The Shadowed Manse by David Alastair Hayden, Pepper Thorn

registered; it was like he’d spent a week or so resting and recovering.
    “I shall tend to your other wounds now, Master Paladin. The first application of healing could only repair your lesser injuries.”
    “Just Arthur, please,” he said.
    “As you wish.” She touched the wound on his arm and chanted. When she drew her hand away, the burn looked no worse than what he might have gotten from touching a hot pan on the stove. It was far from pleasant, but it was a hundred times better than it had been. She reached toward his chest. “I fear this will hurt. There is nothing I can do about that.”
    “Maybe … maybe we can leave it in there?” he offered.
    “Now that it no longer hides you from us, the device serves no purpose. Besides, it is cracked and still jabbing into your flesh. The wound will eventually become infected.”
    “So you’re — you’re going to rip it out?”
    Ylliara nodded gravely. “You may wish to look away. I will be as quick as possible. Take off your shirt, please.”
    Arthur set his shirt aside, and Ylliara placed both palms against his chest. Relaxing warmth flowed into him. This wasn’t bad … he could handle it — the warmth surged to a searing heat — he felt a tugging sensation as the plate began to pull away from his rib cage. He turned his head. With wide eyes, Morgan watched, but not in a horrified way — she seemed fascinated. She really was one seriously weird girl.
    With a rip, his skin tore — blood splattered Ylliara — the plate clattered onto the floor. Pain lanced through his chest; he tried to scream — failed — and swooned. Continuing to chant, Ylliara caught him. The blood on her disappeared, and the pain diminished, but he still passed out …
    He woke to see Morgan studying the plastic disk on the floor. She reached toward it, but Ylliara shook her head.
    “I would not touch it.”
    Arthur looked down and felt his chest. The skin had been sewn back into place, and the wound was scarred over, as if several days had passed.
    “How … how long was I out?” Arthur said groggily. His wounds might be healed, but he still felt battered and exhausted.
    “Only a few minutes,” Morgan replied. “Lady Ylliara just finished telling me about your encounter in the woods and you being the Multiversal Paladin … whatever that means.”
    “Again, I am sorry for the nature of my arrival,” said Ylliara. “Moving between universes is no easy matter, and truthfully, I never thought I would have to.”
    “What universe did you come from?” Morgan asked.
    “The Aetherial Universe,” Ylliara replied without further explanation.
    Arthur pulled his shirt back on. His muscles were stiff, but at least he didn’t feel like he was going to die anymore.
    “Did you come here to help us?” he asked.
    “I came here to restore the Manse,” said Lady Ylliara. “When you entered and the Manse shifted away from Earth, the last of my mother’s life-force faded away.”
    “Wait — your mother was here?” Arthur asked. “When we arrived? I didn’t see anyone.”
    Morgan shook her head. “I didn’t either.”
    Ylliara’s shoulders sagged. “My mother’s essence is what powered the Manse for more than two millennia. And now that she has gone, the Manse will diminish. Within an hour, all the lights will go out, in a couple of days the Manse will begin to break apart, and in a few weeks it will be naught but dust floating in the aether between the universes, a forgotten hope of better days.”
    “I’m … I’m sorry about your mother,” Arthur said.
    “So am I,” Ylliara replied.
    “What happened?” Morgan asked.
    “Truthfully, I do not know. Five years ago, Arthur suddenly disappeared, and his father Quintus refused to explain why. Our most powerful psychics scanned the Multiverse for Arthur, but failed to find him. Not long after that, we lost contact with Quintus Paladin as well, and, even more disturbing, we lost contact with the Manse itself. My mother,