Once he was satisfied, Aldric shut off the water and stood in the stall, watching the droplets of water fall from his hair and skin to the floor below. The chaotic rhythm of their impacts on the ceramic made him smile. “Perfectly imperfect,” he said. The longer he watched the droplets the more he suspected the pattern was anything but random. The voices that hid at the back of his mind whispered impossible formulas and forbidden lore not meant for human understanding, but he was no longer truly human was he? With each passing second an answer began to form in the eldritch rhythm of falling water, but the moment the secret was to be revealed the water stopped and he was left with maddening silence.
He screamed and punched the wall. The steel buckled beneath the blow, but it barely registered in Aldric’s mind. He pulled back and looked at his hand. The skin was red, but unbroken. There were no shattered bones, no blood, and no pain. Aldric uncurled his fingers and flipped his hand over. He was not a religious man, so he stopped well short of calling it a miracle, but there was no other word that properly conveyed his thoughts on what happened.
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