The Oracle has told me she senses fluctuations within the Dreamfold. The winged one is making moves, but they don’t appear to be achieving the intended result. Our busy little Fairy struggles to secure her objective. She imagines that she weaves an intricate spiderweb around her prey, but a wily insect may yet avoid being ensnared. Webs, after all, are full of holes.
The question remains: how did the Fairy encounter this difficulty? It couldn’t have originated from the boy. Not yet, not from a babe who hasn’t even opened his eyes. A larva, even that of a king, is a larva nevertheless.
Ah—it must be the locket. That object is unable to be contained in its entirety on a mere verge realm, so why shouldn’t it interfere in the land of dreams? Fractures caused by its mere presence allowed me to find Oitania, after all. But what are its properties? It isn’t a simple extension of the mother, but something else. Would that I had more time… well. Perhaps I can narrow it down.
From mother to child, an artifact of incalculable Meaning has surfaced once again.
The poor boy.
-S
----------------------------------------
A booming voice roused Albek out of his slumber.
“Upsy-daisy! You gotta get something in your stomach after a workout like that!”
Albek’s eyes shot open, and he flung out his hands like he was trying to swim, only to find himself back in the Brays’ living room with a steaming bowl of rice with some sort of meat placed on the table before him.
“You were sleeping like the dead, boy. Sorry for waking you, but if you don’t wanna lose what muscle you got left on those bones, you’d better eat some lunch.”
Nearby, Hemash and Liyne were settling in with their food.
He rubbed his eyes. This scene didn’t feel real to him. The nightmare was emblazoned in his mind so vividly that he wondered if he was still sleeping.
‘What on earth was that dream?’
Seconds ago he’d been drowning in a gray abyss while foreboding words reverberated through his head like some dire prophecy. He felt like he should be sweaty and shaken right now, but instead he felt like he was waking from a coma, and he sat up with a stiff neck, groaning. He glanced over the meal on the coffee table.
Jameson grunted. “What’s that look? Don’t like deer meat? Tough, it needs to be eaten. Here, go ahhh…”
Albek recoiled from the man who was pushing a spoon piled high with food towards his mouth, waking up at last from the peculiar sight.
“I can get it myself, uh, thanks,” Albek said, grabbing the utensil from his hands.
“Suit yourself,” he shrugged.
Albek found himself surprisingly hungry, and dove into the bowl with an appetite. He polished the meal off quickly and was already eyeing the pot on the table when he saw Liyne fiddling with her ear.
She’d had her ears pierced young in the Kalkian tradition, just as Albek had. He’d never worn jewelry after moving to the Federation, so his piercings finally healed over after a couple years. Liyne didn’t put on jewelry often as their father didn’t care for it, but a single barbell earring was always present on her left ear. It was a gift from Umeith, given shortly before her disappearance, similar to the armlet she’d given Albek. The beautiful ornament was carved of ivory and capped with two small red gems. Liyne saw him staring and she stopped fiddling with the earring.
He smiled, though it reminded Albek of his own gift. What he would give to have it back…
Unbidden, his dream came roaring back like a vengeful ghost.
Don… gifts… not the third…
The shadow creature’s fractured words resonated in his mind, causing him to nearly drop his dish. He slowly set down the bowl, looking around suspiciously. That wasn’t normal.
‘... Gifts? And a third?’
When Albek thought gifts, two things came to mind: his armlet and Liyne’s earring. But a third made itself known to him yesterday: his mother’s locket. It felt like too much of a coincidence to him. The dream had to refer to those three objects.
He felt the hard lump against his chest, reassuring himself that it was still there. What had the creature called them?
…Band of Des… the Spike… gian Stone.
‘A Band. That must be my armlet. And the Spike should be Liyne’s earring. In that case, the Stone would be the locket. ‘Not the third…’ That thing didn’t want me to wear it. Well, Albek. Should I listen to the evil shadow monster? Let’s think about it.’
He scoffed. Why shouldn’t he wear his mother’s locket? Nobody else could. Hemash gave it to him. It wasn’t his armlet, but the locket helped to occupy that stubborn void in his heart.
The words continued to make him uncomfortable, however. He tried to remind himself that it was only a dream, but he couldn’t push back the feeling that it was much more than that. Dreams had taken on a new significance for him ever since he awakened his Sight through a forgotten dream.
The circumstances surrounding the shadow beings’ arrival in his dream were eerie, to say the least.
‘The pictures on the wall. That presence behind the curtain. It felt like the shadow had been working on breaking free for hundreds of years.’
He spoke up, “Say, Dad, can I ask you a question?”
“Hm?”
“In the manor in Kalk, what was behind that red curtain in the master suite?”
“The manor? Why—well, let me see… red curtain—oh, that. There was an old mirror there. Old like everything else in that house.”
“A mirror? How old was it?”
“As far as I know, we had it since the Founder, or at least since the first few generations of our family, I think. It was made of some kind of metal, and polished until it gave a clear reflection. It was not like our modern mirrors. We probably ended up selling it with the rest of the things. Why do you ask?”
Albek quickly answered, “No reason in particular. Was there anything else? Were there any stories about it?”
If there were, Hemash didn’t know them. Albek gave some excuses for his sudden curiosity and went back to his meal.
He sighed. Maybe it really was nothing. Maybe this dream was just a confluence of all the strange events that had been going on ever since his first close shave with death three days ago. Maybe he just needed to forget all about it and move on.
His palms itched.
“Hey, Liyne, Chelsea. Do you two remember when you chose the path of magic?” he asked.
They nodded.
“Did you fall asleep or anything? If you did, did you dream about something?”
“Let’s see,” said Chelsea, “Yeah, I did. It was really interesting, actually. I fell asleep, and then I was on a boat in the middle of a pond. At least, I think it was a pond. It could have been a field. The water—or grass? Was it grass? Anyway, it was purple… wait, I think everything was purple. Um, and there were these weird fish that didn’t have scales. I sort of just sat there and felt really peaceful for a while, then I woke up.”
Albek stared at her speechlessly.
‘I honestly don’t know what to make of that.’
CHAT LOG
Liyne [party]: I was flying in space! There were funny snakes with wings flying around me too. They were eating the stars like candy.
Chelsea smirked. “Snakes in space?”
“Did you even hear yourself talking about your dream, Chelsea?” Albek said.
“Fair enough. But what about your dream?”
“I can’t remember mine.”
“Huh? Liar, you just don’t wanna share,” she said.
Albek shook his head, returning his attention to his food.
‘It would be easier if I could. It seems that others remembered their, uh, mad hallucinations. Why can’t I? Did my Embryo dream even have anything to do with this recent dream?’
His recollection of that first dream had just been wiped clean, leaving only some complex emotions behind. It was aggravating, to say the least, to feel something but not know why he felt it.
While playing through the memory of his more recent dream, he recalled one last oddity. Something didn’t seem to fit. As weird as everything was, most of the dream felt as though it belonged there: the portraits in the mansion and the shadow creature, though unsettling, were like a part of a memory. But one phenomenon didn’t fit: the gray mass.
The gray, malicious tendrils had stopped him from approaching the shadow—had carried him away as soon as he’d begun to hear it speak.
With growing apprehension, Albek realized that he recognized them. Those tentacles—that was the Voice. It all fit, in a peculiar way he couldn’t describe. Though he’s only ever heard the Voice, that gray mass somehow paralleled his memories of it.
The shadow creature—the thing from the portrait—fought the Voice. Those tentacles had been a force of his enemy. Did that mean the shadow was actually on his side?
His stomach began to heat up like someone had turned on heating coils.
Albek broke out in a cold sweat. He recognized the sensation and hurriedly stood up to leave, his bowl clattering to the table. However, before he could attempt to overcome the oncoming incursion of the aegis, the sensation faded, swept away by a cooling surge. He hadn’t done anything to stop it.
He clutched his stomach, poking and prodding for a reaction, but there was nothing.
“Albek, you okay?” asked Jameson.
“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
Slowly, he sat back down, still ready for the aegis to rear its ugly head. He went back to eating small, cautious bites, but as time passed and he grew certain that it wouldn’t appear, that caution faded.
That settled it for Albek: enough thinking about dreams for now.
A minute later, it happened. Someone let out a noise of surprise.
“Ah…”
Jameson had gotten up to get another serving from the pot, but found it empty. He turned to stare at Albek, who had already gone up multiple times for refills.
Albek glanced down to realize he had the last serving in his own bowl.
The man looked at him with a pleading expression. Albek matched the man’s gaze without flinching, and brought his spoon to his mouth.
Later, after Albek brought his dishes to the sink, a trunk-like arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. Before he knew it, he’d been brought into a close huddle with Jameson.
“So, you enjoy my cooking, huh?” the man’s low voice graveled out.
“Um.”
“Good. We’re headin’ out early tomorrow. Let’s see if you can work as well as you eat.”
Albek recalled his agreement with Jameson to join him on a foraging trip. Before, he’d been looking forward to it, but he caught a gleam in the man’s eyes now that worried him.
‘He isn’t going to hold a grudge because of some food… is he?’
----------------------------------------
Day 4 Report:
designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV continues to exceed growth rate projections [PL+4].
STAT gain: N/A
SKL acquisition: Cold_Snap[1]
Variable isolation successful: no further incursions from stat.eff (EXCLUDED).
Analysis of foreign entity complete.
Attempts to analyze foreign entity failed.
Attempts to analyze nature of foreign entity failed.
Attempts to cross-reference known qualities of foreign entity with database found no matches.
Conjecture (99% certainty): foreign entity is an artifact of unknown origin of Tier 10 or higher.
Emergency report filed, to be submitted upon renewal of uplink.designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV.
Analysis of interaction between foreign entity and [excluded.SKL] complete.
[excluded.SKL] has reached tentative equilibrium with opposing force from foreign entity.
Attempts to further analyze effects of equilibrium failed.
Emergency report filed, to be submitted upon renewal of uplink.designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV.
On authority of sprite.designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV, STAT:MNT has been unlocked.
Argument: designation:ZLTDB0K9HUV meets psychological standard.
Analysis of problem of noncompletion of harvest.directive: 4.07%.
Resuming special protocol with exclusionary status.
----------------------------------------
Albek didn’t sleep well that night. Dim figures haunted the edges of his perception, glowing eyes in the distance. He tried to run, to hide from the hidden watchers, but the sensation of being observed followed him, making his slumber one of fits and starts.
The next day a hand roughly shook Albek, but he was already awake, just wishing he was asleep. He rolled over to see who it was, but as soon as he moved, his body complained. His muscles were sorer than he expected from the workout.
The windows were opened, and in the dim light Albek saw Jameson dressed and looking ready to go somewhere.
“You got five minutes and we’re headin’ out,” he said. “Bring a water bottle and a change of clothes.”
Mr. Bray was waiting for him by the door when Albek reentered the living room, chewing on a piece of jerky, having thrown together his things and grabbed some snacks he found lying around. Jameson wore a large, mostly-empty backpack, with a longer, thinner black bag strapped underneath it that carried some kind of tool.
“What’s that?” asked Albek, pointing at the bag in question.
“This? My bow.”
“You hunt with a bow?”
Jameson snorted, “Better than clubbin’ things with a stick. We ain’t all lucky enough to have guns. Besides, bow huntin’s a noble sport. But that don’t matter, we won’t be hunting today anyway. Won’t need the meat for a couple days at least, I’m bringing it along just in case. Now c’mon. I’ve got something for you.”
He led him outside, where Albek noticed that the sun hadn’t risen over the horizon, though there was a glow to the east that bathed the mountain in a gentle yellow light.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
He asked, “I’ve never been out this early before. Aren’t monsters still going to be around?”
“Naw, they all hightail it soon as it brightens a bit. We got a lot to do today, and I want to be back by lunch, so we’re taking an early start. I told your dad and Chel ‘bout our plans, so they won’t be worried. They’re all laying low inside until we get back. They’ve got chores of their own to do.”
He took Albek to a storage shed nearby and unlatched it, gesturing at a wooden rod with notches carved into the ends leaning up against a wall.
“Pick that up and hook two of these on it,” he said, hoisting up two plastic buckets, “You’re on bucket duty.”
He wondered why they even needed buckets when they had bags, but Albek did as he was told. Then, the two walked to the nearby pond.
“Fill them up with water and let’s get going.”
Albek groaned.
‘Is he seriously going to make me haul water on a foraging trip?’
“We, um, have bottles. Can’t we just use those if we need water?” he asked.
Jameson just smiled and shook his head.
By the time the duo had made it three blocks down the road, the muscles in his legs and back felt like they were going to go on strike.
The only good thing about his added burden was that his injured hand didn’t get in the way since he was supporting it with his shoulders. This was just about the only consideration Jameson afforded him.
He reminded Albek, who was lagging behind, “Careful not to spill that stuff, now, or we’ll have to go back for more.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Albek said through gritted teeth, “Please just tell me there’s a reason for this.”
“You’ll see. We’re coming up on it now.”
They turned into another street, and a row of derelict houses came into view. They were closely-knit, and resembled something like apartment complexes.
‘Wasn’t this place supposed to be a resort or something?’
He remembered this as one of the few businesses on Tolstead Mountain. It was advertised as a health spa—a retreat from civilization for urbanites, judging by a broken signboard hanging off a post on the side of the road that read: “Escape from the City and Enjoy Nature!”
Albek never remembered seeing any cars parked here. From the state of the houses, it looked to have been closed for years. Honestly, it was a wonder nobody ever tore it down.
Jameson walked down the driveway to the office building, which was really just another house located near the middle, but Albek stopped in his tracks, noticing something off. The house looked terrible: several windows were broken, the wooden siding hung off haphazardly in places, and there was enough dirt on the porch alone to plow a field.
“Hey, this house is marked,” he called out, pointing to the missing flag on the mailbox. He struggled for a second with his free hand, then opened the hatch and found the flag inside.
“And it might be infest—hey, Mr. Bray!”
Jameson had kept walking, despite Albek’s protests, and the man stepped up to the derelict door and knocked loudly, three times.
By now, Albek was pretty sure things weren’t what they seemed, but just in case, he gently put down the buckets and readied himself for a fight.
Deadbolts slid back and the door opened. Albek couldn’t see around his companion, but an elderly voice exclaimed brightly, “Jameson! It’s a good thing you came. I was just starting to worry about some of these tomatoes in the back here and—oh, who’s this?”
A head chock full of wispy white hairs peered around the large man. Its owner, a tiny old man, dwarfed by the giant next to him, caught sight of Albek.
“This is one of our guests who’s going to be living with me from now on. Albek,” said Jameson. “C’mere, introduce yourself to Mr. Hudds. And pick those buckets back up.”
Albek did as he was told and approached, and Mr. Hudds exclaimed at the sight of him, “Why—you’re skinny as a beanpole! Jameson, I hope you haven’t made him haul water all this way when you know I’ve got a little creek just down a-ways?”
“We’re working on his endurance,” he replied, slapping Albek’s shoulder hard enough that some water slopped out of the buckets. “He can use the workout.”
If Albek had the energy, he’d have dumped both the buckets over Jameson’s head right then.
Instead, he asked Mr. Hudds breathlessly, “Is there a place I can put these down?”
“Yes, yes, come in,” the man said, ushering them inside.
As soon as Albek walked through the door, the house underwent a transformation. The ruined exterior, comprised of rotting wood and crawling with weeds, seemed to be a lie, as the interior walls had solid paneling, and everything seemed in good repair without a hint of grime. Soft carpets lined the floors and there were chairs covered with blankets and cushions in every room. Nothing looked expensive or new, but the house was clean and comfortable. Albek made sure not to trek on the carpets with his dirty shoes.
Mr. Hudds pointed him through the entry hall and into the adjoined dining and living room at the back of the house.
“Just lay that down over by the back door. Thanks, sonny.”
There was a small fire going in the fireplace on the far side of the living room, over which a kettle was placed.
As he was rubbing his shoulders, something caught Albek’s eye. On most of the windows, there was a hinged barrier: the same barricade that the Brays had installed on the windows at their house. It seemed Jameson had been busy looking out for more than just himself and his daughter.
Through the window on the back door, Albek saw the backyard. There was a screened-in porch and a grassy yard that looked like one big garden, chock-full of various fruiting plants. It was bordered by a seven-foot privacy fence that shielded the land from prying eyes.
Albek absentmindedly reached into his pocket for a granola bar.
The kettle whistled, startling him from his reverie.
“That’ll be the water!” came Mr. Hudds’ voice from the other room. He entered the living room, bustling with energy. “Ya’ll have a seat. Do you like black tea, sonny? Good. Nothing better than a cup of hot tea in the morning—that was Sarah’s tradition.”
Jameson took a seat and patted the seat next to him, whispering once Albek was seated.
“It’s good to indulge him a little.”
“What are we doing here?”
“We’ll get to that soon.”
While he waited, Albek polished off the granola and fished around in his pocket for another, but came up empty-handed.
‘I don’t really like it much, but it has been a while since I had tea. Man, I’d kill for a cold soda.’
Several minutes later, Mr. Hudds had placed down three steaming mugs, then went out to the kitchen and returned with a tin container filled with small, hard cookies.
“I can tell by lookin’ at you. Sonny, you need to eat.”
Jameson laughed, “He don’t need much help on that count, Tom, trust me.”
‘He isn’t going to let that lunch yesterday slide, is he? I was hungry!’
Albek tried one of the cookies and found them rather bitter and not very appetizing, with an overwhelming taste of ginger, but he scooped up a handful anyway.
“Made these from scratch with things I could find around,” the old man said, “They aren’t as good as the store-bought kind, but they do nicely enough in a pinch.”
Mr. Hudds settled himself into a voluminous high-backed armchair and for a while they sat, taking small sips of tea while they waited for it to cool. Finally, curiosity overcame Albek.
“Mr. Hudds, why does your house look so… um, you know. Abandoned? Does it have something to do with why the mailbox is marked?”
“You mean Jameson hasn’t told you?” he said, surprised. “Well, there’s a reason behind all that. It’s a disguise.”
Mr. Hudds gave a smile that implied this was all the explanation he needed.
“All right,” Albek said, “But why?”
“Well, it didn’t always look like this. But I was just scared to death of looters, so I had Jameson throw some mud on the walls and dirty up the porch. He even broke some of them front windows, which I wouldn’t have thought of.”
Jameson interjected, “Had to seal them up from the inside so people wouldn’t stick their noses in. Looks just like your classic run-down, monster-infested hellhole from the road, so people comin’ by all steer clear. Mr. Hudds is on the ‘deceased’ list at the church, you know.”
“Hah! It’ll be a while yet before I kick the bucket!”
Jameson smiled at that declaration, but Mr. Hudds seemed to have a thought.
“You been to the church recently, then?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Jameson replied. “There was a meetin’ three days ago. I didn’t tell you?”
Albek blinked. He was on the deceased register?
Albek asked, “You’re hiding from the church, too, Mr. Hudds?”
The old man sniffed. “Don’t you get me started on those folk.”
“Why? What did they do?”
“Well, nothin’ to me, personally. Jameson knows better’n I do,” he said.
Jameson coughed on a cookie and was forced to pound his chest a few times to clear it. After taking a gulp of tea and probably burning his tongue, he began his explanation.
“See, ‘Bout two weeks ago, they were strolling up and down the neighborhood, going house to house and ‘suggesting’ people join up with them. Like the recruitment drive they did that first few days after the Apocalypse, but this time they were more insistent. Funny how they only went to the families that they thought had a lot of food, hear me?”
“Mhm,” nodded the older man. “Robbin’ the helpless.”
Jameson continued, “They stopped by my place, but I had the dogs to help scare ‘em off. Anyways, I don’t think those families that joined up are doing much better now by the sight of ‘em the other day”
‘Wow. The more I learn about the church, the more I realize they’re really just a group of thugs.’
Mr. Hudds interjected, “That Isaias fella is someone you need to watch out for. Never much trusted him even before all this nonsense.”
“Who?” Albek asked.
“That tall man what wears camouflage everywhere, even when he ain’t anywhere near the woods.”
Jameson spoke, “He leads Finlay’s foraging parties. He was the one in charge of the group that… you know. From the other day.”
“Oh.”
He’d been trying very hard not to dwell on what happened three days ago, afraid that he’d lose control of his aegis again. Albek knew who they were talking about. They were talking about the Nassorian, the church’s designated ki-user. A crystal clear image of the man surfaced in his mind’s eye: tall, angular cheekbones, wearing army fatigues with a belt of knives around his waist.
He did his best not to react too strongly, but his fingers still tightened around his mug. Fortunately, his aegis didn’t stir, and he was able to breathe a little more easily.
“Did they come by your place, sonny? I hope they didn’t threaten you or nothing,” Mr. Hudds said.
He’d misconstrued Jameson’s meaning, but when nobody responded, the elderly man continued without missing a beat.
“Isaias, he used to be in the military, you know, but my daughter told me he was discharged. And not the honorable kind. He never talked about why, but I reckon he shot somebody he wasn’t meant to shoot.”
“So you knew him?”
“Oh heck, I hired him. He cleaned the church sometimes, and he’d help Finlay out. He was a local who did all sorts of odd jobs here ‘n there. I needed somebody to touch up the paint in these here condos. He did a decent enough job. I suppose, though I had to fire him after a few days.”
“Why?”
“Mm? Ah, Joel saw him kick my cat. Can you believe it? Kicked my poor Madame. She’s such a sweet little thing, she didn’t deserve that.”
There was a sound from the kitchen, and Albek turned to see a brown-haired child disappear around the corner.
“You live here with someone?” he asked, deciding he didn’t want to hear more about Isaias.
“Why, yes! That’s Joel, I was just talkin’ about him. He’s my daughters’ boy,” he explained. “Come say hi to our guests, Joel!”
There was no answer, and Mr. Hudds cackled.
“He’ll be out in a minute, soon as you go outside. That boy’s shy as can be under a roof, but get him outdoors and you won’t get a word in edgewise.”
There came a natural lull in the conversation, and the trio finished their tea, enjoying the small comfort while it lasted.
Albek turned, asking Jameson, “When am I going to learn what we’re doing today?”
The man drained his mug and smacked his lips, standing up.
“Hard labor,” he said.
- - -
Sweat poured off Albek as he toiled over the earth. A drop fell from his nose onto the soil, leaving a quickly fading dark spot on the ground. Another shortly followed.
‘At least I’m watering it, too. Now that’s efficiency.’
He heaved, and his hoe cut into the earth. He pulled and up came a clod of grass and dirt, which he chopped at a few times to loosen up.
When combined with his soreness from yesterday, Albek was aching in all sorts of new and interesting ways. Nearby, Jameson was turning over earth like he ran on diesel. Albek learned not to compare his progress with that man’s after the first ten minutes.
Looking up, Albek saw that the sun was well over the trees, putting the time at roughly nine in the morning. They’d been at this for two hours. A lot of space was opened up for new plants, but Albek didn’t think he could continue much longer. He’d been pretty ineffective as a plower, at any rate, unable to even grip the hoe properly with his injured hand. His other hand, which had been doing most of the work, was now raw and red, several blisters having formed and then popped despite the work gloves Mr. Hudds lent him. The older tried to talk him out of working, but Jameson vetoed the suggestion, citing how it built his character or some nonsense.
At last, Jameson finished up his stretch of earth and put down the hoe, cracking his fingers.
“Right, that’ll do for plowing today,” he declared, “Let’s take a quick break and then we can start watering.”
Albek flopped down on the steps of the porch, fanning his shirt. Mr. Hudds tottered over with a glass of water in hand, which he gingerly accepted with his tender hand.
“So,” Albek said, after gulping down a glass, “To clarify. This is a mutually beneficial thing we’re doing? Mr. Bray plows and waters and you give him vegetables from the garden, right?”
Mr. Hudds nodded. “Me ‘n the boy are up to the task of planting, pickin’ and weeding, but I’m not quite able to till the soil any more, and hauling water is too hard on my back. Jameson’s a great help.”
‘Sounds like Mr. Bray does most of the hard stuff, honestly. He could just start his own garden with some seeds here and get more out of it. Chelsea could help, and that pond is pretty close by so they’d have plenty of water. Why doesn’t he do that? It’s almost like he’s running a charity here.’
The Shokarovs didn’t get around to much philanthropic work. From an early age, Albek was taught to leverage advantages and utilize others’ weaknesses to get more out of them. Not with family—never family—but for nearly everyone else. If he helped someone, it was only to call in a favor later.
‘Favor points. That’s what I called them. Then I had the blackmail stash. We moved before I got to really start with coercion.’
He hadn’t had many friends when he was a child.
Hemash had been unteaching him many of these things once they moved out of Kalk, but it was kind of like a leopard trying to scrub off his cub’s spots. For the first few years, it took a conscious effort for Albek to interact with others without trying to gain some sort of leverage over them.
Thankfully, his father was always there to serve as an example of how not to act.
‘I doubt Jameson is doing this to put Mr. Hudds and his grandson in his debt. And I don’t think he took us in for that reason, either. It could have been Dad calling in a favor, but Mr. Bray just seems so… selfless.’
Even if not everyone was out to get one over on everyone else, people still had to look out for themselves and their family first, right? It was a selfish world. Only selfish people could survive.
Albek heard a laugh, and he looked down to see Joel playing in the yard with a white cat. The boy was holding a piece of twine and twirling it around the cat’s head, which in turn whipped around with a look of intense concentration on its face. Jameson was sitting a few steps below, watching them play while wearing a wide smile.
Albek took another swig of water to help wash away the lump that suddenly formed in his throat.
- - -
The next hour was spent lugging buckets of water back and forth from the creek that was accessible through a gate in Mr. Hudds’ back yard. A dirt path wound down a forested hill, and at the bottom a stream gurgled through a ditch lined with pebbles. He had to be careful not to trip over tree roots as he worked his way up and down the hill with Jameson. Well, behind Jameson. Albek probably moved at less than one mile an hour. All he wanted to do was collapse in a heap and never move again.
Once the water was brought up to the garden, he dumped it into a large container, and Joel and Mr. Hudds would use it to fill their cans and go around watering the plants.
‘Yeah, a garden at Mr. Bray’s house would be so much easier than this obstacle course from hell.’
By his third tour, almost all of Albek’s goodwill towards Jameson had evaporated, and he began looking through spells for something that let him hypnotize someone into letting him rest. When that failed, he settled for spells that would make lugging water easier. One caught his eye almost immediately.
Level 0 High Tier Spell: Levitate Object
A simple manipulation spell. Applies a force to an object that causes it to slowly drift upwards.
The amount of force that can be applied is directly proportional to the weight of the object.
‘Handy. Hm, so it applies a force? I wonder if I could use this to turn objects into projectiles?’
Almost immediately, his thoughts turned away from its potential uses as a labor-saver and went to using it in a fight.
ANNOUNCEMENT
User,
Skill:Levitate_Object is inefficient as a combat spell, as it can only move objects slowly upwards or neutralize their weight.
Skill:Increase_Momentum is highly efficient as a combat spell, capable of adding force independent of the object’s weight.
Albek blinked.
‘Did Embryo just… talk to me?’
It felt unlikely, but that was the only explanation for the screen of text that just flashed in front of him.
‘Hello? Embryo, can you hear me?’
There was no answer.
‘What’s the best spell for me to learn?’
ANNOUNCEMENT
User,
All spells respond differently depending on the talent of the user and the purposes to which the spell is committed. There are no “best” spells.
‘Uhh, wow. Embryo definitely wasn’t doing this before. Have I fulfilled more secret requirements? I don’t think anybody else mentioned anything about Embryo talking to them.’
He wanted to test this a little. Maybe it would help distract him from the tedium of marching up and down a hill with buckets of what felt like cement.
‘Why are you directly speaking to me now, Embryo?’
No answer.
‘Have I met a hidden requirement?’
‘Are you really Embryo?’
‘What is Embryo?’
‘What caused the Apocalypse?’
‘Why can’t I send messages to people far away like everyone else?’
‘What’s an Uplink?’
‘Can you read my mind?’
‘How do I grind to level 100 the fastest?’
‘What’s up with my status effect? Or that excluded skill?’
He thought for a second. If it was a program, he should be able to game it. So far, Embryo had only spoken to Albek when he was trying to learn something directly relevant to learning spells… maybe it only cared about him improving himself?
‘What’s the best way for me to get rid of a status effect?’
. . .
‘Fine, then, which spell will help me move this water around?’
ANNOUNCEMENT
User,
Skill:Levitate_Object is most suited to tasks such as moving around heavy objects.
“Thanks, very helpful,” he muttered.
Just as he was about to select the spell, he had a thought.
‘Embryo, why did I have a vision when I learned Cold Snap, but not for Shimmer?’
This did the trick.
ANNOUNCEMENT
User,
Several factors affect the spell-learning process.
One qualification for the spell-vision met by User included a high affinity in the Order of Water. Elemental affinities are common in humans.
Another qualification met was User’s mental state, which had a high synchronization with the extant database for Skill:Cold_Snap
There are other factors, but they are beyond User’s priority level to access.
The first qualification made sense. He remembered reading something about humans and the elemental Orders. His affinity for water was marked at 74%, much higher than his light and space affinities. The second qualification was stranger, but on reflection, his mental state was very odd at the time he learned Cold Snap, seeing as he’d been under the thrall of the aegis.
What had it felt like? Like he’d been clearheaded—which was paradoxical, seeing as he hadn’t been entirely in control of his actions at the time. There was also that burning heat in his gut, that sense of tightly controlled anger that filled him and made him cruel and unfeeling.
‘I have to be a sociopath to be good at using water spells? Or is it just Cold Snap?’
Maybe he would try his hand at a few other Orders before he returned to water.
The rest of the hour was spent productively. Albek navigated the screens that taught him how to cast the spell while continuing to work. He didn’t have the benefit of a spell-vision this time, but his knowledge of two other spells helped him at least grasp some of the concepts.
The sun was high in the sky by the time they finished. Before heading back, Jameson brought out some towels and the both of them went down to the creek one final time to wash off.
Albek stripped off his T-shirt. There, like a great black beetle, was the locket, resting above his white undershirt. He pulled the necklace off and moved to place it down by his other clothes. The instant it left his hand, he screamed.
Jameson rushed over. “What is it? You hurt?”
The scream turned into a low groan, and Albek doubled over, face plowing into the dirt as he grasped his abdomen. By the time the man reached him, Albek’s eyes had nearly rolled back into his skull.
He was hollow.
“Here, we need to get you back to the house,” Jameson said.
“Hun-hungry…” he moaned, “…So hungry…”
“Right. Hungry? Right.”
Jameson, flustered, fished around in his pockets and came up with a piece of jerky.
“Eat this?”
Albek lifted his head, but as soon as he sniffed the food, he gagged.
“Not—no. No.”
What was wrong? He was so hungry, but he couldn’t eat. He was hollow and starving and empty like he was nearly on the verge of death, and he craved… craved something, but he didn’t know what. Not jerky. Not tea. Not ginger snaps. He sniffed Jameson’s arm while he slowly picked Albek off the ground.
Not that, either.
He had to make it stop. This started when he took off the locket. He eyed the locket on the ground, several feet away, the distance growing. Jameson was carrying him up the hill now, but with a sudden surge of desperate energy, Albek tore free of the man’s grasp and fell upon the locket, clutching it to his chest.
As his fingers closed around the cool black metal, there was relief. The hunger didn’t immediately vanish, but fell back in waves. From ravenous, to starving, to famished, to merely hungry. It became manageable.
He lay there, panting for breath, terrified that the tide would reverse again if he moved.
Glancing down at his stomach, he saw dark striations, lines of gray lightning, slowly retreating back to his navel.
He remained motionless on the bank of the burbling stream for a long while, breathlessly exhorting Jameson not to move him again. Eventually, he got up, having to prove that he was all right to the man. Returned to his senses, he was able to persuade the man that he was fine. He’d mentioned the curse before, so Mr. Bray wasn’t taken totally off-guard, but neither of them had expected it to be that bad.
Jameson still looked troubled while they cleaned up in the frigid creek, but he didn’t say anything more about it.
Albek kept the locket on this time. He’d be doing that for the foreseeable future, since it apparently was the only thing keeping the aegis in check. Somehow.
‘I get that the aegis can make me reckless, but why did it make me so damn hungry? Is it because I’m so thin?’
It was a worrisome development, but after his dip in the icy water, drying off, and getting into a change of clothes, Albek felt reborn, the ravenous hunger a distant memory.
Still, he could go for some fries.
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