《NOX》


 Chapter One - The Train

    ¡°There are eight planets in the solar system, and I¡¯m stuck on the only one that¡¯s not out of this world.¡± ¨C From Jesse in Missed Conversations, Vol 1


    Ellie was alone. She had always been alone. The fact that she lived in one of the densest prefectures of one of the densest cities on the planet, did not hinder this realization for her. In fact, if it weren¡¯t for the crush of people on this train - breathing on her, rubbing against her - she might just have been able to pretend like she wasn¡¯t a board-certified pariah, at least until the next stop came. But rush hour was rush hour and her eyes, which so unnerved any who stared into them, had already started to glow.


    It began with the usual chorus of murmurs, travelling outwards from those nearest her.


    ¡®A gifted.¡¯ They said. ¡®A freak.¡¯ They meant. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine a world inhabited by giant grateful moths. Then, with a start, she opened them again. Maybe this isn¡¯t so bad, she thought.


    They only ever glowed when she was near lots of people, for reasons she¡¯d yet to ascertain. It wasn¡¯t like she could do anything special with them ¨C heck, they didn¡¯t even help her to see better. Ellie sighed and turned her gaze over to the window, watching the parade of houses fall listlessly behind.


    ¡°There¡¯s going to be trouble.¡± A voice said. Ellie followed it, finding a boy around her age, relaxing in the seat directly opposite her.Had he always been there? She wondered. He held Ellie¡¯s gaze, which was highly unusual in and of itself, and gave her a disturbingly warm smile. He had dark hair, tousled and thrown over one of his eyes, as if to draw attention to the other ¨C which seemed of a different, wilder shade. The boy continued, his every word unnerving her. ¡°But don¡¯t worry.¡± He said. ¡°I have it under control.¡±


    She didn¡¯t know what to say. The boy was clearly confused. So she shirked his gaze, as was the protocol for dealing with crazies, and returned her attention to the world outside. It had started to rain, she noticed, the window shimmering as if it too were of water. The world became soft, muted and full of shadows ¨C and her bright eyes stood with them, never managing to break their grip and always shining, like jewel companions to the night. The wind whipped the rain into a deluge, and she planted her face against the window-pane, feeling the storm¡¯s drumbeat. Then, noticing something strange, she furrowed her brow and pulled away from the window. It wasn¡¯t the morphed scene outside ¨C for little could be determined in the blur of shapes. No, it was something about the flow of the water. And then, in the space between heartbeats, she realized what it was that so concerned her ¨C the water was flowing upwards.Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    She turned, casting a questioning glance to the boy opposite her. When she found his seat, however, the boy was nowhere to be seen. She was about to ask if anyone around her had seen him go, when a shudder rocked the carriage. Everything and everyone went suddenly quite silent. They were still moving along, but the whine of the metal wheels on the track could no longer be heard or felt. Just as someone was about to talk, the train lurched suddenly forward. Ellie found herself reeling, part of an unintelligible whole ¨C the lights in her carriage cut out and the world started to keel over ¨C slowly into nothingness.


    A few memories survived from that point. A loud, thunderous groan as something huge and made of metal started to break apart. Faces cast in fearful relief one moment and then lost to the all-consuming shade the next, like light hitting a fan. A feeling of being dropped ¨C which over-shone all other vectors and senses. And, as the only shred of sense ¨C knitting together all those other memories and thoughts ¨C a pain through her chest and the flashes of sight, painting for her a picture of something bright and metallic erupting from her flesh. The cold. The stillness, as if everything were piling up, hoping to break this precipice and send her on to something else. She was going to die. Then, finally, the boy¡¯s eyes returned to her. Warmth touched her hand. His eyes in hers, and in that moment, one became another, and one became nothing.


    ***


    She awoke, feeling the press of covers wrapped around her form. Somewhere in her mind warning bells were being rung, but it was too early for such noise and so she managed to nuzzle her way back into her dreams. A young boy, whom she quite liked, was trying to catch her attention. She kept getting angry with herself for stringing him along, but string him along she must ¨C for that was the dream. Light was pouring in, somewhere far off, and in her mind she began to follow it, up and up she travelled through the layers of sleep and into--


    An unfamiliar but utterly ignorable set of shapes greeted her bleary eyes. Ellie dragged the covers off her weary body, fingers fumbling, and sat up. Her head felt like an anvil, heavy and hammered upon, but she stood up nonetheless ¨C ever the soldier. That¡¯s odd, she thought, feeling somehow much taller and more gangly than before. Wiping away some of the sleep from her eyes she took a step towards what she had passingly assessed to be a mirror ¨C and fell flat on her face. That¡¯s very odd. She thought again, as the pain and utter exhaustion threatened to throw her back into a world of sleep. Not exactly where I expected my feet to be, she guessed, pulling herself into a crouch and subconsciously rearranging her scrotum so that it wouldn¡¯t-


    Ellie paused, hand frozen mid-act, and looked falteringly down at the dreaded nightmare between her legs. Her mind weaved past a number of explanations for what she was seeing; some hypothetical situations unfolding like skits in her mind: a doctor claiming that he¡¯d originally mistaken her for an unfortunately unendowed young man, a whirling newsreel reporting the case of a misogynistic genital thief still at-large. All so very unlikely.


    She gave a short, sharp laugh, thought the word: yikes, and then passed out on the floor.

 Chapter Two - To Dream of Falling Carriages

    ¡°Run of the mill is an expression which means ¨C Hey, look at me, I work at a mill, aren¡¯t I boring? Or something.¡± ¨C From Jesse in Missed Conversations, Vol 1.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I wasn¡¯t present for your awakening.¡± The giant bat said to Ellie.


    ¡°What for?¡± She asked, taking a sip of her blueberry tea.


    ¡°To prevent you from coming to.¡± The bat replied. The furry chiroptera looked down at his belly and flinched. ¡°I¡¯m a bat.¡± he muttered.


    ¡°Of course you are.¡± Ellie said. ¡°You¡¯ve always been a bat.¡±


    The great bat sighed and readjusted his monocle - then, with a start, threw the monocle away. ¡°Look, I have to tell you something. And its better for you to know now, in here, than out there where god knows what could happen.¡±


    Ellie took a sip of blueberry beer and pondered the words of her old bat friend. ¡°Well, you¡¯d better make it quick. My dad¡¯ll be home any minute now and he hates bats, terrified of them.¡±


    The bat seemed to dither on its next course of action, as only bats can, until it said: ¡°You remember your father?¡±


    ¡°Remember my¡­ father?¡± Ellie asked, utterly perplexed by the question. ¡°Of course, I remember him. He¡¯s my dad. The man died before my very eyes. I was eight ¨C that¡¯s not something that¡¯ll wash out.¡± Ellie said the last, and then found herself quite worried and quite uncomfortable. Something was off about this place and this conversation. ¡°We were talking about something.¡± She said, brow furrowing in concern.


    ¡°Your father.¡± The bat reminded her.


    ¡°My father? Never met him. My aunt raised me, she was a good woman.¡± Ellie said, then blinked dazedly. ¡°What are you doing in my house?¡± She asked. Then, after a strong pause in which many a connection was re-formed: ¡°What am I doing in my house?¡±


    The walls fell away, dissipating like smoke, and behind each there stood a strange and muddled portion of an all-encompassing horizon.


    ¡°You are in a dream.¡± The bat said. ¡°I am a psychologist here at the academy, a gifted who can enter dreams. Right now, I¡¯m keeping you under ¨C that is until you give me a reason not to. There are things you must come to terms with, frightful things.¡±


    ¡°What kind of frightful things?¡± Ellie asked. A storm was coming over the mountains, and Ellie could feel the distant drum of rain, as if the drops were not drops but flecks of metal and glass.


    ¡°The first thing I must ask you is this: what are your gifts?¡± The bat said, voice hard as folded steel.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any.¡± Ellie said, beneath the curtain of rain that now swept into them. It threatened to drown out the whole conversation. ¡°My eyes glow yellow sometimes. But they don¡¯t do anything-¡°


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be here if that were the case.¡± The bat said. ¡°Now I will ask you again, Eleanor Gable, what are your gifts?¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any.¡±


    And as suddenly as the rain had come upon them, it fell away. The two stood alone, small dots within the heart of an endless desert.


    The bat watched her, eyes narrowing to slits. ¡°You have one, that I know of. And it makes you, at once, incredibly valuable to us as super villains. You are, whether you feel it or not, one of the gifted ¨C and of the Prime order at that.¡±


    "Super villains? My father-"


    "Was a villain in training. A prime, like you."


    The wordshad little effect on Ellie, who simply turned on her heel and began walking in the opposite direction.Villains. Of all the bad luck, she''d fallen under the microscope of some syndicate-paid doctor. It wasn''t that she minded the criminal class, they tended not to bother normal folk like her. The average person was simply too poor to bother with for most - and in that she could see the truth in many allusions to politicians as villains. Nonetheless, it was one more thing that might complicate her otherwise plain and relatively safe existence.


    The desert was large and held many secrets ¨C there were pockets in which one could hide, dark places that blocked the tide of memories as they rose to sweep and capture. Now where to forget? What hole or crag would suit her best?


    As she walked, the bat flew alongside, never giving her a moment¡¯s peace. ¡°To be one of the Prime order means to have a gift that no one else possesses, and this is a rare and powerful thing. Only ten of your kind exist in the world today, and I should think it an act of truest fate that the very last Prime to leave us was none other than your late father.¡±


    Ellie stopped walking. At the bat¡¯s words, thoughts of escape fled from her mind, and the outlines of past days, hours and weeks started to resurface.


    ¡°My¡­ father? You knew him?¡± She asked.


    The bat landed before her, kicking up sand that folded away from the dreaming girl.


    ¡°I did.¡± The bat conceded. ¡°I knew him as a fellow student at the academy. He was a good and gentle man ¨C I suppose you could say cut from the right cloth but with the wrong pair of scissors. I¡¯m not sure what it would have taken for him to have graduated.¡±


    Ellie didn¡¯t feel like pursuing his words right then, and instead focused on what was most immediate and familiar. ¡°I¡¯m a gifted. But I can¡¯t do anything. I am really good at ignoring people though.¡±


    ¡°I picked up on that, yes.¡± The bat said, smiling as only a dream would allow. ¡°But that¡¯s not the gift I¡¯m talking about. And here¡¯s the troubling part. I¡¯ll tell you since you¡¯re now fully aware of where you are and what this place is. On October 5<sup>th</sup>, your train was the unfortunate casualty of a fight between the hero known as Scimitarian and KeelSpawn the - and I¡¯m speaking technically here - ¡®villain¡¯.¡± The bat paused for effect. As if to punctuate his sentence, a train carriage came crashing down from the heavens, and impaled itself upon a nearby outcrop.


    The bat continued, unabashed. ¡°I want to make something clear to you, Eleanor. Every person aboard that train died, either instantly upon derailment and impact or within moments after the fact. Which means, unfortunately, that so did you.¡±


    More carriages fell from the sky, throwing up dust and glass and violent screams. ¡°But I¡¯m here.¡± Ellie said, weakly.


    ¡°Yes, you are. Because of your gift. You see, Eleanor, there was ¨C at least for a time ¨C one other survivor of the immediate impact. A young boy named Alex. Technically, a young gifted boy. He was in training to become a hero.¡±


    Ellie remembered the boy¡¯s face, lively eyed and with a smile she now saw to be inescapably honest. She could see him becoming a hero.


    ¡°The surveillance tapes that survived the crash show you near a state of death, and the boy administering some last-ditch treatment, before himself succumbing. What our observers found remarkable, after they performed their typical post-disaster infiltration, was that ¨C for all that took place in that carriage ¨C the boy came out of it utterly unharmed. Until he touched your hand, Eleanor, until he looked into your eyes. Until you hollowed out his soul with your very gaze and stepped in to take its place.¡±

 Chapter Three - Waking Up

    ¡°When all wrongs are kind, there¡¯s all kinds of wrong.¡± ¨C From Jesse in Missed Conversations, Vol. 1


    Ellie stayed for a while after the bat left, thinking of the boy and how she¡¯d known him ¨C or hadn¡¯t. The carriages had started to glide around her, innards creaking from the stress, and she was once again the lonely girl of always. There was a hole in her body, wherever it now lay, twisted and decaying ¨C bearing the scars and creases of someone else¡¯s life. The boy she had killed was trapped within the folds of a dead mind, and for nothing less than kindness.


    It is one thing to end a life and another entirely to take one. She was learning all this, as the world and all its odd whimsicality drifted on around, circling her like the revolutions of hurricane. The fact that it had all been an accident didn¡¯t matter to her, because she knew that it didn¡¯t matter to the boy. He was gone, she was gone, and now there was only this.


    The man who called himself a ¡®psychologist¡¯ had told her that when she was ready, she could say the word and he would wake her up, but that she should only call for him when all was truly settled. Her time, lost in contemplation, led her to the conclusion that ¨C even should she want to return to her life ¨C she would not be able to. Her existence had ended with a pen-stroke on a black record, in other words, legally and irrevocably dead.


    The academy then, an institution she had never so much as heard of, now stood before her. It was not the only choice she had been given ¨C she could tell the bat where to leave her slumbering form and he would oblige. But that would mean attributing a life of normalcy to a dead boy who had wanted nothing less than to be a hero. It would mean that her father would forever remain a shadow for her gifts to hide within. No, she would not be going quietly, and she would not let those lost to her be forgotten. There was only one path forward, and she was ready to take it.


    ***


    The sick bay was unnervingly well populated, with students as old as eighteen enduring varying degrees of disfigurement and illness. Ellie was sat upright in her bed, looking around at the pristine state of the room, the attentiveness of the staff ¨C and not at Doctor Fitz who stood talking to her about the numerous technicalities that forestalled one from properly joining Black Vine Academy.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be signing several non-disclosures throughout the year. First years are strictly prohibited from leaving the grounds or knowing where the grounds are. It is asked, but not required, that you stay away from the older students who have earned their right to take weekend leave.¡± Fitz snapped his fingers in front of Ellie, and she regarded him then, as if for the first time. He was a small, unassuming man, with round wire spectacles and permanent frown lines. The tweed suit told her everything she needed to know. He was boring.


    ¡°Now, what do I call you?¡± He asked, impatiently. Ellie looked at the man as if he were an idiot, before understanding dawned. She wasn¡¯t a girl anymore, at least not on the outside. It would be a strange first impression if she insisted that everyone refer to her as ¡°Ellie¡±. She didn¡¯t need that type of attention right now.


    ¡°Alex.¡± She said, flatly. ¡°It might as well be Alex.¡± A disconcerting thought struck her at that moment, and she asked: ¡°Does he have a family? Did he?¡±


    It took the good doctor a moment, but he soon responded that no, the boy had no such relations. He was an orphan. She took the news with equal parts sorrow and gratitude.


    ¡°Now.¡± The doctor said, without any further ceremony. ¡°You¡¯re arriving a little late. Term has been in full swing for a month, already. As such, there is much to catch up on. The instructors have been informed of this, and you will be given an extra five hours of lessons a week until you¡¯re all caught up.¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Ellie could have groaned at the idea, if what the doctor said next hadn¡¯t captured most of her ire.


    ¡°Because of your absence, I am afraid that you will be ranked at the bottom of your class.¡±


    She caught a few bemused glances from other students and felt her face turn pink. ¡°I don¡¯t even get tested, first? What about me being this¡­ prime or whatever you called it?¡±


    The doctor put a finger over his mouth and glanced quickly around. ¡°There¡¯s more than beans to spill with talk like that. This place, as you will soon discover, is built upon a single fact of life ¨C and that is¡­ to keep on living.¡± He leaned in closer and whispered: ¡°People die here, Alex. And not all of them by accident.¡± Then, standing up straighter, he continued. ¡°Now when you¡¯re ready, I¡¯ll take you to your dorm. Better make it soon, unless you want your classmates catching you out and about in a hospital gown.¡±


    Alex made it to the boy¡¯s dormitory in one piece. He had tripped only once and was grateful that no other students had been around to see it. The first-year boys¡¯ dorm was well maintained and full of interesting articles of furniture, including a floating chair that drifted overhead as if strung on a line.


    ¡°Simon¡¯s handiwork. You know how boys are.¡± Fitz said, as he guided Alex down the long line of bunks.


    ¡°No, actually.¡± He replied. Ellie had attended a school for the non-gifted, despite her eyes. Illumination was judged to be a superficial gift, and so she had faced a series of rejections from the more specialised institutions. In a normal school, under perfectly normal circumstances, Ellie had stood out and had been punished for it.


    ¡°Right.¡± Fitz said, awkwardly. ¡°Well, you will. Just¡­ think manly thoughts, I suppose.¡± Fitz patted a lower bunk in one of the room¡¯s far bedsteads. ¡°Here you are, Alex.¡±


    Alex wandered over and sat down. The mattress was harder than he¡¯d thought it would be, the covers thinner. But it was better than nothing, and so he grunted his appreciation. Fitz dropped a bundle of clothing wrapped in plastic onto his pillow.


    ¡°The uniform, unfortunately. Black blazer, black trousers, black tie, black socks¡­. White shirt.¡±


    Alex raised an eyebrow, then tore through the plastic to examine his new uniform. He held up a long shirt sleeve for Fitz to see. ¡°Black buttons.¡± He remarked. Fitz gave him a tight smile.


    ¡°We are villains, after all.¡± He said, with some aplomb. Alex nodded. ¡°Now¡­¡± Fitz went on, unfolding a tablet. ¡°Your first lesson is in the General Arena in twenty minutes time. I¡¯ll leave this device here with you, it¡¯s got a map-¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the lesson?¡± Alex interrupted.


    ¡°That¡¯d be combat.¡± Fitz said, a little too quietly. Alex fell back onto his bed and let out a soft groan. Combat, it had to be combat. What was he going to do? Stare at them until their eyes caught spots? Fitz didn¡¯t bother to reassure or comfort him. As far as Alex could gauge, the man seemed to find his reaction to be entirely appropriate. People die in this place.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll leave you to get dressed.¡± Fitz said, dropping the tablet onto Alex¡¯s stomach. The man had an odd brusqueness about him that spoke to someone serving more in the capacity of a personal assistant or clerk, than it did a psychologist. Alex watched him leave, then picked up the tablet. His route was already plotted.


    The uniform fit him perfectly ¨C not that he had much time to examine himself. The cut was practically skin-tight, yet somehow afforded him enough room to bend and crouch as if unencumbered. It was, he felt, a big improvement on his old skirt, which had the tendency to catch on itself and only afforded an illusion of free-movement.


    He followed the blinking red path on his tablet, which led him down empty corridor after empty corridor. It was more than a little disconcerting, given his company. As he walked, he ran through everything he knew about fighting. It was a short run. A couple of scraps when he was younger, before he¡¯d learned to ignore all the snotty comments and hateful stares, but that was it. His power, as he now understood it, was not to be used in class, and so didn¡¯t even have that to rely on. It wasn¡¯t to be used at all, in fact. For one thing, Alex felt a little unsure about it mechanically ¨C did he have to be dying for it to work? That seemed a little impractical. Yet, it was the moral problem that kept him truly under guard. His was a killing power.


    Better to blink at them until they decide I¡¯m no real threat. He thought, rounding what should be a final turn in this network of blind alleys and time sinks. And there, queued up before a set of double-doors, stood the first members of his class.

 Chapter Four - Shadow Dancer

    "There is a name, or an echo of one. It hangs just out of reach". - Seer from Missed Conversations, Vol. 1


    Heads turned to watch Alex as he stalked down the corridor. He hoped he looked more confident than he felt. Ten students so far: all his age, all cold-eyed and speculative. Without so much as a word, he took his place at the back of the line. The silence was long and tremulous.


    ¡°I must be losing my touch.¡± A tall blonde eventually said, stepping out of the line. Her eyes flashed dangerously as they regarded Alex. ¡°Either you¡¯re the most skilful ethereal I¡¯ve ever seen, or you¡¯re new.¡±


    ¡°If you saw him, then he wouldn¡¯t be much of an ethereal.¡± A boy answered. He had a jester¡¯s air about him, uniform ruffled and sandy hair made up to be deliberately unkempt. The blonde girl ignored the comment and advanced on Alex, her playful expression unchanged.


    ¡°So? What¡¯s your gift?¡± She asked, in a tone that made it plainly rhetorical. ¡°Can you¡­ spit lava? Climb up walls?¡± They stood mere inches apart now, the girl leaning in as if for a kiss. ¡°Do your lips sing slavery?¡±


    Alex said nothing, turning away to face the barren wall opposite him. He didn¡¯t need this attention.


    ¡°Or maybe.¡± The girl said, much louder, so that everyone could hear. ¡°With that depressing emo haircut of yours, which by the way, committed suicide a long time ago ¨C maybe you can summon the ghosts of whatever boy band kicked you out, and they can take combat for you?¡± A chuckle rose at the last, and Alex felt his eyes begin to itch and burn. He felt the strange urge to defend what wasn¡¯t even his sense of fashion. But what enraged him most, was that he agreed with the girl. He had even thought, whilst examining his uniform in the mirror, about quickly removing the ear piercings, and pulling back the locks of black hair that hung over his left eye. But now it was settled. He would not change how he looked and fold to the bitchy remarks of some self-important queen. He would champion the name of emo. In the end, Alex said and did nothing. He simply met the laughing faces of his now-classmates in turn, a vision of stoic detachment. To his surprise, however, one the boys ¨C the one who seemed most suited to laughing ¨C met his stare with only a quiet sort of understanding.


    More students joined the line, until Alex became more and more indistinguishable. The blonde girl, whom he had heard referred to as Jasmine, continued to laugh about him to her friends ¨C and Alex, burning inwardly, continued to ignore the bait. When around thirty students had collected by the doors, a fit looking man in dark jeans and a polo shirt led them inside.


    The class numbered some twenty-five students in all. They stood at ease in a single, slightly curved, line. They came in many shapes and sizes, some were tall and lean, others short and bearish ¨C but all were confident, and all were ants in the sheer volume of space this arena afforded them. The man, whom Alex had supposed was their teacher, stood before them. He had a hawkish face, and the sort of bearing that spoke to a lengthy fighting career.


    ¡°As you all know.¡± He said, in a paradoxically clipped drawl. ¡°Miss Keel is not well today due to the actions of one, now expelled, third year. Ordinarily, the physio would pick up the mantle of combat instructor, but he is ¨C much to my personal amusement ¨C injured. And so, it falls to me, your humble¡­¡± His eyes landed on Alex and a flicker of a smile touched his lips. ¡°¡­ technologist.¡±


    Alex blinked at the very idea that this man could be anything other than a combat instructor. If what stood before him was the return on investment for a technology specialist, he couldn¡¯t imagine the shape his actual teacher must be in.


    ¡°Now. Since I have no real interest in running you through drills.¡± He continued without enthusiasm. ¡°We will spend the next two hours conducting a mostly symbolic assessment of your skills.¡±


    An excited murmur rose from the group, and students began sizing one another up almost instantly. Alex kept his gaze firmly on the floor, mind racing: Assessments? But it¡¯s only my first day!  I haven¡¯t even been taught yet! How in the hell am I supposed to fight someone who¡¯s already been through a whole month of training? I mean, it¡¯d be hard enough if I actually had a gift I could use. But I¡¯m pretty sure the instructor won¡¯t take kindly to me killing one of my classmates.


    ¡°Alright! That¡¯s enough.¡± The instructor said, clapping his hands together for silence. ¡°Now, we¡¯ll start in the vein of your preliminary assessments - but with a caveat. See, some of you, boys mostly, still think that in the world of super villains and heroes, your gender means something. To dissuade you of this notion, I am dividing the class up into its respective sexes, boys on the left and girls on the right. If you have any doubts over to which category you fall into, then by all means flip a coin. But I¡¯ll tell you this, just because knowing isn¡¯t the same as understanding, the girls always win.¡±


    The students began taking their respective sides. Alex could see individuals warming up: shadow boxing or testing different aspects of their powers. In that moment, he felt like practicing the more suicidal part of his gift. Just to get the blood flowing, he thought. Quickly and as surreptitiously as he could manage, he moved over to speak with the instructor.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Um. Excuse me, sir?¡± He said, and the instructor turned to look at him, a small smile on his face as if he¡¯d expected to have this conversation.


    ¡°Yes, Alex?¡± He replied.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just that I¡¯m sort of new. As you¡­¡± Alex stammered. ¡°As you clearly already know. And I don¡¯t have any combat training-¡°


    The instructor raised a hand, cutting Alex off. ¡°The world is unfair. But to your point, I think you underestimate what can realistically be achieved in a month ¨C especially with this lot. Don¡¯t think of them as in any way trained. In fact, from what I remember of my time at the academy, the first couple of months are more about exposing students to their own false assumptions, rather than looking for and enhancing pre-existing strengths.¡± And with that, the conversation was over ¨C his ultimate problem left unaddressed. Before Alex could make his way over to the other boys and hide, the instructor¡¯s voice rang out after him.


    ¡°First up will be our new arrival, Alex on the boys¡¯ side, versus Jasmine for the girls.¡±


    Alex froze. He could feel his eyes start to glow, could see the expressions on his teammates faces start to change. This was not going to end well for him. No ignoring her now, he thought. With a slow, fearful turn, Alex regarded his opponent ¨C and found her ecstatic. He felt, more than saw the jester boy from earlier come up behind him. The boy whispered in Alex¡¯s ear:


    ¡°Aim for the balls.¡±


    To which Alex couldn¡¯t help but bark out a laugh. This, he soon realized, had been a terrible mistake. Jasmine¡¯s confident smile quickly changed into a sadistic grin. She was going to destroy him.


    ¡°Alright, three minutes, kiddies. First one to get knocked out or incapacitated.¡± The instructor called out, before blowing his whistle.


    Alex didn¡¯t know the cause of it. It wasn¡¯t something to speculate about or even search for. Yet in that moment, he felt a surge of confidence. In what, he couldn¡¯t say. But it was there, like the weight of tsunami at his back, driving him forward. He took off into a sprint, cutting a path straight towards his opponent. He was quick, he realised, far quicker than he had been as a girl ¨C and far quicker than he should be even now.


    As he neared his opponent, blood pumping, muscles working, he saw the initials of her reply. With speedy, graceful hands, she articulated a vaguely circular shape in the air, that glowed like a neon sign. She directed it across his advance and smiled, eagerly. A blast of energy erupted from the shape and bolted towards Alex, churning up the tiled floor as it closed the distance. He didn¡¯t think, he only dodged. As the bolt of energy passed him by, Alex began to consider his options. A leading punch would probably do it ¨C he felt strong ¨C overwhelming strong.


    Another bolt of energy, and then another ¨C each burning hotter than the last against his skin ¨C as Jasmine began to home in on his movements. But she was much too slow, even still. With a sudden rush of anticipation and adrenaline, Alex made a jump that would unhinge an Olympian¡¯s jaw. He evaded the last bolt of energy mid-flight, and found Jasmine¡¯s eyes, bright from the glow of his own. Bright from the rush of battle and bright from something blue and perilous coalescing within her. These are not the eyes of someone at a loss. He thought. In the seconds it took for Alex¡¯s jump to complete, Jasmine was already finishing the channel for her grand attack. Her pearly white smile seemed somehow dull, in the raging torrent of white-blue fire that then erupted from her body, putting Alex¡¯s eyes to shame.


    He was flung backwards several meters and landed in a heap, his bones clattering from the impact with the arena floor. He could hear a shrill cheer erupting from somewhere far off as the girls drank in his predicament. He felt dizzy and vaguely singed, with a fracture somewhere down his right leg. He gritted his teeth and rolled over, just as another bolt of energy pockmarked the floor next to him. He had put on quite a show, he felt. Not bad for no gifts, if you don¡¯t count my ability to move like some kind of demon. He thought.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to be honest.¡± Jasmine jeered. ¡°Somehow, I expected more. I mean, the question remains¡­ what exactly can you do? Other than perform a serviceable imitation of a rug.¡± She laughed, and fired off another round of energy bolts, which Alex scrambled to avoid ¨C one barely catching him on the thigh. With a grunt, he tumbled back to the floor, patting painfully at the burn mark to try and squash the cinders. He wanted to call it quits and take the loss ¨C but she just had to make it hard on him.


    ¡°Ugh!¡± Jasmine spat. ¡°And you came in sooo confident! You realise you¡¯re facing the number one slot in the class, right? You should¡¯ve been quaking in your boots, not laughing it up with that dweeb Jesse.¡±


    She fired another shot, which fell just short of Alex¡¯s prone form, and washed up a spray of small rocks that cut across him like knives. He buried his head in his arms for extra cover, unable to do anything but quench his burning eyes in the comfort of darkness. A strange isolation came over him in that moment. He was alone, in a void, his shoulders muffling most of the sound beyond ¨C his mind sending it yet further away. It was then that Alex noticed the shadows deepening, falling away into something beyond. His eyes, which could still be felt burning like hot coals in his skull, were giving off no light at all. Knowing that there was nothing he could do to win, he gave his body to this new sensation, letting it slip away into a chasm of shadows and whispers.


    Then, as if breaching the surface of some murky sea and emerging into the lurid light of day, Alex was pulled from the shadows and sent upwards into the conscious realm to which he belonged. He lifted his head, breathing hard, and looked around. He was still in the arena, still in the fight. But somehow, he had moved. Before him, with her back turned, stood Jasmine. For a moment he did nothing. He couldn¡¯t comprehend it. Then, realising his chance ¨C as one might acknowledge a miracle, he rose with all his strength.


    Jasmine turned, but too slowly. He would not let her escape him again. With a preternatural effort, Alex grabbed the girl ¨C wrapping his arm around her neck and applying knowledge he hadn¡¯t known he¡¯d possessed, dragging her down into a suffocating hold.


    ¡°Enough!¡± The voice of the instructor called, and Alex thought he heard more than a little surprise in the man¡¯s tone. Alex released Jasmine, a spluttering infuriated mess, and let his head sink to the floor. Superhuman speed.Endurance.?The ability to teleport?Not so helpless after all, are you? He thought, a stupid grin plastered across his face. He had won. Somehow.


    Then, cutting through his reverie, he felt a foot collide with his balls.

 Chapter Five - The Twins

    It¡¯s a good thing she¡¯s pretty.


    YEAH but she¡¯s not thaaat pretty.


    -Tabatha and Jessie


    From Missed Conversations, Vol. 1


    Alex sat on the side-lines with the boy named ¡®Jesse¡¯, watching the other fights play out. He kept shifting uncomfortably from the pain in his groin. He hadn¡¯t expected a kick in the jewels to hurt so much, let alone bring about nausea of all sensations. Jasmine was still glaring at him from across the arena, her friends evidently torn between consoling her and casting venomous glances over at him and Jesse.


    ¡°Shadow dancer¡¯s a rare one.¡± Jesse said, eyeing Alex up and down. ¡°So, is that related to the whole goth thing you got going on?¡±


    Alex raised an eyebrow and shifted his weight once more. ¡°That¡¯s just me.¡± Alex said, with more than a little disdain. ¡°To tell you the truth, I don¡¯t know what happened. I¡¯ve never done¡­ whatever it was that I did, before today. What¡¯d you call it, shadow dancing?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s classed as a Prime-Minus gift, so it¡¯s up there. You really never knew about it before today? What¡¯s your other power? Shadow weaving? Shadow¡­ sifting? Are you like Peter Pan or something?¡±


    Alex sniffed, searching for a way to change the topic. ¡°More like a lost boy, at the moment.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s deep.¡± Jesse laughed. ¡°Say, while we¡¯re still on the metaphor, that girl over there is most definitely a croc.¡± He nodded towards Jasmine, who spat on the floor in disgust. ¡°I mean, ranks don¡¯t exactly mean much so early on, I¡¯m guessing¡­¡± Jesse coughed, then crossed his fingers. ¡°¡­hoping. But still, not a bad first day, all in all.¡±


    Alex couldn¡¯t help but wonder what a good day might feel like, as he wiped blood from his lip. A fight had just ended between a spindly telekinetic named ¡®Simon¡¯ and a raucous fire-slinger who went by ¡®Ember.¡¯ Despite the latter¡¯s confident demeanour, it was the quiet and detached Simon who managed to sneak the eventual win.


    ¡°Ah, and now the real show begins.¡± Jesse said, as a tall raven-haired girl with a hooked nose and thuggish, non-regulation boots stepped forward. She didn¡¯t mock or vaunt over her opponent like some of the others. Hers was a quiet, knowing air, that Alex felt to be far more unsettling. He didn¡¯t want to fight anyone on the other side of the arena, having fully come to terms with the fluke-ish nature of his victory ¨C but if he had to name the one wolf among the fold, the true terror in tights ¨C he would probably pick this girl every day of the week. ¡°That¡¯s Tabatha.¡± Jesse continued. ¡°When I think super villain¡­ I think her. But maybe that¡¯s because she¡¯s my twin, I dunno.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s your twin?¡± Alex asked, dumbly.


    ¡°I know, I hate her too. One of us had to get my dad¡¯s height, though¡­¡± Jesse said. ¡°Well say hi, Alex.¡± He waved at Tabatha, who shook her head in exasperation. ¡°I¡¯ll introduce you to her after the lesson.¡±


    The match began, Tabatha facing off against a hulking bull of a man. Alex had a hard time believing that both students were honestly sixteen. As a girl, he¡¯d always been smaller than average, and now ¨C even tall and strong-jawed as he looked ¨C he doubted he¡¯d look older than fourteen if cast in a line-up with Tabatha¡¯s opponent.


    The whistle blew, and the man charged forward. His powerful legs ate up the ground, leaving cracks in the surface of the floor. In a flash of light and smoke, he had transformed into living stone, and only seemed to be getting faster.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    To Alex¡¯s surprise, Tabatha stayed where she was, perfectly motionless.


    ¡°Huh. I could¡¯ve sworn I saw them sparring together.¡± Jessie muttered. ¡°But it looks like he really has no idea...¡±


    With a surprising burst of speed, the man was upon her, a powerful fist bearing down on her centre-mass. The punch connected ¨C and went right through. The image of Tabatha blinked out after a few seconds and in its place, there lay a small green ¨C


    ¡°Is that a--¡°


    Alex¡¯s question was cut off by an explosion that shook the room and sent the stone man flying. The air before Alex lit up red as stray flecks of shrapnel impacted a forcefield that covered most of the nosebleeds. ¡°-grenade¡­¡± He finished. Alex looked from the man lying slumped against the forcefield, to the empty arena. ¡°Where did she go?¡±


    ¡°Right here.¡± A voice said. Alex glanced over to his right as Tabatha sat down next to him. The sound of applause was muffled while the forcefield persisted, drowned out by the disgruntled muttering of boys as they slouched wearily against the walls ¨C no longer trying to intimidate the girls with taunts and mockery.


    ¡°Another point for the girls.¡± Jesse sighed.


    Tabatha extended her hand for Alex to shake. ¡°I¡¯m Tabatha.¡±


    Alex took her hand and they shook. ¡°Alex. That¡¯s quite a gift you¡¯ve got, I should say. Only, I¡¯m not entirely sure what happened.¡±


    ¡°You stole the words right out of my mouth, shadow dancer. Now there¡¯s an ability. Meshes with your look, too.¡± Tabatha said. She had the same easy air as her brother but seemed to Alex to be the more serious of the two ¨C though only by a hair¡¯s breadth.


    ¡°Yeah, well. If I¡¯d known I could bring a bomb with me, things might¡¯ve been a whole lot simpler.¡± Alex replied.


    ¡°What, the grenade? Nah, that¡¯s just my gift. Anything I touch for long enough I can effectively call into being ¨C sorta.¡±


    ¡°And¡­¡± Alex grappled with the idea. ¡°The grenade¡­?¡±


    ¡°Boy.¡± Jesse laughed. ¡°Was that an uncomfortable Christmas.¡±


    ¡°Uncle Rick wasn¡¯t playing around.¡± Tabatha agreed.


    ¡°Sure wasn¡¯t.¡± Jesse said.


    Alex hid his disbelief well and continued without really thinking: ¡°And you can make yourself appear, I suppose quite naturally¡ª¡± Alex began.


    ¡°I think we¡¯re exiting the realm of polite conversation here¡­¡±  Tabatha broke in. As she said this, another boy, whose skillset Alex hadn¡¯t bothered to catalogue yet, was thrown against the barrier. Jesse buried his face in his hands.


    ¡°The girls always win, huh?¡± Alex asked.


    ¡°So it¡¯d seem.¡± Said Jesse.


    Class ended shortly after that, and the teacher - who Jesse had said was called Mr Clayton ¨C approached him as he was about to leave.


    ¡°Alex, a minute of your time.¡± He said, pulling the boy aside and nodding dismissively to Jesse and Tabatha, who both took the hint in their stride. Mr Clayton took a step back, as if appraising Alex for the first time, then after a moment he nodded to himself. ¡°Still alive.¡± He said, a small smile cresting his lips. Alex didn¡¯t know what to say in the face of such a superficial truth, and so he simply nodded. Mr Clayton unfolded a small tablet and began typing on the screen.


    ¡°I had you listed as SGU. Single Gift Unknown.¡± He continued. ¡°Oh, that Fitz, he just loves to play it cold. I can¡¯t imagine why he¡¯d feel the need to declare what should have been an easily diagnosable gift as ¡®Unknown¡¯.¡± Mr Clayton peered up at Alex from his tablet, eyes perfectly still. There was a long silence, in which Clayton waited for Alex to respond. Alex, who continued to play over Fitz¡¯s warning in his head, said nothing. Eventually, Mr Clayton snapped the tablet shut. ¡°Oh well.¡± He declared. ¡°Not my department. I just wanted you to know why I called on you for the first fight.¡±


    Another protracted silence in which Mr Clayton¡¯s smile never wavered.


    ¡°You really took your time with it. I was surprised. Shadow dancing.¡± He said, goadingly.


    ¡°I wanted to see if I could beat her without using it.¡± Alex lied.


    ¡°Uh huh. And you almost did, by the looks of it. I mean you¡¯ve clearly gone through some training, am I right?¡±


    Alex resisted the urge to look away, as he replied. ¡°No, actually. Today was my first day, like I said.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting.¡± Mr Clayton said in a flat tone that belied his words. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad someone¡¯s showing promise.¡± Then with a quick glance at his watch, he continued. ¡°You have a meeting with the headmaster and Doctor Fitz in ten minutes. Check your tablet for directions.¡±


    With that, Alex slunk off to get his tablet, skin prickling in nervous relief. He could still feel Mr Clayton¡¯s eyes on him when he left the arena as if they¡¯d somehow become a part of him.


    Now that Alex was on his own, for what he could tell, he began mulling over the events of the lesson. Shadow dancing. Two words that meant about as much to him as ¡®Prime¡¯ or ¡®Prime-Minus¡¯, or any of the other esoteric phrases being cast around by people already initiated. He had felt something within him awaken when he had descended into the shadows. It was something like hunger, small but emissive. And he needed to learn more.

 Chapter Six - Tomos

    And god said let there be light, leaving mankind to pick up the electricity bill. ¨C From Jessie in Missed Conversations Vol 1.


    The headmaster¡¯s office was, in a word, opulent. Gold leaf garlanded the bookshelves and the frames of animated renaissance paintings. A desk, built from deep mahogany, loomed before two empty seats. Surveying all of this, with an expression that read ¡®harsh but fair¡¯, was the elderly headmaster of Black Vine academy himself. As a resident of the preened and perfect room, the man was dressed in a fine black suit, with gold rings on every other finger. Standing at his side, in a deferential capacity, was Doctor Fitz.


    Alex swallowed, before walking into the middle of the room. The headmaster bowed his head slightly and let some of the steel fall from his expression.


    ¡°I am headmaster Williams, overseer at this academy.¡± He glanced furtively up at Doctor Fitz before continuing. ¡°Take a seat, Alex. I¡¯m going to tell you why you¡¯re here.¡±


    Alex looked from the doctor to headmaster Williams before doing as he was told. Finally, the chance for answers had come. When he had made the decision to accept enrolment in Black Vine Academy, he had considered only that which stood directly before him, like looking down the sights of a gun. Access to the bigger picture was a hope, not a promise.


    The headmaster continued. ¡°I¡¯m going to dispense with the pleasantries. I was watching the recordings, both from the train incident and from your class just now.¡± He supressed a chuckle, but only barely. ¡°Quite a day, if I may say so. The department picking you up out of all that chaos was pure unadulterated luck.¡± His expression went immediately pensive. ¡°Or so we believe. But your performance just now lends credence, Mr¡­ Alex, to the notion of fate.¡± He picked up a remote and used it to turn on a wall-mounted television. ¡°Or am I being melodramatic?¡±


    Playing on the screen was a recording of Alex¡¯s fight. It showed the tall, slender boy lying prone before the mercy of a very ticked-off Jasmine. Alex¡¯s eyes widened as he saw the image of himself slipping away into a black puddle of nothingness, and then reappearing in Jasmine¡¯s shadow. The screen went black and Alex turned back to the headmaster.


    ¡°It seems part of your ability allows you to do more than just launch a foray into the souls of your enemies¡­ or friends as it may be. When you take possession of a body, you take possession of its gifts too.¡± The headmaster continued, taking a sip of something amber-coloured and apparently sharp on the tongue. ¡°That¡¯s what makes you Prime.¡±


    Alex grimaced, looking down at hands that weren¡¯t his, through eyes that saw better than he had ever been able to. He didn¡¯t want this body, and he didn¡¯t want its gifts.


    Doctor Fitz continued where the headmaster had left off. ¡°I was just briefing our headmaster on some of the history behind your skills. In short, we looked into the other Alex¡¯s life. As I said before, he was training to become a hero, and so a lot of the information is beyond our reach by design. What we can tell you is that heroes start far earlier than villains when it comes to receiving a practical education. We have records of a much younger Alex being scouted and then picked up by one of the hero institutions out west. We know this because we were looking into him also. Even without your core ability, shadow dancing is quite a gift.¡±


    Alex sat back, absorbing the information. So, he thought, that¡¯s why I can move so fast. That¡¯s why I know how to fight. He wanted to be angry at them, for viewing people the way they did, like tools to be honed. But he couldn¡¯t. Alex had been Ellie, and Ellie had known the harsh truths of the world long before someone she didn¡¯t even know came into her life and took it all.


    ¡°So that¡¯s why I¡¯m here. Because I¡¯m valuable.¡± Alex said, unable to keep some of the spite from entering his voice.


    ¡°Yes, actually.¡± The headmaster replied, without apology. ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re all here, in fact. I have a boss, and now so do you. If I don¡¯t do my job I get fired. If you don¡¯t learn to perform in the way we want you to, you get expelled. There is no place at Black Vine for students without a sense of their own purpose. Hence this conversation. Now you¡¯ve already made your choice, and for that I commend you, but know that if you want to make anything out of this experience then you have to really want it. The way Jasmine wants it, the way that boy Jessie wants it ¨C even though he may pretend otherwise. Because this place has a fail rate of over ninety percent. Now hear me, that¡¯s forty-five of the fifty students in your class.¡±


    This gave Alex pause. He didn¡¯t want to fail, not because he had designs on becoming a super villain ¨C on that he was ambivalent ¨C no, he wanted to learn more about his father. There was something in the past two days that had made him wonder, for the first time, about the man he¡¯d never met.


    ¡°Is that what happened to my dad?¡± Alex turned to Doctor Fitz. ¡°You said he dropped out.¡±


    The doctor froze, eyes flickering for a just a moment. ¡°I said nothing explicitly, but yes. He did drop out. Your father was a good man, and as a result of that felt unsuited to the work.¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Alex couldn¡¯t say why, maybe it was the tone he thought he¡¯d heard, or the way the doctor seemed a little too still when he spoke, but Alex didn¡¯t believe him. Not entirely, at least.


    ¡°What was his power?¡± He asked.


    The Doctor looked at headmaster Williams, as if handing the question off. Both were plainly uncomfortable.


    ¡°We don¡¯t exactly know.¡± The headmaster said, in a strained voice. A heavy silence hung in the air, like a black hole pulling in questions.


    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t know?¡± Alex said, eventually. It was such a fundamental knowledge-gap, that there was little else he could ask for¨C besides clarification. The headmaster frowned, evidently annoyed at the idea of a student-led interrogation. Alex looked down, embarrassed by his own forwardness.


    ¡°I mean, Alex¡­¡± The headmaster eked out. ¡°¡­that when I try and look back over the years, to the days in which I taught your father ¨C personally I might add - there are gaps. Breaks in my memory where I can¡¯t find the answers. And it¡¯s the same for everyone else. Fitz?¡±


    Doctor Fitz nodded, then said: ¡°We believe, due to the nature of these symptoms, that your father could erase the memories of people. We believe he used his unique gift to excise memories of his powers in all that he came into contact with.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Alex asked, this time directing his question at Fitz. ¡°Why would he bother removing your memories? It¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°Redundant?¡± Fitz broke in. ¡°Considering that the gap he left leaves pretty much only one possibility for what the concealed power must be¡­ yes. I¡¯d say, even, that it was an exercise in futility - only other memories of your father might forbid that. He did not do things for no reason.¡±


    ¡°He was a Prime, like you.¡± The headmaster continued. ¡°Oh, sure there were others who could hold temporary sway on the mind¡¯s ability to store information, but they held no candle to what your father eventually achieved. Heck, I¡¯d almost be proud of the man, if it didn¡¯t reflect so poorly on me as his teacher.¡± The headmaster flicked his head with a finger.


    Questions upon questions. Why would his father bother to do something that seemed utterly pointless? More importantly, Alex felt, why do it to his friends? And yet even more importantly¡­


    ¡°How¡¯d he die?¡± Alex asked, his voice far quieter than he¡¯d intended it to be.


    Doctor Fitz and headmaster Williams stared at him in silence. Then, Doctor Fitz let out a wearied sigh. ¡°We don¡¯t know that either, I¡¯m afraid. But he did die, Alex. I was at the funeral, I saw his body with my own eyes, could feel no sense of consciousness in his form.¡± At that moment, the doctor appeared somehow older. Lines, which Alex had taken for articles of wisdom, deepened mournfully, making his face appear drawn and haggard. ¡°I¡¯ll admit something to you Alex. I¡¯ve tried looking for answers here and haven¡¯t found them.¡± Fitz turned, eyes flashing as if in challenge. ¡°But maybe I wasn¡¯t looking at it from the right perspective. Maybe it takes someone who has only the desire to find the truth, without the preconception of what said truth must be. I know that¡¯s the real reason you agreed to come here. And as long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with how you learn¡­ I¡¯d say its fine to be curious about your father.¡±


    Alex lowered his head, thinking morose thoughts. There was something terribly wrong about all this. He could feel it and was sure that the headmaster and Fitz could feel it too. With a slow nod of his head he looked up at both of them.


    ¡°Was that all?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yes, Alex. You can go.¡± The headmaster said. ¡°Fitz will show you to the dining hall. You can grab an early dinner.¡±


    And with that, Alex stood up, nodded once again at the headmaster, and followed Doctor Fitz out the door.


    ***


    The hero, known to the people of dimension 221-c as ¡®Tomos¡¯, was in a cursed place. A place in which he would never, could never, be seen by anyone not ripe for death. He was in the shadows.


    He righted his hood over his eyes, ensuring that any stray wanderer would be unable to recognize him from a glance. Tomos was a great man, loved by all. He was a respected hero. The respected hero. And he felt right about his place in this particular dimension. No, it would not do to be seen right now.


    With a sudden surge of capricious rage, he fell to swearing. This place was filthy, dark. He was a hero. Nay, the hero. Need he write it in the stars?


    He resisted the urge to sink this small muddle of a town into the depths of dimension 129-x, a hellscape, and instead took his impatience out on his bottom lip. The lesser being was making him wait, again. He would have to make it a slow death when all this was done. He could send him to the black holes of dimension 442-a and let the tidal forces shred him into a cosmic skid mark. No, for making him wait, Tomos would skin the man himself. He would kill his family and everyone he¡¯d ever known. But later. For now, the man would be used.


    A shadow darkened Tomos¡¯ alleyway, and the hero readied an exit, just in case. He needn¡¯t have worried, as the villain known as ¡®KeelSpawn¡¯ limped into the light. The villain gritted his teeth against a fracture and began using the wall of the alleyway for support.


    ¡°I hope¡­¡± Tomos began, in a tone of voice that would be unrecognizable to those only familiar with his more public exploits. ¡°I am not inconveniencing you by calling this meeting.¡±


    The villain paused, and then lowered himself painfully to one knee, bowing his head. ¡°No. I am sorry, Lord Tomos. My injury delayed me.¡±


    Tomos considered this, or at least appeared to. ¡°And your mission?¡± He asked.


    Keelspawn kept his eyes firmly on the floor as he replied. ¡°I killed the girl as you ordered. But there was a complication, and a hero named Scimitarian intervened.¡±


    ¡°His wife will be widowed and forgotten. His children sold to the slavers of 148-b.¡± Tomos replied, dispassionately. ¡°Continue.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± KeelSpawn said, hurriedly as if to make up for his tardiness. ¡°There was a complication. The girl¡¯s power manifested. I¡¯m told from our source in the academy that she lives on in another body. But the job was completed as per your orders.¡±


    Tomos regarded KeelSpawn with a contempt that spanned worlds. He was going to enjoy the day this man died at his hand. As if turning on a switch in his mind, Tomos¡¯ tone shifted to match his heroic persona.


    ¡°Very well.¡± He said, without a hint of malice. ¡°You will do one more thing for me then.¡±


    KeelSpawn looked up at him, like a spoiled child. ¡°But I did what was asked of me. You promised-¡°


    ¡°-If you complete this next mission.¡± Tomos said, cutting him off. ¡°I will give you the power you deserve. And unlike some, I never break my word.¡±

 Chapter Seven - The End of Day One

    If you want to beat the best, you have to eat all your spinach. ¨C From Tabatha in Missed Conversations, Vol. 1


    Alex waited in the large dining hall for Jesse and Tabatha, letting his food grow cold. He hadn¡¯t ever had what you¡¯d call ¡®friends¡¯ before, and so welcomed the opportunity. Gifted didn¡¯t like the idea that one of their own could be so weak. The regular folks on the other hand, they just needed a scapegoat that couldn¡¯t fight back.


    He looked around at the dining hall, hoping to catch sight of the twins. What he saw instead made him jump. Jasmine stood next to him, her expression livid.


    ¡°So.¡± She spat. ¡°You beat me.¡±


    Alex put his fork down and turned so that both of his legs were on either side of the lunch bench. This was going to suck.


    ¡°I got lucky.¡± Alex said.


    ¡°Nope.¡± Jasmine replied. ¡°You got very lucky.¡±


    ¡°Okay, fine.¡± He tried. ¡°Can we move on, maybe? I don¡¯t have any interest in fighting you again.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Jasmine barked out a laugh. Her face had coloured to a shade of deep purple. ¡°So suddenly you¡¯re too good for me, huh? What, you¡¯re just hovering above the rest of us? Is that another one of your little powers? After one day, that¡¯s all it takes? Really? The level of fucking ego behind that statement!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant.¡± Alex tried to break in. But it was like arguing with a twister at this point.


    ¡°You just said you were too good to fight me! Me!? The number one slot! I don¡¯t care that you trained before you got here, or that your gift is naturally stronger than mine-¡±


    ¡°Okay, well did I get lucky? Or am I stronger than you?¡± Alex cut in, but it was no use.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to talk right now, bitch.¡± She said, before continuing with her tirade. ¡°You and that punk Jesse better watch your fucking backs. ¡®Cause if see either of you alone, without that upstart Tabatha around to protect you, I¡¯m gonna dump a petawatt of fury down your throats.¡± And with that, the wrathful girl stormed off, sparks of energy arcing off her as she went.


    Alex scratched his head in confusion. She was clearly insane. And what exactly was her obsession with Jesse? He knew the boy had a tendency towards mockery, but it couldn¡¯t annoy her that much.


    Another ten minutes passed, and the room began to fill. This was an old building, with tall beams and thick walls that coaxed voices into becoming echoes. Eventually, Alex spotted Jesse and Tabatha moving down the line of tables towards him. He gave them a wave, which was spotted by Jesse, and they came and sat across from him.


    ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking.¡± Jesse said, conspiratorially. ¡°If these guys are as awesome as everyone seems to think they are, how come they have to bother befriending the new guy?¡±The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I was thinking that actually.¡± Alex confessed.


    ¡°The answer may shock you.¡± Tabatha said. ¡°But Jesse tends to piss people off.¡±


    Jesse frowned through an overly ambitious mouthful.


    ¡°Yeah.¡± Alex said, without thinking. Then, at a questioning glance from Jesse, he elaborated. ¡°Oh, no. I just mean that Jasmine keeps mentioning you, is all.¡±


    Jesse covered his mouth to laugh. It was a good laugh, Alex realized, thoroughly infectious. ¡°That girl is crazy about me.¡±


    Tabatha rolled her eyes. ¡°I think she¡¯s crazy about everyone, Jesse. Probably a word for that.¡±


    ¡°No, seriously.¡± He continued. ¡°Every time I talk to people, she¡¯s always there, ready to sweep in and like suck me off or something.¡± He laughed again.


    ¡°When do you talk to people?¡± Tabatha asked, skewering one of Jesse¡¯s potatoes with her fork.


    Jesse cleared his throat and began imitating a neutered husband. ¡°Well dear, I gotta say, people have been talking. Apparently, we spend a lot of time together. And that¡¯s fine, except ol¡¯ Jasmine told Sally who told Mikey who told Benjamin, who called out to me in the corridor, that you and I were engaged in acts most egregious and forbidden. I believe it rang something like: Tabatha and Jesse sitting in a tree, fucking in front of the birds and the bees. That shit there¡¯s a fel-o-ny. Tabatha and Jesse sitting in a tree.¡±


    ¡°Wow.¡± Tabatha said, putting down her cutlery and giving Jesse a flat, but somehow admonishing, stare. Alex couldn¡¯t help but laugh.


    ¡°So, moving on.¡± Tabatha began, turning to Alex. ¡°You know it¡¯s common practice to change your clothes after a fight.¡± She said, tugging on Alex¡¯s lapel which had become partly shewn off during the lesson.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any clothes. Or books. Or¡­¡± Alex realised with a quiet sort of emptiness that he had practically nothing in terms of possessions. He hadn¡¯t been a girl prone to sentiment, or spending. Still, it made him feel uneasy, as if his whole life now rested atop the academy. And in a way, it did.


    ¡°Huh, that¡¯s too bad. Did you not get the letter?¡± Tabatha asked.


    ¡°What letter?¡± Alex asked.


    ¡°Everyone gets the letter.¡± Tabatha assured him.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡± Jesse said.


    ¡°I got our letter.¡± Tabatha relayed. ¡°The letter, Alex, is a list of all the things you¡¯ll need if you want to survive in this place. Because, as it turns out, combat class isn¡¯t the only place you can get your teeth knocked in.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. We also have a student-run dentistry up on the third floor.¡± Jesse said.


    ¡°What other classes are there?¡± Alex asked, feeling dumber by the minute.


    ¡°Wow, you really didn¡¯t get the letter.¡± Jesse said. It was hard to tell if the boy was truly stupefied, or just naturally slack-jawed.


    ¡°Everyone. Gets. The. Letter.¡± Tabatha assured her brother. ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s a stiff read. You can borrow mine.¡±


    ¡°Truly a slog. But if you stick with it, you¡¯ll not be disappointed. I really found myself immersed in the many financial and temporal predicaments of the protagonist.¡± Jesse said.


    ¡°The sequel¡¯s where it gets truly interesting.¡± Tabatha seemed to agree.


    ¡°Oh, sure when you hit the class schedule and school rules arc it really takes off.¡± Jesse said.


    And so the meal went, with the twins carrying most of the conversation and Alex proffering up an opinion here, or a question there. When the final bell rang for closing, the three students stood and made their weary way to the other side of campus, where the dorms could be found, old and nostalgic. Ducking beneath the room¡¯s floating chair and saying a quick goodnight to Jesse, Alex crawled into bed. He ignored the night time ruckus, the laughs and stories being told, he was too tired. And despite the day¡¯s events, or maybe because of them, he was too scared. But Alex didn¡¯t feel as lost as he once had. The days, during which he felt loneliest in a crowd, were gone. Before his fluttering eyes there lay a hundred fears and, upon them, a hundred hopes as well.

 Chapter Eight - Learn Fast

    If you take anything from this class¡­ then I guess you¡¯ll have done alright. ¨C From Clayton in Missed Conversations, Vol. 1


    That night, Alex dreamed of death. He was a shadow upon the land, touching the hearts of a million men and women and burrowing into them like a parasite. He stood in the cold black desert, a solitary figure with night tendrils emanating outwards, flowing like clouds of pestilence on the wind. A mirror, broken up into shards, rotated around him. Each piece held a different face, but all were pale, and all were dead.


    Alex felt the odd sensation of awaking into a standing position. He could see Jesse¡¯s face, peaceful with sleep, and his hand stretching out as if trying to--


    He leapt back, almost crashing into another bunk, a cold sweat taking him, his heart hammering in his chest. He had almost done it. Supressing an outburst of panic, he did his best to turn away, searching half-blind in the dark for his bed. It was just a dream. He told himself. Just a dream. I was sleepwalking, that¡¯s all. But it was a pointless, and time-consuming lie.


    ***


    Alex stared down at the trunk at the foot of his bed, his eyes itching from a combination of his gift and the lack of sleep it apparently inspired. He was doing his best not to look at the other boys, who were idling about in various stages of undress.


    When had this thing got there? He thought, crouching down and unlatching the trunk lid. Inside was a set of pressed uniforms, a chunky laptop and multiple pairs of shoes. Several notepads and their corresponding stationary had been stuffed into the sides of the trunk also.


    Jesse stretched, groaning obnoxiously until the boy named Simon threw a pillow at him. He strode over to Alex and crouched down to survey the trunk. The memory of last night flared within him and Alex found himself flinching unexpectedly. Thankfully, Jesse didn¡¯t seem to notice.


    ¡°A-ha!¡± Jesse declared, reaching in and pulling out a sheet of paper. ¡°Everybody gets the letter.¡± He said, handing it to Alex with a cheshire grin.


    ¡°They¡¯ve got experience dealing with orphans, y¡¯know. Like Simon over there.¡± Jesse said, nodding to Simon, who merely scowled in response.


    Breakfast was a relatively quiet affair, as students focused on stocking up and getting ready for the day, over trading dreams. Alex was glad that even Jesse was taking the morning seriously. He didn¡¯t even seem to mind when Tabatha came in to swipe at his food. Alex, for his part, was looking over the day¡¯s schedule ¨C and doing his utmost to ignore the constant mutterings of Jasmine, who sat not one row down.


    History was first up, it seemed. Followed by Information Technology, Business and, finally, Combat. Lessons were two hours a piece, which was something Alex supposed he¡¯d have to get used to. This wasn¡¯t a university or college, which meant that everything on the sheet was mandatory. With a sigh, he turned the sheet over and found a list of school rules. They covered everything from tardiness to fighting, their length a worthy ode to the school¡¯s villainous nature.


    ***


    Mr Ellis stood at the front of the classroom. He was a wiry old man with thin, snow-white hair and a paltry beard. He licked his lips, as was his way, before every other sentence.


    ¡°As per the syllabus, Tuesday was our last lesson on non-gifted history. By design, we now leave the turbulent world of post-war America and find ourselves perfectly aligned with the beginning of the age of gifts.¡± He liked to pace as he spoke, both because it afforded him new views of his students, and because he felt that it impressed upon them the importance of his subject. ¡°Can anyone tell me how it all began?¡± Silence. Mr Ellis continued. ¡°1962 if that helps?¡±


    Alex had no idea how the age of gifts had begun, his education up until that moment having mirrored that of a perfectly ordinary student. Jesse raised his hand.


    ¡°Anyone else?¡± Mr Ellis asked. Alex smiled inwardly as Jesse lowered his arm and began to pout.


    A tall boy with cropped brown hair and a long, yet handsome face, raised his hand. Mr Ellis pointed at him with a shaky finger.


    ¡°Arthur, if you will.¡± He said.


    The boy spoke in a dreary, aristocratic voice. ¡°That would be the arrival of the superhero known as Tomos.¡± He said, with open confidence.


    Mr Ellis dithered, as if the answer needed proper and due consideration. ¡°Yes.¡± He said, finally. ¡°Very good Arthur. You can have a point for that.¡±


    Jesse groaned loudly, which caused Mr Ellis to turn and throw a book at him. Jesse dodged, easily, and that seemed to enrage Mr Ellis further. ¡°Well!¡± He snapped. ¡°Perhaps, Jesse, you can answer me this!? What do we know to be the full extent of Tomos¡¯ power?¡±


    Jesse rolled his eyes. ¡°Everyone knows its teleportation. You don¡¯t have to be the Inquisitor to figure that one out.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Mr Ellis said sharply. ¡°You don¡¯t. You just have be stupid enough to believe everything you watch on television.¡± Then he turned back to Arthur and gave him the same question. I could feel Jesse start to boil over as the response came.


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated.¡± Arthur began.


    ¡°Very good, Arthur. How so?¡± Said Mr Ellis, in a capriciously chipper tone.


    ¡°Well, we know that he can teleport. However, we¡¯ve also seen him affect aspects of spacetime in far more general ways. The Constabulary - that is - the Inquisitor, puts him at an S rating, but there have been requests by high-ranking analysts to rank him higher. He is a Prime after all. The public knows him as a teleporter and the first person to bring gifts into the world ¨C the epitome of hero. But it¡¯s a great big riddle as far as the full spread of information goes.¡±You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Wonderful!¡± Mr Ellis beamed, turning to make sure that Jesse was paying attention. ¡°Another. Point.¡± He clipped. Jesse folded his arms and stared childishly off into empty space. The lesson continued, and Alex quickly found himself losing interest. History, no matter the period or locale, had never been his subject.


    Looking around at the other students, he noticed that Tabatha was missing. With a glance to make sure that the teacher wouldn¡¯t notice, he leaned over and nudged Jesse.


    ¡°Hey, where¡¯s your sister?¡± He whispered. Jesse turned, expression still sour.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t take this class. It¡¯s a special arrangement she has for any subject that¡¯s droppable in the second year. She trains in the gym, instead.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Jesse shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s complicated. You probably noticed in combat, but she¡¯s pretty easily the strongest of us.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡±


    ¡°Well that¡¯s ¡®cause she trains so damn hard. It¡¯s all she thinks about. I mean, she¡¯s flunking every other subject, so it¡¯s not an issue of scholarship, exactly-¡±


    Alex blinked in surprise as the spine of a book connected with the side of Jesse¡¯s head.


    ***


    Information Technology was not as boring as Alex had feared it would be. Mr Clayton had gone over the syllabus for him in the first five minutes of the lesson. Apparently, the emphasis for this class was on system penetration, social engineering and the development of malicious software. Alex quickly learnt the ¡®why¡¯ behind his burly teacher¡¯s line of work. His power was the ability to transfer knowledge instantaneously, and as a former specialist in military intelligence, he had a lot to teach. There were, however, a number of caveats to this Prime-Minus gift.


    Mr Clayton walked up to Alex and punched him squarely in the jaw. It wasn¡¯t so much the pain that Alex felt - though that was picketing for attention near the front - it was the mind-melding sensation of spontaneous knowledge erupting throughout his brain. He felt himself about to pass-out and was lolling over to one side when a hand caught him by the shoulder. When he eventually came to his senses, the whole class was gathered around him, blurry and loud. Jesse was apparently filming him on his smartphone.


    ¡°Like drill day at the dentist.¡± He remarked, moving in for a close-up.


    Alex realised with a start that his mouth was open, and that he had been moaning softly about something. He blinked away some of the dizziness and looked down to regard the hand on his shoulder, it belonged to Mr Clayton.


    ¡°And I thought my first day was bad.¡± Alex heard someone say.


    Mr Clayton shot the speaker a glare and then turned back to Alex, his eyes strangely gentle.


    ¡°Here.¡± He said, offering Alex a glass of orange juice. ¡°Drink this, it¡¯ll help.¡±


    Alex took the glass, numbly. His cheek was starting to liven up, and he had regained just enough self-awareness to feel the beginnings of indignation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I had to hit you. It¡¯s always better to do it without warning, though.¡± Mr Clayton said. ¡°A month¡¯s a lot to absorb in one punch¡­ And I can¡¯t promise that you won¡¯t be experiencing this again.¡±


    The next twenty minutes passed quickly, as Alex tried desperately to track down some presence of mind. It didn¡¯t help that Jesse kept replaying the video of him, adding some fresh insight here and some colour-commentary there.


    It was the term-long assessment that finally brought Alex back.


    ¡°Now that we¡¯re all up to speed on the basics of remote hacking, I have a little gift for all of you.¡± Mr Clayton began, holding up a blocky device in one hand. ¡°An old ThrillBoy, the kind your parents probably won¡¯t shut up about. The first handheld gaming device to offer cellular capabilities. It let you add friends and it let you talk to those friends, but most precociously of all, it let you play with those friends on a direct peer-to-peer connection.¡± Mr Clayton waggled the ThrillBoy under our noses. ¡°So, this is where things start to get interesting, people. Before I let you play around on modern systems, I want to see if you¡¯re capable of looking into the past first. Everyone check your desks.¡±


    Alex followed his classmates in stowing away his notepad and lifting up the desk¡¯s lid. Within, he found a ThrillBoy of his own. Like everyone else, Alex picked his up and began to study it.


    ¡°Good.¡± Continued Mr Clayton. ¡°Now turn it on at the top.¡±


    Alex did so, and a green, backlit display pushed forward the words: ThrillBoy 1978, in black letters. He¡¯d never even heard of a ¡®ThrillBoy¡¯ before.


    ¡°Friends.¡± Was all Mr Clayton said, a small smile playing at his features.


    Alex navigated to a ¡®Friends¡¯ option with an arrow-click, and then pressed enter. Two text strings, both thirty characters long, greeted him. Both were pinned up on what could conceivably be a digital corkboard, if one were particularly forgiving of the artist. Alex wasn¡¯t immediately sure how, but he recognised them as hashes ¨C words that had been obfuscated using a computer. He was certain that the letters and numbers held some deeper meaning. With a look of wonder, he touched his cheek, it was still tender.


    ¡°Forget about the first string. That¡¯s me. I¡¯m connected to all of you. I see all, I know all. Don¡¯t try any stupid shit because I¡¯m constantly monitoring all connections with my own ThrillBoy.¡±


    He cracked his neck and waved a hand over the room. ¡°No. Meet your target: string number two. You don¡¯t know them. They don¡¯t know you. But both of you are in this classroom. Your mission, should you choose to pass this class, is to find out who your opponent-string is actually talking about. This is something that¡¯ll serve you well in the field, because believe it or not, people aren¡¯t people anymore, they¡¯re files. More specifically, they¡¯re encrypted files. Now, if you want more than just a passing grade, and I would advise you to always want more at Black Vine¡­ you will use what you¡¯ve learnt over the past month to remotely access your opponent¡¯s device and download their game-file onto your own ThrillBoy. That¡¯ll get you an A.¡±


    Mr Clayton sat down atop his desk and began flipping his device over in his hand. ¡°Questions?¡± He asked.


    Tabatha put her hand up and Mr Clayton nodded in her direction.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have anything to charge them with, and they don¡¯t have a compartment for batteries. You said this is a term-length assessment?¡± She asked.


    Mr Clayton¡¯s grin went wide at that. ¡°I did. And it is. Each device has around eight hours of charge and you will not be permitted to replenish that in any way.¡± He held up his own ThrillBoy. ¡°Remember, I see all. I know all. This is part of the assessment. How do you manage your time, your attempts, over the term? Can you think under pressure?¡±


    A great deal of mumbling ensued, as people began re-examining their ThrillBoys as if they were made of feeblest glass. Alex raised his hand next.


    ¡°Alex, go right on ahead.¡± Mr Clayton said.


    ¡°What happens if they catch us trying to remotely access their device?¡±


    Mr Clayton had evidently expected this, as his answer came immediately. ¡°If they can make good on it by decrypting your personal string, then you¡¯re in the shit. Otherwise, I can¡¯t see as how I¡¯d know to fail you.¡±


    Alex kept his hand raised. ¡°So¡­ does that mean that fifty percent of us are going to fail?¡±


    The classroom went deathly silent at that. Only a few students had realised the implications of a peer-to-peer challenge, for most it was an unpleasant surprise.


    ¡°Yes. At least fifty percent.¡± Mr Clayton said, with an air of finality.

 Chapter Nine - The Diary

    Bath salts got me through med school. At least, I think it was med school. ¨C Doctor Marie From Missed Conversations, Vol. 1


    Alex spent his lunchbreak in the courtyard with Jesse, lying on his back on a grassy mound and watching the clouds make their slow crawl across the sky.


    ¡°I wandered lonely as a cloud, that floats on high o''er vales and hills.¡± Alex muttered.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Jesse said.


    ¡°Just something I read once.¡±


    In the distance, Alex could hear some of the other boys playing a game of all gifts - all the time basketball.


    ¡°You every play basketball, Alex?¡± Jesse asked.


    ¡°No.¡± He said, glumly. ¡°Netball mostly.¡± In his mind, all Alex could remember was being picked last, if he was lucky enough to be picked at all.


    ¡°I thought Netball was for girls?¡± Jesse asked. Alex sat up and gave him his best withering gaze. It didn¡¯t seem to work. Jesse just shrugged and nodded at the asphalt. ¡°Well, Tabatha¡¯s playing.¡±


    Alex had to squint to see her. She was moving down the far wing and calling for the ball. When Simon threw it to her, however, the ball went right through her waiting form and out the other side. With a mocking salute, Tabatha¡¯s illusion blinked out of existence.


    ¡°Hey guys.¡± Tabatha said, taking a seat next to them on the grass.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to stop doing that.¡± Jesse said, watching Simon kick the ball away in anger.


    ¡°That boy is just way too easy.¡± Tabatha said, stretching out next to Alex.


    ¡°You guys¡­¡± Alex began after a companiable silence had elapsed. His eyes were lost in the endless sweep of blue up above and he felt, for a moment, as if he were somehow infinite.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Tabatha encouraged.


    ¡°¡­you ever wonder that maybe there¡¯s things in your life you¡¯re not meant to think about?¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± She asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ my dad went to this place. And I never even wondered¡­ My whole life, I don¡¯t remember even once thinking about him. It¡¯s like there¡¯s a hole in my head, and when I try to find him in there among the years, it¡¯s just static. Just noise.¡±


    ¡°Have you talked to the shrink about it?¡± Jesse asked.


    ¡°Doctor Fitz is a psychologist, not a psychiatrist.¡± Tabatha said, prodding Jesse with a finger.


    ¡°Alright, Jesus. Ouch. Maybe you should see the shrink.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need a shrink.¡± Tabatha muttered.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Tell that to your waist.¡±


    Alex felt as much as heard the slap.


    ¡°I¡¯m serious guys.¡± He said, sitting up fully so as to look at them. ¡°It¡¯s creeping me out.¡±


    ¡°Well, okay.¡± Jesse said, massaging his face. ¡°What was his name?¡±


    ¡°No idea.¡± Alex said. ¡°I could have asked in the headmaster¡¯s office. I could have asked anytime yesterday. But I didn¡¯t. Something in my head just made me forget, or¡­¡± Alex cut himself off. He was doing it again. With a hiss of annoyance, he pushed himself to his feet and strode off across the courtyard.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Tabatha called after him.


    ¡°To ask Doctor Fitz.¡± Alex replied.


    ***


    ¡°Malcolm.¡± Doctor Fitz said, an odd expression on his face. ¡°Your dad¡¯s name was Malcolm.¡±


    Alex sat in Doctor Fitz¡¯ office. It was a messy and cramped room that had once served the school janitor. There was even a boiler in the corner. The walls were covered in newspaper clippings with red string connecting different zones of interest. It was like staring at the product of a sleuth¡¯s wet dream.


    ¡°Are you planning a bank robbery, or something?¡± Alex asked, turning in his seat to get a better look the clippings.


    ¡°Am I what?¡±


    Alex turned back to Doctor Fitz. ¡°Sorry. I guess Jesse must be getting to me.¡±


    Doctor Fitz nodded in understanding. ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯ve made friends so quickly.¡± He said.


    ¡°I think¡­¡± Alex fought to say. ¡°I think they might be my first friends, actually.¡± He felt a combination of absurd pride and embarrassment wash over him at his own words and expected to, at the very least, be laughed at. Doctor Fitz simply nodded contemplatively. ¡°I had a rough time growing up.¡± Alex continued.


    This made Doctor Fitz frown. ¡°You¡¯re sixteen, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Only in age.¡± Alex replied, in a knowing tone. Wanting to change the subject, he nodded over at the wall. ¡°So, what¡¯s it about?¡±


    Doctor Fitz followed his gaze and squinted as if only now realising that his entire office was one big tabloid. ¡°Ah, yes. I¡¯ve been meaning to share this with you.¡± Fitz ducked beneath his desk and began rummaging around, tossing up papers and pens in a mad dash. His voice came through hurried and muffled. ¡°Most people around here think I¡¯m mad. They¡¯re wrong. I¡¯m not mad. I¡¯m stupid. Which is why I need another pair of eyes. Eyes I can trust.¡± Fitz emerged victorious, wielding a black, leather-bound handbook.


    He slid it across the desk towards Alex and waggled his eyebrows.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Alex asked.


    ¡°That.¡± Fitz began, excitedly. ¡°Is your father¡¯s diary.¡±


    Alex was less enthused.


    ¡°You mean you¡¯ve had my father¡¯s inner-most thoughts for the past how many years and you¡¯re still¡­¡± He didn¡¯t finish his sentence. There was a glint in old doctor Fitz¡¯s eye that told of a bigger, more complicated picture. Alex shook his head, preparing himself to read the words of his father for the very first time. His first real experience with the man.


    He opened the book and began to read. The two of them sat there for a long time, as Alex turned over page after page, giving each one his undivided attention, before finally putting the book back on the desk.


    ¡°It¡¯s nonsense.¡± Alex declared in a dry lament. ¡°Where¡¯d you find it?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember.¡± Doctor Fitz said, with a laugh. ¡°But I¡¯ll tell you one thing, Alex. It isn¡¯t nonsense. The words are there, just in an odd order. And do you know which one is said more often than any other?¡±


    Alex shrugged.


    ¡°Tomos.¡± Doctor Fitz said, then he gestured at the walls. ¡°Tomos, Alex. All his heroic achievements, everything that was ever made public. I don¡¯t know why, and I don¡¯t know how, but your father had a connection with the king of gifts.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t we all?¡± Alex asked, dryly.


    ¡°Do you believe your father was mad, Alex?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. And, more to the point, neither do you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I know he wasn¡¯t mad.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Alex crossed his arms. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Because I remember him. Always lucid always in control. No, no, no.¡± Fitz stared at the diary, as if convincing himself of its promise. ¡°This isn¡¯t the work of a madman. More importantly, it isn¡¯t my work either ¨C mine to keep, that is.¡± Fitz handed the book to Alex. ¡°Here.¡±


    The boy stared at it for a long moment. He was disappointed. And angry at himself for only now making the effort to be curious.


    ¡°Why do you care so much, Fitz? He¡¯s dead.¡± Alex said.


    ¡°You just answered your own question.¡± He replied.


    Alex took the book, said a barely-audible thank you to the doctor, and left.