Xandrian Stone Book 1: Beginning of a Legend Read Free

you a feeling every now and then, sort of a sixth sense telling you to do something over something else. Trust those feelings. They will guide you along the best path." "I may not always have the luxury to do so." "I know. In those cases, be ready for anything. We trust in you." Those last words sounded farther away, kinda. "The connection seems to be breaking." "Yes, child, you are right. Grow into the man you are destined to be, and save the colonies." "I can't refuse this, I assume?." "The Great Divine has laid out your path, son." "You mean the Supreme Divine?" "Supreme... sounds good. Better." With that, the connection ended.
    Little side-note: I remember that conversation now because the gift of foresight has manifested itself in me a couple of years ago. Only after all the events I am going to describe – so that was unfortunate. Then again, it would have made my story much less exciting, so there's that. It foreshadowed itself though, by those feelings Eandras described. They saved my ass many times, in unlikely ways. I know, some of the turns of this story will sound like some writer dreamed them up, sitting in his bedroom and staring at the screen of his computer. They were real.
    Ah, digressed again.
    Waking up was the weirdest thing. I did not gradually wake, as normal, but suddenly. One moment I was out, the next I was fully awake, alert and aware. I got up, patted some dust off myself and looked at my classification officer who was watching me with a little worry in her face, holding the Classification Rod in her hands. The bright white glowing Classification Rod. "How do you feel?" She asked me. "Great, thank you. What's the verdict?" "Follow me into the office, we'll discuss everything there." We walked to the barracks in the back of the field and I noticed that every single rod was glowing white and everyone was looking at me. Thinking back, I had not seen anyone else being knocked senseless, so what had happened to me must be special.
    I also noticed that three officers were lying on the ground, being treated by medics. I had always been able to sense if someone was hurt, but usually after touching them. Now I could tell that those officers were hurt across half the field. Especially one young man who seemed to have lost his eyes. "What happened?" "Some of the Classification Rods overloaded and exploded. Not your fault. Those rods were older, but deemed safe. We're going to revise the criteria for that. Don't … where are you going?" Those last words were spoken to my back, as I had changed direction and was jogging to the worst hurt officer. I sensed excruciating pain, fear, panic, disorientation. Something had to be done to help that poor man.
    When I reached him, the medics wanted to be difficult but were waved away by the officer following me. I pushed by the slowly moving medics and gripped the hurt officer's head on both sides. Focusing on his pain, I took it into myself and worked from there. What I omitted earlier, was that healing meant taking the pain of the patient, analyzing it and healing the patient's wound like it was your own. That means that basically the amount of pain you were willing and able to suffer ruled how good a healer you were. There were tricks to dull the pain in yourself, but that influenced the results in a negative way – leading to bones mending at an angle, eyes through which wooden splinters had been driven to stop bleeding, but to never work again, that sort of thing.
    I hate pain. With a passion. But I hate even more seeing other people in pain, especially knowing that I can do something about that pain. So I was never afraid to assume the pain of others to heal them. I started with cuts and bruises. Then I worked myself up to a broken finger. That was bad, but I realized that it was really nothing when I encountered my first broken leg. In three places, with a busted knee to top it off. Apparently that farmer had fallen off a harvester which then proceeded to slowly