The Fire Within
He just kinda goes along with it.
Aten Lightfoot was once a simply farmer in the countryside until one day, tending the fields, a stone fell from the heavens and stuck him in the back. His recovery was miraculous, taking only a few days what most thought he would never recover from. The only evidence that the event ever happened were some small burns and scars where the stone had hit him.
The consequences, however, were more than what everyone had thought. Every now and then, there was a voice that wasn’t his. It spoke in single words, whispered as though someone were at his ear. He might pass a beggar and she would say “please,” and though he had but a copper on him, he gave it to the man. A child stood by themselves on the street. “Help.” So he did. The voice eventually became more commanding, stretching the bounds of his abilities. Then one day there was an accident on the farm. A mishap with a scythe. Aten couldn’t watch, but the voice. “Heal him.”
Aten approached him. “There’s nothing I can do.”
“Heal him.” And with that, there was glow from his hand, the radiance seeming to sew up the gash on the man’s chest, the bleeding stopping. Everyone else backed away slowly, unsure what it was that had happened. “See Aten? You can.”
And since then, the voice has been more verbal, with discussions and specific direction. Aten just does as he is told, it being the only way to appease the voice. One day he picked up a piece of paper. It was a message about some frontier land needing a doctor. “You can do much good there.”
Aten simply shrugged. “Let’s get this over with.”
So I add this note: If you’re alone in the room with the boy, don’t assume he’s talking to you.