Resonance Unbound

Closing his eyes, Ezra reached deep within himself, searching for that flicker of light—that thread of power he had barely tapped into before. It was there, faint but steady, pulsing softly within him like a distant heartbeat.

His hands began to glow, faintly at first, a soft, white light stirring to life. He exhaled slowly, directing the energy outward toward Shirley's wound.

But as soon as it reached the surface, the glow sputtered and died, disappearing as quickly as it had come. Shirley's body remained still, his breaths shallow and growing weaker with each passing second.

"No!" Ezra's voice cracked, his fear and frustration clawing at him. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a trembling, bloodied hand, his thoughts spiraling into chaos.

"Come on… come on." His voice was barely above a whisper, almost a plea.

He tried again, forcing the light to gather in his palms, pushing with everything he had. For a moment, the energy ignited, bright and warm, but it faltered and vanished again.

A wave of hopelessness crashed over him, threatening to drown him in doubt.

The light flickered once more, weaker this time—barely a spark.

Ezra's heart pounded, but beneath the storm of fear, something within him steadied. It was different now—clearer, sharper.

Focus.

He closed his eyes again, forcing the chaos in his mind to quiet. His bloodied palms hovered over Shirley's chest, a faint tingle running through his fingers as the energy stirred once more.

This time, he reached deeper—beyond the fear, beyond the doubt—and coaxed the light to the surface.

A spark ignited, stronger this time. Ezra exhaled slowly, letting the warmth spread through him. His breathing synced with Shirley's faltering rhythm as he channeled the light, letting it grow and blossom.

He imagined the energy flowing from his core, through his arms, into his hands, and finally into Shirley.

The soft glow began to build, flickering briefly but holding steady this time.

"I can feel it," he whispered, his voice tinged with quiet determination.

The warmth in his hands grew stronger as he pressed harder, willing the light to sink into Shirley's body. Under his touch, the blood began to shimmer faintly, mingling with the light as it pulsed in rhythm with Ezra's heartbeat.

Slowly, the flow of blood began to slow, the torn flesh knitting together, the jagged wound becoming less visible with every second.

Ezra's chest tightened with a mix of relief and disbelief. It was working. Somehow, it was working.

Shirley's breaths grew steadier, deeper. His chest began to rise and fall more evenly. The pale, ghostly tone of his skin faded, replaced by faint hints of color.

The blood-soaked floor beneath them started to dry, leaving only faint smears behind.

Ezra gasped, his breath shaky, tears of relief pricking his eyes. I did it.

But the strain hit like a tidal wave, pulling energy from him faster than he could replenish it. His head swam, his vision blurred at the edges, and his limbs felt like they were turning to stone. It was as if the very air was being sucked from his lungs, leaving him gasping as he poured every ounce of strength into keeping the light flowing.

"Come on… just a little more," he muttered, his voice hoarse and trembling.

His body began to shake, muscles burning with exhaustion, but he didn't stop. The glow around Shirley's body flared brighter, the wound sealing itself more and more with each passing second.

Finally, as the last shred of energy drained from him, the light began to dim. It flickered once, twice, and then faded, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air.

Ezra collapsed beside Shirley, gasping for breath, his body trembling with the effort. Every muscle screamed in protest, his mind a hazy swirl of dizziness and fatigue.

He looked down at Shirley, and his chest tightened with a mix of disbelief and relief. The wound was closed. The blood had stopped.

Shirley's eyes fluttered open, unfocused at first but slowly sharpening. Though his face was still pale and his movements weak, he was alive.

Ezra let out a shuddering breath, his body sinking into the blood-streaked floor as the tension finally released its grip on him.

Shirley was alive. That was all that mattered.

A wave of exhaustion hit him like a crashing tide, pulling him under. His vision blurred, the room spinning around him as the last vestiges of energy drained from his body.

His mind drifted into a haze, the edges of consciousness slipping away. But even as the darkness claimed him, one thought remained, steady and unyielding:

Shirley is alive . That's enough.