Chapter 114 – Continuity Error (2)
(Erynd)
"Move her to the research laboratory," I said. "Ethan's section. The sealed one."
The guards didn't question it.
They just nodded and carried the stretcher—carefully, because the body on it was barely holding together—down through Yggdrasil's levels toward the labs.
I followed, Melody at my shoulder, mind already running through possibilities.
Neo-human construction. Artificial body. Soul transferred improperly.
All of it screaming *wrong* in ways that made my teeth ache.
Behind me, Noelle's footsteps were quiet but steady.
She'd insisted on coming.
"I can help," she'd said. "With prayers. With healing. With—with whatever you need, Master. Please don't make me wait upstairs while someone suffers."
I'd tried to argue.
She'd looked at me with those huge, determined eyes.
I'd lost.
Now she walked beside me, hands clasped, already murmuring soft prayers under her breath.
Not to Vastriel.
To whatever would listen.
***
Ethan's lab was chaos given form and called science.
Workbenches covered in half-disassembled devices. Chalkboards scrawled with equations that looped back on themselves. Glass tubes bubbling with things that probably shouldn't bubble. The air smelled like metal and chemicals and *ambition.*
Ethan himself stood in the center of it all, green hair wilder than usual, glasses sliding down his nose, holding what looked like a crystallized mana sample up to the light.
He was *laughing.*
Not the polite, controlled laugh of someone who'd just heard a joke.
The manic, too-loud cackle of someone who'd just solved a problem no one else knew existed.
"It's beautiful!" he shouted at no one in particular. "The resonance frequency! The harmonic degradation! It's *singing* its own death song and I can *hear* it!"
One of his assistants—a young researcher named Quine—looked up from his own workbench with the expression of someone who'd learned to ignore Ethan's episodes.
"Should I be worried?" Quine asked me as I entered.
"Probably," I said. "Is he on day three without sleep again?"
"Day four," Quine corrected. "He's been vibrating in place for the last six hours. I tried to make him eat. He threw bread at me and called it 'unnecessary biological maintenance.'"
Ethan spun around, finally noticing us.
"My Lord!" he said, grinning too wide. "Perfect timing! I was just about to test whether crystallized mana can be used as a substitute for—oh."
His gaze landed on the stretcher.
On the rotting body strapped to it.
His expression shifted.
The manic energy didn't disappear—it just *focused.*
Like a lens catching sunlight and concentrating it into something that could burn.
"What," he said slowly, "is *that?*"
"A problem," I said. "One that requires your specific brand of insanity."
He walked closer.
Leaned over the body.
His nose wrinkled, but he didn't pull back.
Just *studied* it with the same intensity he'd study a particularly interesting explosion.
"This is—" He stopped. Started again. "This is *wrong.* The mana signature is off. The cellular decay pattern doesn't match natural necrosis. And the *smell*—that's not standard decomposition. That's something else. Something *angry.*"
He looked up at me, eyes bright.
"My Lord, this is the most fascinating corpse I've ever seen, and I once dissected a demon-touched rat that grew three extra hearts. Can I keep it?"
"No," I said. "You can fix it."
"Fix—" He blinked. "You want me to *fix* a rotting corpse? My Lord, I'm a scientist, not a necromancer. I don't have a degree in 'reversing decomposition.' I don't think anyone does. That's not a field of study. That's just *hubris.*"
"Then call it an experiment," I said. "We have approximately twelve hours before the soul anchored to this body destabilizes completely and kills the original owner. So we're going to figure out what's wrong, fix it, and not let anyone die. Together."
Ethan stared at me.
Then his grin came back.
Wider.
Sharper.
*Dangerous.*
"Twelve hours," he repeated. "To reverse necrosis on a body that shouldn't exist. With equipment I barely understand and theories I'm inventing as we go. My Lord, that's not a deadline. That's a *challenge.*"
He turned to Quine.
"Clear the main surgical table! Get the mana analysis equipment! Bring every healing tome we have! And someone make coffee! Not for me—I'm beyond coffee—but for everyone else who's going to need it!"
Quine sighed but moved to obey.
Noelle stepped forward hesitantly.
"I can help," she offered. "I know healing magic. And prayers. If the soul is involved, perhaps—"
Ethan looked at her.
Really *looked.*
"You're the theology girl," he said. "Master's… what's the word? Companion? Partner? The one who prays loudly and cries beautifully?"
"Ethan," I said warningly.
"Right, right, inappropriate. Sorry." He turned back to Noelle. "Can you maintain a stabilization prayer for twelve hours without passing out?"
"I… I think so?" Noelle said.
"Good enough! You're on soul-tethering duty. Stand there, pray, don't touch anything that glows red. If you see smoke, run. Got it?"
Noelle nodded, looking slightly overwhelmed.
I moved to the table where they'd laid the body.
Up close, the wrongness was even more obvious.
The skin was grey-green. The mana signature flickered like a dying candle. And the *smell*—
"Rotting from the inside," I muttered. "But not naturally. This is…"
I reached out, let my senses extend.
Felt the mana pathways, the flow of energy, the places where everything should have been working but *wasn't.*
"The shell is incomplete," I said slowly. "This body—it's artificial. Neo-human construction. But whoever made it didn't do it right. The mana integration is sloppy. The biological systems are—"
I stopped.
Looked closer at the chest cavity.
"Ethan," I said. "Scalpel."
He handed me one without question.
I made a careful incision.
Peeled back the skin.
And stared.
"Oh," I said. "Oh, that's *bad.*"
Ethan leaned over my shoulder.
"Is that—"
"The liver is missing," I said. "Completely. Just… gone. And the heart is in the wrong place. It's positioned like someone drew it from memory instead of actually understanding anatomy. And the blood—"
I touched the edge of the wound.
The blood that leaked out was *wrong.*
Too thin. Too dark.
"This isn't human blood," I said. "This is… I don't even know what this is. Some kind of synthetic approximation? But it's not compatible with the rest of the system. The body is *rejecting* its own blood."
Ethan's eyes went wide.
"That's—oh, that's *brilliant* in the worst possible way," he breathed. "They made a body without understanding what makes a body *work.* They just slapped organs together and hoped. And now it's rotting because the fundamental biology is *wrong.*"
He grabbed a notebook, started scribbling frantically.
"Neo-Body Necrosis!" he declared. "That's what I'm calling it! When you create an artificial body but lack the fundamental resources and compatibility required for actual function! The soul tries to inhabit it, but the vessel is so flawed that it triggers systemic rejection! It's not dying—it's *failing to live!*"
He looked up, grinning manically.
"My Lord, this is *unprecedented!* We're looking at the intersection of soul mechanics and biological construction! If we can fix this, we'll have proven that—"
"Ethan," I interrupted. "Focus. How do we fix it?"
He blinked.
"Oh. Right. Fixing."
He tapped his pen against his chin, leaving an ink mark he didn't notice.
"We need to replace the missing organs," he said. "Real ones. Compatible ones. And we need to correct the blood type. And we need to do it before the soul anchor degrades completely and the original body dies."
"So we need a donor," I said.
"Multiple donors," Ethan corrected. "Liver from one. Heart repositioned or replaced. Blood transfusion from someone with a compatible type. And then—*then*—we need to use healing magic to integrate everything properly. Which normally wouldn't work on a dead body, but if we complete the body *first*, make it theoretically viable, *then* the healing magic should recognize it as 'alive enough' to repair."
He paused.
"In theory."
"In theory," I repeated flatly.
"My Lord, I'm a scientist, not a miracle worker. Well, technically I'm both, but there are *limits.*"
Noelle's voice was small.
"I can pray," she said. "While you work. To help the healing take hold. To help the soul stay anchored."
Ethan glanced at her, then nodded.
"Good. Pray loud. Souls like attention."
***
The next several hours were a blur of controlled chaos.
We started with blood type.
Ethan had samples on file—because of course he did—and we ran tests until we found matches.
"Type O negative!" Ethan announced. "Universal donor! We have three preserved samples in storage! My Lord, your paranoia about keeping emergency supplies is finally paying off!"
We transfused the blood carefully.
Watched as the body's color shifted slightly—less grey, more… something that wasn't quite alive but wasn't quite dead either.
Then the organs.
This part was harder.
We had access to bodies—preserved, kept in stasis for exactly this kind of emergency—but finding compatible ones took time.
Ethan measured. Calculated. Muttered equations under his breath while I held organs up to the light and checked mana compatibility.
"This liver!" Ethan said, holding it up like a trophy. "It's from a young male, died in an accident three months ago, body donated to Yggdrasil for research! Perfect size! Minimal scarring! And the mana signature is close enough that it shouldn't reject!"
We worked.
Ethan cutting with manic precision.
Me guiding with mana manipulation, holding things in place, keeping the body stable enough not to collapse completely.
Noelle praying.
Her voice filled the lab—soft, steady, unwavering.
Not the formal prayers of temple services.
Just… *talking.*
To Vastriel. To whatever listened. To the soul trapped between two bodies.
"Please," she murmured. "Please hold on. Please don't let go. We're trying. We're fixing it. Please just… stay."
Hours passed.
The liver went in.
Then the heart—repositioned correctly, anchored with mana threads until the healing could take hold.
Then the smaller organs. Kidneys. Spleen. All the things the original constructor had forgotten or ignored.
Ethan's hands shook slightly now.
Not from fear.
From exhaustion and *excitement.*
"This is insane," he whispered. "We're rebuilding a human body from spare parts like it's a *machine.* My Lord, if this works, we've just proven that biology is just very complicated engineering!"
"If it doesn't work," I said, "we've just desecrated multiple corpses for nothing."
"Optimism, my Lord! Terrible habit, but occasionally useful!"
Finally—*finally*—the body was complete.
All the pieces in place.
All the connections made.
It looked… almost human.
Still grey. Still wrong. But *structurallysound.*
"Now," I said. "Healingmagic."
I placed my hands over the chest.
Drew on my mana—bright, clean, the kind Vastriel had blessed.
Pushed it into the body.
Normally, this wouldn't work.
Healing magic required life to heal.
A corpse was just meat.
But this corpse was *complete* now.
Had all the pieces.
Had blood flowing, organs positioned, systems ready to function.
It was theoretically alive.
Just… not yet.
The magic flowed in.
And the body *responded.*
Skin color shifted—grey to pale, pale to pink.
Wounds closed.
Decay reversed.
The mana signature stabilized, strengthened, became *coherent.*
Ethan was *vibrating.*
"It's working! My Lord, it's *working!* The healing magic is recognizing the body as viable! The cellular regeneration is—oh, this is *beautiful!*"
Noelle's prayers grew louder.
More fervent.
"Please," she said. "Please come back. Please *live.*"
The body's chest rose.
Fell.
Rose again.
*Breathing.*
The eyes flew open.
***
She gasped.
Sucked in air like someone drowning finally breaking the surface.
Her hands flew to her chest, her throat, her face.
"I'm—I'm—" She couldn't finish.
Just kept touching herself, confirming she was solid, real, *whole.*
Then her eyes found mine.
Violet. Clear. Alive.
She *lunged.*
Off the table, across the space between us, crashing into me with enough force to knock me back a step.
Her arms wrapped around me.
Tight.
Too tight.
Like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.
"Thank you," she sobbed into my chest. "Thank you, thank you, *thank you*—"
Her whole body shook.
"I was *rotting,*" she choked out. "I could feel it. Every day. Falling apart. Knowing I was dying and not understanding *why.* And then—and then you—you *fixed* me. You made me *whole.* I don't—I can't—how do I even—"
"Breathe," I said quietly. "You're okay now. You're alive."
"I'm *alive,*" she repeated, like the words were a miracle.
She pulled back just enough to look up at me.
Tears streaming down her face.
"I don't even know your name," she whispered. "You saved me and I don't know your *name.*"
"Erynd," I said. "Erynd Milton."
"Erynd," she repeated. Testing it. "Erynd. I'm—I'm Yue. I think. That's what I remember. Yue."
"Yue," I said. "Good to meet you. Officially."
She laughed.
A broken, wet sound.
Then hugged me again.
Ethan was scribbling furiously in his notebook.
"Unprecedented success!" he announced. "Neo-Body Necrosis successfully treated via organ replacement and integrated healing! My Lord, we've just invented a new medical procedure! We need to document *everything!* The blood type matching! The mana compatibility checks! The—"
"Later, Ethan," I said.
Yue was still clinging to me.
Still crying.
Still *alive.*
"Thank you," she whispered again. "I'll never forget this. Never. I owe you everything. My life. My *existence.* If you ever need anything—*anything*—I'm yours. Completely."
"You don't owe me anything," I said.
"I *do,*" she insisted. "And I'm going to repay it. Somehow. I don't know how yet, but I will. I promise."
Behind us, Noelle had gone very still.
Her hands still clasped in prayer.
But her eyes were closed now.
And her lips were moving in different words.
Not prayers for Yue.
Prayers for someone else.
***
Far away—in the Magic Tower, in a sealed room where a comatose body lay under healing wards—
Goldwynn's eyes opened.
Slowly.
Like waking from a dream that had lasted too long.
Noelle was there.
Sitting beside the bed, hand wrapped around Goldwynn's, still praying.
She'd been there for hours.
Ever since she'd felt the *pull.*
The connection.
The sense that two souls were trying to exist in two places and something had to give.
"Please," Noelle had whispered. "Please come back. Your body is ready. Your soul is safe. Please just… come *home.*"
And Goldwynn's fingers twitched.
Squeezed.
Noelle's eyes flew open.
"Goldwynn?" she breathed.
The woman in the bed blinked.
Focused.
Saw Noelle's face.
"Who…" she croaked. "Who are you?"
"Noelle," Noelle said, tears already falling. "I'm—I'm nobody. Just someone who wanted to help. You're safe now. You're *awake.*"
Goldwynn's eyes closed again.
But this time, it was sleep.
Real sleep.
Not coma.
Not death.
Just exhaustion after coming back from somewhere no one should have gone.
Noelle kept holding her hand.
Kept praying.
Kept *crying.*
Because she didn't know this woman.
Had never met her.
But she'd seen the rotting corpse.
Had felt the wrongness.
Had *prayed* with everything she had that no one would have to suffer that fate.
And somehow—
Somehow it had worked.
"Thank you," she whispered to gods who might or might not be listening. "Thank you for letting her live. Thank you for giving Master the wisdom to fix it. Thank you for—for everything."
The room was quiet.
Just breathing.
Two women alive when they shouldn't have been.
And in a lab far below, another woman clung to the person who'd made it possible.
Miracles, it seemed, came in pairs.
Even if they were built from spare parts and *science.*