Fallen Angel: Caim's Revival

The voices... they keey following me. Calling my name. Haunting me. Stalking me. Telling me to come back. I try as I might, to ward them off, but to no avail, for my voice was left behind.

My name they continue to call... but my memories are vague. Their words are eches in the wind... but nothing I hear, I could understand.

And to my horror, they get closer with every step I take. I feel alone. I feel frightened. I feel... empty. Have I lost my humanity? Am I no longer who I once was? Why do they hunt me so? What do they want from me? Why can't I remember who I am?

Because... I am nobody. A shell... but with no life. A heart... but with no soul.

I am... dead.

The rain begins to fall within the Everfree Forest. In the center of the charred, bloodied battleground, Caim's eyes slowly open, and an emotionless expression adorns his face.

Despite showing no emotion, he holds a deep sense of confusion. How is it that he is still alive?

His vision normalizes again, and he notices that a makeshift tent has been built overtop of him, made up of thin twigs and large leaves.

He looks down, only to notice that his opened wounds are now sealed shut by a glowing green paste, and a thick layer of white bandages cover his chest and his stomach.

As he tries to sit back up, he grips his wounded chest again, and hisses in pain.

Soon after, he hears a light chirp behind him, forcing his eyes open even more.

He turns around, only too stare eye-to-eye, at the changeling filly that had been following him the past few nights.

The filly appears to be lightly frowning at him, pointing at his chest.

He sighs and lies back down, already understanding the gesture. Despite the rain dripping through his makeshift tent, it never did bother him, anyways.

He continues to lie there silently while the changeling trots up to him again, carrying a strange red, green, and brown rag that, upon closer inspection, was once white, before being used to dress wounds.

"I do not need your attention, child. Why do you still follow me, though?" Caim mumbles, causing the changeling filly to stop in place and stare at his curious gaze.

She finally shakes her head left and right before approaching him again.

He closes his eyes again and silently hisses as he feels the cold cloth press into the manticores' cuts and bruises on his arms.

She chirps again, causing him to open his eyes once more. Her horn is glowing green. Between both, her face and his, a small waterskin floats in the air.

He stares at it for a moment before reaching his hand out to push it back. The sharp growing pain in his chest, however, causes him to reconsider his actions, and stick with gripping his chest, instead.

"Argh... I... don't need... your sympathy, child. You would be best to just leave me to die..." he says through grit teeth.

The changeling frowns at him and puffs her cheeks out, feeling slightly annoyed at his insistence. She then decides to levitate the pouch in front of his face again and shake it around with her spell.

His grip loosens on his chest and he stares at the pouch again. He then looks at the changeling and glares at her.

"Child... you know not what those kinds of actions will bring you. Quit pestering me, and leave."

To his surprise, the changeling shakes her head.

"No? What business have you with me?"

She opens her mouth and begins chirping, as if trying to speak.

He quickly realizes that her voice, despite being nothing but chirping noises, sounds more like a series of hushed noises.

"Can you not speak?" he asks her.

She stops talking and stares at him for a moment. Then her ears splay back and she pouts, brushing the dirt in front of her. She then looks back up at him and slowly nods her head.

He sighs again before resting his back on the floor. "Then there is nothing to discuss. Just leave, and let me slip away."

Again, though, she shakes her head.

"Why not?" he asks, only to raise his hand at her when she opens her mouth again. "Nevermind... just..."

He sighs and rubs his forehead, not only irritated at the situation and the changeling, but also the fact that he's actually needing to be treated by said changeling.

"Just... just don't get in my way."

She nods her head before circling on the ground and lying on her haunches, underneath a separate makeshift tent. She doesn't lay her head on the ground, though, but continues to stare at Caim.

Even though he's able to close his eyes, he's finding it difficult to sleep. Not only due to the rapidly growing pain in his chest, but also the fact that he could still sense the changeling staring at him. And he already has a hunch as to why.

"You're just going to keep staring at me until I drink your potion, aren't you?" he asks, looking back up at the filly for confirmation.

She simply closes her eyes and nods her head once.

He looks from the changeling to the pouch again before groaning and slowly reaching his hand up to get it.

The changeling lifts it closer to him, aiding him in reaching it so as not to disturb his wounds any more.

He looks at the pouch carefully. It's made of a thick fabric and some sort of rubber material, so leakage isn't an issue. However, he could smell something rancid inside of it.

He reaches his hand underneath its opening, only for the opening to be magically sealed again. After hearing the changeling chirp, he rolls his eyes before looking her way.

She merely shakes her head and frowns at him.

Once more he glares back at her. "You are not making this any easier on me. What is inside this... uh..." He groans again, remembering that she can't even answer his questions.

Finally, and with a heavy sigh, he removes his hand from below the pouch and begins to raise it over his opened lips.

But the pouch doesn't come undone.

He glares at her again, only for her to reach her right hoof and start sucking on it.

"I can't even look inside this thing?!"

She shakes her head once more.

He groans again before lowering it to his lips. "By the Makers, you are persistent..."

He hovers the pouch mere inches from his lips before turning his eyes to see the changeling. She continues to deadpan at him.

Finally, with one more sharp pain in his chest jolting at his nerves, he gives in and places the tip in his mouth.

With a satisfied smile, the changeling opens the seal inside, causing the strange, disgusting syrup to pour in his mouth.

He has taken several medicines before in his life, as a trip to the medic has been quite common for the warring angels. And yet, out of all of them, the worst of those were nothing compared to the flavor that seeped into his stomach.

And the worst part? Those were in small portions. This was an entire pouch full of it!

Upon reaching the end of it, he choked and tossed the pouch away, only to look at another pouch being levitated towards him. He could tell, from the liquid gushing out of it, that this one is just water.

Gripping it quickly, he sits back up slightly and chugs the liquid down to wash the Maker-Awful taste in his mouth.

He then glares at the changeling and points at her. "What kind of foul liquid was that?!"

She doesn't even flinch, though. Instead, she points at his chest.

"What does that even..." he begins, only to pause at the sudden revelation.

His chest is no longer in pain. He looks down, only to realize that the green goop on his wounds is now glowing slightly brighter.

He reaches towards his chest, only to feel a magical force pull his hand back. He turns towards the changeling again, only to see her shaking her head once more.

He deadpans at her again and lowers his hand back to the ground.

Finally, the changeling smiles and nods her head at him before closing her eyes and resting on her forehooves.

Caim raises an eyebrow at her before sighing and closing his own eyes. Ever since he got here, he was never able to sleep like this.

And so, he slowly feels his consciousness fade again.

He opens one of his eyes and examines the changeling filly once more. He could see her sleeping form, but can't determine whether she's merely avoiding talking to him, or if there's some sort of deformity inside of her.

Regardless, however, he looks at his hands and tries to figure out what changes have been made since he lost his wings.

Surely there must be some way for him to regain his powers, as he could clearly recall removing Amon's wings before he was banished.

Could the inhabitants of this planet possess a power that far exceeds even that of the Makers?! Or maybe... there could be a Maker living in this world?

He concentrates on his hand and snaps his fingers. A small flicker of light, but nothing more.

This, however, is enough clarification that not all of his powers are lost, due to the stumps on his back.

With this, he lightly grins. "At least there's still a chance."

And with that, he lies back down, only to look at the changeling in the nearby tent.

She still sleeps peacefully, despite being near a monster. She practically wove a metaphorical chunk of meat in front of a starving lion, and dared the consequences, regardless of knowledge.

This little child is either really brave, or really foolish. And yet, Caim could easily determine one from the other for any other thing out there... so why not this one?!

"Strange child..." he murmurs before closing his eyes and drifting back to sleep. Tomorrow, he would need to find those guards again... unless the changeling happens to know this forest good enough.

A question, of course, for tomorrow.