"I’m not sure I'm ready for this."

Evan stood on his hoverboard, a sleek, metal slab propped up by metal supports in the middle of the street. His hand hovered hesitantly over his wristpad. An invisible force seemed to hold it back from making contact.

Strucka stood watching from his garage, running a hand through the dark fuzz covering his scalp. "Bro, we've double-checked every system, twice. There's nothing we can do until we push it beyond what we did before."

Evan looked down and adjusted the placement of his metal boots. He realized it would have been safer to have them magnetized, but if he never got the board off the ground, there would be no point. He hit the icon on his wristpad, and a red semitransparent display appeared before him. It was a simple interface he had designed himself, just a power switch and an intensity slider, with a few metrics measuring thrust, orientation, and Aetheric charge.

He stared at the circular switch for a moment, amused by the fact that it happened to frame Strucka's head perfectly. He put his finger on it, his fingertip tingling where it intersected the projection. He took a deep breath, willing his thundering heartbeat to slow. Then he released the switch and tensed.

A subtle vibration coursed through his feet and legs, accompanied by a low hum. Evan’s new machine whirred to life just like before. So far, so good, except that instead of staying a safe distance away, he was as close as he could get.

Machines like these were usually built by experts who knew what they were doing, like his father. But his father was now missing, taken during a time of chaos and destruction. All he had now was a shady engineer who had just been released from jail, and himself. Aetherite, handled improperly, could become deadly very quickly, and here he was. An amateur doing the job of professionals. He had several moments during the process when involuntary visions imposed themselves upon his mind’s eye, his father scolding him for his recklessness, and then when he thought about quitting on the project, his father scolding him for giving up too soon.

He pinched the node on the slider and moved it to the right a few centimeters. The vibrations and humming increased.

With the school destroyed, he didn’t have anything else to do besides work at the refinery, and that was the last place he wanted to be. Even the thought of the place brought up haunting echoes of his encounter with Zandith, the so-called Phantom Scythe. His manager had given him a few weeks off to get himself oriented again, but Evan was tempted to just quit the job and work somewhere else. Or not work at all, that way he could allocate all his time to working on the hoverboard.

He adjusted the slider more, and his boots began to warm.

He was more motivated now than ever to complete the project, but he feared that if he explained the motivation to his mother, she might interfere. Sure, he was ambitious about entering races. He had the basic riding skills down from practicing with rentals. But now it was about entering a race of a different type. It was a race against time, with a finish line of unknown destination, as a journey of unknown length. It both excited and terrified him. If one positive thing could be gleaned from the recent disaster, it was that he now had more freedom than ever before. He was all on his own, but the downside was that he was all on his own, and the search was for the very person he relied upon for guidance and advice so often. Maybe too often.

He moved the slider to the halfway mark, and the board began to wobble in its supports. The thrust was just below the threshold of matching the combined weight of himself and the board.

The rising engine whine reminded him of the sky battle. He remembered the half-cloaked ship twisting and writhing in complex maneuvers in a vain attempt to escape the Guard Jets. It moved like a demon, fought like a demon, and eventually died like a demon. It would be giving kids around the country of Eredore nightmares, probably some adults too. Evan had already endured a few.

The board lifted off the supports with hardly a centimeter of clearance. It took Evan a few moments to get used to the way the board reacted to his minute adjustments for balance. It was like balancing on something floating in water, except his board was programmed to adjust the thrust vector if the board tilted too much in any direction. A fully operational board usually had that feature turned off, but right now, he needed the training wheels. So far, the balancing algorithm was working fine.

Strucka started clapping and cheering as Evan rose to one meter above the ground. Red flames licked the pavement, but Evan wasn’t worried about burning anything. The denser the Aether, the hotter it got, and hoverboards were strictly regulated for how dense the Aetheric output could be. His board produced densities in the mid-range of all known densities. The least dense was used for projections like the one emanating from his wristpad, and the densest was used for weapons and combat.

Dull pain pulsed through Evan's abdomen, in the area of the artificial tissue. His legs shook, the hoverboard wobbled. He glanced up at Strucka, and stiffened in terror when he found Zandith standing there instead. He had his arms folded and wore a mocking sneer. His eyes, full of hatred and greed, seemed to emit invisible lines of pain that scorched through Evan's wound.

Evan tumbled forward off the board, paralyzed by an overwhelming sense of dread and hopelessness. He hardly registered his shoulder hitting the ground. Someone yelled something somewhere. The crackling of an Aetheric blade hovered over him. Through the haze of ear-ringing came footsteps. He wanted to get up and run, but he couldn't lift his hand from the ground. The footsteps stopped near him. A hand reached down. Panic shot through his system, and suddenly his body responded.

He swatted the hand off his shoulder. "Stop, get away! Please!"

Strucka recoiled, shocked. "Bro, what happened? You damn near cracked your head open!"

Evan gaze jumped between Strucka and where he stood a few moments before. Surely, he had just imagined Zandith… but Zandith could use illusions. Could he be standing right in front of Evan, using Strucka’s image as a disguise?

Evan shook his head. That wouldn’t make any sense. He didn’t torment just to torment. He always had a goal.

But Evan wasn’t sure he liked the alternative any better. If he was having flashbacks of the traumatic encounter, would he have to start avoiding triggers? Would the abdominal agony ignite each time, resulting in the temporary loss of control of his legs?

The physical pain and the memory were already fading into the past behind the more real pain of his scraped shoulder, which was already starting to bleed. He allowed Strucka to help him up.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“I don’t know what happened,” Evan said, looking back at the board which now lay dormant on the pavement. He noted that the automatic shutdown system must have worked. There was no way he could have turned it off manually with the state he was in. He put a hand below his belly button. The spot was still a bit tender. “I got another pain down here again. Maybe I need to get the implants checked out. They said procedures like this shouldn’t produce lingering pain. My legs are still tingling.”

“It’s up to you, man,” Strucka said, gesturing to the board. “That can wait if you’re having issues. I’m stoked by what I saw today, though! A few more days’ work and this beast is ready for speed testing.”

Evan frowned. “I’m going to have to find some rental armor first.”

“I know some places that have good deals.”

“I know some too,” Evan replied, going to the wagon he had brought to move the hoverboard around. “I think I’m done for the day. You good to drive me to Hector’s house?” He had almost called it Adam’s house, but it didn’t seem right anymore.

The drive back to Hector's house was longer than Evan remembered. Strucka, who normally liked to fill the silence with small talk, stayed silent. Evan imagined that Strucka read his body language, and interpreted the slumped shoulders and downcast gaze appropriately. It was almost like he could feel the grief emanating from that unassuming house, even from miles away.

Adam's death, along with most of the others from Ridgemire High, was a dark film over his life. Even when he wasn't directly thinking about it, there was a vignette around whatever he was doing, an incessant pull to a darker place. He was never into drugs, but now he was beginning to understand those who resorted to such means of coping. The heaviness in his chest wasn't as intense as the day it happened, but it still tormented him. Evan found it a bit obnoxious, even.

He wanted to believe Domrik when he reassured Evan that Adam was still alive and well in the afterlife, but he had his doubts. It was tempting to use it as a way out of grief, but every time he told himself Adam was still alive, it felt like a lie. How did Domrik know he wasn't imagining it all through wishful thinking? Hector seemed to have an easier time believing it, but could that be his own internal defense mechanism against the harsh truth? Maybe it was true, ultimately, but to Evan it didn't matter. He wasn't here. There was a sudden void in the wake of his disappearance, amplified by the disappearance of his own father.

He watched the passing trees with half-lidded eyes, wondering how his mother had convinced him that sleeping in the house of his recently deceased friend, along with the mourning family, was a good idea. He further found it surprising that Hector had agreed to such an arrangement. Marvain had been more frantic than normal, interpreting Brandon's disappearance in all possible ways. She went from paranoia that she would be next to go missing, to grieving his potential death, to determined to help search for him, and then back around again. At some point in the cycle, she asked Hector if she and Evan could stay at their house for a week or two, since Hector being a police officer granted them more immediate protection. She even offered to pay rent, but Hector obliged without charging them.

Strucka stopped the car in front of the Easton's property, just a single-story house crammed in with all the other houses in the neighborhood. Evan gazed at the house, noticing with grim humor that the blinds of the front windows were drawn halfway down. The house itself was grieving.

Evan opened the door and got out. He turned to Strucka and tried to express something like a smile. "Thanks for all the help today. I've already transferred the shards to your account. Think maybe we can try again tomorrow?"

"For sure, man," Strucka said, nodding. "I'm available anytime these days, because... you know. You're my only client right now. Tomorrow works fine."

Evan gazed at Strucka, waiting for him to continue, then gave an uncertain nod. He pointed to the car's trunk. Strucka reached down and popped the hatch. Evan unfolded the wagon, then they both hauled the board into it.

Strucka stood next to his car with tense shoulders and hands in his pockets. He called out as he watched Evan tow the weight up the driveway. "Hey, if you don't mind... Look, I know you're not in the best state, but if you know anyone who needs help with anything mechanical, even non-Aetheric stuff, could you send them my way?" He looked down, biting his lip. He squinted back up at Evan. "I'm getting a bit low on funds. If it isn't too much trouble for you at this time?"

Evan frowned at him, a ray of sympathy flickering through the dark fog of his mind. If this was someone he didn't know, he'd be suspicious of manipulation, but he knew Strucka well enough by now to know that the request was genuine. Though it was painful, he managed a bit of a smile. "I'll keep you in mind. See you tomorrow."

Strucka clasped his hands together. "Thank you so much. Yes, tomorrow."

Evan was too preoccupied with storing the wagon and hoverboard in the garage to notice Strucka's departure. He wandered into the house through the internal garage door, listening for sounds of life. Someone was in the kitchen doing the dishes. He could tell by the vigorous nature of the sounds that it was Lorey. She hated doing the dishes.

He decided it was best to avoid her. She had snapped at him yesterday when he had asked where the snacks were. He navigated as quietly as he could to the guest room and slumped into the sofa chair.

He did nothing for several minutes, just letting his eyes rest, then the impulses came to open up his wristpad’s internet connection. He opened the Seeker browser and went to one of the many news sites he had saved as bookmarks. He normally avoided the news no matter what; He relied on his parents’ conversations to give him the relevant details of the relevant events. Now, news-watching was turning into an addiction. He figured that when things calmed back down again, he’d resume avoiding headlines.

He was immediately slammed with red-text headlines giving death estimates and potential perpetrators. Several thousand people had died, with about the same number of people injured. Everyone wanted to blame Trellendek, but evidence was scarce. Trellendek was far behind Eredore technology-wise, so how could they have built such an advanced machine? Some ventured to suggest Sylga, but considering Sylga’s already volatile relationship with Eredore, it made no sense for them to attack the nation from which they received most of their Aetherite. The Sylgan ambassadors vehemently claimed that Sylga was innocent, that they would never even consider turning on Eredore, for that meant greater vulnerability to Trellendek.

Then there were the conspiracy theories. Some thought AetherTech was involved, as they were benefitting from the new wave of service requests. Evan found some surprisingly strong arguments that the halting of the regular Aetherite donations to Sylga benefitted AetherTech, since that kept the prices low and service requests high. Despite the fact that the attack had occurred with Aetherite, AetherTech’s stock was soaring.

Finally, after an hour-long absorption of drama and despair, he found articles declaring that Aetherite was too dangerous for humanity and that everyone should renounce all their crystals before humanity destroyed itself. They argued that Aetherite was unnecessary for day-to-day living, and that those who thought otherwise were under the influence of demons. These articles mostly popped up on religious sites.

Hector appeared in the guestroom doorway, still in his dark blue uniform. His eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, and his dark face was shaded by stubble. He leaned against the doorframe. “How’re you holding up?”

Evan closed the projection, glad to have an excuse to stop the doomscrolling. “The hoverboard is coming along, I think.”

Hector blinked a few times, scratching his chin. “That’s great bud. I’m going to visit Domrik along with your mother in a bit at the library.”

“What for?”

“We have common research goals. Your mother started remembering things after I showed her the classified images of the crystal your father analyzed. It may help with locating Zandith, and possibly your father. Do you want to come?”

“Yes,” Evan said, standing. He’d been wanting to ask Domrik a few questions, and with Brandon not able to dissuade him, he had to seize the opportunity.

One way or another, Evan was going to learn Aetheric combat.