NOVEL NEXT Chapter 28: Chapter 28
Meanwhile, Elara, Reina, and the Villagers
It had been six weeks—one month and two weeks—since Zedd had last been seen by the villagers. His absence had started as a brief anomaly, something that could easily be explained by his tendency to disappear for a few days. But as time dragged on, the concern among the villagers, especially Elara and Reina, began to grow.
Both women had noticed the absence of their frequent, if occasionally irritating, acquaintance. Zedd hadn't visited the restaurant, he hadn't taken up any odd jobs, and there were no signs of him around the village. Elara, normally confident and independent, was now pacing around her cabin, fidgeting with her sleeves in agitation. She hadn't seen him for nearly two weeks, and it made her uncomfortable.
"I don't like this, Reina," Elara muttered as she stopped by the window, staring out at the small cabin Zedd had been staying in. "It's not like him to just disappear like this."
Reina, her voice quiet but laced with concern, agreed. "You're right. He's always been odd, but this… this is different. He told me once he was fine, but... something feels off."
After days of growing unease, the two women decided they couldn't just wait any longer. They couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with Zedd, and the villagers, too, had begun whispering about his sudden disappearance. So, without further hesitation, Elara and Reina marched to Zedd's cabin, determined to get some answers.
When they arrived, the familiar sight of the cabin greeted them, but something about it felt... wrong. The windows were still tightly sealed, the door bolted shut from the inside. No signs of life.
"Zedd? Are you in there?" Elara called, her voice carrying over to the door. Her fists rapped against the wood with increasing urgency.
Inside the cabin, Zedd froze at the sound of their voices. He had been flexing his left synthetic arm, testing its range of motion, when the knock came. His immediate reaction was to hide his frustration, but it was hard not to grow annoyed. The constant interruptions were becoming more and more frequent, and despite everything, he was still not fully recovered.
Sighing inwardly, Zedd slowly stood up, using his right hand to support his weight. He moved carefully, still uncomfortable with the full range of his movements. He spoke calmly, trying his best to keep his tone neutral. "Yes, what is it?" he called from inside, not allowing his voice to betray the strain he felt.
"Zedd, it's been a month and two weeks!" Reina's voice came from the other side, soft but anxious. "Are you still sick? Please, open the door. We're worried."
Zedd leaned back against the wall, resting for a moment. He'd anticipated this. Of course, they were worried. They'd been coming by for weeks now, but he had done his best to keep them at bay. His recovery wasn't just a matter of physical healing—he was pushing his body to its absolute limits, trying to adapt to the synthetic tissue that had been grafted onto his side. His left side still felt unnatural, foreign. Any attempt at explaining it would only raise more questions he couldn't answer.
He gathered his thoughts. "Yes, I'm still sick," he lied, keeping his voice as steady as possible. "You two, please leave. I'm fine. I have food and water stocked. It's just going to take a little more time." He didn't want to explain the true extent of his condition. If he told them anything—anything at all—they'd demand to help, and that would only complicate things further. The last thing he needed was someone to see him in his current state.
Elara's voice rang out again, more persistent than before. "Zedd, this isn't like you. You've been in there too long, and we haven't seen you in days! You're clearly not fine. Just let us in, we want to help."
Zedd's eyes narrowed as he pressed his back against the wall. The bandages on his left side were tight, the synthetic tissue still stiff and sore as he moved. Every small motion felt like an effort, but he couldn't let them in. Not now. He needed more time. "I said, I'm fine. Just leave me be," Zedd snapped, trying to sound more commanding than he felt.
Elara didn't back down, her frustration clearly building. "What the hell, Zedd? You've been in there for almost two months. You sealed up the windows and the door—what the hell did you do? If you're really sick, at least let us help!"
The tone of her voice shifted to something less concerned and more frustrated, but Zedd was too focused on keeping his composure. The thought of revealing what had really happened—the surgery, the grafting, the pain—was unbearable. The truth would only invite more questions, and he couldn't afford that.
"Please, Elara," he said, forcing the words out. "I told you, I'm fine. I need peace and quiet to heal. It's nothing serious." The response felt like a lie, but he said it anyway, hoping they would leave.
There was a long pause on the other side of the door. Zedd could almost hear the wheels turning in Elara's head, her sharp mind working through the situation. Finally, she spoke again, her voice still laced with suspicion.
"Alright, fine," she said, though her voice held no real conviction. "But you better open up in a month or two, or I swear to the gods, I'll break down that door myself."
Zedd's jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Instead, he slowly sunk back down onto his bed, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of guilt in his chest. He knew they weren't going to let this go. Elara and Reina were persistent. He could only hope that, in time, they would forget about him, that his need for isolation would be respected. But deep down, Zedd knew that it wouldn't be long before one of them came back, even more determined to uncover the truth.
Once the women left, Zedd allowed himself a moment to breathe. His synthetic arm still felt foreign, but he had to keep pushing. There was no going back now. The more they pressed, the more he realized how much further he was from normalcy. His old life, his identity—everything was slipping away, piece by piece, like sand through his fingers.
With a sigh, Zedd closed his eyes and tried to focus on his recovery. He would need to get stronger, faster, before the world—especially the people in it—caught up to him.