The walk from the bar to his house was at most ten minutes if they dragged their feet.

While Scade had a lot to think about and needed the time, sorting through the grueling images that flashed, especially Jerren's revelation to Kadrian, the old man kept upping the pace, forcing Scade to follow close.

What did he mean by… it? I’m not a monster or whatever ‘it’ is.

Being a bartender was never just about serving drinks. After a while, Scadeunderstood that, before, he hadn’t gotten it. There was a challenge to unfold as a character walked in. The clues were hidden in how they sat or how they carried themselves, the way they spoke, and how their voices revealed more than the words leaving their mouths. Their eyes, too, were mirrors of the soul, if there was soul.

He’d learned to read people to a degree, it wasn’t like Jerren, who could pick out the disasters, but Scade had learned when to start the conversations, more importantly, when not to. Failing to do so, created the situation of a personified dam breaking, gushing waves of obscene secrets and negativity. Whether it were fables, truths or lies, the crazy stories came with him to bed.

Now that he carried his own memories, he sees how compelling it is to dump his mess on someone. It was a need, sort of how he thought drugs worked, easing Scade the closer he got to Lyra, his victim.

Jerren slowed and broke the silence on their walk. “You can't speak of it. Not to Lyra or any of your buddies. Adding to an already set story will destroy our lives.” His voice, low and steady.

“Bu—” Jerren interrupted Scade.

“You can’t. I know, I know.” He patted Scade’s shoulder. “From now on it’s about protecting your loved ones. I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’m not blind. There was a time when I was young too. But even Myra didn’t know everything.”

The last stretch was outside the combine of houses, a good distance away from the wall and further into nature. The road became gravel and narrower. The trees were livelier and grasses grew at edges of gravel, the growth slowly crept to conquer the road. The berry bushes were plucked clean, and the plants bloomed early with colorful flowers.

Scade felt lightheaded as the began to sway, the trees branched danced and trunks bent unnaturally. He planted his feet, tricked by mind as if he was falling.

Stupid drunk.

At the bar, he lied. In reality, he did drink casually at birthdays, and though enjoyed the alcohol on his tongue, and it easily slid down his throat. But hard liquor… It might have been because of the shock. The weezing to death, the pooling blood and the empty eyes of the man who caused it all. The aftermath was beginning to take its toll.

From a distance, Scade spotted the fenced houses twenty meters from the gravel road. As they reached Jerren’s house, its modernized design stood out, a transformation he had worked on for years to resemble the freestanding houses in Central. Built out of bricks he bought all over Solace, the building was divided into two sections and spanned three stories, with a slightly slanted roof tilting to the left. Along that slope, the four of them–before Myra died–had cultivated a small farm, growing crops.

Scade glanced at the window, the white, see-through curtains obscuring the kitchen. Though the shadowy girl working inside couldn’t be recognized from afar, Scade's gaze softened when it landed on Lyra.

He pushed the wooden fence, its hinges creaking loudly. Hearing the sound, Lyra immediately dropped what she was doing and opened the front door, leaning against the frame with a bright smile.

Lyra dropped what she was doing, and opened the front door, leaning against it with a bright smile. “Scady! Took you and dad long enough. How was it running the bar all on your own?”

Scade gave a wry smile, “It went alright,” he checked with Jerren, who nodded.

“He can take it over. Today just was… peculiar. A unique situation.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

Lyra frowned and scowled at Scade, pouting her lips.

To Scade, Lyra was his weakness. Having grown up with her, hiding anything from her was impossible, she read him like a book.

He felt the world waver again.

She ran up to him and caught the scent of his breath. “You’ve drinking? On the job?”

He took a half-step back. “Yes…no!” His voice cracked.

“Are you one of those filthy drunks?” She blinked rapidly. “All aggressive and lecherous.” Lyra came closer and grabbed his collar. “What are you going to do, huh?”

“Lyra,” Jerren said, “like I said it’s a unique situation. The bar will be closed for a little while, and I need to settle some business with an old friend. If it were me, I would have done the same as Scady here.” He patted Scade’s shoulder, and gave him a light push into the house. “Go… doze it off on the sofa.”

“Don’t be soft on him. What if I went out and came home drunk. You wouldn’t be so easy and all nice then, father?” Lyra stormed to her room.

Scade sighed. Dammit, the last thing he wanted was to be a disappointment to Lyra. Jerren followed Lyra upstairs to her room, their low voices were nothing more than mumbles in the living room. Scade crashed down on the sofa, his mind swirling, and let the darkness of sleep consume him.

Scade flinched awake, his clothes clinging to his skin, damp with sweat. He rubbed his forehead, then dragged a hand over his weary eyes. He hated mornings, to get wheels churning, making a hot cup of tea helped with grogginess.

But it wasn’t morning.

Moonlight gently lit the living room as calm night winds passed by their homes. He sat up straight and clenched his eyelids shut, fighting the splitting headache.

Whispers from the kitchen drew his attention to the light shining there. It was a reasonable kitchen, with an L-shaped prep area and a large window above the sink, along with room for a dining table for six.

Scade sneaked a peek. Though his house was right next to their building, he had spent a lot of time there growing up. When Aunt Denise worked, Myra would take care of both children. The old man should be asleep. Spending the night was odd. What was he doing?

Jerren and Kadrian sat at the dining table, the kitchen lit by the portable mana lamp, which had been fueled once more. The back of his coat and shirt were torn, a fresh wound running from his shoulder to his lower back, showing signs of healing.

“Why did you keep this boy, Jerren? Did you listen at all?” he whispered.

“You should have seen her when I cradled him and showed her. Her smile was so otherworldly. Whenever I remember her, that moment plays over and over in my mind. If I could turn back time, I’d do it again, and again, just for that smile alone.”

“You risk Lyra's life, putting your own at stake, and endangering Solace, for what? A memory?”

“What has it been, sixteen years? She waited for you, every day. Don’t you fucking dare, Kadrian. The younger you was my friend, but the years in this world can change a person, corrupt them into something unrecognizable.” Jerren whispered, his jaw clenched as he sighed, the sound escaping through his teeth. “Sorry… I’m getting out of hand. It's been hard; I can barely utter her name.”

Kadrian shook, “It’s alright. But Jerren, the horrors I have seen beyond the waste. The pure carnage those beasts and things like it do.” He turned his slightly, “that boy, Scade. Looks human, behaves human. But these creatures, I have seen the aftermath of what they can do. After I took it, they burned everything to ashes, their friendly neighbors and settlements like Solace.”

“I won't change my mind, if he was like you claim a monstrosity. I should have been shown at an early age, but I could only see a normal boy growing up.”

For a reason unknown, Kadrian kept insisting he was something entirely different from human. He has been around people all his life, and if there was a difference. If it were true, Scade would have known.

“Out of all my plans, this one—the most important—failed,” Kadrian said. “I hid my tracks in the wasteland, but I’m not sure if anyone followed my trail. The Ministry is already on me. I doubt they’d send a veteran Strider after me… in the Wastes. But I can’t put you, Lyra, or that boy in danger because of a risky play gone awry.” Kadrian rose from his chair.

Scade backtracked with careful steps to the sofa and pretended to sleep.

Kadrian walked to the front door, “goodbye my friend, and farewell,” He vanished.

“Scade, come here,” Jerren said. “I hope you don't have any prospects as a thief. My hearing is not what it used to be, but even I heard your creeping steps.” He smiled, his eyes tired. “And Kadrain noticed you just a tad earlier.”

“You believe what he is saying about me?” Scade asked, his brows furrowed.

“It's not about belief, it's about what I know. And what I know is you, Scade Rover.” he said. “I’m getting tired, unlike you young folk. I need my sleep.” He chuckled softly. “Go to your aunt, she is probably still awake, waiting for you to come home.”

After renovating the bar, a year had passed without anything significant happening, though Scade still had questions. He had made peace with the fact that, even if he was different, he would always be Scade Rover.

Then, without warning, his peace was shattered. Jerren Ruin was found murdered in a remote location, and the officials declared Kadrian Hex his killer.