The kid stared out the window.

I entered his room with subdued motions, as one who doesn't want to disturb the sick. He lay tucked up under the blankets, only his head sticking out, face turned toward the light. Curtains had been pulled aside to let him see out.

Not that there was much of a sight to see.

The window looked out into an alley between wooden buildings, shaded by a single tree. A native plant, branches zig-zagging like cracks in parched earth, the leaves like wide and flat needles. It was a young tree, but not exactly a sapling.

The boy stared at it, as if he might find himself in its crooked paths.

Belatedly, he turned to look at me, as I shut the door behind me with a soft touch.

Yes, yes he was quite well. His face was too healthy, eyes too wakeful, too alert. But he blinked slow, exaggerating the drag and tug of his eyelids, as if the sickness made him too weak to keep them fully open.

I had taken care of many, many, many sick children, so I knew the signs too well to be fooled.

The bed groaned as I sat on it. "How are you feeling?" I asked.

"...maybe a bit better?"

His voice was also a sign of health. It held none of the thickness of sickness, or even the worn-out quality of overuse. Or even, for that matter, the depth of voice that comes sometimes at waking. That made more sense, though, since we encroached upon the outer edge of day. Yet he added a groaning quality to his voice that, simply put...? Sounded fake.

It was an incompetent act.

"But still feeling bad?" I asked.

He nodded.

The little turd.

I put my hand on his forehead and almost called him out right then and there for how remarkably cool it felt. And then it hit me: why wasn't I more scared? I eyed him down over my nose. He looked back up at me, but couldn't hold my gaze.

Or, perhaps: wouldn't hold my gaze.

Was his shyness an act too?

If it was, there was the brilliance. For that reason, some part of me couldn't help but see him as a lost kid. Regardless what my mid told me, he tugged at my heart. I needed to tread carefully, as with all large things, a heart set in motion is hard to stop.

"You do seem better," I said, pulling my hand away.

He only hmm'd in response, pulling the sheets up to his nose, all snug as a bug in a rug.

The adorable little turd.

"So, boy. What's your name?" If the little god had ever given out his name to anyone, I wasn't aware of it. Still, it was a good entrance into a talk, and another opportunity for him to make a mistake. Even if I hadn't heard of any names, Kel surely had.

A big smile pulled heavily at his cheeks and he muttered what sounded like Kirito. Not a name I'd ever heard, if that's what it was. Then immediately, he shook his head, the remnants of his smile still stuck to his features like crumbs.

"I'm Zach. My name."

Now that sounded like a proper Inside name.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

The smile faded and he looked away from me. "...I can't explain."

Hmph. Fine, I'd let it go for now. "Well, Zach. My name's Gareth. And what were you doing out there in the mud?"

He looked at the blanket in his hands, kneading it with little fingers. "...dying," he muttered.

Now that amused me. "I'd say. It's a miracle you're doing even this well, not to mention that I found you! How'd you get so far out there, all by yourself? There's nobody around for leagues."

He looked out the window, then to the curtains. "...abandoned."

So it was one word at a time now, huh. "Oh? Who did?"

He looked at me, then at the door, then to my arms, then to the blanket. It took him longer this time to come up with a reply. His eyes drifted shut and he finally whispered something, but it was so quiet I couldn't hear.

"What was that?"

He shook his head, opening his eyes and looking away from me. "It's nothing."

"How 'bout you let me be the judge of that?"

He glanced towards me, but kept his eyes low, not even inching towards my face. He seemed content to look everywhere, in fact, except my face. In the end, he just shook his head.

"Don't wanna answer, huh?"

He actually nodded. Huh. Okay then.

Why didn't he lie? All sorts of folk could abandon him. I wouldn't believe it, but not for lack of possibility, even plausible, perhaps. Few folk wandered far Outside, even to do bad deeds. Of course, if you were gonna abandon a kid, Outside was a horrifically sensible place to do so. Far from people who might catch you. Monsters to clean up the evidence.

Just thinking about the kind of person who'd do that made me wanna bash some faces in. I looked back at the kid to get out of my head and clear my heart of its fury.

I put out a hand and pet his head. His hair was neither thick nor fine, neither soft nor coarse. He shut his eyes and pushed into my hand like a friendly housecat.

"Oh, so you like that, huh?"

"Mhmm," he mummed in agreement.

"Look boy, I need some straight answers from you, if I'm gonna help you."

He opened his eyes and glanced at me, no longer quite enjoying my hand on his head. He tensed. I could feel it as much as see it. Again, he murmured something I couldn't hear.

"What was that?"

He opened his mouth and drew a long breath, as if to try again louder... only to deflate.

He eyed my arm. Fidgeted with the blanket. Drew a deep breath again. "Can... I hold your arm... again?"

Damn. What was so hard about asking that? Most orphans are shy, sure, but they don't ask for things. They either do it, or they don't. What's with this kid. "Sure," I said, scooching a bit closer. "That is, if you're gonna answer my questions."

He tentatively nodded and took my arm like he did the night before, hugging it to his chest like a teddy bear. Immediately, he relaxed. His answer came soon after.

"Everyone," he murmured.

"Everyone?"

"Abandoned me."

Ah.

Some folk might think that not an answer, and in some ways it wasn't. But it told me a world of information. A few worlds worth, really. His dead eyes from the night before made sudden sense. His unusually calm demeanor and weak manner of speech too.

Resignation, all of it. Slow, terrible resignation. He was that kind of orphan. The one who's been here before, in this position. One who'd been found, cared for. Cast aside. Again and again and again.

Wait.

Wait, wasn't he the little god? Nobody had taken him in, not that I'd heard of at least. Or Miri. And wouldn't we have? It was a kind of big deal.

I was getting distracted. This was all an act.

...right?

"And who in particular left you in the woods?" I asked, digging for errors in his story.

He actually looked me in the eye, if only for an instant. He took another long breath, little chest straining against the wight of my arm.

"I told you... everyone," he whispered.

"You know that's not a fair answer," I replied. "Even if this isn't the first time, who was the last one?"

He looked me dead in the eye, a spark of defiance flaring up. His grip on my arm tightened. Not with the strength of a god, but the normal weakness of a kid.

"Fine. You're... right. It's not a fair answer. But I'm too scared to tell you the real answer, okay? You'll..."

But he trailed off.

Deflating.

Looking away.

"I'll what?" I asked, suspecting the answer.

"You'll hate me," he murmured. "You'll get rid of me. Everyone does." And then he pressed his face to my knuckles, his lips, his eyes, as if trying to hide in them.

Who was I talking to? What was I talking to? A god? An orphan? Both? Damn if I knew! Lies... truths... this was all too confusing, muddling heart and head together in a soup of confliction, of thoughts which did not match desire.

If not for his mistake of making himself perfectly well in a matter of hours, not even a trace of post-sickness weakness, I wouldn't have given serious thought to him being a god, given how he acted. There was too much truth in his motions. Was he so terrible an actor at faking sickness, yet so brilliant one at faking being in the torment of fatherlessness?

Did he deliberately fail at faking the sickness, just to make me more likely see his orphan act all the more as truth? Bah! That was too complex. Yes, just the kind of mindgame the gods were said to play, but not a battlefield I could begin to enter into.

No, no, I had to trust what I saw. Perhaps to my detriment, but still. You can't go around assuming every orphan is secretly a god merely because one kid out there really is.

So I treated him like a kid and simply told him, "I'm not like most folk."

But he only shook his head slowly and kept his face hidden in my hand.

"Just, let me have this for a little longer..." he took another long breath, bracing himself, "...before you get rid of me." He didn't even cry. As if this was normal.

He was resigned to it.

I reached out and tussled his hair with my other hand. I wanted to tell him I wouldn't get rid of him. But what if he was a god? What if I didn't have the strength to treat him as an orphan?

No, not if. I didn't have the strength. Together, with the four of us, or five once Tenssy returned, perhaps then we could defeat him once.

But again?

And again? You can tame and train a wild beast. You can break and remake a man. But a god?

Who can rescue a little god from his own hideous strength?

Only one. "I won't get rid of you," I murmured, "if the Inescapable aids me."

The eldritch word caught his attention. "...what's that supposed to mean?"

"That was for my sake, boy. You'll understand someday, if you wait on it. Anyway, I look forward to proving you wrong." I stood with a frown.

"Look, boy, you may not hear a word I say, so I'll stop talking. See for yourself what I do. For the time being, however, you get to rest and stay in this room. I better not see you walking about, or you'll get a whupping once you're well enough to take it. But if you're doing better tomorrow, I might show you around some. Would you like that?"

He pulled the blanket up to his eyes and nodded.

I let him know I'd send some food to him and turned to go. As I opened the door, I glanced back, catching him staring above my head. He flicked his gaze to my eyes and I thought I saw concern in his brow, before he looked away, then back, face neutral, and lowered the blankets.

"Who are you?" the kid asked.

"I told you. I'm Gareth."

"No, I don't mean your name. I mean..." and he trailed off, unsure how to specify. But before I could get a word in, he continued. "...to this world, I mean."

Interesting word choice. And quite unchildlike.

"I'll tell you once you tell me what you're so scared to say. Consider it retaliation," I added, leveling a finger at him.

He sighed and rolled over, turning his back to me.

Later, when I told Miri about the whole exchange, she agreed with me that, for all his lies, his scars spoke a louder truth. He may be a god. But he absolutely was an orphan too.

----------------------------------------

As Miri predicted, Kel and Joahin did not show up until the next day, late in the morning, a scant few hours before lo-kkune, the second sun, would rise. I met them at the stables as they were brushing down the horses and putting up the tack.

Kel looked at me askance, not pausing in his duty to his chosen beast, a steady mare of rich complexion. "So we've a problem, then." It wasn't a question, but he was asking me to elaborate.

"What did Miri tell you?" I asked.

"Well, she came herself, which in itself says the problem is big and intimate. Nothing much else, but that you'd explain."

"Small and intimate, rather." It explained nothing, but for the sake of the stablemen nearby, I couldn't go into details.

We wouldn't even tell Joahin until later, if we deemed it safe.

The young noble had grown into his breeding, both in shape and form. Height had taken from him the babyfat, and hard work had taken the rest, leaving him lithe and wicked with a sword.

We'd tested the latter, as all nobles had training in weaponry.

Nissom took one look at him and advanced him further than I'd expected. The training he'd received under his father had been of good quality, apparently, as it should be in a noble line, but is not always the case.

Joahin took to the training with a fire befitting his grief. Yet for all that he excelled under Nissom, and for all that he had come to me and I had claimed him, he resembled Kel the most, and they took to each other like brothers, or like uncle and nephew.

It fit the vision I'd seen. If anyone could refine Joahin's speech to match his sword, it would be Kel.

So they traveled together. Shared rumor together. Kel kept him out of the wrong sorts of trouble and dragged him into the right sorts. He taught him the way of the woods and the winds and of the bending of things, when soft is strong and hard is weak, and how to move with the shape of your enemy without becoming him...

But Joahin was still young. A vital part of the warmeetings, but not yet experienced enough to take on a god.

Joahin passed by with an armful of tack and I swatted him. But he danced out of reach with a sly humor and a grin befitting his teacher. I merely stepped and struck out, ruffling his hair, just to show him I could.

Kel spoke up, showing that the 'nothing' I'd explained was not as 'nothing' as I thought it had been. "Small and intimate, hm? Knowing you, I'd imagine it an orphan, but for Miri to come to me herself..."

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

All humor slipped from Kel's face like mud.

"Jo!" he called, patting the neck of his dappled mare, "Come, see to myertha." And he gave no explanation, yet Joahin came quick to obey without asking for one.

I followed Kel as he stalked out the stable, out the stableyard, out down the street to the first secluded allyway with a tree, a kind of violence to his motion like crazed porcelain. Circling out, behind the tree, he stuck a finger to my chest as I followed him.

"You finally brought home the little god, did you now."

I started. It shook me, sometimes, how perceptive the man could be. "How did you guess?"

"How did I guess!" He threw up his hands, then set them on his hips and chuckled darkly, staring up into the tree and stalking about it, as if figuring how to get at some hidden prey. He spun on me again, eyes glinting like polished blade. "You are Gareth! Of course you will bring home any orphan who asks."

"But he didn't ask..." I trailed off as he stalked up to me, hunched forward, searching my face for something.

"Tell me."

I told him how it happened. He listened without a twitch, or the bark of a laugh. Not a motion, not a mote of movement. He was still. Just still.

And then he told me a tale.

"Tis a common rumor to hear, Gareth, that the little one speaks to men. Strong folk. Not all carcassminers, but all broad of chest and thick of arm." He prodded me in turn, using my body as a vidual aid. "He speaks to them of family and child and, if one listens well enough, the rumors say he speaks with a sarcastic, bitter taste to his tongue, asking if they want more. It does not take much wisdom to know he has history there, though more wisdom than the bigotry of those who think they know the gods allows them to wield...

"But!" he struck on, "'tis a rare rumor to hear, but one that can be found if one knows patience and persistence and how to ply old maids with sweet word and wine...

"Tis a rare rumor, for it tastes wrong to tongue to tell, yet you may find it more than once, if you travel to very disparate places with length of land between too far for the common folk to go; in small town, where an old couple may bemoan loss of a child or children they could never have. Yes, tis a rare rumor, but not only once, the little god has tricked, they say, couples into caring for him. When they learn he is a god, however..."

And here he stopped, and backed away from me, knowing full well I could fill in the silence.

I grimaced, and finished the thought through grit teeth. "That doesn't go well."

"No, no it does not, Gareth Who Used To Be Inside. You know how folk are. They have minds set on what a god is and all evidence to the contrary is translated to fit their current belief. They can't imagine a god could ever want mere and simple love, so all they see is a trickster all the more terrible for how intimate he has entwined himself to you. It is like a lost doll you found in the woods, cleaning it up and setting it on a shelf, only to wake one morning and find it laying next to you in bed, staring into your eyes. Terrifying, no? And in their fear they refuse to be creative, and rely all the more on the beliefs they've held to all along. So they whimper and simper and fall on their knees, to beg and plead for him to leave. Grown men who could break a cart with a fist the size of his head, shaking like a child before a whupping. It is this, Gareth, which wounds the most, as they provoke sympathy from the heart even as they reject him. It it bad enough for men to rage at you, calling you a monster. But it is far worse when they weep and with their whole being convey that you meant them terrible ills, when all you wanted was their love...

Then, finally, he explained why I hadn't heard of these tales. "It is too intimate. Like a beating, for shame of it, they are rare to speak of such rumor. The men would never. But the wives, now, they can be plied to tell."

"If you knew all this," I asked slowly, "why did you never tell me?"

"Because you are Gareth! You'd go off in hunt of this little god!"

I began to grow angry. "And why shouldn't I have?"

He stuck his face into mine, noses brushing, and did not flinch at my bristling. "For the very reason you now plan to confront him with myself and Nissom in expectation of battle. You, oh Gareth of Outside-" and he almost spoke the title as a curse, now "-cannot help but see him as a boy. A powerful boy, but not a god. You have never tasted defeat except once, and that at the hands of a spirit, not an embodied creature. You say he is a god, your mind speak the words, but your heart does not know what a god is, especially so since you killed the Wickerman- a fluke, and you know it! You fought only for full belief that you would die if you ran. Every blow you struck did nothing until it did something. But do you know how you defeated him? Hm? Tell me."

I grit my teeth. "Persistence..."

"Aye, and yet wrong! You defeated him, and we know not why or how that final blow killed him. Yet you claim persistence because there is nothing you have failed to break down by persistence alone...

"You, oh Gareth of Outside, are blinded by your strength, and thereby cannot see the gods for what they are! You cannot defeat this little one, Gareth. Not with your fists. Especially so because he will not fight you. When faced with rejection, every rumor says he goes silent and vanishes. And all the rumors, not one speaks of him harming any man. If you try to meet him in battle, to whup him as you whup all your sons, then by your greatest strength you will lose the very one you aim to save."

It hurt to hear what I knew what true. "Blast you..."

"You're welcome." Then he sighed and pushed a hand through his foxish hair. "I should have told Miri. That was my error towards you. Aye, she has a heart akin to yours, and her faith in you is boundless. But she also has a mind you do not have." Then he put a hand to his face. "And of course she would suspect the little god to be as all the rest, a trickster, trying to get close to you. I may be the only one who can see the little god for what he is..."

A faraway look came upon him.

"Why not just explain all this to me before, then?" I grunted, not merely drawing near to the edge of petulance, but also sincerely desiring to know.

"Because even now, oh Gareth of Outside-" and this time he spoke it with affection "-I am not certain you can hear me. Your heart is already in motion and all I can do is nudge its path in hopes to deflect its trajectory. I cannot stop you. You are not an arrow which can be blocked, but a hammer which smashes through shields and armor alike."

We stood for a moment in the shade of the tree, only staring at each other.

"You are soaked from sweat," Kel remarked, and it was true. I had not noticed how hot the day had already gotten. I glanced at the shadows on the ground and then off to the north. Nothing much had changed but the heat.

"Lo-ssune is upon us." Second dawn.

"What is your plan?" Kel asked with a cock to his head. He did not make any move to leave, so I stayed with him.

What was my plan? Before, it had been to expose the little god and prepare for a fight. But with what Kel had said...

"You think he is not dangerous?"

"I did not say that..." and he sighed, waving off his own irritation. "But aye, I understand. I do not believe he will attack. Or flee, if you... well, no, that I cannot say. There is nothing more terrifying for an orphan than facing what they desire most of all."

"What would suggest, then? Confront him and not prepare for battle, but for restraint?" Something felt wrong about that.

"You know full well the nonsense of that. You break orphans because if you restrain them, their walls raise, and they cannot hear you. All they know is to flee and hide."

I pressed my fingers to my eyes, realizing why it felt wrong. "Yes, yes," I growled. "That is why I thought of battle. But if battle will only tell him he is unwanted- and who knows if we could break him anyway -and restraint will only imprison him within himself, what then? What is your plan, Kel?"

"I could give you a plan, Gareth. But then it would be my plan which you implement, which is not my role. You are the ruler, here. And I am the teacher. If you do not make your own plan, you will never learn what I wish to teach you."

I harrumphed, feeling the pull of petulance again, a childishness unbecoming of me.

Perhaps a harrumph is not a sign of getting old, after all, but a sign in the aged that they are still in some ways children who never grew up.

It was getting hard to breath, the heat becoming oppressive. I unbuttoned my uniform further down my belly and waved the edges of the cloth to get a draft against my skin. How was Kel standing this?

He seemed to read my mind, and smirked. "Lets get inside," he said. "We will begin seeing lo-nnare soon." Second shadows.

That, I could agree upon.

----------------------------------------

The commons were full.

Usually it wouldn't be the case mid-day, but nobody stayed outside on a day of lo-kkune. The doors and windows were thrown wide open to allow as much wind as possible. A few stragglers ran inside, rather than going all the way home, cloaks and such held over them, anything to offer a bit of shade. In the street, buildings slowly and visibly grew a second shadow, gone crossways as opposed to their first.

Under the first sun, a man could get burnt if he wasn't careful on a hot day. Under the second sun, he would burn in minutes and blister in ten. Caught in the fields, an hour or more from shade? A bad kind of death.

Another danger unique to the Outside, where lo-kkune passed directly overhead.

Even inside, barely past lo-ssune, it was already too warm.

I'd buttoned up again, if only for the sake of the women. But not all the way. Nissom wasn't here to be annoyed, after all. Then again, even if he was, if I didn't care to have business with him, I wouldn't have to care what he thought.

The sound of many low conversations spread through the hall. In the warmth, folk kept themselves calm, either too tired to speak, or finding much speech to overheat them. Some outright napped at tables or along the walls, reed-woven hats resting over their faces. The result was a kind of shushing noise, almost like a steady rain, but made of human voices.

It was quite pleasant, actually.

But I stalked the hallways. Moving helped me think. Or, rather, it helped me get out of my head. Abstraction easily distracted me from the sensations in my body, from the spirit who freed my breath and gave me peace even in the midst of war.

Not that I rejected abstraction entirely. I still used words, after all. But if a word had no sensation in me, I found it had no power in me. And I had no use for powerless things.

What was I to do with our small and intimate problem?

Then again, he wasn't exactly intimate right now. That was the problem. If he would let us in, we could trust him. If he wouldn't, then trust led to no effect.

I passed rooms with open doors and open shutters, and realized I was walking towards the room with the little god. I stopped and paid attention to the sensation within me. Where was my spirit leading me?

I took a half step, turning around.

It didn't like that.

I turned back toward the little god's room.

Yes, that's the way to go.

Hm. I stalked quietly up to the door to his room and peeked inside. The kid lay on his back, reaching up into the air. His hand moved here and there, as if reaching tentatively. It reminded me of someone tapping. Perhaps he was counting something in his head.

When he saw me, he dropped his hand and just watched me.

"Hi," he said after a moment.

"Hey boy," I replied, and stayed standing there.

What was I doing?

Oh. I wanted to ask him if he was the little god. A flit of fear brushed through me, refreshingly cool on this hot day, like a draft only I could feel.

The Inescapable was making this easy for me, if only I had the courage to obey.

I took a deep breath, feeling like a boy about to confess to his dad, knowing he'll get the switch.

"You're the little god," I said, holding his gaze.

He didn't even look away. Nothing on his face changed. Nothing in his posture. He stayed still as Kel, watching me. Eyes to mine. That... that was the only thing that changed.

"How- ...when did you figure it out?" His voice was a bit unsteady, but only a bit.

"When you became totally well," I said simply, feeling of bit of nerves myself. Then, because it felt awkward to end like that, I added, "You weren't very good at faking being sick."

He finally looked away. "Hm. It was odd. Never been sick since I got here..." He glanced back to me. "Never been good at pretending to be sick either. I was never able to get out of going to school back home. Parents never believed me when I pretended."

Got here? Well, I supposed that made sense. Gods don't live among men.

But school? What a bizarre thing to say. Not just the thought of a god going to school, but what did it even mean to 'get out of going' and about tricking his parents? Perhaps he meant when his parents first sent him to boarding school, he tried to fake a sickness to not go? Did gods have boarding schools?

He must have seen my brows crease or something, for he said, "That didn't make sense to you, did it."

It wasn't a question.

He didn't give me time to answer anyway. He lifted his hands to look at the palms. "But you let me hold your arm anyway. Why?" Again, he didn't give me time to answer. With a mirthless snort, he continued, the hint of a sneer in his tone, "Because you were too scared to let on? Setting up an ambush for me?"

He turned and searched my face for an answer. He didn't seem to find anything there, or at least didn't show if he did. Then he chuckled again, smiling with a resigned incredulity. "Sorry, what am I saying? Maybe you were just scared and didn't know what to do. You already showed so much courage, giving me what you already gave..."

He smiled in a sad way and pushed off the covers, starting to get up. He was such a hasty kid, never giving me any down time to put in a word for myself.

So I struck with my words as I would with a hammer, making an opening where there was none. "And where are you going, boy?"

He turned that smile on me. Just a pleasant expression, nothing more or less. A mask, and a damn good one.

"I don't know. Somewhere? Anywhere." Then, so quietly I almost didn't hear him, "Nowhere."

I wanted to brace myself, ready for any sudden movement, be it fight or flight. I wanted to grip the doorframe to do just that. But I did my best to remain still as undisturbed bathwater. As still as Kel could be. As this boy.

I wasn't as good at them at holding back when my passions surged.

Looking for words to slow him down, I said the only thing that came to mind, "Didn't I tell you to stay put, boy?"

He chuckled again with that sad expression. "You said to rest, actually."

"And you seem intent on disobeying," I shot back.

The smile on his face fell from his eyes, but stayed plastered to his cheeks. Something about what I said or did got to him. He stood up on the bed.

"...right, you said you'd whup me if you caught me walking around."

His gaze shifted just a mote, looking above my head, then back down. I almost didn't notice. It was the second time he'd done that, and I barely refrained from looking up.

"Who are you?" He asked.

"I remember saying I'd tell you when you gave me straight answers."

"I just did. Though, you already knew. I'm the little god. So, who are you?"

"That wasn't the question I'd asked, though."

"...remind me, then."

"You said everyone rejected you. Who was the last one?"

He snorted and flopped down on the edge of the bed. "Surely you know by now that nobody left me in those woods. I was there myself, fighting monsters. You saw how your drake reacted. I don't know how you calmed it, but that's what happens when you're... one of us. The monsters attack us when we're around. Our very presence throws them into a vicious frenzy."

That was news.

But I felt completely out of my depth. I don't know what it was, but fear remained with me, and I felt dizzy with lucidity, blood screaming with desire to fight. My head was clear. But I couldn't use it. All I saw was his body and ways to move and strike and-

-and yet I stood still, letting the energy course unmanifest. Only one tactic kept me sane: saying what came to mind. So I kept it up.

"You told me you were dying."

He looked down at his feet, dangling off the bed. He made a strange, pained expression. A mirthless laugh, and he looked away. "You should know better than to believe me."

"But I don't just believe you. I believe what my heart told me. You weren't lying to me, boy. You didn't know I knew. You were being honest." Then I made a gamble, "Apart from still faking being sick, you didn't tell a single lie."

"...maybe my health was low from fighting."

"That's not what you meant when you said it."

His hands clenched the blankets and I did my damnedest not to tense in response. And then he...

...just let go. There was no expression on his face. Not dead, just neutral. He glanced above me again.

"So, I have to give you a straight answer to get one from you?"

I nodded.

"Then fine. I'm lonely. I know, what a shock," he said, but the sarcasm was only a light touch. His face relaxed, and he looked a bit bored more than anything else. "But nobody wants to be a friend to a god. Certainly nobody wants one for a child, not that I blame them. Can't exactly control me, and you don't like being out of control, do you? Everyone rejects me. I'm dying because I'm suffocating inside and nobody sees or cares. Or, if they do care, they don't do anything about it. Which, really, is the same as not caring. There's no point in something if it has no power to do what it's supposed to do. Like salt without any saltiness. So."

He hopped down, walking up to me and staring me in the face. He craned craned his neck and I bowed my head to hold each others' gaze.

"There, I gave you a straight answer. Who. Are. You?"

"I'm Gareth," I replied.

"And who is Gareth?"

"You don't know about me by name?"

"No. Should I? Are you famous?"

"Very famous. To the point where they don't talk about me, so, I supposed it makes sense you've never heard of me."

"Why?" He merely seemed curious at this point.

"I'm in exile for denouncing the empire, the emperor, and their whole world," I said. Then, because it made sense to say, I added, "I was the emperor's son in law."

He made a face of surprise, somewhat withdrawing and widening his eyes. It was a bit exaggerated, but still seemed real.

"Well, that's fancy," he quipped. "I'm surprised they didn't kill you."

"They couldn't."

"...as in, you mean, their laws wouldn't let them?"

"No. I mean nobody had the strength to stop me when I fled."

A smile came to his face, but his eyes took on a different tone. Something I associated with danger. Perhaps fear, though I wouldn't know what about my boast would scare him. Perhaps anger, though I wouldn't know what about my boast would anger him.

I made another gamble, continuing to say whatever came to my mind. "You don't speak like a child."

He walked away and snorted. "You don't treat me like one."

I cocked my head. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I'm walking around aren't I?" He quipped, spreading out his hands as if in invitation. "Didn't you say you'd whup me if I was up and walking about?"

So he was testing me. If he'd been any other kid, I'd have taken him over my knee in that instant. But he wasn't just any other kid and I was under the sway of something other than my heart.

A moment passed with neither of us moving.

"...yeah, that's what I thought," he murmured. "You won't even try. I'm not a child to you. I'm just a..." he shook his head, "whatever I am." With that, he walked to the wall.

The window was open and a hearty breeze ruffled in the curtains. He didn't walk to the window, but placed his hand on the wall itself. Suddenly, it seemed to shimmer.

"Goodbye, Gareth. Nice meeting you," and then he walked through the wall.

That snapped me from my stupor. I ran to the window, throwing open the curtains. The sudden heat made me almost recoil, and I squinted, sticking my head out and looking down the alley both ways. He walked away, out into the street, cobblestones brilliant in the glare of two suns.

The fear was gone. "Boy! Get back here! You'll burn yourself!"

He looked back at me, then smiled in a patronizing way and waved, only to keep on walking.

I'd had enough of this. Climbing out the window, I ran towards him. He heard my steps, turned, and with surprise, jumped back, clearing a good twenty steps with a single leap.

Out, into the street.

I didn't blink. I sprinted after him, covering the distance faster than he expected. Surprised, he barely jumped away before I grabbed his arm.

After the shade of the alley, the heat of the open street was like stepping into an oven.

"What are you doing?!" He yelled at me, then jumped back as I closed distance again. "You'll burn! Go back inside!"

"And what about you?" I roared.

"I don't feel it, you idiot! I'm not hurt by intense temperatures! It was the same with the rain, when-"

My fingers brushed the edge of his clothes.

"-when you found me!"

"Then why didn't you resist me? Why did you let me take you?"

"That's-" he scoffed. "It's because I was lonely, you idiot! Because it felt nice!"

I feinted, guessed his path of retreat and lunged, grabbing him by the arm. He shimmered, flickered. Surprised lit his face and he looked at my hand. Then with an audible pop he vanished.

I spun, left, right. Where was he?

"Then why did you get sick?" I yelled. Sweat poured off me. My head hurt. "Why did you shiver?"

He didn't reply right away. But when it did, it came from above me. "I don't know! Dude, go inside! Go!"

I looked up at the top of a building across the street, where he now stood, looking down at me. My face burned. I shielded my eyes with a hand, barely able to see in the glory of two suns.

No shadow lived here. There was too much light.

Stubbornly, I shouted, "No! Not until you come back inside!"

He turned as if to leave, but wouldn't. He looked away from me, and then looked back. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. Then, he jumped off the roof.

My heart skipped a beat, everything in me telling me he would break his legs and die. But he landed with unnatural grace, as if he weighed light as a feather.

I ran up to him and grabbed his arm, and pulled.

He didn't budge. Anger, sadness, and confusion mixed on his face. "Why are you doing this? Stop hurting yourself for me. I'm fine."

"Bullshit!" I yelled back, causing him to actually flinch. "You might not burn in the suns, but you're not fine. You're in agony."

He laughed incredulously, a crack in his mask. "Dammit, man. Don't tease me like this. You don't want me. I'm not worth the trouble!"

It hurt. My arms, my face, every exposed part of me burned. But I held onto his arm. I gripped as tight as I could, and I bent down to his level, staring him in the eyes, and said in a voice that was quiet and low, "Maybe what you need to see is someone willing to suffer for you. And if that's what it takes to break down your damn walls, then I'm going to stay here-"

But he cringed, interrupting my thoughts.

"You're-" and then shock came to his face and he looked at my hand and back to my face. "You're hurting me! How-" and then he tried pulling, and it felt like a child trying to escape my grip. He cringed again, bowing his shoulders. "It's hot! What-"

I didn't stop to try understanding what was going on. I picked him up and ran for the doors of the guild.