Domrik’s drive home passed in a blur, despite following the traffic laws this time. He had a hard time convincing himself that he had convinced the Commander, but he hadn’t detected any lies. He knew his lie detection abilities weren’t perfect, but they were reliable enough to trust in most situations. In any case, he wouldn’t be letting his guard down, not for an instant.

The Commander had given him vague reassurances that they would reach out again soon, and he hoped the military definition of soon was on the same scale as his own. They couldn’t afford to wait weeks or months. An entity that could respond to a cloaked heist with zero foreknowledge was not something to ignore. He wished he could impart that nugget of information, but he felt the risk was too great.

He vigilantly kept an eye on his rear-view camera. Nobody seemed to be following him, though he never tested whether he could pierce illusions through a camera. He decided to conduct that experiment when he returned to the studio.

At the halfway point of his return journey, he took notice of his wristpad. Nothing was different about it, but it occurred to him that they could have tampered with the operating system in some way. If he brought it to his studio and he needed to get the Augmentor Bow for any reason, they could have installed spyware. It wasn’t worth the risk to neglect that possibility. He pulled to the side of the road and searched through the wristpad options. There were several steps required for a factory reset, but as soon as he confirmed his identity, the device started cycling through its restart and installation protocols.

By the time he reached the studio, his wristpad was wiped completely clean. He spent the next few minutes reassociating his contact information. In the brief time of disconnection, he hadn’t received any new emails or messages.

In the library, he put a book on the coffee table and cast a cloak upon it. He caught the disappearance on video, and kept recording as he unveiled and reconcealed the book. He was typically able to partially pierce his own illusions, though he found it easier to pierce others’ illusions than his own. He had yet to find a good theory as to why that was the case.

Now the real test began. He watched the playback of the book disappearing and reappearing, yet no matter how centered and focused he became, the picture didn’t change.

Of course it won’t, he realized. The wristpad didn’t have the necessary hardware to pierce the illusion. It was the Vision Ember that granted the piercing of illusions. Modern cameras were built with technology that mimicked eyesight. The Vision Ember didn’t operate on normal eyesight. He was sure some scientist someday would figure it out. For now, he was satisfied with his little experiment, though he did want to try it on other’s illusions to make sure this result wasn’t a fluke.

He deleted the video and wandered to his desk. The fake bow was still there. He checked under the floorboard of the right wing of the library. The real Bow was still there. He relaxed more.

I’m not above paranoia, either, he thought, returning to his desk. The sketch of the Antiga Nature Preserve sat right where he left it. As his eyes darted over the poorly-drawn features, he realized it would be wise to check again. How likely was it that Jase was in the same place? If he wanted to be useful during the recon mission, he had to gather as much data as he could.

He eyed the bookshelf, then retrieved the familiar little box that would get him into deep trouble if the wrong people found out. He was thankful that the Eredore Guard didn’t care enough to hand off the information, though he still felt the weight of the threat looming. Thwarting them would not be in his best interests.

He measured carefully this time, ingesting a microdose of blasphia to amplify his abilities without taking him over the edge like last time. With a blank sheet and pencil ready, he waited. After nearly an hour, he found his imagination just a bit more vivid. He repeated the same affirmations to get him locked onto Jase’s location.

It wasn’t easy to interpret the images at first, but eventually he saw a human-like figure slumped in a sitting position surrounded tightly by four walls. Confirmation Jase was still alive. Domrik raised his viewpoint. Another landscape projected outward below him, only the most prominent details visible. He began to draw. Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes. His heart sank as he compared the new drawing to the previous. They looked nothing alike.

He pulled up the map again, refocusing on the Preserve’s location. He did his best to match the drawing to any of the nearby features, but nothing came close. The edges were far too pronounced. He hadn’t drawn hills. Those were mountains.

For the next hour, he scanned in a wider and wider radius around the Preserve, honing in on mountainous features. When he found the match, his heart dropped further. The Sormera Range was not only treacherous for climbers, but notorious for frequent disappearances. What Jase was doing under that mountain range or how he got there, Domrik could only guess.

He sat back in the chair, gazing incredulously at the map. I can’t change the target location now, can I? They’re already sold on scanning the Preserve. A last-minute switch-up would make me look suspicious.

But he had no other choice. The how and when was uncertain, but he had to update them. It was their territory, their land to protect, and therefore they had a need to know.

A stronger sense of doubt invaded his mind as he remembered the Senator’s words. They could use him for more than just recon. The thought of him joining the military made him want to gag. He was just providing them a lead and making sure they understood. If he ever figured out how the Augmentor Bow worked, he would go on his own personal missions, with help from Jase and Kelly, of course. He wanted to hunt down Zandith and discover the extent of his operations. A drafting into the military was the last thing he needed.

He looked at the time. It was already late into the night. Kelly would be asleep by now, or at least attempting to sleep. He didn’t need to give her another reason to have a sleepless night. He would tell her tomorrow morning. He considered driving to his house, but he was comfortable with sleeping on the library couch. He needed to be ready in case of emergency.

He pulled out his favorite blanket from under the furniture and got himself comfortable. He turned off the lights with a tap on his wristpad. The moment light gave way to darkness, shapes played across his vision like a waterfall of children’s toys. The drug was still active.

He lay still for several minutes, distracted by the constantly-evolving forms behind his eyelids. He wondered if this was what imagination looked like when not actively in use. Perhaps it was a kind of static comparable to when the television sets of old would land on a signal in between channels. Given nothing to do, it would create. It couldn’t not create, and in this state, the creations were spontaneous, complete upon inception as if he were merely becoming aware of that which had always existed.

Just as the sweet lure of sleep tugged at the edges of his awareness, he had an idea. He swept the blanket off and turned the lights back on. He found the loose floorboard in the right wing of the library and pried one end up. The elegant white curve gleamed from the shadows. He pulled it free and has with it in his lap on the couch, admiring its immaculate design.

The metallic bowstring was smooth to the touch, and almost as frictionless as ice. The texture of the Bow’s arms resembled something of ultra-fine sandpaper. Not uncomfortable to grip, but it gripped well. Tiny sparkles twinkled over the surface each time his viewing angle shifted. Visually, that was the biggest difference between the real bow and Strucka’s decoy. The fake looked man-made, whereas the true artifact possessed an inhuman quality that was impossible to define.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

A smile crept onto his face as he imagined Jase ogling the relic with a dozen different scientific instruments. One day, he hoped, he would have the luxury of seeing that sight.

Now for his own experiment. He took the grip in his left hand and hooked three fingers of his right around the bowstring. Bracing his shoulders with his back muscles, he tried pulling his right hand back. Like the first time he tested it, the string refused to bend. He pulled harder, his fingers aching as the string dug in. Still no progress. He changed the orientation of the Bow, moving it from his lap to vertically in front of his chest. His face contorted into a scowl as he pulled apart with all his might. He scrutinized the string through squinting eyes. There was no give whatsoever.

He let out a gasping sigh as he gave up and laid the Bow back onto his lap. He rubbed his forehead in confusion. He’d thought the microdose would give him some extra insight into how the Bow really worked, but he had nothing. The only real change was that he sensed its presence just a bit more.

He frowned, muttering under his breath. “How do you work?”

As if in response, the Bow’s presence wavered, much like a candle shifting in the ambient atmosphere of a room. It was barely detectable, but he was sure he’d sensed it. His gaze grew more attentive as he focused more on its non-physical aspect. That wavering had been intentional, just as his question had been.

He closed his eyes and repeated the query. “How do you work?”

He sensed the ripple again, now that he was more focused. The energy hadn’t quite become a thought, residing more at the level of an intuitive movement of a limb. There was meaning there, but it was blurred and vague, echoing from the edges of intuition. He found it to be calming sense, something that rendered his question less important, and yet reassured him.

Patience… not yet. Those words were his own interpretation, and he was reluctant to follow the advice. If he was meant to use it, wouldn’t it help to get a few practice sessions in before things got serious? He always emphasized patience and practice to his students. Mixing patience with non-practice seemed counterintuitive, but at this point, he had no other option.

He put the Bow back in its hiding spot and returned to the couch. His eyelids grew heavier by the minute. With the lights off, and the effects of the microdose fading away, he gladly plunged into unconsciousness.

***

Evan's gaze swept over the damaged hoverboard on Strucka’s workbench. The object looked to be a crooked work of metal art. List was its symmetry after that fateful crash at over 100 KPH, and he was fortunate it hadn’t happened at racing speeds. The power module remained mostly untouched, with its only issue being that some of the crystals had been jarred loose from their sockets. Strucka was currently working on the minor redesign that they hoped to finish by the end of the day.

“Are you sure nothing else is broken?” Evan asked, recalling the initial impact of the crash.

“No,” Strucka replied, sill working with a projection of the cylindrical power module. “We still have to check the circuit boards, but other than that, and the corrections we have to make to the frame and heatsink, we can do another flight test soon, probably within a few days.”

Evan shivered at the thought of another flight test that soon. He wanted to wait at least a week, maybe two, until he suited up again, but Strucka and his obvious desire to impress Evan were going to complicate things. How could Evan justify delaying their work, especially when Strucka knew he had nothing else on his schedule, without admitting what really happened?

Evan rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know, that seems a little early after an accident like this. I wanna take a look at the software when it's up and running. Something tells me I might find the culprit there."

Strucka threw him a sideways glance. "Software's fine, man. I recorded your entire flight. The temps were a bit high, but the engine was throttling appropriately. Honestly, bro, I have no idea what took you out."

Evan avoid his gaze, biting the inside of his lip as he tried to fabricate a believable story. The software's simplicity and immaturity were his only excuse. Without that, the only explanation was rider error. He didn't want to admit it to anyone, even himself. He was close to being able to apply for a riding license. The last thing he needed was someone to report him as unfit.

"Oh, wow," Strucka murmured. Evan turned to look. He was checking his email on his workstation projection, but Evan was too far away to read the text. For Strucka's privacy, he decided against sneaking up on him, instead opting for the safer approach.

"What's up?" Evan asked, eager for a change in subject.

"I didn't think they'd honor my request," Strucka replied, grinning at Evan. "I think we're about to get our answer."

"Mh-hm." Evan's mouth twitched in anticipation of that cryptic statement. When a window playing a video of the hoverpark popped up, his face began to sting. Sweat accumulated on his forehead. The camera angle was static, taking in an overview of a large section of the park. In the background, black dots with bright red tails streaked this way and that. In the corner of the screen, a rider exited the artificial canyon. He crept toward the workstation, forcing himself to watch as the rider started wobbling. He almost physically flinched when he watched himself catch the concrete for the first time, causing the board to shoot away spinning like a fan. His mouth went dry as he spoke. "What is this?"

"It's you, dummy," Strucka teased over his shoulder. Evan knew it was an innocent remark, but he couldn't help recalling the moment when Zandith had called him a doofus on that fateful day. A wisp of fear crept up his spine in reaction to the passing memory. A wave of tingles passed through his legs. Evan closed his eyes for a moment, then relaxed his fist.

He doesn't know, he reminded himself. He couldn't have known. It's not his fault.

"I asked Mt. Speed if they could send me the security footage of the crash," Strucka said, shrugging. "Figured, why not? We could use all the data we can get, including visuals."

As the replay repeatedly looped the same fifteen-second clip, he watched Strucka's expression morph from mild excitement, to cold calculation, to utter confusion within the span of a minute. The replay had no audio, so all Evan heard was the thumping of the blood rushing through his hot ears. Finally, the engineer turned to him with narrowed eyes. "Bro, you got an explanation for this? 'Cause I got nothing. You handle the canyon just fine, only to wipe out on a flat? What happened?"

"I… uh," Evan stammered, grabbing his elbow and pursing his lips. There was no way around it. "I fell."

Strucka nodded with exaggeration. "Yeah, no shit, but why? We can't have this happen everytime we go for test flights. We gotta work it out."

Evan was silent for what felt like a minute as he watched the replay again. The truth burned on the tip of his tongue, shame coloring his face red. He wanted so badly to lie, but Strucka was so close to the truth. He deserved it.

And with that realization, Evan's shoulders slumped. "I don't think I'm well."

Strucka's head moved back a centimeter. "What, like, you're feeling sick?"

"No," Evan groaned, then reconsidered. "Well… yes. Kinda. Ever since I was sent to the hospital."

"Ohhh," Strucka said, turning on his stool to face him completely. His eyes flicked momentarily to Evan's abdomen, then back to Evan's face. "It's from that. The artificial tissue is malfunctioning?"

"Sometimes," Evan admitted, absentmindedly running a pair of fingers over the synthetic patch of skin. "Only when I have… memories."

"Shit, dude." Strucka dropped his gaze, frowning. "Is that what happened when—"

"Yeah," Evan confirmed, pointing with a thumb toward the street in front of Strucka's apartment. "The hover test. And before that when the… ship attacked."

"Right, right. I remember now." Strucka's words hung in the air for several seconds, neither party willing to add anything more. It was during that space of silent compassion that a smile forced its way onto Evan's face. He tried to cover it by scratching his cheek, but it stubbornly remained. His gaze darted to somewhere behind the workstation.

"What's so funny?" Strucka asked, his expression brightening with Evan's.

He shrugged, tracing the edge of the metal table with his finger. "I don't know. It's just that… I've tried to keep it a secret out of fear that I might sound crazy, but… now I realize there was nothing to fear."

"Of course not, bro. Who wouldn't be traumatized after something like that? I get shivers myself just thinking about it."

Evan nodded. "Well, there's your answer. I still wanna check on the software. I have a few ideas for emergency features."

"Cool, cool," Strucka said, standing. "But before you do that, why don't you check on the design changes to the power module. Make sure everything's looking good before I put it into metal."

Two facts dawned on Evan in that moment. One, that he was going to tell his mother what really happened at the hoverpark.

And two, this is what true friendship looked like.