Chapter 7 - The Fire Beneath the Ash
The next ten days were a private torment that Luke bore in absolute secrecy.
Every night, after the manor gates were locked and the heavy velvet drapes were drawn, the master suite transformed into a grueling rehabilitation clinic. Julian brought portable physical therapy rigs, while Martha kept watch at the corridor doors.
Without the toxic conopeptide suppressing his nervous system, Luke’s nerve endings fired with uncontrolled, agonizing intensity. The first time Julian helped him place his bare feet onto the cold floorboards, Luke’s legs gave out instantly, sending him collapsing toward the rug. Julian caught him beneath the arms, bracing his heavy frame.
"Easy, Luke," Julian grunted, teeth gritted. "Your muscles haven't carried weight in over a year. The atrophy is real, even if the nerve damage was artificial."
Sweat soaked through Luke’s shirt. Veins bulged along his neck as he forced his mind to communicate with his limbs. "Again," Luke commanded, his voice strained through clenched teeth. "Put me back up, Julian."
"Luke, pushing too fast could tear the tendons—"
"Put me up!"
Julian hoisted him upright again. Luke gripped the parallel training bars Julian had assembled beside the bed. His knuckles turned white. His knees wobbled violently, shaking like saplings in a hurricane. Every breath felt like inhaling shards of glass.
Lily sat quietly by the foot of the bed, holding a small stop-watch Martha had given her. "Five seconds, Luke! You did five seconds!" she cheered in a whispered squeak.
Luke collapsed back onto the edge of the mattress, his chest heaving, his body slick with perspiration. But beneath the exhaustion, an electric current hummed. He could feel the cold hardwood against his soles. He could feel the texture of the wool rug.
"How long until the gala?" Luke panted, wiping his forehead with the back of his arm.
"Four days," Julian replied, examining Luke’s reflexes with a small rubber hammer. The response was brisk, clean, and unmistakably healthy. "Your motor signals are nearly fully restored. It’s purely a matter of muscular stamina now. But Luke... if you push yourself onto your feet in public without support, you risk collapsing."
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Luke looked over at Lily, who offered him a warm, encouraging smile. He reached out, gently ruffling her hair.
"I don't need to run a marathon, Julian," Luke said softly, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bedside lamp. "I only need to stand long enough to bring down an empire of lies."
