The stranger tilted his head and examined the small child that exited the alley. Musa felt the off-worlder study him for a moment before answering.

“So, you saw that, did you?” There was no malice in his words. If anything, Musa sensed a trace of curiosity from the man. Ignoring the crowd of pedestrians, the stranger kneeled to face the lad. “Tell me, little master, what else did you see?”

Musa hesitated for only a second, but not because of the request.

I didn’t see anything, Musa thought. Then, out loud, he said, “Well, you picked up Samuel… and then… I thought you were going to kill him.” Feeling uncomfortable, the boy swayed on his feet. “You were scary. Everything shook, and you glowed!”

“Oi,” the man sighed. “I’m sorry you saw that. I… did not mean to scare you. But, as the Illumanus are my witness, I did not know anyone else was watching.”

“It’s all right. You’re not actually scary. You were just pretending, right? That’s why you put Samuel back on the ground and unfroze everything.”

The man did not reply. In the silence, Musa reached out with his Guiding Threads and outlined the foreigner’s face more closely. He was younger than the boy first thought. Musa laced his threads through the stranger’s long hair, trying to distinguish the color. He could do that sometimes.

“White,” the boy whispered.

“Well, aren’t you peculiar?” said the off-worlder, breaking his silence. “Yes, it was me that did all those things. But now that you know what are you going to do? Will you turn me in to the authorities?”

This time, it was Musa’s turn to be silent. He did not know why he was taking so long to reply. There was only one answer.

“I guess,” said the boy. “I guess… I should thank you.” A smile drew across the child’s face. “Yes, I will thank you for saving me. So… Thank you—Um… Sorry, sir, but I don’t know your name.”

The stranger chuckled. He then stood up and, with dignified grace, bowed to the small boy.

“My name is Joseph. And what’s yours, little master?”

Musa returned the bow with one of his own.

“I am Musa, Son of Joshua of Tri-star!” the boy spoke his full name with all the pride that an eight-year-old could muster.

“Musa? Son of Joshua… Well, that’s a good name. Now Musa, why don’t you tell me why those boys were after you?”

Musa nodded in agreement but resumed his nervous shifting. “But… then… you have to tell me something.”

“Well, that seems fair now, doesn’t it?” Joseph chuckled at the child’s antic. “consider it done.”

Happy with the response, Musa told his story.

“I don’t have friends,” Musa said. It was not a complaint. Nor was it whining, as an ordinary eight-year-old would. Instead, to this young boy, it was just a fact of life—an element of reality that he had accepted.

“Every day, the other kids pick on me. But… it doesn’t… really bother me. I understand them. People don’t like different… That’s what mom says.”

“Sadly, that is true,” said Joseph. Once more, he had kneeled to listen to the boy. “Human nature is to fear what we don’t understand. And, if we let it, that fear can cause us to do terrible things.”

Musa nodded. He knew about terrible things. But being picked on daily wasn’t one of them.

“Most of the time, it’s not that bad… but sometimes the older boys do it too.”

“And what do they do to you?” asked Joseph. Musa could feel contempt in the man’s words; somehow, the child found it comforting. Someone was angry on his behalf, and it felt… good.

“Not much, really.” The child dropped his head as if looking at the ground. “They push me around, and sometimes they chase me on my way home from school….” Musa grinned under his hood. “But they can never catch me.” Musa waited for the adult to say something, but when he heard nothing, he continued. “And… they call me Ajar.”

“Ajar?” said Joseph, surprised. “Forgive me, little master, my knowledge of the Old Tongues is rusty… Doesn’t ‘Ajar’ mean ‘old man’? Why would they call you that?”

Musa was reluctant to answer. It was too hard to put it into words.

I guess it’s just best to show him, Musa thought. Another quick check with his Guiding Threads showed little concern from the people around them. Most were too busy going about their business to notice the conversation between the adult and child. Still, Musa was about to do something he had never willingly done in public. It attracted too many eyes.

Musa’s hands almost shivered as they touched the hem of his hood. He let out a resigning breath and pulled back the covering a few revealing inches. Not enough to expose his entire head, but enough for Joseph to evaluate.

“Oh,” said the man as he peered under the cowl. Even with only a few inched disclosed, Joseph could tell that poor boy was bald. Not a single hair graced the child’s scalp.

Musa yanked the hood back down above his eyes and tightened it in place. He did not believe anyone else saw, but too many people already knew his secret. Something like this was impossible to keep from getting out, especially when you grew up in a small town on a minor planet like Tri-star. There was hardly a soul at school that did not know his malady, but that did not mean he wanted to advertise it, either. Besides, it was Rule Number Four—always keep your head covered in public.

“Well,” said the man, “I dare say that’s one of the most handsome heads I’ve ever seen. In fact, it should be a crime to keep such a fine head covered.”

Musa could not help but smile. He liked this man. He was kind, gentle, and, like Musa, he knew magic.

“So, tell me, Musa, what was different this time?”

“What do you mean?” Unfortunately, the boy had lost track of the conversation.

“You told me you always escape. But they caught you this time. So, what happened?”

Musa’s smile vanished. He did not like being reminded of his failures. Musa took pride in his ability to run away from danger. As weird as it sounds, he looked forward to the routine game of cat-and-mouse. In some ways, it was the only real interaction he had with other students. Well, that was until today.

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

“We got new students from the southern peninsula,” said Musa. “I think they are cousins... definitely not brothers. One’s shy and sleeps through class, and the other is… HUGE!” Musa spread his arms apart and stood on his tiptoes, trying to illustrate the size of the new student. “I thought he was a seventh-year, but he wasn’t. He’s a third-year like me! They both are!”

This was not like Musa, and he knew it. He seldom got excited and never talked this much about anything to anyone. But here he was, chatting obsessionally to an adult he barely knew about two children he had just met.

“And today,” Musa continued, “during lunch, they sat with me under the big tree. And we talked about all sorts of stuff! Their names are Saul and Caleb. Saul is the quiet one, and Caleb is the big one. And they like swimming and exploring and bugs! And they are farmers like we used to be before…” Musa trailed off. No, this was not like him at all. He did not ramble, and he was never careless when speaking. He had almost said too much.

“Sorry,” said Musa. “I’m not good at talking to people.”

“Oh, I never would have guessed,” said Joseph. “Because you seem to be a natural.”

Musa felt his cheeks flush.

Embarrassment.

The boy took a deep breath.

Embarrassment.

Peace.

“After school, some seventh-year boys like to sneak over to the lower grades to bully us. Most days, they find and chase me, but not today. Today when I left school, they weren’t there.” Musa almost looked disappointed. “But then I found them. They were behind the school. There was a crowd…” The air around the little storyteller stirred. The Invading Threads of light in hues of red and orange pulled from nowhere and weaved into the child. Musa considered the power as it swelled and filled his very existence, but knew it was wrong: he was breaking Rule Number Two—never let your emotions control you. Catching himself, Musa pushed down his anger, and the Invading Threads vanished. He would not make this mistake twice today.

Panic, guilt, and shame engulfed the child after disobeying his mother’s rules. Emotions were like that—as soon as he pushed one down, three more would take its place. It was like one of those games he sometimes played during the annual harvest festival, where he had to hit the stupid ground-rodents on their heads as they popped up. He was good at that game… and this one, too.

Musa took a single breath, just like his mother had taught him.

Anger.

Panic.

Guilt.

Shame.

Peace.

Musa exhaled.

The whole spell took only a few seconds, but it was enough time to make the pause in his story more dramatic than he intended. Musa was about to continue when he noticed Joseph’s facial expression had changed. It was subtle, but it had changed.

Surprise, Musa put a name to the new expression. Did he notice them? Could he see Invading Threads, too?

They differed from his Guiding Threads. Those were his, and they were a part of him. However, Musa did not know where the other threads came from, only that they were different and allowed him to do things that were prohibited. Musa knew only one other person who could see the Invading Threads—his mother. Well, that was until now…

Joseph reached out and gently padded the boy’s shoulder.

“Go ahead, Musa,” said the man. “What happened next?”

This man, Musa thought, this man understands me. The boy forced himself to clear his throat, then proceeded with the story.

“Samuel and his friends heard about Caleb. So, they found him and started making fun of his size, but Caleb was too smart for them… and… and… He made the older boys look bad in front of all the other kids. That’s… when they started hitting him…” Musa clenched his fists, but the Invading Thread did not appear. “Caleb might be big, but he can’t fight. They hurt him…” This time, threads appeared. Blues, greens, and even purples strains of light streamed slowly toward the boy. Tears pooled in his eye… but he was not crying.

Sadness.

Breath.

Sadness.

Peace.

“I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t… I’m not allowed to fight, only run.” Musa wiped his eyes, and the threads vanished just like the others. “I was going to run and find a teacher, but that is when Saul ran through the crowd, jumped on Samuel’s back, and started biting him!” The thought brought a smile back to the young boy. “Samuel was screaming and trying to shake Saul off, but he held on like a tree-rodent! And everyone started laughing again.”

Musa’s smile melted.

“That’s when one of the other boys punched Saul, and he fell off… and then, then… they all started kicking him on the ground.” The red threads reemerged, and Musa grated his teeth. “No one would help them.” The boy lifted his head in defiance. “I had to help them! I remembered there was a nice stick by the big tree. So, I ran over and got it—” Musa stopped, and both the red threads and his anger evaporated. A look of confusion washed across his face. “I don’t remember what happened next… Just that I hit Samuel, and his nose started bleeding real bad!”

Musa took a long breath. “That’s why they were all chasing me. And I would have escaped too, but someone fixed the old fence!”

“I see… I see,” said Joseph. “It sounds like you’ve had a pretty dramatic day. However, part of your story seems to be wrong.”

“I don’t lie, sir.” The boy’s tone was emotionless. “Not that I don’t want to sometimes; I just can’t. It’s… hard to explain.”

“No.” Joseph shook his head. “Little master, I am not accusing you of lying. Just that part of your story was wrong.”

“Really? What part?”

“The beginning,” said Joseph. “You said that you don’t have any friends, and yet, what you told me about Saul and Caleb says otherwise. So, the way I see it, you have at least two. And, if it’s alright with you, I would like to be your third.”

Joy!

A kaleidoscope of Invading Threads erupted around the blind, bald, and, until recently, friendless child! Filaments of every color, tint, hue, and shade streamed, weaved, and flowed into him. Joseph gasped and jerked back! Then Musa did something he rarely did—he laughed!

“So, you can see them!”

Joseph said nothing. He had nothing to say. His actions had told it all. Instead, the tall stranger held out his arms and pulled his own Invading Threads from the air. Unlike the boy’s threads, Joseph’s formed shapes and elaborate patterns that meld together in a magnificent mural that painted Musa’s otherwise black vision.

Musa laughed harder and slowly spun about, bathing in the wonderful threads that covered them both. The crowds of merchants and shoppers continued their business, utterly unaware of the brilliant, unseen power that encompassed them all. This was Musa’s world, and for the first time in his life, he could share it with someone else besides his mother.

Mother. The boy froze, remembering the rules. Sorry, mom.

Musa inhaled.

Joy.

Peace.

And just like that, the magical world was gone. Joseph followed the boy and stopped pulling his threads, leaving the invisible world again in darkness.

“Can I ask my question now?” Musa inquired.

“That was the deal, now, wasn’t it? Go ahead, little master. What is your question?”

“You are a Sacer, aren’t you?”

“What makes you say that? Just because I can use Shade Vigor doesn’t make me a Sacer. They’re many Users in the Homeworlds.”

“Yes, but only Sacers have permission to travel and stay on Tri-star.”

“Musa, Son of Joshua, you are perceptive; I will give you that. Well, like you, I cannot lie. So, yes, I am a Sacer. And I believe it’s time for me to give you a proper introduction.”

Joseph straightened himself.

“I am Joseph, son of Isaac of Heron, Champion of Tempus, Sacer Warrior.” He then performed another bow. “However, you can’t tell anyone who I am. I’m here on a secret mission. A very important mission. So, you can’t tell anyone about me. You promise?”

Musa replied with a nod.

“Good, now how about we find your new friends? We should make sure they are alright,” Joseph reached down and put his hand on the head of the small boy. “And afterward, I would like to meet your mother.”

“My mother?”

“Yes, Musa, how will I train you if I don’t have her permission?”

“Train me?”

“Yes, Son of Joshua, if you would be willing, I would like you to be my first disciple, and it would honor me to be your master.”

Master...

Master said...

Master said, on this day...

“Master!” Musa bolted upright! Pain screamed through every part of his body. His Guiding Threads—no—his Shade Sight enveloped his environment, reminding him where he was and what he was doing. He was still on the Trial Grounds, and the Sacer General was still approaching him.

It’s not over yet. Musa smiled. Master said, on this day, I would have no more rules!

Musa inhaled.

Anger.

Love.

Fear.

Joy.

Panic.

Serenity.

Guilt.

Hope.

Shame.

Peace.

He would embrace them all! The dark world around him exploded!

Musa exhaled.

…

Four minutes, forty-eight seconds remaining…