Fallen One (Book three of Alfireán age)

- Trouble In Paradise? -

Pony quietly made her way down the hallway and to the grand champion's room. The sound of an owl hooting in the night accompanied her footsteps. Everyone was fast asleep, exactly how she'd wanted. Reaching her destination, she stretched out her fingers, unlatched the door, and tiptoed into the bedroom. A sliver of moonlight shined through the window above the champion, illuminating Zaphaniea as she tossed and turned in her large, soft bed.

Pony's brow wrinkled in worry as she made her way over to the bedside and gazed at the young woman. Sweat dotted her pale forehead and drenched her hair while the champion's eyes shifted restlessly behind her eyelids. Ever since Zaphaniea's encounter with the meteor, something had been off about her; her energy felt like a hive of wasps, zipping here and there angrily. Placing her hand on the champion's shoulder, Pony gasped and shrank back as she felt the full force of the chaotic energies flowing through the young woman's brain.

"I don't get what the big deal is," Scarlet stated, appearing beside her. "She's just a cranky champion."

"A cranky champion that practically gave her life to save tens of thousands," Pony snapped back.

"Don't worry, dear. We'll do what we can to help her," her eldest sister said as she materialized from thin air. Raising her long, slender fingers, Silver formed a blue barrier around them and the champion, sealing them off from the outside world.

Lowering her hand, Silver glided over to the side of the bed and placed her palm on the grand champion's forehead.

After several moments, Zaphaniea stopped tossing and turning and settled into a restful sleep.

"Well, how bad is she?" Scarlet asked, trying to pretend she didn't care.

Silver's eyebrows scrunched together, and the corners of her mouth turned down. "Not good. Her cerebral cortex and frontal lobe are constantly misfiring. If left as is, she will eventually tear herself apart."

"Is it our fault?" Pony asked, guilt threatening to overtake her. The night of the meteor, they had used their powers to clear away the fog and pain in the young woman's mind so she could concentrate on saving all of their lives. But they had done so in a hurry, and there was a-

"No dear," Silver said, cutting her thoughts short. "It's not our doing. The damage is of the type we've seen far too often."

"Let me guess, it's stupid humans trying to use their brains as computers again," Scarlet stated.

Her oldest sister solemnly nodded. "It appears that her spell uses her subconscious to calculate the frequencies necessary to control her spheres."

Pony stared at the dying champion, worry eating away at her. Such spells were common, especially during the era of the Great War. In fact, most spells used the mind to an extent, and it usually wasn't a bad thing, but the brain wasn't like other muscles in the body. When you pushed it too far, and it ripped,... "Can we help her?" she asked.

Silver closed her violet eyes and once again placed her hand on the champion's forehead. Strands of energy flowed between her fingertips, and after some time, she sighed and looked up at them. "Maybe, but the only way I can see us helping her is by rearranging her tissue to mimic one of ours."

"But that would give her..." Scarlet protested.

"I know," Silver answered.

"Well, that's out of the question," Scarlet stated flatly, crossing her arms.

"Are you sure?" Pony asked, leaning farther over the champion, her hands grasping the white silk sheets in distress.

"Yes," Silver said, removing her palm from Zaphaniea's head. "We don't know how her brain was originally formed, so using our own as a blueprint is the only option we have. And dear," she said, addressing Pony, "I'm afraid healing her properly will take more energy than we possess."