It was a dark night, a colder one than usual. Demund’s breaths created puffs of mist in front of him, and his lungs hurt a little from the chilly air. It had been a while since he’d run. And yet, with all of the circulating he’d been doing, he only felt a little worse than before. Too little to be noticeable if not for his enhanced senses.

His powers were painfully tiny in comparison to his other body, but at least with this one, he could feel himself improving. Lately, he’d been trying to replicate various spells and techniques that Shaden had mastered, and though it was still near impossible to reproduce, he’d learned some new things from practice, like how to shift his mana into certain ‘moods’ and ‘wavelengths’. Because it had been too simple for Shaden, he hadn’t paid much attention to it, but as Demund, it was revolutionary. Like moving one’s ears for the first time. It wasn’t much, but his experiences would multiply, and someday, he’d achieve wonderful things.

Demund laughed at himself. Could he? Even now, if he went too far with his mana usage, his head would burst into splinters of pain. A defense mechanism, probably to prevent people from killing themselves by using too much mana. It was duller now if it did happen, but not by a lot. Even now, while circulating, he was treading on a thin line between being energized and crumpling to the floor, and though he was skilled enough to maintain it, it was nowhere near enough.

His mana storage was small, and it frustrated him. If he tried to do something on Shaden’s scale, well—it didn’t work. Even if he could, he’d faint or...die. Would he die? In this world, people didn’t necessarily die from overusing their powers.

He sighed. Lately, he’d been feeling a little isolated. Sure, traveling around with Keyga and meeting Kibra again had been fun, but...it lacked something. While he could relate to them a little, there was no way they could relate to him.

He missed seeing Eilae, but it would be a while before he’d meet her again—which was when he turned thirteen. Her family had to be picked last, and while it had been ages since his tenth birthday celebration, he still had a long way to go.

Demund ran across the streets, making sure not to step on any rocks in case his prosthetic leg became damaged. It was sturdy and would likely last a few years, but still. There was no such thing as being too safe.

The houses became larger and brighter as he made his way through a familiar neighborhood, sweat running down his neck and back despite the cold. The moment he released his mana was the moment he would stop. He was already pushing himself.

He’d seen Riley and Rhyne with some other guys at school. Of course they had other friends. But they’d failed to notice him when he’d passed, and somehow, it had hurt. Sure, he’d only been seeing them during their study sessions and sometimes on weekends, but he had the feeling that they were growing further away. What interests did he even share with them besides studying? Games? He’d never played much. Shows? It had been a while since he’d stopped watching. Sports? He’d regained control over his prosthetic leg to an extent, but again, he hadn’t been a fan of sports.

Don’t think. Just run.

Exercising—namely running—was great at easing his anxiety. The dream that was meant to energize and motivate him was making him feel inferior. It hadn’t been once that the thought of dying had rustled past his head. Of course he wouldn’t commit suicide. It was absurd. But what if? What would happen? If it was a real world, would his dream body be fine while his waking one died? Or would he die entirely?

The thoughts melted away one by one as his body strained itself even more, and Demund began to feel the subtle throb of pain forming in his head—he was close to pushing himself over the edge. It wasn’t terrible if he did; it just hurt a lot. The pain would only last a few minutes—seconds if he was careful—but he’d thrown up more than once. He didn’t want to do that, especially tonight.

He wanted to meet Enariss. She’d stopped coming to study sessions, occupied with her project. She did go to the MMA Club sometimes, but it was he who didn’t go to visit his lab. Results were showing, and he was making progress—yet, something was being lost.

There had been a time when it felt like he was the only one she cared about. It hadn’t even been that long since they’d stopped running. A month or two, probably. But spending much more time in the dream, he...was feeling distant. Did she not care anymore? Ever since that figure had appeared on their ride home from school, she’d been strange.

What was their relationship anyway? Friends? More than friends? When he’d failed to confess to her on the day he’d lost his leg, his feelings had just...evaporated. But even now, he wondered what would have happened if he had, and it clouded his head before he slept.

He didn’t really know her, did he? She never talked about herself much.

“Gah!”

Demund grunted, his legs coming to a stop on the pavement. How fast had he run? He hadn’t been keeping track of the time, but he’d arrived.

With long intakes of air, Demund eased his beating heart. His eyes were on the house some ways before him.

Enariss’s home. The windows were lit up. She was in her room.

He wiped his sweat and stood there. What would he say to her? He’d never been good with words, and it was always her who had initiated. Maybe he’d ask her about her project. Or ask her to talk about herself. No—that would be too direct. Should he tell her that he’d missed her? They still saw each other every morning and after school, but the conversations they had were short.

She’d never talked to him much during class. Perhaps because he studied during breaks, but no one really did talk to him. She was always surrounded by other people. Maybe he liked the normal class better; being in the special class still made him feel isolated.

And the subtle bullying was still going on. Small arguments out of nowhere against him, which was why he usually made his way straight to the laboratory without bumping into anyone else. There were a few who didn’t like him, and the others didn’t care enough to interfere. Why? Because he was poor, unlike them? Because he was an outsider?

Maybe that was why he’d felt so distant from his friends lately. They were small things, but they got on his nerves.

Demund took out his phone and dialed Enariss. After three long intervals of beeping, the line connected, and he opened his mouth.

“Hey, Demund. What’s up?” came the soft voice.

“I was just thinking...how’s your project going?” he managed to say, turning away from her house.

“It’s essentially finished. I just need to put the presentation together,” Enariss replied. “And you? You’ve seemed busy lately.”

Right. He’d kind of been studying on their rides, now that he remembered. No wonder they hadn’t talked much.

“I think I’m almost done too,” Demund said, scratching his cheek. “Same as you. I just need to do the presentation.”

“I still don’t understand why it has to be finished in ten minutes,” Enariss sighed. “All of this work, and it has to be within ten minutes?”

“If we pass the first round, I think we’ll be given more time.”

“Yes, but that means we’ll have to make two presentations. That’s even more work.”

“That’s true. But hey, you’re almost done.”

“I know. If it was just the Junior’s Advancement I was occupied with, I’d have been much freer.”

“You have other things?”

“Of course. Tests, other projects, assignments. It’s the same with you, isn’t it?”

“It is. But the teacher told me I could ease off on studying.”

“But are you?”

Demund grinned. “No.”

“Well, neither am I.”

“Afraid of losing first place?”

“I can’t be afraid of something that will never happen,” Enariss snorted. “But do your best.”

“Yeah, I will.”

“Did you run?” Enariss asked. “You sound a little out of breath.”

“A little.”

Demund raised an eyebrow when the line suddenly cut off, and he looked at his phone, wondering why Enariss had disconnected. But there was the sound of a window sliding open behind him, and when he turned around, he saw a streak of red falling out of the building, landing on the floor with a loud thump. Demund began to make his way towards the house as Enariss dusted her body off and opened the gates, stepping outside.

“Hey,” she said with a smile. “Wanted to see me?”

Demund shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“We see each other every day!”

“But we haven’t talked properly in a while,” Demund said, cracking his neck. “Want to go on a run?”

Enariss tilted her head to the side. “How long has it been since we last ran?”

“A few weeks,” Demund replied.

She began stretching her arms and legs, and Demund noticed under the dim lights that she’d already changed into her sportswear. How quick had she been? Or maybe she’d noticed him there right when he’d called. Still, it made him a little happy.

“Let’s go,” she finally said.

She dashed off without saying anything else, and Demund regretted running to her house at his maximum pace, but thankfully, he had a little magic on his side. He knew he was running low, but their runs usually ended within thirty—no, twenty minutes. He could hold on for that long.

When he caught up, she moved a little forward, never letting him pass. She always did that. Enariss turned her head around and grinned.

“Already tired?” she giggled, not even breathing hard.

“Not at all,” Demund answered, controlling his breaths. His body was under a lot of strain, but circulating made it possible. It felt nasty—a mix between clear-headedness and building nausea and fatigue, but he’d experienced worse when he hadn’t known how to circulate.

“You can go faster,” Enariss encouraged, slowing down next to him. “Five percent more.”

“Give me a break,” Demund managed to huff out.

He’d forgotten how painful it could be. His lungs felt like they’d been doused with acid, and his left leg felt like it was transforming into mush. His remaining stump felt sore and bruised, the prosthetic pushing against his bone every time he made a step.

He really should have been slower earlier.

The run only lasted around ten minutes, and Demund collapsed on the floor when they reached Enariss’s house, leaning against the wall while he struggled to keep his mana under control. He’d almost fainted along the way, his mind momentarily blackening as his mana slipped under his control. But somehow, he’d held on, and now, they were done.

“You’re faster than before,” Enariss breathed, wiping her brow. “That’s wonderful. Have you been running by yourself?”

“Not—really, but something—similar,” Demund coughed. “Training.”

“Why don’t you come in? If you want water,” Enariss offered, stretching out a hand. “Or juice or milk. Anything you’d like.”

“Yeah.”

Demund took her hand and was hoisted up, and they made their way towards her house. She paused when they were at the door.

“My dad isn’t home,” she told him, “but he’ll be here soon.”

“Uh, okay,” Demund replied, wondering why she’d mentioned it. After taking off his shoes, he placed them neatly to the side and followed her in. She showed him the kitchen, opening the fridge.

“So?” she asked.

“I’ll take milk,” Demund decided. He frowned when he spotted something green to the side. “I can’t believe you still drink the mint-flavored ones. It’s not even winter.”

“It’s close,” she snorted. “And it’s good.”

“You’re strange sometimes.”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“Ha, you wouldn’t know. And you? You’re not so different from me.”

“I don’t have incredible powers.”

“You don’t need to have powers.”

She approached him and held out a cup to him, which he took. “You’re second to none when it comes to studying. Isn’t that a superpower?” she said.

Oh, how she didn’t know about his ability to replicate magic in this world. He wanted to tell her, but it wasn’t at the extent at which he could be confident about it. Someday, when he could do more, would he be a little closer to her?

“If that’s a power, then you have two,” Demund said, then emptied his cup. Enariss likewise took a sip from the milk bottle.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t,” Enariss muttered, returning the bottle to the fridge. She smiled when he looked at her.

“For real?” he asked.

“Of course not,” she laughed, moving to the living room. Demund quickly placed his cup inside of the sink and followed her there.

She sat down on the sofa, which he was hesitant to do because of his sweat. She noticed, and she waved for him to sit.

“Sit down,” she said. “They’re going to be washed.”

So he did. Come to think of it, it wasn’t often that he’d enter her house after a run. Normally, he’d have headed home straight away to shower, and Enariss would have come to pick him up for their study group session. But today was a different day.

“I had so many questions, but I don’t remember them now that I’m here,” Demund chuckled. “You know—only one person goes to the Preliminary Islands, right? And that’s the first place winner.”

“Mhm,” Enariss nodded. “Do you want to go to the Islands, Demund?”

“There’s a friend I want to meet there,” he said.

“A girl?”

“Uh, no. A guy. He was my best friend. And you?”

“Hmm?”

“Why do you want to go? You’re aiming for first place, right?”

Their eyes remained connected for a few seconds before she looked down and leaned her chin against her hand. When she sighed, her whole body moved up and down.

“I also have someone I want to meet,” she said. “They said they’d meet me at the Islands.”

“Could I ask who it is?”

“No one important,” she shrugged. “Just someone I know.”

And for that unimportant person, she was putting all of her time working on her project. She’d put off their running for it, as well as their study sessions.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I took first place?” Demund said lightly.

He didn’t expect Enariss to look at him so seriously. She shook her head.

“That won’t happen,” she said, crossing her arms. “You don’t know what I’ve prepared. I’ve had all the help in the world, and even compared to past winners, it’s remarkable.”

“Programming with light, right?”

“And yours had to do something with SAP.”

“Yep.”

“How’d you do it? There aren’t many resources on SAP. Your ability?”

“Yeah. You know,” Demund began, clasping his hands together, “you think, maybe we could start running again? It’d be great if you came to the study group too. It...doesn’t feel the same without you.”

A short moment of silence persisted between them. Enariss’s eyes navigated the room until they finally met his.

“After we’re done with the project,” she promised, “I’ll join.”

“Alright, sounds good. You know, I should get going.”

Demund got up, and Enariss escorted him out of the house, standing by the door while he put on his shoes. When he looked up, he noticed Enariss examining his leg, and it wasn’t a good feeling.

Without long pants covering it, he looked like an abomination. Was it because of his leg that she’d become more distant?

Demund bit the inside of his cheek. That couldn’t be. She had been the one who had consoled him at the beginning of the year. She was a wonderful person, and he knew he couldn’t be thinking otherwise.

After saying goodbye, he began to jog back to his house, and the fact that Enariss continued to watch him until he was out of her sight was something that lifted his spirits for the night.

⤙ ◯ ⤚

“You like that, Grak?”

The wyvern growled softly, but Shaden knew it was a pleasant kind of growl. He placed the flute back on his lips and played a simple tune, and his bond closed his eyes, relaxing its head on his lap.

They were back at the main camp for the winter, and though his efforts to obtain a wyvern for Keyga had been fruitless, they’d still had a great time at the Wall of Arrows—this time as tourists. Well, he’d basically seen everything, but Keyga and Eshel had been awed by all it had to offer.

He’d even met Kibra again, and the boy had mixed well with Keyga, leading him around everywhere after he’d been excused from class. Morohar had found Shaden again at the Wall somehow, and after Shaden told him what had happened back at Antafar, he’d nodded.

“Taking another’s life is guilt that lasts an eternity,” the old man had told him. “Should you grow used to it, the world will act against you.”

It had sounded less like a threat and more like advice coming from the man. Despite his position as an Elder, he looked so frail and boney, like a starving man—almost like a mummy. Sadly, the man had refused to teach him magic when he’d asked because according to him, there wasn’t much he could teach him.

“My specialty lies in the sands and its residents,” he’d said. “I am but a man who knows a little more about living peacefully. There is little I can teach you.”

Then again, they were strangers. Shaden’s age made it easier for him to approach adults, but he had the feeling that the Elder could see right through him. Maybe it was his imagination, but the ancient man’s greying eyes had a certain eeriness to them. He was leagues different from Pleid, the Third Elder, who had been like a magical young man, complete with white hair.

He wished he could see Pleid again. Someday, their paths would cross...or so he hoped.

But after their trip, Shaya had been quick to send them back to the Jakhar Kishak settlement in the west, urging them to remain shortly in the capital—mostly because of Shaden. He’d gathered some unwanted attention after his appearance at the Festival from the Royalty and the nobility alike.

“It isn’t good to show your face from now on,” Shaya had warned. “I received a message from the Veurbois—they’ve heard of your appearance.”

Well, the Rvuvick Empire was much greater at relaying information than Nafar, he noticed, but then again, there had been agents from the Veurbois all around the world when he’d traveled with Lytha and Eilae. Maybe they were just that great of a family, unlike the Jakhar Kishaks, who were good at making money, but not so much at politics and subterfuge.

Still, they were honest-hearted people. A bit loud, but genuine. Now, what had happened at the capital was being joked about at the camp, saying how he’d made the prince cower in fear after he’d displayed his ‘awesome powers’. Now that the second prince was missing, he’d become a joke because—according to many—no one cared about the second prince except himself.

Shaden took a moment to warm the room again, and his wyvern slept in his room as of late because it would die in the cold outside. Grak was a magnificent beast, but there was a reason why the wyverns migrated north. The Fire Lakes were there and would provide shelter for them—but Grak was here.

“Don’t you want to see your friends again?” Shaden asked, and Grak opened his eyes.

“Krrk,” it replied. For the wyvern, being with him was no different from being with its group. Shaden had essentially brainwashed the animal, making it feel safe and cared for when it was with him.

It was, in the end, an animal—not a mythical dragon that could speak. As much as he tried to teach it, it wouldn’t become smart enough to hold a conversation.

The good news was that Grak had finally learned how to circulate, and he usually did it best when listening to his music. So, animals did like music. He never would have known if he wasn’t bonded.

He wondered if he could replicate this skill in the waking world. If he was able to bond with the cats in the neighborhood, there would be no greater joy he could ask for. And he was trying—it wasn’t working well, but he was practicing it with a fish he’d recently bought.

It was leagues more difficult than producing a flame. So many layers and interweaving threads of power invisible to the eye, only detectable through his control over it—it was like creating embroidery with a spoon. Practice made perfect, but he wondered if he’d be able to replicate the things he learned as Shaden as Demund.

Shaden sighed. He’d created fire, right? He could do other things.

“Whew, it’s cold!”

Shaden looked up just as Eshel barged into the tent—with her shoes on.

“Your shoes,” Shaden sighed.

“Oh, sorry.”

She had something in her hand, and after taking off her shoes, she came to sit down next to him. Keyga entered soon after, and at least he hadn’t forgotten to take his shoes off. But he had a bunch of fat grubs in his hand, which Shaden hated.

“Keyga!” Shaden yelped, jumping back. “Again?”

“The wyvern wants snacks,” the boy stated, and Grak raised his head, looking at the grubs. Shaden had let Keyga bond with the wyvern, and sometimes it felt like the boy understood the animal better than him. A kind of genius in a way. He still didn’t know how he understood bugs.

“What’s that?” Shaden asked, and Eshel began to unwrap the package she’d brought. While Keyga fed the wyvern some grubs, Shaden looked at the items—a milky bottle and a letter at the bottom of the small case.

“It was from the capital for you,” she told him.

Shaden picked up the letter and opened it. He immediately recognized the handwriting within.

It was from Eilae. His eyes refused to leave the words as he took in the letter’s contents with happiness.

‘To Shaden, the Wonderful Heir, and a friend who can sometimes be dull-headed, but who is kind,

This is the first letter I have written to you, and I pray that it reaches you in time. I still remember the time we spent at Danark and the kindness your family showed me, and I think fondly upon it, even now. I have rejoined my family quite smoothly, and as you’ve said, for a genius such as I, it wasn’t as difficult as I feared.’

Shaden grinned. Had he said that? He continued to read while Keyga played with Grak in the background.

‘Do you remember the berry cake we had in one of the shops in the city? As plain as it was, it remains in my mind, perhaps because it was you who recommended it. I wish you would join me here during tea time as we did before. Without you to dry my hair every day, it feels colder than ever. With winter on our doorstep, it makes me remember you more. I wonder if you think about me as well.’

“Woah,” Shaden whistled.

“She is very fond of you,” Eshel commented with a large grin. “I never knew the Veurbois were so expressive.”

“She’s a friend,” Shaden muttered, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

‘My younger siblings are afraid of you, and though I tell them of your kindness, they simply don’t believe me. It’s frustrating. Perhaps you should be less kind now. When we see each other again, will you have changed? Will I have changed? I have been attending lessons, and I am becoming more wonderful than ever. How about you? Are the Jakhar Kishaks treating you well? I have heard that they were a great tribe in the past, but now, they are simply merchants who are meek and submissive.’

Shaden glanced at Eshel, but thankfully, she’d gone to mess with Keyga.

‘Our family, however, has clawed its way towards the top. If the day comes for you to join us, we will accept you with a grand celebration—if you wish it. I dream about that day. Perhaps you will join me in the wonderful balls, or walk with me in the numerous gardens.’

Was it her speaking, or was it her family’s influence that was making her speak in such a way? Shaden continued to read.

‘It will be very dry in the desert, especially during the winter. I hope you accept this small gift that I’ve sent you—a bottle of lotion to keep your skin soft and moist. I’ve heard that they rub animal fat on their skin against dryness. Is this true? I find it repulsive to think about.’

He could see Eilae’s frown in his mind. He chuckled.

‘May your path be filled with fortune. Until the day we meet again, I will keep you in my thoughts.

Eilae.’

Shaden gently placed the letter back into the envelope, putting it away where he kept his valuables. He hadn’t known that a simple letter could make him feel so warm inside.

Will he have changed when he met her again? As Shaden, he was an utter genius. But somehow, it didn’t feel right. Inside, it was just the same old him, crippled with little talent for magic.

It felt like cheating, somehow. As a person, had he grown at all? With everything being so convenient for him—even dealing with Royalty—had he matured in the slightest?

“What’s wrong?” Keyga asked.

“Hmm?”

“Grak suddenly feels unhappier. It’s because of you, right?”

“Ha, are you heartbroken because you are unable to see her?” Eshel teased. “So you are a lovestruck boy at heart, no?”

“Well—” Shaden sighed. “I don’t know. It’s just—it doesn’t feel like I’m improving.”

“I heard you playing the flute, and it was wonderful,” Eshel said.

“Yeah. Eshel, how come you never practice—”

“I mean, with bonding,” Shaden added while Eshel strangled her brother. “It feels stagnant.”

Eshel frowned, and her brother wiggled out, taking the opportunity to hide behind Grak.

“You’ve already mastered it, no?” she said. “What more?”

“I was thinking—maybe I should try to learn everything from the beginning,” Shaden said. “From the basics, like you guys.”

“From the basics.”

“Yes.”

Eshel shrugged. “Why not? Even Keyga could teach you, but he isn’t good at teaching.”

“Hey, I thought it was your responsibility!”

“Fine, but help out with the chores, yes?” Eshel said.

“I am, right?”

“Come on,” Eshel complained. “With your abilities, you could do so much more.”

“Fine,” Shaden agreed. “But you need to lead me through everything. Starting from zero.”

“Yes, yes. I was wondering when you would put your powers to use.”

Probably shouldn’t show everything to people, Shaden decided, thinking back to the Wall. The people had treated him kindly when he’d visited the second time, but it had been more than once that people had searched for him to be healed—and it had been tiring. Eshel hadn’t asked of him much, but there was no guarantee others wouldn’t.

He’d have to be more careful with his abilities.

⤙ ◯ ⤚

December had arrived for Demund.

Winter break would arrive as well. He wouldn’t be able to enjoy all of it since he would have to go to Zone 1 to give his presentation on his project, but before that, he hoped to spend time with his friends again, just like he’d done last year.

His head had been bashed last Christmas, but this year, he doubted anything similar would happen. Come to think of it, he’d survived through a lot. The scene with Enariss covered in blood, standing over their assailants’ bodies was something he’d remember a hundred years from now. He’d fainted soon after, but he remembered the throbbing of his head and the way his throat vibrated when he called her name.

And somehow, he hadn’t been afraid. At least then, it had felt like he’d grown from his time in the other world—even if he had been four. Now, time passed so quickly as Shaden, even if it didn’t feel like it. Looking at Shaden’s life as Demund was strange. One year for him, and seven years for Shaden.

But had he matured by seven years? He looked at himself in the mirror.

Not really.

Now, he felt more alone than ever, waking up on the weekend to study. He didn’t use social media often, but he’d seen photos of his friends hanging out with others from school. They’d invited him in the beginning, but after he’d refused a few times, the invitations had stopped.

For the future, and for his scholarship. And because he could—because he felt like he was significant when he scored perfectly. But sometimes he wondered if he’d made the wrong choice.

He was still in his second year of high school. He had plenty of time left. And if he did manage to get first place on the Junior’s Advancement, everything would be paid for—even college. He could go wherever he wanted.

Enariss—she had wealth and friends and looks and powers—and everything he ever wanted. If she won, then it would feel unfair to him.

He didn’t need to have fun as Demund. He could worry about that after he had won first place.

“Sorry, Enariss,” Demund muttered, looking over his presentation. “I don’t think you’d be able to win against knowledge from another world.”

But—he was done with his project, right? He had the midterm materials under his belt already; he was prepared, and he reviewed them every day.

For just a few days, he could afford to have fun. Just for Christmas, he could rest as Demund.

His parents had allowed him to buy something online, even if it had been a little pricey. He clicked okay, and the order was fulfilled.

Demund wondered if his fingers would move properly.