It had been a week since Mark’s Tutorial and Addashield’s transformation into a High Dragon, and Mark was in bed.

He faced the wall, wrapped in cloth, trying to block out the world.

“It’s not your fault,” said Priestess Lola Turner, of Freyala’s church.

Mark held his covers tight and stared at the wall. “I know it’s not my fault.”

That was a lie, but if he told people that he knew this wasn’t his fault, then they went away and left him alone. So he lied. For a week, he lied when he said he was fine and he told the truth when they asked about what had happened. Some people had gotten angry at him inside those interrogation rooms, with him sitting on the side of a table with a cup of coffee and them sitting on the other side and trying to reach him through words. Mark told them what they wanted to hear, and then they got more angry.

This was all Mark’s fault.

He didn’t need to be warned about the fish in the Tutorial. Addashield could have kept that 5% of himself, and not turned High Dragon. Mark could have made it across that river without the warning.

Long before that, Mark didn’t need to call up Orange Arcanaeum to ask them again if there was truly nothing they could do for him, regarding scholarships.

Mark had been the one to make the choice to take Addashield’s offer of Talent flavoring instead of a free ride to arcanaeum. He should have just taken the 4 years of arcanaeum. Apparently Addashield had done that for lots of people; he took his 1 kill every 10 years without fail, but he left a bunch of people with free rides to arcanaeum, too.

Mark should have seen the evil in him. Someone had called Addashield’s murders a cold calculation instead of an evil, and then someone had punched that person. Maybe Mark had even punched that person. He didn’t really remember.

Mark had made the choice to get more and more involved with Addashield, and to even forgive the man for putting him in a coma. In his darker moments, Mark felt that forgiving someone for trying to do right by him and then failing, with Mark ending up in a coma… Now that was okay. A Hero of Humanity offers you more than you ever knew you wanted? Yes. You take that offer.

But Addashield was playing demonic games.

Mom had known what was up. But she had also told Mark to ignore the Tutorial. She had always told him to ignore the Tutorial. Mark could have been a fish-yank mage like Dad. Or a cleaner like Mom. But Mark was always going to take the Tutorial, ever since he found out that the people who took the Tutorial were fundamentally stronger than those who did not.

And Mark had wanted power.

He went after the power.

And this is what he got for his efforts.

Lola said, “This was not your fault. You had a perfectly reasonable desire for power, and you went for it. No one expects a Hero of Humanity to use them like he used you. In a war, yes. People are used. But you were not at war, Mark. You were a boy who put his trust into an authority figure, and you were used. It is not your fault you were used.

“If Addashield was any sort of reasonable man at all, he would have soul-killed himself instead of following his demon’s desires. He would have simply Fallen. He tried and failed to save himself and it cost the world 10,000 lives and wrecked trust across the Two Worlds. Addashield sacrificed others for his own continued existence. He is the one that hurt you, Mark. He hurt a lot of people. You did not hurt yourself.”

Mark wanted to believe that.

He could not.

They had taken Mark to this place, wherever this was. Somewhere in France? Sounded about right. ‘The Citadel’ they called it. ‘Freyala’s Citadel’, if they wanted to be more exact.

Mark had seen a lot of it, but he only really recalled this room here, and the bathroom over there.

He wasn’t in a cell. The door unlocked just fine. Mark could go out there and do whatever. They wanted him to walk around. They wanted him to see whatever he wanted to see. There was a movie hall down the way and other stuff. But Mark lay in bed, and that was fine. Soon enough they’d try to get him to do something again, though. That’s what Lola was here for. Maybe make him eat something? When was the last time he ate something? He wasn’t sure. People had tried talking to him at first, but Mark could only lay in bed, and so that is what he did…

Wait.

Lola?

Mark uncurled from the covers. He looked over at Lola. The priestess was the same as Mark remembered. Blondish. Severely proper. Robes that flowed. But she wasn’t severely proper when Mark’s eyes met hers. She was worried.

She was the one who had imbued him with this ‘healing magic’ of ‘Union’, or whatever it was. She was also the one who put him into a coma, albeit accidentally, and at Addashield’s demand, and at Mark’s own request...

Maybe Addashield was the one who put him into a coma, making him miss his appointment with the demons? Maybe Addashield had been doing him a ‘kindness’ in that way, because he didn’t want Mark to be turned into a hidden dragon?

Addashield was a Hero of Humanity, after all. He did the right thing every now and then. Most of the time, actually.

… Mark didn’t want to think about him that way, though.

Mark hadn’t seen Lola since that day, almost 7 months ago. Or maybe 8. Mark didn’t feel like doing math right now.

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With steel in her eyes, Priestess Lola looked at him and told him, “People will try to place blame here and there, and some will look to you as the source of our new dragon problem. You should discount those people out of hand. Addashield did this whole thing, himself.

“By this same measure, if you blame yourself, you should discount those thoughts of yours as well. Those thoughts lie to you. This is not your fault. You had nothing to do with Addashield’s actions.” She breathed. “The fault lies with Addashield… And with me.

“I hit you with a sliver of True Union, to influence your future astral body, and when Addashield told me to hit you again, I allowed it. This is what caused your coma. If I would have pulled back, refused his orders, for you were already influenced, then… Then you would not have fallen into a coma, and needed to be kept in a coma so you didn’t die in the waking…” Lola said, “And yet, if that would have happened, then you would have become demon-touched at the end of your Tutorial; Addashield would have forced it. Maybe he did force it anyway and you are a hidden dragon, but there’s not a single person here who truly believes that, and we have already done tests. If you would have gone on to the Tutorial as expected… You would have died in… in so many different ways.”

For a long while, Mark sat there, absorbing that, trying to understand it.

Softly, Mark said, “It’s not your fault, either.”

Lola choked up.

Minutes passed, with Lola looking as stoic and proper as she could, and Mark sitting there on his bed.

Mark wrapped his arms around his knees. “Has there been any news about the High Dragon?”

“He cleansed the nuclear disaster he caused, ate the hurricane to kill every monster within its reach, and then he vanished into Daihoon. We assume he’s in the High Mountains right now, or getting ready for them. Or maybe he’ll be back soon! We don’t know.” Lola showed a rare bit of emotion at the end there, but she pulled it back. She was stoic once again.

Mark had no idea what the High Mountains were.

Lola asked, “Will you leave your bed? Take a shower and come to the hall? We’re serving dinner.”

Mark rolled over and tried to close his eyes again.

He didn’t hear Lola move. Perhaps she hadn’t.

Mark breathed hard. And then he sat straight. He looked over to Lola.

Mark got up.

- - - -

In a dining hall that Mark had seen before, but which had escaped his sight until this moment, today, Mark sat down at a long table as one of the youngest in the hall. Everyone was already eating, having taken their food from the cafeteria room beyond a pair of double doors. Overall, it was set up like any high school cafeteria.

But this was the Citadel of Freyala, and everything here was of fine make.

The tables were single slabs of wood grown from trees that regularly grew to three meters wide and a hundred tall, and which had a nice reddish sheen when treated. These particular tables were only 2 meters wide and 10 long, with wide benches on both sides that easily supported the few knights in armor scattered among the regular folk and all the regular folk in plain grey and white robes. Chandeliers dripped from the ceiling like illuminated spiders on webs, cast down from a cathedral ceiling far, far above. Big stained-glass windows let in the evening light of some sunset happening out there, their usual rainbows tainted reddish and orangish, but still showing the scenes of Freyala protecting the people with her paladins and priests.

This was the main dining hall of Freyala’s Citadel, or something like that, and as such it had a high table at one end, though not much higher than all the rest. No one was up there right now, anyway.

Priestess Lola sat down next to Mark, sitting a plate in front of him, saying, “Thank you for coming out tonight, Mark.”

Mark was still kinda out of it, but he was mostly here. He said, “Thanks for the invitation, Priestess.”

Across from Mark and Lola, some pair of acolytes, younger men, sat down to eat their own meals. Mark hadn’t even seen Lola grab food, but she obviously had. Sliced chicken with gravy, mashed potatoes, vegetables, and a huge garlic bread roll lay in front of him. The guys across from him had some beef options and extra bread.

Mark was good with chicken. It was the same meal that Lola had gotten for herself.

Mark added, “Thanks for getting the food, too.”

Lola smiled a little. And then she turned to her food, clapped her hands before her, and did a little prayer. It took her less than a second to finish. Mark did not partake. With a smile, Lola picked up her fork and said, “I love turkey night. I used to help in the kitchens when I was an acolyte. We’d thaw and dry 200 turkeys every half month and then I’d set them into the rotisserie.”

She seemed happy at that memory.

Mark ate. It was pretty good. Mark actually ended up eating everything, and quickly, too. He was ravenous. They didn’t talk during dinner, because Lola seemed hungry, too.

But afterward, when Lola was finished just a moment after Mark, she said, “I’m glad you could join me for a meal, Mark. You can leave your room whenever you want. You can walk wherever you want, talk to whomever you want, see whatever you want, and speak whatever you want. Citadel Freyala is outside of Curtain Protocol. You should still be a little circumspect with your words, though. Just as a matter of course.”

Mark nodded a little. “Okay.”

“If you wish for a schedule of some sort, we have classes for people who have just Awakened, or who have chosen to forgo the Tutorial and to learn magic on their own. It’s a class called Introduction, and it usually lasts a week, though some teachers try to get it down to 3 days. It’s pretty much a basic overview of everything that you should know, now that you’re beyond the Curtain.”

Mark asked, “I’m some sort of prisoner, right?”

“Correct,” Lola said, without malice or pressure. “For about a year, really. That should be proof enough of whatever Addashield might have done to you to come to light. Some people are arguing for full-life monitoring, but that is simply them being angry. Truthfully, you could leave in 6 months, if you wanted. My hope, and the hope of many others here, is that you choose to stay for a full year. We might not be able to prevent all the horrors that happen out there in the world, but we cleave to Xerkona’s teachings just as much as Freyala’s, and we wish to help you through this trying time, in the hope that you might help others in similar ways, when you can.”

Mark readily said, “I want to talk to people from back home. My dad’s brother and his husband, Alexandro Careed and Gabriel Careed. Devon and Trace; the guy’s on the boat. Sally—” Mark felt tears threaten again, but he held them back. “Anyone and everyone I can.”

Lola said, “Of course. Your communications will be monitored, though.”

“I think you already told me that. I know. I need to know who survived.”

“I’ll have someone drop off a full communication package to your room later, if you desire it. It will contain a phone and tablet and a few other things. You can check up on whoever you want, and it won’t have the usual child locks on it that you likely grew up with.” Lola added, “And your parents recorded messages for you, both video and in letters. We have all of that.”

Mark nodded, numbly.