There were no questions why Dallion had uncharacteristically skipped an entire day of college. There were even less questions concerning the unusual teaching assistant that had appeared the very next day. She appeared charming, well versed, and for some reason strangely familiar to everyone.

It further came as no surprise that she and Dallion were distant relatives, even if they didn’t look anything alike. Everyone accepted it and even, for no apparent reason, invited her to join the group for lunch. It was also completely natural that she’d often pass by to see Dallion in his dorm room. Apparently, no rules or terms of conduct had been broken, both staff and students were all right with it, and even Dallion’s roommate had accepted her as part of the family—which was marginally strange, since he was certain he definitely wasn’t related to her.

“Really, how did you score such a job?” the roommate asked. “Three days per week talking about things you already know. Dude, I must get me one of those.”

“It’s easy,” Atol replied without even looking at him. Officially, her name was said to be Georgia Chu—a name that Dallion found completely made up—but for some reason, she continued using her online alias. “All you need to do is become a top-tenner in your field by the age of twenty-five.”

“Duude. Twenty-five.”

Dallion could almost hear his roommate running the numbers in his mind to determine whether he had enough time to make it possible.

“I think you should research that, Max,” the woman suggested. “Even if it’s not what you end up doing, it’s always better to be informed.”

The music threads were more than visible for any awakened with the skill to see them. In the awakened world, the attempt would have been called extremely sloppy. Here, it was perfectly adequate.

“Right.” The boy nodded, then rushed out of the room as if he were making the most important decision of his life.

“You didn’t have to go so far,” Dallion said.

“It’ll be fine. He’ll forget it in a few weeks. And if it’s not, maybe it’s a good thing.”

The woman seemed scarily accustomed to this. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that it had become her way of life.

“How did you keep your skill?” Dallion asked. He had been trying to regain his for days with no success.

“Simple.” She looked right into his eyes. “I got struck by lightning.”

Nothing in the way she said it indicated that she was lying. There was no hesitation, no music strands to attempt to influence him one way or another. Even her expression was dead serious.

“I’m messing with you.” Atol smirked after checking his reaction. “I’ve no idea how it happened. I just kept on trying until one day it worked.”

The explanation was vague. Also, Dallion couldn’t tell whether it was a lie.

“Start singing to yourself. No one will notice and who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“Brute force it.” Dallion considered the option. Regaining part of his music skills would make things a lot easier, but that wasn’t the main focus. Right now, he needed more information, and for that, they needed to find others who remembered. “The guy you were tracking. Did you find out anything more?”

“Not a thing. I convinced a few P.I.’s, even got the F.B.I. to look into it. He’s a ghost. Whatever skills he has, they let him stay one step ahead.”

With all the cameras around, that was an impressive feat. The awakened definitely wasn’t using music. There was a chance that he knew spellcraft, but Dallion feared something more sinister: prophetic visions. Combat splitting was only good for the moment. From what Atol had said, the awakened was much better at strategic thinking. Scholar skills were one option. Either that or a trait ability.

“Do you see them appear? The rectangles?”

“Only on tech screens. You’ll get used to it after a while. It’s a whole different story now. Nothing warns you that you’re getting mugged, nothing tells you how you’re doing, and you don’t get prizes for succeeding. Just your average common life.”

Even after all this time, there was still some bitterness left within her. Possibly that was why she had taken a chance on Dallion—the one in a million chance that he’d find a way to restore their powers. That told him two things: there was a way for it to happen, and she didn’t know it. It was pointless to ask her to retrace her steps. She had probably done that hundreds of times and still hadn’t been able to reclaim any of her other skills. There always was the chance that she was lying, but she didn’t give the impression of someone who’d be shy about abusing her advantages.

“Tell me what you know,” he said.

“There’s nothing you can try that I haven’t.”

“Come on.”

With a shrug, the woman took out her phone and tapped something into it.

“Check your mail.”

When Dallion did so, he found a series of map locations. Inputting it on the map revealed a large cluster of dots in a specific area. The area was by no means small, stretching along half a state, but still a lot smaller than Dallion expected.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“He’s stayed in one state?”

“That’s the shitty part. If he had moved about, I’d have given up on the second try.”

“How are you sure he’s still there?”

“I’m not. Every few months, he’d mess up and leave a trail. At first, I thought he wanted to draw me in, but no. Shitter just ups and vanishes, then emerges elsewhere.”

“And he never goes to the same place twice…”

“I thought about that, but no. Too much effort. I’d have to get an army there, and there’s no telling how he’ll retaliate.” There was a moment of silence. “I would if someone did that to me.”

Dallion looked at the map again. There were too many things that didn’t make sense. If the awakened was that good, why was he letting himself be found? If he wasn’t, how was he evading capture? There had to be more to this.

“How did you find him the first time?”

“Scratch cards. He won enough times to have it mentioned in a few places. It was pure luck. I was grasping at straws at the time, so I went to check it. After I got there, he was gone.”

“Rented house?”

“Condo. He was renting.”

“He left all his stuff behind?”

“Most of it, yeah. Why’s it important?”

Dallion closed his laptop.

“You awakened early, didn’t you?”

“Not that much.” Atol crossed her arms. The corners of her eyes and mouth shifted slightly, indicating she was both curious and annoyed.

“Late bloomers go wild when they first awaken. They’ve established their view of the world, so when they gain a skill boost they immediately try it out without thinking of the consequences.”

“Shithead.” The woman smiled. The satisfaction of knowing that Dallion wasn’t better than her beat her desire to find a new trail. “If he was a late bloomer there, doesn’t mean he’s one here. He’ll still remember everything that—”

“He can’t remember what never happened,” Dallion interrupted. “You’re been tracking a natural. The reason why you never caught him was because someone was there to clean up his messes—someone with the knowledge and experience to do so.”

There was nothing else to add. For eight seconds, Atol looked at Dallion, not saying a word. Then returned her phone to her jacket pocket.

“I’ll set things up with the admins.” The woman went to the door. “Wrap up anything you need, then wait by the car. We’re off to the airport in half an hour.”

It took over an hour for Atol to convince everyone relevant to let both of them off for a few weeks. The levels of bureaucracy were such that even music skills had a difficult time cutting through. Meanwhile, Dallion spent the time whistling to himself and thinking. Right now, he had two good leads which he had to resolve in order to achieve his true goal. Preferably, learning how Atol learned her skills came first. The second was to determine what skills their target had. There was a strong chance that once cornered, he wouldn’t allow himself to be convinced to join them that easily.

“Dal?” someone yelled, breaking his train of thought.

Instinctively, Dallion turned around, breaking the strap of his backpack in the process. No longer supported, the backpack fell to the ground, threatening to damage his computer as it hit the ground.

Dallion didn’t think. In that moment, he could see the whole thing occurring as if in slow motion in front of his very eyes. Although his laptop was old, he didn’t want it to break as well, so he did the only thing that would prevent that—grab the backpack before it hit the ground.

“Are you okay?” Jenna came rushing to him. “That looked… like wow.”

“Yeah.” Dallion’s mind still hadn’t caught up to what had occurred. His reaction was a lot faster than it should have been. “It’s just an old backpack.”

“You’ll need to buy a few more things,” she said with a tense chuckle. “I heard that you’re heading off for a family matter. Is everything okay?”

What the heck excuse did Atol use?! “Oh, it’s mostly fine. Don’t worry about it.” He pretended to check the contents of his backpack, as if making sure that everything was alright inside. “I’ll be back in a week or two. You won’t know I’m gone.”

“That’ll be difficult.”

Oh, damn, Dallion thought.

“Just take care, okay? Family’s important and all, but…” her words trailed off as she approached closer. “Just take care.”

Dallion knew exactly what she wanted to follow, yet he couldn’t do it. The notion made him think about Eury and that made his heart tighten and his resolve double.

“I’ll be fine.” He could offer a hug as a compromise, but in his mind, that would be too leading. “I just need some time,” he resorted to the cliché. It would have been better if he had learned how to use music skills, sadly that remained still far away.

“I know.” The smile remained on Jenna’s face, but it was clear by her expression that she was disappointed. “You always pull through. Well—” she took a step back “—I better return to class. See you when you get back.”

Dallion watched her head back to the main building. On the way, she crossed paths with Atol. Neither of the two said a word, continuing to their destinations as if they were complete strangers.

Once Atol reached Dallion, she turned around, glancing at Jenna in the distance.

“You’re not that dumb, right?” she asked.

“We have work to do.”

“You were someone important there, weren’t you? Count? Prince? Bishop?”

“Something like that.” Dallion turned towards the car. “Let’s go.”

“Now you made me curious.” A smirk formed on the woman’s face. “What exactly were you?”

“We can discuss this on the road.”

“Why not now? Flight’s six hours away.” Despite being overconfident to this point, the woman hadn’t lost her sense of self-preservation. “It’s a simple question,” she pressed on, using her music skills to sway Dallion into answering. The attempt was multi-layered and quite well executed, yet Dallion could still see through it.

“Don’t,” he ordered, hoping that his music skills would trigger. They didn’t, but the warning was enough for Atol to back off. After all, her attempt had failed as well.

“Suit yourself.” The woman shrugged. “You’ll have trouble with that one. I can help you when we get back.”

Instead of an answer, Dallion got into the car and slammed the door behind him. The strength was a bit too much, creating a sound that undoubtedly wasn’t supposed to be produced.

Sorry, he thought out of habit.

No worries, mate, the car replied. I’m used to it.

Dallion didn’t budge a muscle. No one on Earth—himself included—was supposed to be able to converse with guardians, and yet he just had.