looking back down at the sword on the floor, I try to pull my scattered thoughts together.

I can heal my wounds instantly. I can melt ice, and heat metal. I can create a sword with merely a thought. All it takes is the contact of my blood. I want to jump up and down with excitement, I want to try out everything now, but I know there's also a cost. Every time I get to do something awesome like this, I'll lose blood.

"Yes, you with the life water of a god spring."

The hiss of the serpent echoes through my mind. I'm not special. My blood is special. Why does it have to be that? I'm going to have to cut myself every single time that I want to use this miraculous gift. And on top of that, I also have a giant, supernatural creature chasing after me.

"You are to come."

I don't know why this happened to me, or what the serpent wants to use me for.

"COME!"

The serpent sounds again, and now I notice how loud it is, and how cold it is getting, and the ice beginning to form on the garage door window...

"Oh no..."

I break out into a cold sweat and pick up the sword from where it fell. Looking out of the icy garage windows, I see nothing. I don't hear the sliding, crackling, popping sound of icy scales scraping against the ground. Hesitantly, I open the garage door. Out on the driveway, next to the car, sits the small, curled-up form of a common snake. Yet, this snake is still made entirely of ice. It lifts its head and looks into my eyes.

"Hello there." The snake's hiss enters my mind again.

Without a word, I hold the sword out in front of me.

"Oh, no need for that." The snake lowers its head in submission. "I have not come to attack you."

I try to reply, but my throat doesn't obey. I swallow, and then I manage to speak.

"Then why are you here?"

"I am here to warn you," the serpent replies. "You saw everything. Listen to me."

"Why would I trust you!?" I reply angrily. "I don't even know what you are! And you tried to kill me!"

"Ss-ss-ss-ss-ss-ss-ss..." The snake makes a strange, halting, hissing sound, and I realize it is laughing at me. "Not kill. Still, no need to trust me. I am only talking because it is all I am able to do now."

I shiver in the cold.

"You saw the flame. You see the ice. There are more. You are special. They will come for you. They will all come."

"Why do you want me!?"

"You know, don't you?"

"NO!" I yell. "I don't know what's going on! I don't even know what you are!"

The snake opens its mouth and hisses. "To you, we are gods! I am ZAHRIM!"

I stagger backwards, shocked, unable to speak. Gods? I can't fight gods! What is this?! It's a snake, a physical thing! How could it be a god?

I hear footsteps behind me. Jackson dashes out from the garage, holding in his hands a metal baseball bat. He lunges forward and strikes at the head of the serpent. I have no time to react and stop him.

There is a blinding flash of light, and a loud splintering crack, followed by a metallic ringing. I shield my eyes, but the ringing sound gets overwhelming, so I leave my eyes alone and clutch at my ears. My sword clatters to the ground, useless. The light fades, and I look up.

Jackson is lying on the ground, holding his leg, and his bat lies shattered around him. The snake slithers away into the woods.

"We will come. And you will come with us." The hiss trails off as the snake disappears.

"Jackson!" I run over to Jackson, who hasn't moved, and grab his arm. It is cold to the touch. I look down at his leg, and there I see fang marks under torn fabric. The skin around them is blue with cold.

Fumbling with my sword in panic, I cut my hand with the tip of the blade, and press my wound against his. I struggle to picture him in my mind, healthy and well, laughing and chatting with the rest of us. My mind falters, and I struggle to focus.

GODS!

I grit my teeth and press down on the wound.

"Come on!" I mutter to myself. "You've known Jackson your whole life. Keep it together. Think!"

There is a glow and a feeling of heat beneath my hand, and his wound disappears. I sit back, winded and dizzy. Jackson simply continues to breathe.