NOVEL NEXT Chapter 26: Chapter 26
Three weeks had passed. The first phase of Zedd's self-imposed rehabilitation—complete rest—was over. His body was finally ready to begin the second phase: rehabilitation. The synthetic tissue grafted onto his left side was now fully integrated, but it felt as foreign as ever. The bandages that wrapped his body from his left shoulder to his left hip were still tightly secured, keeping the new tissue in place. His skin, now pale and strange to the touch, was a constant reminder of the drastic procedure he had undertaken alone. The tissue was functioning as intended, but the sensation of it was far from natural.
Zedd sat up in his bed, stretching his legs with a grunt. He hadn't moved much in the past three weeks, and his muscles were stiff from disuse. His whole body ached, especially on the left side, which now felt like an alien appendage. The grafts were healing, but the tight bandages that kept everything together felt like they were cutting into him. He ignored the discomfort for now, knowing that this pain was part of the process.
His goal for the day was simple: begin moving again, slowly, carefully. He reached for the small cup of water on the bedside table with his right hand, and with a slight tremble, he brought it to his left. His left hand was uncooperative, stiff and awkward. The synthetic tissue didn't respond as naturally as his right hand would, and the weight of the cup made it feel even heavier.
It was frustrating. His left arm barely moved. The strength in it felt diminished, and the strange sensation of the synthetic tissue almost made him question whether it was even his own arm. He steadied the cup with his right hand and slowly began balancing it in his left. The task was simple—he had done it a thousand times with ease before—but now, it felt like an immense challenge. His fingers didn't flex as they should, the new tissue too stiff, too foreign. It was like trying to learn how to hold a glass all over again.
Zedd gritted his teeth, willing his left hand to cooperate. Slowly, inch by inch, he managed to keep the cup steady, though his left hand felt like it was about to collapse under the weight. He continued to hold the cup with both hands, silently cursing his body for betraying him. This was going to take time—time he wasn't sure he had.
The first day of rehabilitation was nothing short of grueling. Standing up was even harder. His legs felt weak beneath him, having been dormant for so long. He didn't realize how much strength he had lost by lying in bed for three weeks straight. Every step he took felt like he was walking on unstable ground, like his feet weren't sure where they needed to go. The soreness in his legs was overwhelming, and his left side, which had been repaired and reconstructed, sent shooting pains up through his body every time he tried to stretch it.
Zedd cursed under his breath. The pain was nothing like he had experienced before. It wasn't the same sharp, sudden agony from the surgery itself. This was something else entirely—burning and aching deep inside the muscles that hadn't been used in so long. He had known it would be difficult, but the reality of it was far worse than he had expected.
He rested for a moment, leaning against the wooden wall, trying to catch his breath. His entire body was sore, but he couldn't stop now. If he did, everything would have been for nothing. This new body, this synthetic tissue—it had to work. It had to function as his own, or he might as well have died on that operating table.
Taking a deep breath, Zedd pushed himself up and straightened his posture, focusing on the task ahead. His left arm ached with every movement, but he continued to stretch it slowly, forcing himself to extend it further. It was like moving through molasses, the resistance almost unbearable. He lifted it, inch by inch, determined to make it work.
By the end of the day, Zedd was exhausted. His body was sore, every muscle protesting against the strain he was putting it under. The synthetic tissue on his left side still felt awkward, and he couldn't help but notice how different it felt compared to the rest of his body. The bandages were tight, almost suffocating, as if trying to remind him of the work still left to be done. But he didn't care. He had already come this far, and he couldn't afford to turn back.
His movements were slow and deliberate, but the frustration was mounting. Each step, each small task, felt like a monumental effort. And though he kept pushing forward, the reality of his situation weighed heavily on him. He had thought that once the grafting was done, he would be free—free from his old body, free from the limitations that had bound him his whole life. But now that he had crossed that threshold, he wasn't sure if freedom was even possible anymore.
As the sun began to set, Zedd sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, looking at the cup he had been holding earlier. It had taken all his focus and strength just to balance it. The task seemed so simple in retrospect, yet it had been the most challenging thing he'd done all day.
He thought about Elara and Reina for a moment, a fleeting thought that almost felt like an intrusion. They hadn't come by in a few days, and though Zedd was relieved, there was a small part of him that missed their presence. He didn't want to admit it, but it was true. Elara's sharp words, her fiery attitude, and Reina's gentle nature had become a strange source of comfort for him. He had become used to seeing them around, even if only for a brief moment.
Zedd shook his head. It didn't matter. He couldn't afford distractions. They were better off without him. This was his fight, and his alone. He had no time to entertain thoughts of love or friendship. His survival depended on him completing this task—getting this new body to function—so he could disappear without a trace.
With a grim determination, Zedd stood up again, testing his legs once more. He took another step, then another. Slowly, his body was beginning to adapt. The pain was still there, but it was bearable now. He would keep moving forward. There was no turning back.
The road ahead was long, and Zedd knew that every day would be a battle. But if there was one thing he knew, it was this: he would fight until the very end.