Chapter 4: The Price of a Miracle

The miracle of Elijah spread like wildfire.

Every major news network across the globe ran headlines:

“Boy Revived by ‘Living Element’—The Abneron Phenomenon”

“Hope or Hoax? Scientists Debate the Ethics of Emotional Cures”

“Abner Campenciño and the Gas That Feels”

By the end of the week, the world knew his name. And they wanted more.

Hospitals overwhelmed his inbox with requests. Letters poured in—some begging, some demanding. Families who had run out of options placed their hope entirely in the gas from the cold.

But Abneron didn’t always respond.

It worked for some patients. Ignored others.

And every time, Abner watched it with quiet dread.

“What if we don’t understand it fully?” he confided in Helena one night as they reviewed data in the lab. “What if using it without wisdom makes things worse?”

Helena looked at the latest case—an elderly woman who inhaled Abneron and smiled for the first time in years before gently slipping away in her sleep. “Or maybe… it knows when healing means peace, not prolonging pain.”

Abner stared at the glowing canister beside them.

It never lost its light.

In a sleek conference room in Geneva, the World Health Consortium convened in emergency session.

“We cannot let one man hold the key to a cure,” barked Dr. Michaelsen, head of Medical Ethics.

“It’s not a pharmaceutical,” countered the neuroscientist from Nairobi. “It’s more like… sentience. Maybe even consciousness.”

“This could end disease,” Michaelsen snapped.

“Or end autonomy,” another replied. “Would you really mass-distribute something that chooses who lives?”

The debate continued for hours.

Then, a quiet voice cut through: “What if it’s not ours to own?”

Everyone turned to the young Filipino representative. “Maybe it was given, not discovered. And maybe it’s choosing to stay... because Abner respects it.”

They scoffed.

But the idea lingered.

Back in the Philippines, Abner sat with a young man named Dario—a soldier, paralyzed waist down after exposure to a chemical weapon. Doctors had tried everything. Nothing worked.

Now, Abner sat across from him, a small globe of Abneron floating between them like a silent observer.

“You don’t have to believe anything,” Abner said softly. “Just... be.”

Dario blinked. “Why do you do this personally every time?”

Abner smiled. “Because it doesn’t respond to doctors. Only people.”

The gas slowly drifted forward. Not with force. But gentleness. Like it was listening.

Then, a miracle.

Dario’s legs twitched.

For the first time in months, he moved his toes.

But as miracles bloomed, shadows gathered.

One night, Helena burst into Abner’s lab.

“Abner—they’ve sent agents. They want to seize the gas.”

Before he could respond, the lab's lockdown alarms triggered. Red lights bathed the room. The ceiling vents hissed.

Gas masks. Boots. Orders.

“Campenciño! Step away from the containment unit!”

Helena grabbed Abner’s arm. “We have to go.”

“No,” he said firmly. “I won’t run.”

Abner stepped forward, arms raised. “You don’t understand it. If you try to force it, it won’t work.”

But they didn’t care.

One agent lunged for the canister.

A hiss—then a pulse.

The room went white.

Everyone froze.

Except Abner.

He walked slowly to the chamber. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, not to the people—but to the gas.

The Abneron settled. Glowed softly.

Then the alarms stopped.

The power returned.

And the agents, shaken and silent, lowered their weapons.

Later, Helena stood beside him as the sun rose.

“They’ll try again,” she whispered.

Abner nodded. “I know. But they’ll fail. Because this element… it’s not just a cure for bodies. It’s a cure for how we treat each other. You can't weaponize compassion.”

He placed a hand on the containment chamber.

“I’ll protect it. Even if it costs me everything.”

And deep within the chamber, Abneron pulsed once in response—like a heartbeat.

Alive. Listening.

And waiting for the next act of courage.

End of Chapter 4

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