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If the reaper was ever to be repaired, then it would be in moments like this, when he was accessing as much of the Windlight as he could.

Or that was the theory, at least. Perhaps the Lights were themselves the problem. Perhaps their essential energies clashed with that of the reapers.

Unfortunately, there would be no certainty until he conducted more tests. And even then, this incarnation might simply be still too weak.

But it was worth a try, at least.

He retrieved Nerovoy from his coat again. For a while, he merely sat there, observing the reaper's fragile form another time.

Curious. It had already degraded quite a bit, even though he'd just reinvigorated it with the Windlight not too long ago. Was it because he'd put the reaper away? Out of sight, out of mind? And so the psychic influence holding Nerovoy together had dissipated much more quickly.

Hmm. How was he only now learning of this?

Well. He wasn't often given to these bouts of attentive experimentation.

In which case...

Ettol's gaze fell to Feromas next.

That one was also quite vulnerable, right now. Ettol harbored no ill will towards the reaper, of course. It wasn't about that. But if he could perform a more invasive observation of a healthy reaper, then perhaps he could learn how to help Nerovoy.

Yes, of course.

This one wasn't even about Jonah.

Though, admittedly, that was a nice bonus.

Don't worry, Jonah. If this worked, then it wouldn't matter if Feromas also suffered. Ettol would be able to repair him, too. And so much more. Think of the possibilities.

Heh.

Ettol was already on his feet and walking again.

Oh? Stirring again, Jonah? Fighting?

Ettol's pace slowed.

Not too exhausted already, eh? Go on, then. Show your strength. How much resistance could you truly mount? How important was Feromas to you?

Stop, Ettol. Stop this.

Begging now? Finally, some humility, Jonah. You should have demonstrated that more often. Things may have never come to this, if you did. Why don't you try--?

Something crashed into him. From the side. Ettol flew into the wall, cracking it.

He didn't understand. What was it? He was too disoriented? Jonah? No. There was a fog in his vision. His senses. Something hiding there, right in front of him, even as it pinned him to the wall. As it punched him in the face. In the stomach. In the soul.