In his feverish dreams, he saw a towering, familiar figure; a giant, larger than life, demonstrating battle techniques before him. It wasn't just a hazy memory; it was as if Bastain was being taught, step by step, by someone guiding him through every move. The giant showed him how to strike from the shadows, how to master the art of surprise, and even how to unleash the devastating power of the Winter Strike, a Frost Giant technique Bastain had only heard whispers of.
The dream didn't stop there. The figure revealed the secrets of activating giant bloodlines, passing down knowledge about magical plants and shamanic potions, things Bastain had never even considered before.
At first, Bastain thought his fever had burned his mind, that his brain was inventing these hallucinations. But when he finally stirred awake, the memories remained vivid and precise. Every detail was crystal clear, as if the lessons had been carved into his very being.
It was as though someone had truly been there, teaching him. And despite the chaos of his fever, Bastain knew these weren't just the ramblings of a dying mind. These were real.
The question was: who had sent the giant to him, and why now?
Bastain's fever and coma lasted for three agonizing days. When he finally stirred and regained some strength, his mind still foggy but his body surprisingly restored, he wasted no time in asking the older children what had transpired. To his astonishment, the skills he had learned in his fevered dreams were real, they worked.
The giant from his dream, the faceless figure who had guided him, looked so much like Drax at first. But as the lessons went on, Bastain noticed that the figure wasn't just one person, it seemed to resemble everyone from his tribe, all at once. Familiar, yet distant. And then, as the giant demonstrated how to wield a heavy weapon in each hand with the finesse of a master, Bastain whispered a name, almost instinctively.
"Uncle Charles."
In that moment, the mist around the giant's face cleared, revealing a face Bastain knew all too well. It was Charles, the strongest hunter in the village, his uncle. As if summoned by the mere utterance of his name, Charles stood there, smiling, his face honest and comforting. That was when Bastain jolted awake, gasping for air, his heart racing as if he had just come back from another world.
He noticed two things immediately: his body felt strangely whole, as though the fever had never touched him, and his luggage bag was glowing with a soft, eerie light.
Confused, Bastain rummaged through the bag and discovered the source of the glow, a wooden carving, one of four he had crafted as gifts. This one was meant for Charles, a token of appreciation for the care the Charles family had always shown him. It was incomplete, yet now, bathed in an otherworldly glow, it seemed alive with energy.
"Uncle Charles..." Bastain whispered again, his throat tight with emotion.
The Charles family had always been kind to him. Uncle Charles, strong and dependable, and Aunt Martha, who was about to give birth when Bastain last saw them. He had made the carvings with them in mind, hoping to bring a smile to their faces in the desolate North where even toys for children were scarce. His carving skills weren't perfect, but he had done his best, crafting something meaningful.
He had intended to carve their likenesses. The sculpture of Charles had been mostly finished, though still rough around the edges. Martha's, however, had barely taken shape before the chaos of war pulled Bastain away. He had never gotten the chance to deliver the gifts.
But now, as he held the glowing carving in his hands, Bastain could feel something deep within it, a faint aura, something far more powerful than mere wood. It radiated a sense of warmth, a connection that made his heart ache with a mix of surprise, relief, and an unsettling sadness.
Was it possible? Was Uncle Charles… still watching over him, even now?
Bastain's hands trembled as he held the carving, feeling the remnants of a soul lingering within it. A soul that, somehow, had found its way into this piece of wood, perhaps through Bastain's subconscious abilities as a visionary, or maybe even his latent psychic talents. He had always known he had a gift for seeing things beyond the physical world, but this was something else entirely.
"Are they worried about me?" he wondered aloud, his voice barely more than a whisper.
It was possible that, as he carved the figures, some part of him had imbued them with his psychic energy, turning them into vessels for the spirits of those he loved. Maybe Charles, even in his final moments, had been thinking of Bastain and the children of the tribe, his concern and love binding his spirit to the carving.
Or perhaps it was Bastain's own pain, the cry of despair he had let loose in front of the Black Tower, that had summoned Charles' spirit. A desperate plea that had been answered, allowing the fragmented soul of his uncle to reside within the wood. Perhaps Bastain's anxiety, his yearning for the legacy of the giants, had activated something deep within the carving, bringing the dream to life.
Whatever the reason, it was clear: Uncle Charles had come to him, in the dream, to pass on the ancient wisdom of the giants.
As Bastain traced the familiar lines of the carving, he could almost feel his uncle's gaze upon him, as though the man were still watching, still guiding him. It was a strange but comforting thought. Bastain realized that even if Charles' soul wasn't fully intact, there was still time, time to connect with him, perhaps in another dream.
Taking a deep breath, Bastain picked up the unfinished carving, determined now to complete it. The weight of responsibility settled on his shoulders, but this time, it felt different. Lighter. He wasn't alone. Not entirely.
"It turns out," he muttered to himself with a faint smile, "I'm not just a clairvoyant. I'm a natural psychic. Maybe even a necromancer in the making."
He chuckled softly, despite the gravity of the situation. It wasn't what he had expected, but this new understanding of himself could prove invaluable. With these abilities, he could carry on the legacy of his elders. He could pass down the wisdom and strength of the giants to the children, helping them survive in a world that had become increasingly dangerous and chaotic.
For the first time in a long while, Bastain felt hope.
He set to work, finishing the carvings with renewed purpose. He would honor the spirits of those who had come before him and ensure the children had the skills and knowledge they needed to endure. Even if it meant embracing the mysteries of life and death, he would do whatever it took to keep them safe.