Uman put his hand in front of me and pushed me backwards, away from the Teleportation Circle, and more importantly, away from Cy and his pet. “My name is Uman,” he started. “And this is Jarek. Dawnbreaker said we were free to leave.”

“Don’t move,” the man said. “Let me confirm with her.”

Just a few seconds later—after no indication of communication from him—Cy frowned. “You are cleared to travel to Boston. Come find me next time you want to die, kid.”

And with that, Uman and I walked through the portal and appeared in Boston.

“This is all very is very impressive,” Uman reflected. “Two days ago, Boston’s Region Lord hadn’t been killed yet. And it wasn’t the Crucible that did it. Dawnbreaker probably cleared Region at the same time we targeted the shade—even after being wounded and after Cy lost several of his creatures.”

We shared our names and levels with the guard in the Boston Teleportation Circle, and then left the building.

“How do you know so much?” I asked.

“We had spies in Daybreak City. The Crucible was a huge organization. As I’m sure you’ve realized. Just killing Lord Ignatius probably brought you about a million coins, right?”

“Five million,” I said.

Uman frowned. “That seems…high. Normally, when you kill a sentient person, you get 10% of their wealth, and the rest goes to the Schema. That means he had 50 million coins. He must have been holding out on me.”

I shrugged. “I don’t care about the coins. I just want to find my family.”

“I agree completely,” Uman said, beaming at me. “And if you don’t mind my saying so…I know you aren’t feeling the best. If you like, I believe I can do the tracking. If you don’t mind following, just to keep me out of trouble, you see. I’m not much for physical combat.”

“Whatever,” I shrugged. I wasn’t much for physical combat, either. But I also had no idea how I would go about finding someone who probably wasn’t even in the city.

Boston City—the Schema-recognized city—was built on a grassy waterfront. It was giant—its walls spanned a much larger area than Reed City, Daybreak City, or even the Crucible.

There were several pre-Atropos houses that were inside the walls of Boston City, forming a stark contrast to the prefab, Schema-created, log cabins that were packed tightly together in the rest of Boston City.

“This is bad,” Uman said, glancing over to the water. “Do you know why the Crucible is built in Colorado?”

I shook my head, not really caring.

“In addition to the continental Zones, there are also oceanic Zones. Which means monsters will come out of the water eventually, and that will be a huge challenge for any coastal cities.”

I couldn’t help but wince, imagining aquatic monsters scaling the walls and swarming Boston.

“Jarek,” Uman said, as we walked past stalls, stores, and homes. “I can tell you’re not feeling well. Would you like to talk about it?”

“No,” I said, quickly. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” Uman said. “Then maybe we can talk about a different question. What I don’t understand,” Uman continued, speaking as diplomatically as possible, “Is how you broke out of Lord Ignatius’ thrall. He told me he specifically told you not to increase your mental power. It should have been impossible for you to disobey a direct command. Lord Ignatius was many things, but he wasn’t the kind to make a mistake like that.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

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“This is important,” Uman continued. “I’m sure you’ve talked to Parker about his theories—Parker talks to everyone about his theories. Is it possible the Crucible wanted you to kill Lord Ignatius? You know, don’t you, that Lord Ignatius wasn’t the one who placed the first compulsion on Readers?”

I laughed, bitterly. “No,” I said. “That’s not it.”

Uman smiled at me uncertainly. “That’s a relief.” Despite his words, he didn’t sound very convinced.

We walked in silence after that, until Uman stopped at a small storefront, with the words, “Hermes Whispers” on the front. It was a Schema-created, prefab building, with brick walls and several rooms on the inside.

Following Uman’s lead, I quickly realized, was relaxing. I needed a break, the time to think, and I finally had it.

I could remember everything Samantha and other-Jarek had said to each other. They saw me as a weakling, a useless nobody.

Nothing Samantha said or did could be trusted. She had a way of saying seemingly innocuous things—“pick these flowers,”—that ended up destroying everything I cared about, and furthering her goals.

Of course, I wasn’t an idiot. Samantha had lots of knowledge, and the potential for good advice.

But I’d read a story once—I couldn’t remember where it came from—of a malignant seer that could only ever speak the truth. Every word the seer would say was true, but just the knowledge of specific, personalized truths was enough to destroy the futures of each individual that came to the seer.

That was Samantha, except she was free to lie at will as well.

She would be fighting a slow, insidious battle, trying to regain control of my mind.

I had also read, once, of a thought experiment. An A.I. is in a box, and a gatekeeper will be paid something—say, $100—for keeping the A.I. in the box after a set period of time. The A.I. will try to say whatever it can to be released from the box.

“—And this is Jarek,” Uman said.

We were in a small private room, standing in front of a sixty-year old man with a grizzled beard.

I offered my hand, and the man shook it. He had probably introduced himself as well, but I’d been tuning them out.

I obviously wasn’t in the best mental state. I tried to focus in on the conversation the two were having.

“Hermes’ Whispers, or Hermes whispers?” Uman was asking. “Is whispers being used as a noun or a verb?”

Petra used to correct my grammar all the time when we were kids. It was infuriating, at first, but then when I started correcting Justin’s grammar, it became more fun.

Except, Justin never made anything fun. He was such the perfect kid, he would just put up with any amount of teasing, pretending it didn’t bother him even as his eyes glistened with tears.

Justin was so innocent, so well-intentioned. If anyone hurt him…

Visions of what I’d done to the goblins and orc in the tutorial appeared in my mind. Yes, I would do that again. If anyone hurt a single hair on Justin’s head…

Not that Petra would let them. Petra had a mean streak in her. I never had the heart to really tease Justin, but Petra would, before our mom died. One night, she put a dozen spiders between Justin’s pillow and the head of his bed. Ever since then, Justin always checked under his pillow, every night, and he had an unhealthy fear of spiders.

Then, when mom died of cancer, Petra’s mean streak turned protective. We were each four years apart, and Petra was able to gain custody of Justin, who was 16 at the time. One day, Justin told Petra that somebody had cut the straps off his backpack. Petra didn’t let the matter rest until Justin mentioned the kid’s name, and the next day, the kid complained that every window of his house was broken.

Justin never complained to Petra after that.

Uman and the bearded man were now pouring over a map, with the man highlighting several different places. “Latest burglaries were here, here, and there—“

I wasn’t worried about Petra. She would find a way to manage. She always did. But Justin…

Justin still had that youthful innocence. Somehow, our mother’s death hadn’t taken his hope and positivity away from him. If anything can break a person, though, it is the Atropos Schema. I felt my heart clenching at the thought. If Justin had to face spiders like the ones in the Hard-mode Tutorial, he wouldn’t last a second.

Petra would take care of him.

Uman rose to leave, shaking the bearded man’s hand, and I followed him out the door.

“We have a suspect,” Uman said. Clearly, he could tell I had been out of it. “Maxwell Hiver. He is the mayor of a nearby town, and a lot of disappearances have been happening near that town. Your sister and brother aren’t the only ones who have been taken, and there are all sorts of unpleasant rumors about Hiver Town.”

“Let’s go,” I said, immediately. I felt a thirst for blood. A desire to do something.

“There is one catch,” Uman said. "Hiver Town’s relations with Boston City have been tense lately, and teleportation travel is cut off. We’re going to have to walk there—or bike there, if we want to pay for a bike.”

“Then let’s take bikes,” I said, impatiently.

“Ah, unfortunately, Hermes’ Whispers drained my personal accounts. I don’t suppose you could spare…”

I reached out a hand, touched Uman’s shoulder, and transferred 100,000 coins to him.

“Let’s go find our family.”