We ran along the shaded forest path. Thomas pulled ahead of us easily, running faster than I could have hoped to keep up with. Even as a kid he had been tall, with long legs that gave him a natural advantage. Next up was Roland, because he was two years older than me, and taller too. I was the last in the line, because Sarah couldn’t come play today. Okay, okay! Perhaps even if Sarah had come, I would have still been the last—but! I was going to grow up one day and be faster than everyone. I was already taller than Roland when he was my age. My … age?

I was having one of those dreams again, I dimly realized. A dream that I was vaguely aware of but I was powerless to steer in any direction. A dream that I had dreamed a thousand times already. I could already feel the fear spread within my chest.

“I win!” Thomas said as he reached the enormous uprooted tree that we had found the previous day. It was lying across the path, blocking the way, with a steep slope downwards on our left and a slightly less steep incline on our right. The tree was massive like a ship, with handholds and everything. The sight of it filled me with unease, but Roland and I raced to it nevertheless. We were all excited to get there.

“I’m the captain!” Thomas said, having climbed up onto the trunk already. “The fastest man in the galaxy!”

“That was a close one,” Roland said, grinning as he climbed up too, only seconds behind Thomas. “The smartest man in the galaxy almost beat you in a race!”

Thomas ignored his comment deliberately. “Roland, as the captain I order you to help your brother up the ship and then let’s set sail!”

“I don’t need help!” I yelled, pulling myself up with some difficulty. “I’m the strongest man in the galaxy!”

But Roland just laughed and Thomas started to argue with me!

“You can’t be,” he said. “I heard that Sarah beat you up yesterday when you ate her ice-cream!”

“Yes, but she is a girl,” I said, huffing. “She is the strongest girl in the galaxy.”

Thomas had no good comeback to that, so he just crossed his arms instead. I turned to Roland, who was still chuckling.

“What are you laughing at? I’ll kick your weak butt if you don’t stop it!”

That just made Roland’s grin even wider.

“First off,” Roland said, holding up a finger, “my butt might look weak, but it’s only because all the extra muscle is in my brain! I have so many ingenious ideas in my head that you’d be surprised at the strength of my brain-power!”

“That’s stupid,” I said, then stuck my tongue out at him. Roland always sprouted nonsense like this when we played.

“Secondly,” he moved on, “I only laughed because I felt happy. People do that often when they’re in a good mood, didn’t you know, Randel? Or should I explain this further to the strongest man in the galaxy?”

“I’ll explain how to kick your butt!” I said, lunging at him. What followed was a blur, as my dream became hazy; much to my shame, I couldn’t remember how long we played on the fallen tree. At one point Thomas ordered us to gather materials so that we could set sail, and in the next moment we were all arguing whether we were on a sea-ship or a space-ship. Yet I was aware what was going to happen soon, and so the sense of dread in me rose with each moment.

I wasn’t sure of the reason why me and Roland started another play-fight up on the tree, and I didn’t know what he said to me during that time. But there was a moment I remembered with crystal clarity; my tiny hands slamming into Roland’s stomach so hard that my palms hurt. The look of surprise on his face as he stumbled backward, losing his balance. The sharp crack in my ears as the branch he grabbed broke off. The moment of joy I felt when Roland fell off the tree, making me the winner. The pride swelling within me at my victory, up until Roland’s cries of pain shattered it apart. The spike of panic I felt as he rolled down and down and down the slope, unable to stop, slamming into trees and rocks but tumbling further into the depth until a larger tree finally stopped him.

Roland barely made a sound after that. He didn’t reply to my panicked, shouted questions—and so I went after him, descending cautiously on the slope, barely being able to see from the tears in my eyes. I knew Roland was very, very badly hurt. Thomas decided to run all the way back to find an adult, but I knew he wouldn’t make it in time. He never made it in time.

I screamed when I reached Roland, my scream full of agony and disbelief. My brother was lying on his back, his battered arms and legs twisted in all the wrong angles. He had blood on his face, and he had trouble breathing, and he watched me with sad eyes. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew this wasn’t how it had really happened, he had been in too much pain, barely conscious by the time I got to him—but in my dreams he was always there to speak with me one last time, sometimes kind and accepting and pitying, sometimes broken and hateful and accusing.

“It’s alright,” Roland said. “You proved your strength today.”

“I-I didn’t want to,” I said, falling to my knees, choking on my tears. “I didn’t want this to happen.”

“But it happened anyway,” Roland said, “and now someone must carry on my legacy. I gift you the power of lateral thinking.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“The w-what?”

“Someone needs to be the smartest on the ship. You should take it over from me, while I’m gone.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I said, clutching at his limp hand with both of mine. “You won’t be gone.”

Roland didn’t reply, and he didn’t say anything else. He never said anything else, just lay there with his eyes closed, head hanging, skin growing cold. I clutched his hand even tighter, afraid that if I let go I would lose him forever.

I jerked when I felt someone behind me. Still holding onto Roland I turned back, seeing that the forest path above was much closer that it was supposed to be. Two figures stood there; one of them was Devi, watching me with eyes full of pity. The other figure looked like me, the adult-me, except he had malevolent green eyes and was watching Devi like a cat watched the mouse. Devi didn’t see him as he reached out toward her, and I cried out to warn her, but he already grabbed Devi by the throat—

We woke up with a start and turned our head to the Sylven woman beside us. She gasped, jolting awake a moment after we did.

“You were in my dream,” I said, sitting up. “Literally.”

I didn’t know what had set me off; her shaken expression, the dried foot of a bird in her hand, or how she touched her neck as if making sure she was unharmed. I didn’t know how it was possible, I didn’t know how she had done it, but the guilty look in her eyes was as good as an admission.

“I was,” Devi said. She sat up on the bed too, turning to face me. “I was in your dream tonight, and in the last three nights.”

“And you saw it,” I said, my voice choking with emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Devi said. “Sorry about Roland.”

“Don’t you utter his name!” I snapped, balling my hands into fists. “Don’t—”

I felt my cheeks burning. I felt ashamed, I felt guilty, I felt like I was better off dead, but no, Roland was dead, and everyone buried him, buried him deep in fading memories and dishonest condolences, and there was nothing I could do about it.

“You had no right,” I whispered, finding it hard to breathe. “You had no right to know—no right to see. Not him.”

“I was not trying to peek,” Devi said. “I wanted to help you with Soul Eater.”

“To hell with Soul Eater!” I said, jumping out of the bed, grabbing and flinging my pillow across the room. “You were in my head! It’s your fault that I relived this nightmare. It’s your fault I saw him!”

“I see,” Devi said, back straight, forcing calm into her voice. “This is like Simon for you, but worse.”

I clenched my jaw as the blood rush to my head, and I did my best not to lose my temper. I glared down at Devi as she sat on the bed, unperturbed, clutching that bird foot still.

“Give me that relic,” I said, cold with anger.

“No,” Devi said. “Dreamcatcher belongs to the Rangers of Fortram. I cannot give it to you.”

I blew the air forcefully through my nose, closing my eyes for a bit. First that special training session with the Rangers, then this? What the hell was she thinking?!

“I understand you’re upset,” Devi said. “But you forget the real problem. Did you not want to learn what Soul Eater can do? Were you not worried that it can control your thoughts? Do you not realize that I try to help you? You play with children, you go to work, you paint pictures, but you never do anything about Soul Eater!”

“Get out.”

“What?” Devi asked, blinking in surprise.

“You’re not giving me that Dreamcatcher,” I said, “and I can’t trust you to sleep next to me anymore. So get out of my room.”

“Now?”

“You heard me.”

Devi opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, settling on just watching me silently. I growled and turned and stomped over to the kitchen to wash my face. The cold water didn’t help. It was the middle of the night, and I realized it was unreasonable to ask Devi to leave now, but screw her, the Inspectors were already rooting around in my head, Soul Eater was messing with my head, why did she have to join in too?! Was it too unreasonable to expect any sort of privacy? I had every right to be angry, and—yeah, I was too riled up to go back to sleep anyway.

“You know what,” I said, grabbing my cloak, “you have until morning to leave the house. I don’t want to see you here by the time I return.”

I slipped on my boots, unlocked the door, and strode out of the room without looking back. The night air was cool and my face was still wet, which felt wonderfully chilling at the moment. I wished it would sting more, I wished it would make me forget. I wished I could find a deep lake of ice-cold water to jump into, to sink into—and keep my mind from returning to all the unpleasantness. The streets of Fortram were quiet, too quiet, and they left too much space for my thoughts.

It was rare for me to lose my temper like I just had. Most of the time it was me who did something that pissed Sarah off. And Devi was very much like Sarah, wasn’t she? No privacy. Trying to manipulate me. Doing what she thought was the best for me, instead of asking me. I wondered if this was something normal, or I had terrible luck with women, or perhaps I just wasn’t assertive enough. Perhaps I should have drawn clearer lines, warning her not to cross them.

“It’s not my fault,” I said out loud, startling a group of teenagers loitering in front of a pub. It wasn’t my fault, but did that make it Devi’s then? I had overreacted when I told Devi to leave. She couldn’t have known. She just wanted to help. That didn’t make me any less mad at her, but now I was mad at myself too. Years and years and years of therapy, and Roland was still a sore subject for me.

Of course, therapy alone was never going to be enough. Not when Sarah kept bringing up Roland whenever she got really angry and wanted to hurt me back. Not when my father dragged me from one private tutor to the next, trying to turn me into a prodigy, trying to make me become a second Roland. Not when I could see the blame in my mother’s eyes whenever she looked at me, her heartache for having lost her favorite child ever so obvious. And, last but not least, not when I knew that I was a piece of shit. A constant disappointment for everyone and anyone in my life.

“Your strongest ale, please,” I told the barkeeper. I didn’t know where I was or how I got to this particular tavern, but I was glad I found some credits in my cloak’s pocket. Roland probably wouldn’t approve to me getting drunk on his behalf, but then what was one more disappointment added to the line? The room was noisy and dirty and filled with cigarette smoke, but I didn’t care, because I found an empty table away from everyone to nurse my ale alone. Alone, up till I was midway through my second mug.

We immediately saw it was trouble. Two muscled men in dark leathers, prowling seemingly casually toward our table. We got to our feet, teleporting Soul Eater to our hand—and staggering against the table. Mistake. We should have teleported to Soul Eater to escape, but our judgement was impaired. Our vision went dizzy. It wasn’t just the alcohol—we hadn’t drunk nearly enough to warrant this nausea. Had we been poisoned?

“Fancy meeting you, Mad Painter,” one of the men said as he reached me. We tried to raise Soul Eater, tried to stand straight, but the strength was rapidly leaving our body, and all we managed was to stumble into the stranger’s arms before we fell unconscious.