I return to the military hospital the next weekend and meet with the doctor overseeing Iskir’s treatment. The guards were already notified about the hatchet being brought in under the broad excuse of research purposes. Apparently, the permission was granted through someone in the Ministry of Defense. Exactly who it was they wouldn't say, but it must have been that Sera was telling the truth after all. I don’t dwell on it too much and am just glad it didn't cause any problems.

  The doctor almost falls through his chair upon my deliverance of my good fortune. "What!?” the doctor exclaims. “You got a hold of the weapon!?"

  "Y-yes,” I reply, “but it’s probably better if we keep it quiet."

  The doctor crosses his arms. "Hm, well, I don’t know what you did to make the Ministry of Defense hand it over, but I can’t help but be a little concerned. You are making my job easier, but please be careful. Most government types don’t like their toes being stepped on. This could cause a stir if you did something of… questionable legality to get ahold of it. Even more so if you crossed the wrong person in doing so.”

  "I’ll be careful, doctor, but don’t worry I didn’t do anything bad." Well, I didn't do anything bad. I hope Sera was telling the truth when she said she acquired it through legitimate means. For the time being, helping Iskir is my number one priority. If there are any consequences, I'll deal with them later.

  The doctor and I return to the hospital room where Iskir is being treated. The doctor goes to the computer and uses it to control research equipment attached to the ceiling. Two massive arms lower themselves down by the computer. The doctor gestures toward the machine. "Now, place the hatchet between those two arms there. It’s a scanning device and it will hopefully be able to tell us what this weapon is all about."

  I take the hatchet and remove it from its protective case and then from its sheath with extreme caution. I remember the officer had said everyone who touched the blade died. That is not something I can easily get past in my mind. The wooden handle appears normal, but the hatchet’s blade is covered in bulbous, cancerous growth and twisted root-like tendrils. It almost looks alive because the growths give the illusion of milky eyes. My hand can’t even hold the handle without shaking. I place the hatchet in the scanning device.

  The scanning device projects an energy field around the weapon and suspends it in the air. The scanner’s arms whirl around the weapon and send data to the computer. Information pours into the computer and the doctor’s eyes dart over the flood of text and graphs. "A-amazing!" the doctor remarks as he scans a scroll of paper being unraveled by the nearby printer. “These energy readings are off the charts! The computer can’t even fully analyze this weapon’s capabilities!” The doctor swivels in his chairs toward me and points to the screen. “Based on the computer’s estimated dating, this hatchet is likely a magical weapon forged during the First War that happened over one thousand years ago. As was already apparent, this is no mere weapon. Based on its unique and immense magical energy signature, I theorize that it must be a construct of the fairy smiths, probably on a planet far away from this one."

  “An alien weapon?" I find that a little difficult to believe, even despite the weapon’s ghastly appearance.

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  The doctor cringes and turns back towards his computer. "Hurumph… that is a rather pedestrian way of putting it, but yes I suppose you could say that. Now, the fairy smiths were known for making magical weapons of incredible power. The weapons they forged could harness the very essence of the universe itself: magic. This weapon seems to operate somewhat like other magical constructs but is ultimately the antithesis to what would normally be considered a magic weapon. That is, it seems to destroy magic rather than utilize it."

  "I don’t understand. What does that have to do with Iskir and his condition?"

  The doctor sits back in his chair while he stares at the computer screen. He folds his hands together. "Well, I suppose that's to be expected. You are a human after all. Humans are the least in tune with magic of all reasoning beings so magical concepts are difficult for them to comprehend. Let me try to explain the situation to you in simple terms. Your friend, he is an arenka, yes? The arenka are beings who are said to be sustained entirely by the eternal magic energy that flows throughout the universe. They do not need to eat, drink, or sleep whatsoever. They say you could lop their head off and their body would repair itself after a time. Indeed, it was said as surely as magic continues to exist in the universe the arenka will theoretically live forever. That is why they were thought to be immortal beings - like gods.” The doctor hops out of his chair and goes to the bulkhead on the far side of the room. He stares at the wall as if he could see through to the remains of Iskir on the other side. “That is why your friend's circumstance is so unusual. This weapon was likely made specifically to destroy magic and consequentially kill eternal beings. Magic energy is the power that allows all life to exist. Without it, I suppose even so-called eternal beings would cease to exist. That is why magic energy is also sometimes called the energy of life."

  "The energy of life…” I think to myself for a moment. “That’s something the officer we spoke to said. He said the university researchers theorized that the weapon was intended to sever the connection between mortals and the energy of life - so that means it separates mortals from magic?"

  "Yes, that is the sensible conclusion. That explains why your friend is deteriorating." The doctor returns to his desk. "If this weapon somehow disconnected him from the flow of magic it is only natural he would deteriorate and be unable to regenerate as arenka normally do."

  "So what do we do? How do we reverse the effects?"

  The doctor doesn’t reply right away. He goes ahead and starts to turn off all the computer systems. "Nothing comes to mind immediately. I’m not intimately familiar with the art of magic myself and I don’t know any practicing magi to refer you to. If anyone would know anything about it at all it would be your friend. He is a magical being after all. Didn’t you mention your friend worked at the university?"

  "Yeah, but I don't know the details. He never really talked about his work."

  "Perhaps you could ask his colleagues.” The doctor says. “There must be at least a few magi who study there. The police may have already spoken to them, but you might find someone who might be able to lend you some more assistance regardless."

  "Okay I will. Thank you, doctor."

  The scanner powers down and lowers the hatchet. I get up to leave, but the doctor stops me. "Ah, miss, it would probably be better if you took the hatchet with you."

  "It would?"

  "I believe so. If you don’t want it to get out that you have the weapon, it would probably not be a good idea to keep it here."

  "I guess you’re right."

  The doctor watches me return the hatchet to its sheath and then to its case. "One more thing.” The doctor adds. “Something about that weapon... doesn’t sit right with me. I said it is likely a weapon that destroys magic, that is the only sensible conclusion, but that in of itself is purely hypothetical. A weapon that destroys magic, the very foundation of the universe, isn’t something that should even be possible. It is something that goes against the laws of the natural world. We still don’t really know anything about this weapon: where it came from, how it was made, or for what purpose it was made. Nor do we know the full extent of its powers.” The doctor comes beside me and pats me on the shoulder. “So... be careful, okay?” His voice is much softer than it normally is. “It is not something to be taken lightly considering it incapacitated a so-called immortal being."

  "I’ll be careful, doctor." I take the hatchet, leave the military hospital, and return home.