Hope in Deep Waters (an AtE story) Ch. 13

Artham knew he should be happy for Leeli, and he was. But it reawakened the desire he had had for years to be healed by the water. He had found the Well once before, but he had not taken any water for himself. It was for Esben first. Really, it was for everyone except him first. Now he was here again, witnessing someone else's healing. The Well was only a short walk away, but it just wouldn't feel right to drink the water himself after he had been unable to restore his brother. Artham also felt it would be irreverent to just walk over and drink the water from the Well, which pulsated with light and seemed more alive and sacred than he remembered. After all, Janner had not come back to life by his family's actions, but by the Maker's decree. And Leeli's leg had been healed without her intention. He felt helpless and trapped. I might never be healed. I don't deserve it. He sighed and tried to busy himself with slicing up fruit for the family's late breakfast.

As Janner approached his uncle, he noticed a flash of anguish cross Artham's tired countenance as he glanced at his hands, and then cast his sorrowful eyes longingly at the pristine pool behind him. Janner placed a hand on his shoulder and looked him in the eyes. “Uncle Artham, Papa wanted me to tell you something.”

“You saw- you saw Esben?” Artham replied, his voice only a whisper.

“Yes. And he is whole and well in the Maker's country. He wants you to know that he forgives you and that he loves you. It was because of you that his strength was renewed back in the Hollows so that he could rescue us.”

Artham sank to his knees and his eyes shone with tears.

“I- I don't deserve to be forgiven.” he said quietly.

“He thought you might say that. But isn't that the point of mercy?”

Artham knew deep in his soul that this was true. It was just so hard to let go of the guilt he had been carrying beneath the surface for so long. What would it even be like to live without it? Artham couldn't imagine it, and it scared him. Who would he be? Suddenly, Artham heard a thunderous whisper echo tenderly in his mind.

Artham, there is no reason for you to feel guilty anymore. You have been forgiven.

As he let the words wash over him and allowed Esben's forgiveness to soak into his mind and wash away the taunting voices, it felt like a huge burden was lifted from his shoulders.

Son, my healing is for you too. Drink of the water, it is my gift to you.

Artham eased himself to his feet once more, and took a trembling step toward the Well. He hesitated for a moment and glanced toward his family. Nia caught his eye and gave him a warm smile and a reassuring nod. How does she know these things? Artham wondered.

He took another step, then another and another until he found himself standing on the edge of the Well.

Janner, who had been walking alongside his uncle, suddenly felt awkward like he was intruding on a private matter. So, with a last glance over toward his uncle, he turned and walked back to his family, leaving Artham alone with his thoughts, the water, and the Maker.

Artham stared into the water for a moment, the realization sinking in of what he was about to do. He took a deep breath and scooped up a bit of water and raised his cupped hands to his mouth. He closed his eyes and slowly drank it in, savoring the feeling of it filling his mouth and flooding his bones with a refreshing and comforting warmth.

After several moments, he slowly opened his eyes and peeked at his hands. He blinked, and then stared at them in awe, tears streaming down his cheeks. They were hands again. His hands. Artham raised his head and loosed a belly laugh of joy, perhaps the happiest sound heard since Anneira's fall. He would be able to hold a quill with ease again to pen his poems, and he made a mental note to write one about this moment. He picked up a large feather from the ground and relished the familiar feeling of a quill in his fingers. But where did the feather come from? Artham glanced over his shoulder and noticed that his wings had assumed a more graceful shape and had been washed pure white as snow. They were no longer the wings of a hawk, but something of their own. While deep down he had felt a tiny bit sad that he would never fly again if they disappeared, Artham was puzzled as to why he still had them at all.

The wings are a reminder for you of how I am with you and can use even broken people for good and restore them. They are a symbol of the freedom I have given you.

Artham remembered how his mind had been cleared and his strength and sense of purpose renewed supernaturally back in that room in the Phoobs. His wings had enabled him to do so much good in rescuing Kalmar, shutting down the Fork! Factory! and helping to free the people of Dugtown. Best of all, his wings wouldn't hurt anyone. They were tools of help, comfort, and deliverance. He smiled. He still needed to write the poem about those events too.

As Artham stood up, he noticed that his whole family was looking at him from where they sat around the fire.

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Note: I think it also makes perfect sense why Artham might not have his wings after drinking the water, but I also didn't want to too predictable 😅