Consciousness returned in fragments. Pain first—a throbbing, all-encompassing agony that radiated from every part of Leo's body. Then sound, muffled and distant as if filtering through water. His eyelids felt sealed shut, too heavy to lift.
"...waste of resources on some academy brat," a gruff voice muttered somewhere above him.
"You saw his earth magic remnants," another voice countered, this one reedy and thin. "That cocoon saved his life. Self-cast at his age? He's not ordinary."
"Extraordinary or not, he's half dead. Look at those injuries. Healing him will drain our reserves for weeks."
Leo tried to speak, to move, but his body refused to respond. The voices continued as if he weren't there, discussing his fate with clinical detachment. Strange—he couldn't hear footsteps or movement around him, yet the voices seemed to shift position.
"The academy doesn't lose students without investigation," a third voice, deeper than the others, joined in. "If they find him here..."
"They won't look. No one got here for years. He was even lucky to bounce over here with his little ball."
Leo's mind flashed with horrific images—Elly's empty eyes, Marcus's slashed throat, Elena's emotionless face as she launched fireballs at former friends. The memory sent a surge of adrenaline through his system, but still, his body remained immobile.
A warm sensation spread through his chest, then his limbs—not painful, but intense. The sensation of broken bones knitting together, torn flesh mending. Healing magic, powerful but controlled.
"His mana channels are intact. That's something, at least," the reedy voice noted.
"Ten more days of this, minimum," the gruff one complained. "Better be worth it."
"The boy survived a few hundred-foot fall that should have killed him instantly. I'd say that warrants our attention."
Leo struggled against the darkness, trying desperately to open his eyes, to see his saviours, to ask about the others—had anyone else survived? But exhaustion pulled him under again, the voices fading as healing magic continued its work.
The last thing he heard before slipping back into unconsciousness was the deep voice saying, "He is worthy."
Leo drifted through a haze of memories and half-formed dreams. His body lay motionless on a stone slab, chest barely rising with each shallow breath. A faint brown glow pulsed around him, the healing magic working through damaged tissue and fractured bone.
"His mana core stabilized overnight," the reedy voice noted somewhere beyond Leo's awareness. "Remarkable recovery rate."
"Still wasting resources," the gruff voice countered. "The others will need those resources too."
"Silence, both of you," the deep voice commanded. "This one carries potential."
Leo's consciousness slipped deeper, away from the bickering voices and into memories of another life—a world of technology and convenience, of cars and rifles, so different from this realm of magic and medieval brutality. The transition between worlds remained blurry in his mind, but he remembered the disorientation, the fear, and finally, acceptance.
Then his mind shifted to more recent memories—his adoption into the Shmidt family, learning earth magic, the pride in mastering his first spell. Elly's smile flashed through his thoughts, her green eyes bright with mischief as she splashed him with a water spell during practice. The memory twisted painfully—those same eyes, lifeless and vacant, staring up at a smoke-filled sky.
"His heartbeat's increasing," the reedy voice cut through his dreams. "Pain response or nightmare, perhaps."
"Adjust the healing spell," the deep voice ordered. "We need his mind intact."
Cool energy flowed through Leo's veins, calming the racing of his heart. His memories blurred again, shifting to the academy, to Marcus's boisterous laughter during sparring sessions, to Elena's quiet determination as she practiced wind spells alone in the courtyard.
"The fractures in his spine are nearly mended," the gruff voice admitted reluctantly. "Never seen regeneration this responsive to treatment."
"I told you he was worth the effort," the deep voice replied with satisfaction.
Leo's mind drifted again, fragments of his past life mingling with his present one, while the old voices continued their debate over his prone form. Through it all, the healing magic worked steadily, rebuilding what had been broken, preparing him for a future he couldn't yet imagine.
Leo's consciousness gradually solidified. The fragmented dreams receded, leaving him anchored in his body for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He sensed movement in his fingers, then his toes—small victories after weeks of paralysis. His eyelids fluttered, then finally opened.
Darkness greeted him. Not the absolute darkness of unconsciousness, but the deep, textured shadow of a cave. Stalactites hung from the ceiling like stone teeth. Moisture glistened on rough walls. Leo blinked, expecting to see his healers, but found only emptiness.
"He's awake," the reedy voice announced, but not from anywhere in the cave. The voice resonated directly inside Leo's mind.
Leo jerked upright, then immediately regretted it as pain lanced through his still-healing body. "Who's there?" His voice emerged as a rasp, his throat parched from disuse.
"Surprised, brat?" the gruff voice chuckled inside his head. "Expected some kindly healers fussing over you?"
Leo's heart hammered against his ribs. He scanned the cave again, searching for any sign of movement or life. Nothing. "Where are you? How are you in my head?"
"This kid wasn't worth the effort," the gruff voice continued, ignoring his questions. "Two weeks of our most powerful healing magic wasted on a retard."
"Silence, both of you," the deep voice commanded, cutting through the others. "I have made my choice. Respect it."
The mental bickering ceased immediately. Leo felt a strange pressure building behind his eyes, as if something—or someone—was examining him from the inside out.
"Are you ready to receive my inheritance, elven brat?" the deep voice asked.
Leo froze. His hand instinctively reached for the enchanted pendant that concealed his elven features—the pointed ears, the slightly elongated pupils. The pendant still hung around his neck, its magic intact.
"How did you—"
"We see beyond surface illusions," the deep voice replied. "We see your true nature, your potential, and your pain. The question remains: are you ready for what I offer?"