Esar, Age 14

23 Years Ago

Even when he ought to have been happy, Esar couldn't always hold off the darkness.

A sudden storm had spoiled their plans to go exploring after school that day. Whenever they had a few hours to spend together, Esar and Kelsam had gone out to the woodland ruins. Sometimes Kelsam would bring a sketchbook and draw while Esar watched or tried to meditate, sometimes they rambled about and talked, and sometimes . . . well, they just kissed, mostly.

Today they ran through the rain to Esar mother's cottage and found it empty. An ordinary boy would have been happy—Kelsam was happy—but Esar couldn't shake his feeling of impending doom. What was wrong with him? They only had a week left until Esar had to go back to Thaliron, they ought to be making the most of the time. Kelsam didn't seem to be second guessing himself when they went to Esar's bedroom and curled up together on the bed.

Why couldn't he relax? Why couldn't he just lose himself in the moment? Why did he feel so terrified?

Kelsam tried to kiss him, but Esar froze, unable to respond.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing—I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Kelsam said. He hugged Esar and let him use his arm as a pillow, and time passed in silence. Esar kept waiting for Kelsam to get fed up with him and his insecurities, yet he never did.

"Why do you like me?" Esar finally asked. Talking to Kelsam was getting easier, but it still wasn't easy.

"For your body, mostly."

Esar was pretty sure that was supposed to be a joke. "I'm being serious," he said.

"And I like you because you're serious," Kelsam replied.

"Come on," Esar said, propping himself up on one arm. "I mean, I can understand why I like you. You're like . . . human sunshine."

"Go on," Kelsam said. He leaned back with his hands behind his head.

Esar pretended to punch him, tapping him gently on the chin with his fist. "I don't know how anybody couldn't like you. But I'm—"

"I'm boring," Kelsam interrupted. "I'm nice, but . . . sorry, I just don't see you in that way." He was quoting someone else now. Meliand?

"That's stupid. You're not boring."

"I spent four hours today charting the growth of beans given different environmental conditions, soil compositions, and nutrient solution mixtures." Kelsam feigned a yawn. "Tell me that's not boring."

"Okay, fine, but you're not boring," Esar said.

Kelsam snorted. "Compared to you? You dream the future."

Esar rolled his eyes. "You want to know what I dreamed about last night? The grand opening of a shoe store in Namai. Monumental, right?"

"Maybe it's a really great shoe store. We should go to Namai and find out. I bet the deals are monumental."

Esar laughed. "See? Not boring. You're funny, and you're just . . . you're just good. I don't even know what I am. Sometimes I think I'm just an empty shell."

"Seriously?" Kelsam said.

"I feel like I'm pretending all the time." The words were coming easier now, but the feelings were still difficult. "I try to be a Tresuan, for my mom and for—for everyone, but I can't do it right. I try to be a normal student here, and I just feel like I'm playing a part and doing a lousy job at it. I don't know what's real and what's fake." He sighed, turning his face away. "And I'm scared that deep down, there's nothing real, just an empty space."

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

Kelsam hugged him tightly, then patted him firmly in a couple places. "Mm, I'm pretty sure you're real," he said.

"Thanks for checking," Esar grumbled.

"I mean, if you want to be extra sure I can—sorry, guess that's not helping, huh?" The playfulness faded from his voice. "Sorry. I wish I knew what the right thing was to say."

"It's all right." Esar tried to smile. He didn't like how disappointed Kelsam sounded. "You're here, and you're trying to help, and that . . . counts for a lot, actually."

Kelsam sighed. "I really don't think you're fake," he said.

"How would you know, though? How would you know what I really am when I don't, even?"

Esar filled the silence with worries and guilt as he waited for a reply.

"You see things," Kelsam said at last. "I don't mean in your dreams. I mean like yesterday, when you saw that little yellow bird and pointed it out to me. Or when you found the post holes, where there used to be a house. My sister saw stuff like that, and I thought it was just because she was such an archaeology nerd, but then you saw it too, because that's just . . . you. You see things, and when you show them to me, it's like you let me into your world a little bit. And I don't think that's fake."

There was nothing Esar could say that would be a worthy answer to that, so he didn't try. Instead, he kissed Kelsam, and at last, the whirlwind in his head came to a halt, and all that mattered was the present moment.

Things were just starting to get interesting when he heard the front door, followed by quickly approaching footsteps. Esar barely had time to roll away, sit up and give his tunic a sharp tug downward before the door to his room swung open and his mother swept in, holding a slip of paper in her hand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, trying to cover his embarrassment with anger.

"Another seal has broken," Alzyn announced.

Esar's indignation quickly turned to horror. "But I didn't dream anything—"

"Neither did I, Esar," Alzyn said, meeting his gaze with a grim expression. "And Zafrys checked the seal near Calbomine and didn't find anything wrong with it. The construct still broke loose."

Esar sat down on the bed. "No," he said. "How? When?"

"A few hours ago. Danthan and Zafrys were on their way when I got the message."

Kelsam put his hand on top of Esar's. "Another one of those creatures?"

Alzyn's eyes flicked to Kelsam for a moment, then back to her son. "The last linecar to Thaliron leaves in an hour and a half. Pack up what you absolutely need and we'll send for the rest."

"What? No! We're supposed to stay for another week!"

"We need to go. I've got a very bad feeling, Esar."

"But it's not like we can do anything now!" Esar gripped Kelsam's hand and faced his mother. "I'll stay. You can go without me."

"No, Esar. You're my son and my successor, and you're coming with me."

"It's not fair! The first time I have anything good in my life, and you want to take it away from me!"

"I don't have time to argue with you," Alzyn began.

"You never think about me," Esar went on. "You just do whatever you want, and get whatever you want, and you just drag me along."

His mother glared at him. "Is that what you think?"

"Everybody loves you and talks about how wonderful you are." Pain burned in Esar's chest and poured out his mouth. "But they don't have to live with you. You may be a great Tresuan, but you're a terrible mother and a lousy human being!"

"You have no idea—"

"I do have an idea. I'm the only person in the world who has any idea what it's like to be you. And it doesn't make it okay!"

Alzyn flinched like she'd been stung.

"Please stop," Kelsam said, a small voice interjected into the silence. Shame washed over Esar. For a moment he'd forgotten Kelsam was there.

Alzyn closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. Perhaps she felt a little embarrassed as well. "I'll leave you alone to say good-bye," she said. "But you will be on the linecar to Thaliron when it leaves tonight."

She left, closing the door behind her.

Esar threw his arms around Kelsam, his anger boiling over into an outburst of tears. "I hate her! I won't go. I'll run away, I'll hide somewhere, and I'll stay with you."

Kelsam didn't say anything, didn't try to make a joke, just held on to Esar as he unloaded his bitterness and anger until enough venom had drained from the wound that the pain became bearable. Not okay—it would never be okay—but he would bear it.

"Do you want me to help you pack?" Kelsam asked.

Esar nodded.

"We can still write," Kelsam said, after they'd worked in silence for a few minutes.

"Why bother? It won't work." Esar threw a book into his trunk, not caring if he damaged it. "You'll write for a while and then you'll forget about me. You might as well start forgetting now. That's a lot less work."

"And you'll forget about me too, then?" Kelsam asked. He sounded indignant for some reason.

"No." Esar would never forget Kelsam.

"Then I'll write," Kelsam said. "I promise. And you'd better write me, too."

"I—" Esar cut off. Letters? As a substitute for this? But it would be better than nothing. "I'll write."