3.1: Summoned by the Gods

TW: Depiction of Seizure, Depiction of Verbal Shutdown

3.1

Stellina

Elix looks between us with a frantic, desperate gaze. He almost resembles a wild animal: his hair is loosening from its bonds; his eyes are wide and dilated. I am suddenly reminded of my own mortality as my heart begins to quicken in my chest and my eyes fix on Xada.

His eyes are closed, yet they lurch beneath his eyelids, as if reacting to multiple sources of stimuli. His limbs twitch and occasionally thrash about. His head thrusts back and forth in a menacing manner. But worst of all are the gasps and cries that pour out of his mouth.

A moment of silence fills the air, causing even the plants to cease their rustling, as we all take in the situation. Elix does nothing but stand there, looking as if he is about to crumple to the floor or run wild throughout the city. He looks absently at Xada with a shaking gaze, then back at us, saying nothing.

My mother and father leap from the couch, springing to action. Everything regains motion. Together, they help Elix set Xada down on the floor between the mess of foliage and furniture. They are careful to place any objects that could potentially injure him away from his grasping reach. My father grabs a pillow from the couch which my mother slides under my tutor’s head in a smooth movement. Then, she turns him on his side and begins checking his vital organs, breathing heavily. I watch, wide-eyed, unsure of what is happening or what I should do. Elix stands to the side, frozen in place. His eyes do not move from Xada once in the entire exchange.

“When did this commence?” My mother directs at Elix, two of her fingers pressed against Xada’s neck. Her voice is steady and strong, a beacon in the chaos.

Elix does not respond immediately. For a moment, I think he has not heard her. Without moving his eyes, he stiffly draws a hand across his lips and then displays all of his fingers for my mother. She understands instantly.

“Ten minutes ago.” She clarifies. Elix’s head moves rigidly up and down, “Where did you come from?”

Once more, Elix responds with swift, incomprehensible hand movements.

“The barracks. You did well.” My mother nods, her voice calming. She stands up, careful of Xada’s twitching limbs, and lets out a deep breath. She approaches Elix, speaking to him in a soothing tone, “Sit down, Elix. Rixa will be here soon.”

As if summoned by the gods, the doors fly open and a silver, oval-shaped vessel soars into the room. A mellow voice speaks rapidly from the vehicle,

“Elix? How is he? I was just returning home when I got your message.” The hovering vehicle slows as soon as it enters the room. The runes that line its side dim as it comes to a stop beside Elix and my mother. At the first utterance of the calm voice with a twirling, flowering accent, Elix’s eyes clear. He looks up to see Rixa, sitting within the shining pod.

My mother returns to her spot by my father while Rixa takes account of the situation and begins to calm Elix down. They ask Elix to identify things he can see, hear, smell, and touch in the room, gradually helping him reconnect with his senses and regain self-awareness. Afterwards, they help him breathe steadily, in and out. This is a technique Rixa taught me in the past for when I experience similar bouts of anxiety.

I attempt to follow along with them, drawing my eyes to different focal points in the room. But each time, they return to Xada. One: the couch with blue pillows; two: the plants speckling light through the room above me; three, I can see: Xada writhing on the floor. One: birds chirping outside; two, I can hear: Xada gasping harshly. At least I can feel my slippers underneath my feet.

Part of me urges to ask questions for answers I hope will be relayed. The other part holds these words at my throat in a fist, ensuring they do not come free, choking them into retreat. Swallowing seems impossible around this hand. My breath feels constricted in my chest. My world seems to narrow down to Xada until all I can hear and see is this awful, unexplainable scene where I am an outsider. My breathing seems to connect with his, fast and uncontrolled. My fingers twitch at my side, tapping at my thigh.

“Lili.”

The edges of my vision are dark and blurred. I am alone in this room with Xada. The only sound is his gasps and his echoing cries bouncing across my mind.

“Lili?”

Rixa is calling me. My brain feels full, yet so empty. Questions rattle the cage of my skull but I can not pinpoint a single one. They overlap with each other at different volumes and tones like a cacophonous concerto. What else have my parents been keeping from me? Why have I been sheltered from the world? How often does this happen to Xada? Why had I not seen it before? Why-? What-? When-? How-?

“Lili?” Rixa is- oh, Rixa is calling my name. My vision clears to fit them into my world. I lift my eyes to their half-shaved head, where silver coils escape from plaits and transition into metallic pink, casting a radiant halo around their warm, brown skin. Just seeing them in my proximity allows me to breathe easier once more. I swallow but manage a wobbly,

“Hm?”

“I asked how you are?” Rixa says softly. Their voice breaks through Xada’s gasps, echoing through my mind, and calms the storm of questions buzzing irritatingly within me. I stare into their calming, pastel eyes and feel my breath draw in and out, separate from Xada’s at last. Swallowing again, I finally feel able to speak, though my voice breaks and cracks,

“Oh, um…well…I do not really know what is happening…This seems to be regular for Xada but I have never seen it happen.” My eyes are automatically drawn to Xada’s form but Rixa deflects my gaze by tapping a colourfully polished finger to a rune and gliding in front of my wandering trajectory. They lightly take my hand in theirs and squeeze it. Their eyes are filled with understanding. Their smile replaces the anxiety bubbling through me with warmth. Then, they turn their head to speak to my parents,

“Did anyone explain to Stellina why Xada, her tutor, is convulsing on the floor?” Silence meets their question. Elix shifts uncomfortably but Rixa quickly clarifies, addressing him,

“No, honey, I am not blaming you. You did well in getting Xada here.” Then, their stare turns to my parents once more. While Rixa maintains their position beside me, it feels as though they are looming over my parents with accusation,

“Lia. Lonti. Did you not tell your daughter what in the Gods’ names is going on with her teacher?”

My mother’s mouth forms a stern line, but whether it is my parents or Rixa who are spared from further confrontation, all interactions halt with Xada’s sudden collapse to the floor. His muscles visibly relax, and he lies there still, as if deep in sleep.

“Xada…?” Elix asks hesitantly, his voice croaky and lacking its usual buoyancy. His left earlobe is faintly red from the amount of time he has spent tugging on it.

Xada lurches upright; his eyes flicker open and closed at separate intervals as he attempts to focus on his surroundings. He seems to struggle to regain consciousness. His gaze locks on Elix before he clambers upright and stumbles into Elix’s outstretched arms. Rixa shoots my parents a glare before manoeuvring their vessel to Xada’s side. The three of them murmur softly until my mother clears her throat and gently inquires,

“Xada, are you alright? Do you need anything?” She gestures with a flick of her gemmed wrist towards me. It takes me a moment to understand, but I grasp it a second later. Without delay, I begin pouring a cup of tea for Xada. My eyes shift between the steady liquid and his swaying form. Elix helps Xada stand, and for a moment, that is all he does: he stands there, peering through the glass into the distance. This trance is broken with a vigorous shake of his head as he declares,

“Call off the festival.”