Words failed Zan. For nothing could describe his absolute fear once the boy spoke about the closet door. The one word which repeated like a siren in his head was ‘why?!’

He tried to reveal himself, to give up the ghost. His body wouldn’t allow it, though.

Instead, Zan’s knees sank further into the closet floor, and he willed everything to be returned to normal. He breathed hard, in, out, like he was an angler fishing for profit on a stormy day.

Not helping was the boy who said, “I can hear you hyperventilating, you know.”

Still, Zan could not move. He broke out in a sweat.

The boy took a few more steps to the closet, but turned away at the last moment.

And then… nothing.

The boy made no more comment about Zan’s hiding. He instead went around his room performing various activities. He mostly tidied up, making brief comments about how his caretakers gifted to him certain items.

But such remarks were limited and none of the words spoken meant anything to Zan, who knew nothing about ‘skilled tailors’ or ‘nasty but effective seamstresses’ and their skill with various hand-woven crafts. Done tidying up his room, the boy walked to his desk, which was next to the still lit fireplace. There, he opened books, a notebook, and to Zan, looked like he was studying for some class or lesson. Zan recognized the posture and motions from when Jiehong had to do the same for his studies.

He seemed to study forever. It was not forever, though, and when he stopped, what the boy did now was far more interesting. He stretched, walked over to his mattress, and pulled out a black envelope. He sat down on a half-bench at the foot of his massive bed. Smiling, he opened the large envelope.

By now, the boy was as close to Zan as he had ever been. Zan was sure how if he moved, the boy could see his movement, so he made extra sure to sit still.

From the folder, the youth removed pieces of paper heavy with color. Zan saw on the paper figures of scantily clad women, drawn in… interesting proportions.

Zan saw the figures were hand drawn but edited to include visually appealing stimuli, such as stars, and words, though Zan did not know what the words said. The boy then felt the paper and smelled it. An odd action to Zan, but thinking it over, thought maybe the pages had special ointments on them to intrigue the sense of touch and smell as much as sight?

Speaking, the boy said, “Want to join me?”

He waited for a response. Finding none, he said, “Okay. Suit yourself. If you don’t want to see a strapping young man like myself go at it, then avert thy eyes, now!”

Zan genuinely had no clue what the boy meant. Until he lowered his breeches…

Like a flash in the dark, it hit Zan. ‘Self-abuse,’ as some priests said. That was what the lad was referring to. That was what he was doing now.

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The impact of someone willing to please themselves in front of another person shocked Zan. He had no choice but to fumble out of discomfort. Trying to right himself before he gave too much of his position away — assuming any of his secrecy remained, unlikely though the proposition would be — Zan fumbled further and, after a series of petty bodily escalations, tumbled out of the closet.

Falling out from his hiding place, the boy stood up, holding his pants up, righting them back on to their proper position using his belt.

Stashing the fancy images back into the folder, the boy now laughed. “I knew that would get you! Few people can keep themselves composed in the face of sexy time!”

Zan’s faced burned red with the embarrassment he felt he should show for the both of them. What was with this freaking kid?! How unbalanced did he have to be to expose someone to his… body?

Gross, gross — what is this place? Zan screamed, whether at himself or him, he couldn’t recall.

Considering how… exposed Zan was, with being out in the open with this random (unwell) kid, he thought it better to stay longer than he ought. Sputtering out a ‘sorry!’ Zan leaped — literally, leaped — into the bed and made a dash into the rift. He only prayed it would lead him back to the Backroads.

One moment, bedroom.

The next…

Shades of gray. Surreal shadows, and the noiseless dirt.

He was back. He did it. He escaped the libertine!

Wonderful, he exhaled. Wonderful…

Before long, Zan had re-traced his steps and arrived back at the crossroads.

Surprising him, the pathway he just came from, which led to the strange ornate room with the perverse youth, erased itself before his eyes. What is happening?

Zan didn’t know, so he could only watch in dismay as the road he had come from vanished, leaving behind not even a trace. At least I won’t have to deal with that weird guy anymore, Zan told himself. Not as though there were any risk of him coming through the portal, though…

Zan had taken a couple of steps to the other fork in the road, the left-hand side, which was now the only path to take, when he swerved and physically ‘patted’ the fabric of the ether, the erased pathway. He patted the road, trying even to take a step, but found the passage immovable. His hands found only air wherever he touched them, and his feet brushed against an invisible force intent on forcing Zan to stick to the trail.

Satisfied he was by himself, and the boy hadn’t followed him — the last thing I need, Zan thought, is some strange kid following me around far from his home — and resumed his walking on the trail. Heading to a light, if one such were to appear.

Zan did not walk for long before he saw a glimmer. Soon, the glimmer became a flare. A couple more steps and the flare evolved to a raging inferno. Yeaup, Zan thought, elongating the pronunciation. This is what I’m looking for!

Not wanting to risk spending any more time in the Backroads, Zan didn’t overthink how stepping into a roaring fire might be disadvantageous to his health if the fire wasn’t what he was looking for. He just wished for the best, stepped through.

Finding himself suddenly outside of the command center, just inside the perimeter wall, staring outside at the vast field of rotting wood from the enemy dead killed days ago,

Zan blinked. Then blinked his eyes more… I am… out?

“What are ye doing you blasted, dumb little oaf of a —” an elder shouted before seeing who it was. Then he said, “Oh! Zan. I didn’t recognize you there. All I saw was a youngster and, well, I jumped to some conclusions. Sorry.”

Seeing an elderly man act so apologetic to him made Zan feel weird. He had grown accustomed to older adults and their rudeness. “No, you’re fine. I was trying to figure something out… magic stuff, maybe? I dunno. Sorry!” And Zan scampered off.

Zan turned and saw the command center in the distance. But something was off… what was it? Zan only noticed belatedly. It was twilight. He had been away all day!

The heap of the war engine where it was as ever, just atop and near the command structure, snapped Zan out of his trance.

Entering the command center, all eyes turned to him as both of the Wardens exclaimed, “ZAN, where did you go?!”

Striking a pose, Zan could only say, “Boy, do I have no idea…”