After a full ten days in Basic, Ted felt like he was starting to get to grips with the Second World and how it worked. The lessons about the world he treated with a healthy dose of scepticism, something he found even Jerah lacking in, despite his relative normality otherwise. Except for the fact he came from a futuristic planet full of fighter-priests, which was still something Ted found himself in awe of. This lack of scepticism extended throughout the entire cohort, as Ted prompted and probed them as to whether everyone was swallowing everything they’d been told without a second thought. It turned out that they had all lived a life full of certainty in their own beliefs, and even if this didn’t exactly match their expectations, it was close enough. It even translated through to many of the lessons, in which Ted felt like the lazy kid in a room full of keen A* students, all wanting to impress the teacher.

He found himself speaking more with Kara, a female Bear-person it turned out, although they referred to themselves as the Baraye. She was one of a race of bipedal mammals that existed on a mostly forested planet with extreme unpredictable weather variations that meant summer could turn to freezing winter overnight. Kara and her people had evolved from carnivores, hunting the abundant small forest creatures and water creatures in the rivers.

Not that everyone agreed with the idea of evolution, she was quick to assure them. Kara was open to the idea, but she knew that the Lord had his designs and plans, and was therefore also open to the belief that the Lord had created everything as it was. Their church was divided.

The rest of the group had slowly socialised, though the wariness between the Lizardmen - known to themselves as the Sassar - and the humans that they’d been in conflict with never really subsided. The Sassar seemed to struggle to tell the difference between most of the humans in the first place, making this even more complicated, though they slowly improved. The one that had attacked Peter had returned to the group at dinner, seemingly chastised, though it never brought the incident up again; neither had any of the humans.

Peter himself never returned to the group, with the instructors informing the recruits that he would join the next round of Basic Training, having missed too much to catch up now. Ted suspected that this would significantly help social cohesion, as there’d be no aggressive ringleader to stir trouble. It had led to more discussions between the human races, of which there appeared to be five: Ted’s Earth Humans; Jerah’s tall and frail, low gravity Bak Humans; the home of the stocky seemingly all dark skinned Humans of Alma; the tan, stretched humans from Kai’s planet of Pel; and finally the primitive planet of Galor, whose people Jerah had thought similar to his own. The variations between the humans were small but noticeable, with the clear feature being height gained or lost due to heightened or lessened gravity, though other small differences existed. The two members of the Galor people were covered in tattoos that looked tribal to Ted, something he’d complimented them on. They’d returned the compliment.

‘Like the look of yours too, pal.’ the tall burly man, Derry, said. The Galorans had been the quietest of all the humans so far, as the Second World seemed like a futuristic world to them, as well as a magical one, and they’d had a lot more to get used to. Ted had warmed to them quickly, enjoying having some company in discomfort.

‘I don’t have any tattoos.’ Ted replied. He’d not been a puritan about his body, and had in fact ran with a lot of people in his old old life that were covered in tats. But he’d never got round to getting any himself; his money seemed to disappear before he ever found some to spend hundreds of pounds on ink.

‘Sure you do, Ted. You’ve got that star symbol on the back of your neck.’ Derry said.

There were not many mirrors in the camp. There were no camera phones or ways to see the back of his own neck. In the end, he got Jerah to check, and then draw the mark that he saw on the base of Ted’s neck, just above his spine.

It was a dark, four pointed star, drawn in spidery thin lines, with each point splitting and curling into multiple strands that twined until splitting again to join to a circle. The lines of the star were outlined with the pale of Ted’s skin, but the remaining ‘empty’ space in the star was a dark, dark black.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

‘It’s so dark, it looks like a hole in your skin.’ Jerah told him, after dinner, having all been told to return to their bunks. They were allowed to exercise and socialise and wander whenever they wanted, but mostly there was a lot of resting and meditating on what had been learnt, back in the dorms. ‘It’s very impressive work, even though I don’t really approve.’ He took the view, as some did on Ted’s world, that tattoos were an ugly mistreatment of one’s body.

‘I don’t either! I’ve never got a tattoo, I don’t know how it got there!’ Ted said.

‘Well. It’s definitely there. Rather stands out, now that I see it.’

Ted rubbed at the marking, feeling nothing, neither ridge nor marking nor pain. Suddenly, a memory came to him.

‘Hang on a second. It’s exactly where I was hit, when I first arrived here. Between the Greeter and the welcome meeting?’ He looked around to see if anyone remembered anything similar. It was Jerah, and two others; Derry and a man named Red. There was no sign of recognition in their faces.

‘Someone hit you on the walk through the forest?’ Red asked. ‘Who were you there with?’

‘Well that’s the thing.’ Ted said. ‘There was no one there. I just felt a smack on the back of my neck, but when I looked around I couldn’t see anyone. I’d kind of forgotten about it, to be honest. Did no one else see or feel anything in their walk?’

There was a round of shaking heads and ‘no’s.Ted felt a little concern raise its head.

‘It sounds like something worth asking the instructors about.’ Jerah said, surprising Ted who suspected Jerah of being the least goody of all the two shoes in the place, and the least likely to suggest running to the teacher.

‘Yeah, I guess. Feels like something that might get me in trouble though. It’s a bit ominous.’ Ted admitted.

‘We’re all here because we’ve been chosen, Ted.’ Red said, a little too primly for Ted’s liking. ‘He doesn’t make mistakes; there will be a reason for this. Just go and ask the teachers.’

‘I will.’ Ted promised, resolving privately to put off doing so until he was definitely sure it was the right thing for him to do. Being told to do something so piously irked him. ‘When I get the opportunity.

Fortunately there were still so many mysteries at that point that the conversation moved on to other things; a random tattoo held as much intrigue as the bird people of the Enemy or the ability to throw magic lights around. Ted breathed a sigh of relief, as he felt the attention drift away from him. It just didn’t seem like getting marked with some dark tattoo was something he wanted to draw attention to here. It would be like going to a priest and telling them your head kept spinning round whilst you spewed vomit.

You’d be tied to a bed ready for an exorcism in no time. And there were probably real exorcisms here, with angry priests and all.

Fortunately it was not hard to keep the origin of the mark secret, as it was rarely in view, and no one yet was at the point of discussing the ins and outs of their day to day lives, or really anything of meaning. Ted found people oddly guarded, and he was content to keep to himself at this point; he’d made friends with Jerah and was acquainted with Kara, and a couple of others. It would have to do.

It was at night that he really started to feel the loss of his old world, as he slowly started realising that he’d come to accept this new one as his new, real reality. He’d felt lonely in Bristol, far away from danger at the sacrifice of his friends, his life, even his name. This was another level entirely; completely disconnected from everything he’d ever known, unable to even peruse a profile on social media to tease his aching loneliness. There was no television, no music, and when he focused he realised how even his thoughts were alien to him. He was thinking in another language; he couldn’t even remember how to speak English.

It was tough, and he suspected it was relatively unhealthy, but he managed to tamp down the feelings of despair, wondering as always how everyone else was managing with these feelings. There didn’t seem to be any counsellors on campus, but everyone else just took the days as they came.

Maybe they’re pretending too, he thought to himself. Now, get a grip.