was easier with my eyes closed, because then I could only feel. I also couldn't see him watching me, waiting for some miracle that I probably couldn't give him. Pushing my aether into his body, I focused on making him whole again, aligned properly, and easing the strain on his joints.
Nothing happened.
I tried harder, pushing even more aether. My channels, or whatever they called it, didn't burn, but I also couldn't feel anything in Ron changing. It would've been easier to make him a skin, but that wasn't the same thing. It was more like a layer of paint over his body that he could step into. Like a Halloween costume, of sorts. This was closer to mental surgery, and I had never even made it to a biology course in college.
But what if I was doing this wrong? More power didn't make a change, but was that because he didn't need to be healed? Instead, he needed to be sculpted - and that was what I did best. I didn't really know how to do this, but I hadn't when I made the flutterbee, and that had worked out. Sometimes, I just needed to trust myself. Nick always said that my instincts would lead me better than anything else.
Which meant that the first thing I had to do was open his aether gate. The resistance of his natural body was almost like a tingling under my hands. No, a vibration - and that was something I could control. The same way I'd slipped inside Sam's wards when I was learning how to mind-fuck someone, I followed the harmony of Ron's body.
Because working inside was aetherweaving, and it was how angels worked. I'd been coming at this the wrong way! The life inside his body had a specific resonance with the plane where he was formed. A part of me understood and could match it, allowing me to slip inside. Then, I followed his shield across his skin until I found the note that felt off. That was the gate, and it was right beneath his seal.
From the outside, I pushed aether at him, while from the inside, I drew it toward me, but each side was just a bit different. The power of life was bound by the laws of its plane, and Ron was from Daemin. I wasn't. I was born from all of them, which gave me the advantage. Shifting the pitch changed the vibrations. That made his internal gate groan in protest, the sound falling from Ron's lips, and then it gave up and swung freely.
Ron sucked in a breath as the limited aether around us could finally reach him, but I wasn't done yet, and I didn't dare slow down. Releasing his gate gave me access to his body, but healing wouldn't work. This was him. I didn't want to make him better; I wanted to make him different. I needed to remove his pain and banish it from his body.
So I pushed. Ron's hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I felt him trembling in my hands, but he refused to cry out. What I was doing had to be hurting him, but it was also working. I could feel the contracted tendons in his wing stop fighting me and stretch to match the other side. The dozens of jagged edges between his bones all dissolved at my command, making it easier for him to flex and bend. His shoulder smoothed inside, now able to move without catching. Then I turned my focus on his leg.
If I could remove all of his lameness, I'd be happy, but the pain was my main concern. Having a limp didn't make him any less perfect. His scars made him beautiful to me. This was the man I'd grown to know, and I loved his imperfections. I hated the pain, though. No one deserved that, and I was here to destroy it.
Bit by bit, I pushed, shifted, and adjusted his body the same way I did when making a piece of pottery. My mental hands slid across the pieces, smoothing them out and trying to make them all even. It wasn't perfect, but under my real hands, I could feel his body changing. I could also feel the aether I was pouring into him, and I was glad I had plenty to spare.
But nothing burned. If anything, I felt stronger than ever, as if the rust had been knocked off, and I was going to use that. I