Resonance Unbound

Ezra blinked, still frozen behind the pillar, his mind reeling. Everything felt disjointed, like a dream he couldn't wake from. He could barely process what had just happened—Shirley's body slumping forward, folding in on itself in a slow, almost unnatural descent. Then came the splash, the sickening sound of his friend collapsing into the pool of blood beneath him.

"Shirley?" Ezra's voice cracked, barely audible, almost swallowed by the silence of the room.

No response. Shirley lay motionless, his body sprawled awkwardly on the ground. For a moment, the air felt too thick to breathe.

 No. No. This can't be real. 

His throat tightened as panic clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to paralyze him completely.

Move, Ezra .Move!

His legs felt like lead, but he forced them to carry him forward, dragging himself out from behind the safety of the pillar. Each step felt heavier than the last, his heart pounding in his chest, the sound deafening in his ears.

Blood was everywhere, soaking into the jagged cracks of the stone floor, glistening under the dim light.

When he reached Shirley's side, Ezra froze. Blood—far too much blood—was pooling beneath him, soaking into his torn shirt and spreading in a dark, glistening stain across the floor. Shirley's face was pale, almost ghostly, his half-closed eyes dull and unfocused. His lips parted slightly, but no words came, only shallow, uneven breaths.

Stay calm, you've seen worse.

But he hadn't. Not really. The truth was, he'd never been this close to losing someone before. And now, as Shirley's breaths grew weaker, Ezra felt the edges of panic clawing at him, threatening to drag him under.

Ezra knelt down, his hands shaking as he pressed them to the wound, trying to stop the flow of blood. It was warm and sticky beneath his fingers, slipping through no matter how much pressure he applied.

Shirley's eyelids fluttered weakly, his lips moving as though to speak. Ezra leaned in, his breath hitching, straining to hear him. But all that escaped was a wet, ragged cough, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

Ezra didn't react. He didn't cry out, didn't scream, didn't panic. His face remained unreadable, his hands steady as he pressed harder against the wound. But deep within, something heavy and cold settled, squeezing his chest with relentless weight.

Think, Ezra. Think.

Shirley's breaths grew weaker, each one more labored than the last. The silence of the room pressed in around them, broken only by the faint rasp of Shirley's struggling breaths.

Ezra's gaze flickered, focusing on Shirley's face. His lips tightened, his expression hardening as his mind grasped at solutions. He needed to do something. Anything. But nothing he knew, nothing he could think of, seemed like it would be enough.

You're going to lose him. You're going to lose him. It will all be your fault.

Then, a thought crossed his mind—wild, uncertain, and barely more than a whisper of possibility.

Healing.

He had done it before, but only on himself. Small things: scratches, shallow cuts, minor bruises. He had never tried it on anyone else, let alone on something this severe.

Could it work? Would I be able to pull it off?

Ezra stared at his bloodied hands, the warmth of Shirley's life slipping through his fingers. The fear of failure tightened around him, but it wasn't stronger than the fear of losing Shirley.

Closing his eyes, he forced the rest of the world to fade away, shutting out the fear and noise. He focused inward, searching for the faint flicker of energy he had barely begun to understand. It was faint, fragile, and elusive, but it was there—a spark waiting to be fanned into something more.

Ezra inhaled slowly, his breath steadying as he let the energy flow through him. His fear didn't vanish, but he pushed it down, letting the urgency of the moment consume him. He couldn't afford to fail. Not here. Not now.

The silence of the room stretched as he concentrated, the faint hum of energy growing stronger beneath his fingertips. It was all he had left—all Shirley had left.

Please …just work.

The warmth of the energy began to spread, faint and flickering, but it was enough to keep him going. Ezra clenched his jaw, his focus unyielding as he poured every ounce of himself into the fragile spark.

The blood beneath his hands felt warmer now, as if responding to the energy. Ezra pressed harder, refusing to let go, refusing to give up. Whatever it took, however long it took—he wasn't going to stop.