We departed, and there was almost a sense of sadness leaving that chamber. We had made it into a safe place, a little HQ, a place that felt like ours inside that hostile dungeon. Sure, it was still full of bones, but you could get used to anything eventually.

We skirted around the outside of the worm-pit, not wanting to draw any nearer to that writhing mass than we had to. Once past, there was a slight gap in the far cavern wall, hard to see if you didn’t already know it was there. Naomi and I had only found it before because we had been walking along the perimeter, searching every inch for more passages.

The fact that it was hard to find could go either way. Either it would be the perfect entrance for the Kalamuzi omphalos - what a name - or it was hidden enough that the Kalamuzi hadn’t ever found it.

We could have looped back instead, knowing that we had seen Kalamuzi in that direction before, but there were two problems with that idea. One, we felt that the closer to the entrance of the dungeon we were, the more likely that we would run into Leah and Nolan again. And two, even if this was the wrong way, at least there was a chance we would find some treasure here, whereas we knew that retracing our steps would yield nothing.

Of course, the path might just have gone nowhere. Naomi and I had found many that had simply led us back into the worm-pit chamber again.

The passage was narrow - we could only squeeze through single-file, and, at places, only sideways. In at least one spot I thought we might have to chip away at the rock to get through, but we managed. It took a long time to get through it, seemingly endless twists and turns. At least the worms would be unable to fit. Maybe. I supposed they could probably dig through, if they really wanted to. At least that would slow them down.

“Think of it, friends,” Cadoc said, while we were all squirming through, and had no choice but to listen. He took the lead, with me behind, then Naomi, and Amaia taking the rear. “Soon, we will be entering the belly of the beast. I only hope we kill a good number of them before we find our treasure. If only we could slay every last one of them.”

I heard Naomi scoff behind me. “I can’t believe people like him really exist,” she muttered, half to me, half to herself. “Does he think he’ll win a prize for killing a bunch of rats?”

“I do it for no prize,” Cadoc responded, having overheard. “Only glory, and the power, and the honor, and the thrill. I have led too simple of a life - now, I must make up for lost time.”

“So you were bored?” Naomi asked. “You became an adventurer just to have something to do? Not because you were desperate, or poor, or like, wanted to change the world or something?”

“Bored? You confuse me with our bodyguard,” Cadoc said. Amaia grunted something in response, but Cadoc continued. “I enjoy the violence of combat because it reminds me of who I am.” His voice took a different, more somber tone. “It proves who I am.”

“And who is that?” Naomi asked. “A maniac?”

“A man,” he said. “A man who doesn’t lay down and take what the world gives him.”

“Amen to that,” I interjected. I still thought Cadoc was a maniac, but sometimes, he made sense. Maybe I was getting crazier. Maybe that was what I had needed, all along. Crazy people got things done.

“Are all men like this?” Naomi asked, clearly talking to Amaia now. “Gregor was a buffoon like that, too. He was the guy in the armor who… well, you know, bit the dust.”

“Just because you are a coward,” Cadoc said, “doesn’t make all men mad. If you don’t understand honor and drive, it is a deficiency in you alone.”

“You see what I mean?” Naomi asked. “Do all men really talk like that? Or am I cursed to be surrounded by the crazy ones?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Amaia said.

“Wouldn’t know what, men?” Naomi asked. “You’ve talked to other men before, haven’t you?”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Amaia was silent for awhile. “My father,” she said, at length. “Berenguer. The men in Pareprop. Cadoc, Miles.”

“What is that a list of?” Naomi asked incredulously.

“Men I’ve talked to,” Amaia responded.

“What, ever?!”

Amaia was quiet again, for a spell. “Does ‘yes, sir’ count?”

This conversation went on for some time, with Cadoc occasionally interrupting, then Naomi saying something snide, and on and on. They were in good spirits.

I slowly drifted off - not physically, as I was stuck between them, but mentally. My mind was muddled, yet clear, like it was swarmed and clouded with transparent thoughts, a room not full of noise, but of individual songs, each able to be made out, not one of them sinking into the general din, and yet so hard to listen to any of them, and impossible to hear them all. I felt something like a prickling in my chest.

I am really fucking stupid.

This wasn’t news to me, exactly. I mean, maybe stupid wasn’t the right word, but what was? I did fine on an IQ test - same score as Tom, a fact I relished - but I felt like a ship without a captain. Maybe I was just as fast as any other ship, but would it be wrong to call me slow, if I couldn’t even steer myself where I wanted to go?

I thought about my failures. About the money I needed to make, and all the ways I could have already made it. All the way back when I started, I could have sold the tusks of the basurd - the boar-thing - for ivory on earth. I could have just sent everything in Berenguer’s manor directly to RENA, ALL of the potions, all of the books, everything - although maybe Berenguer would have intervened sooner, if he had seen me do that. Hell, I could have just bought and sold health potions, made money off of the arbitrage. They certainly had to sell for more on Earth that what I’d pay for them here.

It was all so stupid. That was one song. But there was another song playing in my head, louder, more annoying, with high tinny notes I was trying hard to ignore.

I felt different, in some way, but it was difficult to put into words. I wished life was clearer. I wished there was an instant in time that I could point to, and say “there it is. That was the moment when I fought back. That was the moment when I set things straight, the moment things changed.”

But when was it? Was it when I fought Berenguer’s illusion, made my vow not to let the world get away with breaking the rules? Was it after Naomi’s party died, when I decided I would burn and burn, that I didn’t need free will, only power?

Or was it even more recent that that? Was it when I fought the balding Kalamuzi - Risthindicthi - and proved that the fire was burning in me, letting it burn away my despair? Was it when I killed that worm-drake, when I accepted that I was a sore loser, and that I would fight even when I knew it was ultimately pointless?

Or was it none of them? Ultimately, had I changed at all since I was a kid, and Tom had first revealed to me the secret workings of the universe? Hadn’t I been doing the same things ever since that day? Raging against the world, taking advantage of its rules, fighting my hopeless battle?

No. It was different, if only because I recognized some of these things more clearly.

I felt like an outsider, shifting between the rocks, surrounded by Cadoc, Amaia, and Naomi. And, of course, I was. I was an interloper in their world. I had lied to them countless times about who I was. I wasn’t meant to be there.

But it was more than that. They were all special, and I wasn’t. That was the more significant difference, the truer way in which I didn’t belong in their company. The real lie.

I had tricked them, but that wasn’t new. It didn’t always last very long, but I’d tricked people with sparks before. They never suspected even the possibility of a non-special person being able to impersonate one of their own - and why would they? It ought to have been impossible.

That wasn’t what was bothering me. It was hard to accept, but I had to come to terms with a simple reality - I was alive.

I was alive, and I shouldn’t have been.

Had I found it? I shivered at the significance of the thought. Had I finally, after all this time, found the key?

Was it anger? All along, had that been the one thing I hadn’t been able to copy from Tom?

Was Tom angry? I’d never noticed, before. I wouldn’t call him a sore loser - that would involve losing. But I guess I’d never seen him give up at something before, not really. But wasn’t that just because he didn’t have to?

I wasn’t sure. But the results spoke for themselves. I was angry, and I was alive.

Tom must have been angry. Must be angry, wherever he was.

I thought about the people around me. Cadoc, who fought an endless war of vengeance against the death of his home country, and, in many ways, against his parents. Wasn’t that the sort of anger I was thinking of?

As for Amaia and Naomi - well, Amaia was nearly impossible to read, but she had said something about understanding not living up to someone’s expectations. Whoever she was talking about, is it possible she burned with a hidden fire, embittered and enraged at that person?

And Naomi - well, it was too soon to tell. But although she was always joking around, there were times when her words cut, and maybe this, too, was a sign of her rage.

Hadn’t I been angry before this, though? Back on Earth? Maybe. Probably. But I hid it. Not just hid it, but was ashamed of it. Tried to snuff it out. Perhaps I should have been feeding it, heaping fuel on that fire.

Maybe being special had two components, actually. Maybe there was the “spark,” as I’d thought of it, the free will, the insight, the ability to make choices - but in addition to that, maybe there was the fire. The burning drive that propelled those choices, the flames that gave the choices weight and impact. If there were any more freaks of nature out there, like me, maybe there were even people who had sparks, but no fire. Maybe they had complete free will, the complete understanding of what they ought to do, to accomplish great things, but none of the fire that it took to do it.

And I was the opposite, under this new theory. I had no spark - no real insight, no significant free will - but perhaps I had the fire.

Tom was a controlled burn. I imagined a plot of land in the woods, and Tom carefully clearing it of trees, cutting them down here, burning away brush there, until he was left with a picturesque plot to lay a homestead on.

Then I pictured myself - the unrestrained arsonist, setting the entire forest ablaze. And after it had all burned, couldn’t I still build my house in the ashes?

Was this it?

A shout brought me back to the world. I was surprised to see we had already left the narrow passage - in fact, we had to have been walking for quite some time, I realized. I couldn’t even see the passage behind me, only a long cavern filled with insects, little hornet-sized creatures that looked like bats, swooping down at manic angles to land on the petals of white flowers. We had just passed through a field of those, growing straight from the hard rock, looking like orchids.

Another shout ahead. “Miles, hurry up!” someone yelled. Naomi, probably. I couldn’t tell if they were shouts of danger, or what. Ahead of me was a gap in the stone, with another stone wall beyond it, blocking my view - forming something like a hallway. With thoughts of ambush on my mind, I entered.