Ryan did end up taking the room facing the garden. Unlike with himself, his parents didn’t like the idea of Hannah climbing onto the small rooftop, let alone the actual roof, and thought the elevated corner could be fashioned into some kind of play area.

They didn’t make much of a fuss about who got what—except their own room, of course—and neither did he. After they brought everything in, he carried his few meager belongings upstairs into his new ‘room’ where they could collect dust and wouldn’t get in the way.

In the other, his parents mused about maybe putting wallpaper up that Hannah could draw on, since they had learned the hard way children liked to draw on walls. They said it with raised voices and leaned back to give him a look when Ryan stepped into the hallway.

He didn’t remember that. He should have been innocent, but he still felt guilty. How much had it cost to clean that up, especially in a new apartment? Had it caused any trouble with their landlord? What if—

“Wait, that’s a thing?” Lisa asked, saving him from his own thoughts and their teasing smiles.

She stepped out of the bedroom after carrying a box of clothes up, her hair miraculously fine after yesterday. It looked exactly the same as it always did. Even he’d ripped a few strands out combing through the tangles this morning; had she used magic or—

Stupid question. Of course, she’d used magic. She even used it on her hair ties or food trays.

His mom smiled. “Children drawing on walls?”

“No, the wallpaper. To draw on. Why doesn’t everyone have that in their home?”

Micah must have heard the conversation or, more likely, had begun to feel left-out downstairs; he came up with a smile. “Your handwriting is atrocious. What would you even draw?”

“I can draw,” she scoffed.

Even Ryan tried not to raise an eyebrow at that. But really, he just wanted them to move so he could head downstairs and get some more work done. They crowded the hallway. He didn’t want to barrel by.

“Really?”

“Or paint, rather. With my hands.” She raised them up. “My family loves to do that for fun.”

“I have got to see that.”

He felt a twang in his chest and let go of the escape route with a smile, easing back against the wall instead. “Yeah, me too … We should get you some hand paint when we get back or something.”

Lisa smiled. “Sure. Anytime.”

Micah’s eyes went wide all the sudden and when they looked at him, he bustled with his arms in a poor attempt to hide whatever he had been thinking, waving down at the stairs.

“Uhm, uh, hey— That reminds me, we still wanted to go shopping later, right?”

“Yep!” his mom with a voice like a whip. “Off you go, we have work to do before we can do that.”

Micah sighed in visible relief and ran down.

Ryan followed. He’d been right: work first and he might help make them happy with some early shopping.

His parents had them try out a few different room constellations with their skeletal furniture set for a good half hour before they settled on something they liked … for now. They would buy more in the future and might change their minds. And there was still more to unpack.

More than the furniture, Ryan thought it was the little things that breathed life into a place: the familiar seat cushions they’d had for ages, little nonsensical decorations and figurines from festivals, bought on whims or as a last resort for birthday presents, dishware, pots and pans, the few long-lasting cooking supplies and window herbs his parents had brought along, and the recently-organized files, odds, and ends Finn had helped them with, but which would most likely start new families of clutter drawers on their own in just a few weeks.

After sleeping in—well, waking up early for the others—getting their things from the harbor, throwing open all the windows, and dusting, the house was beginning to look like a space someone might actually live in someday.

Other people noticed, too. A neighbor came to check on them on his way to work, just to say hi. So they were the new neighbors? — Sure thing. The Paynes, nice to meet you. How do you do? Or rather, what did he do that he had to work today? — At a bistro. His name was something with an ‘m’. — Oh, they had to drop by someday.

Ryan avoided most of the conversation by keeping busy, but he soon ran out of things he could do without his parents’ oversight.

A group of kids maybe half their age drifted by on the other side of the street, one with an alleyball in hand, and stared. They drifted by two more times like they had nothing else to do and began to multiply, gaining two new members on the third pass. Ryan whistled at them on a whim.

He took a robin, made it a little louder, and more human-sounding to get their attention and they scampered off right away, the kid with the ball dropping it and kicking it in front of him.

He smiled and Hannah giggled, which made him frown. He looked over at his sister to see if she was as shadenfroh as he this morning, but no, she couldn’t even see the street from the child seat she had been delegated to while the rest of them worked. So then …?

He whistled again. She slapped her hands down on the chair and stared up at him with a smile.

Ryan walked over and crouched, repeating the same whistle a third time to buy himself time to think. He tried out a few chickadees that woke them up in the morning and she seemed to recognize them. She liked the nightingale as well, but the tiny wren call was apparently too quiet for her. For some, he didn’t even really have to whistle, just sort of … wiggle his throat.

She laughed at even that. So she liked [Bird Singing]?

He kept on trying things until he got to the bluejay’s angry old-man screech and then she stopped. Ryan paused and tried again, this time putting more emphasis on the trumpet sounds they made, because trumpets were funny, right?

But she didn’t laugh at that, either. Something stunk and he immediately knew who had dealt it, because Hannah began to cry.

Shit, shit, shit—

He frantically switched by the chickadees and tried to get her to laugh again, but the smell just got worse and her screams louder. She scrunched her eyes up and wouldn’t look at him.

“M-mom?” Ryan called and turned away, but the room was empty, everyone busy with other things. “Mom!”

She came around the corner, “What? Oh, why is Hannah—”

“I don’t know!” he quickly defended himself. “I was just singing to her and then she started crying and—”

She rushed over to take his place in front of her seat, wiped the tears from his sister’s face, and patted her back. The moment she did, she took a whiff and her face scrunched up.

“Ryan, she just pooped her pants.”

What? Had she disliked the bluejay that much? Wait, no, that made no sense. Oh, she’d just … It wasn’t something he had done. Probably.

“Do you need me to get the baby bag, or …?” he offered, in part to get away from the smell.

His mom picked Hannah up and patted her back to soothe her. “No, it’s alright. It’s in the— in our bedroom, upstairs. I better go change her.”

“Do you need me to—”

“No, it’s fine, Ryan.” She smiled. “Just stay down here. I don’t expect you to change any diapers.”

His dad walked past her on her way up. “Ha!” he said with a childish grin. “He called you, so you have to do it.”

“This still counts as my turn!” she called down with a grumble. Hannah was still inconsolable.

Ryan stood alone in the front room and had nothing to do then, no way to help. He trudged back to the kitchen to unpack more boxes. At least, something he could do right for now.

As the time went by, more people noticed and some brought gifts. A nearly elderly couple from two houses across the street brought a quiche, which he’d been able to smell all the while it had been made—open windows.

Wisps of heat still rose off it when he ducked around to see. The couple had greying hair and presented it to his mom. Though, guessing by the ingredients, it was more of an omelette than a quiche: onions, tomatoes, celery, cheese, spices, and a few others overshadowed by the rest.

His stomach grumbled. He told it to shut up and went back to work. They only had a few days to get everything done before they left.

Oh, we saw you this morning and thought those must be the new neighbors on the street. It’s so nice to meet you, the woman was saying.

Busy settling in, eh? What, with all those boxes and furniture, a rougher voice added. You must be hard at work, so we thought we would bring something by.

A light slap. Had his wife swatted him? I thought.

Yes, yes, you thought. But uh, we saw all these children carrying your things around. Are they all yours? And this little lady? He went up with his voice. He must have been talking to Hannah.

What? Oh, no, no. Four kids? his mom said. No. Just this one—

Ryan froze in putting a plate in the cupboard.

—aaand … He could hear her trail off and strain her voice, so he ducked his head out of the kitchen.

“Ryan! There you are. Come over to say hello to our new neighbors.” She waved him over with a smile. When he got there, she wrapped her arm around his shoulders and finished, “This one. Ryan.”

The afterthought.

“Ryan,” he repeated and held his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you …?” he trailed off meaningfully. They told him their names, but he didn’t bother to remember. He only asked to be polite but would soon forget, anyway. It didn’t matter. He’d only be here a few weeks a year.

The stranger.

“The other two are friends from school who didn’t have anything better to do. And my husband should be around here somewhere, too … Rye’, can you hold this for me? It’s kind of warm, which would usually be a good thing but …”

His mom handed him the quiche, and Ryan took the excuse to turn around and carry it to the kitchen.

“Food food?” Micah said when he saw it.

“Food?” Lisa echoed.

He told them not to touch it and ducked back out. He wouldn’t be impolite. His dad joined the conversation and they talked about Spring Cleaning, and how there would be a small community event ‘out on the green’ on Tuesday. Just some grilled food and drinks, if they wanted to come?

“Your friends would love it, too, I bet,” she said to Ryan. “There will be children your age there.”

“Oh, no, Ryan can’t come,” his mom said, saving him from having to explain. “They’re headed back first thing Tuesday morning.”

She quirked an eyebrow at that. “Back?”

“To Hadica. They have to get back to school on time and have a few other things they need to do.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame.”

“It is,” her husband agreed.

Was it? Ryan couldn’t tell. Either he stuck around and pretended to take part in a community event he wasn’t a member of, or he left early and didn’t get the chance to do either.

It was a lose-lose situation.

“Which school do you go to?” the man asked him. “What are you studying for, I mean. Or are you just doing the general two years?”

Ryan blinked. He was a little surprised he’d guessed the standard right. Cairn was closest to Hadica, yeah, but it was halfway between Trest and Anevos and the schools there differed.

What were the schools here even like? His parents had mentioned three, if he remembered right. Three options, if he had chosen to move here with them instead of staying.

“Oh, I uh—” he said when he noticed them staring. Would they even know about Ms. Denner? Probably not. He put it in other words. “I go to Hadica’s southwest Climber’s Guild branch school …?”

And he still had no idea how many years he was going to do, so he couldn’t answer that. He hoped it would work itself out over time.

“Oh, a climber?!” the man asked.

Ryan straightened. He noticed his parents shifting next to him as well—an old habit. They were already shifting mental gears to being polite and bending the truth to get people off their backs. If you said what people wanted to hear, they would leave you alone, he knew. They didn’t matter anyway, right? And if things went wrong, you could still stand your ground then …

Ryan had struggled more with the latter part; not that he had gotten much practice for it.

But the old habit was misplaced here, and they caught on and relaxed. This wasn’t Westhill. The man hadn’t spoken in dismay or anger, but in something close to humor. Not quite condescension. Friendliness.

A sixteen-year-old from the big city dreaming of becoming a climber, it was easy to see why.

“That’s fascinating,” he went on when Ryan nodded, confirming his thoughts, “you should tell us more about that. Oh, but if you can’t come—”

“Oh, come in, come in!” his mom quickly urged them and stepped back from the front door. “Where are our manners? We could share the quiche you brought and show you the house.”

“Though,” his dad added, “If you knew the previous tenants by any chance, you might be able to show us around.”

They stepped inside and apologized for their dirty shoes. With the rain and all, but his parents brushed them off. They’d been running around in their shoes all day; they would have to sweep later anyway.

Ryan was left to close the door and stare after them in dismay. The volume of their conversation doubled when they entered the kitchen and Micah joined in, and all the different conversation topics overlapped. He took a moment to catch his breath before he headed back.

At least, it meant they could take a break to eat the quiche with the baked goods and sandwiches they had bought at that ‘quaint’ bakery on their way back from the harbor this morning.

They made tea, too, still without a proper tank for the stove, and his parents tried to be good hosts with the few things they had to offer, boxes and clutter all around them and not enough chairs for everyone. His dad, Micah, Lisa, and he didn’t mind standing while they ate.

Hannah got her own chair again. A seat on a chair.

At least, they looked genuinely happy about the visit. Sometimes, they had looked more polite than happy back home. But this …

Ryan looked around. If he thought away the clutter, filled the cupboards with dishes and ingredients, and added decorations, it painted a much better picture of the place. He took a step back and looked around the front room. Maybe a couch? A setup like Prisha had. And a proper welcome mat at the door with shoe racks and a cupboard for the jackets and winter clothing.

If the front left room was a living room, what would they even do with the one facing the back?

He thought of studies, workrooms, libraries, and meditation rooms, but none of those seemed right. Not for his parents. They didn’t really have hobbies like that, except for the occasional baseball game.

Maybe a dining room with a large table for … parties? Or community events like the one their new neighbors had mentioned, hosted at the Paynes’ house? Maybe, but he still couldn’t see his parents hosting one of those all on their own, not without convincing.

Oh!

And then he had it. Birthday parties for Hannah. A large table big enough to host all the friends she would invite, the kitchen so his parents could look in, and the garden just a few steps away …

Ryan smiled imagining it. And then he didn’t.

He wasn’t sure if he would be able to come to all of those. The parties. Her birthday wasn’t during a holiday, but it was pretty close … and the exam seasons were always around that time.

Maybe if they celebrated on the weekend, he could leave Friday after school, get there in the evening, and spend Saturday with them before leaving on Sunday again? It was just one day, but if he would be there for her …

And for himself. Because really, he wanted to visit as often as possible, even though he didn’t have the time or money. Cheap booking was done months beforehand. He could only really visit during the holidays but even then, the others would probably want to spend as much time as possible during the summer break inside the Tower because they couldn’t go during the school year.

And then there was the scout camp he wanted to attend again for the [Ranger] consolidation. Ryan really would only get to see his family a few weeks each year. Months, at best.

He felt a lump in his throat and took another step out to get his shit together, then tried to convince himself that there might be a silver lining to it all, somewhere. It … was every kid’s dream to get some time away from their parents, right? To go to parties and stuff like that.

Maybe he could like … try to be a little more normal and go to parties and get drunk as well? Or be … ‘not normal’ with that freedom. Because if his parents weren’t there to notice …

But no, he didn’t want to— It would be yet another lie that separated them. Worse, because it wouldn’t be a small lie of omission anymore, like not knowing if he even wanted to be a climber or thinking stuff like that. He would actually be doing stuff and lying to them if they asked.

He couldn’t afford to do that, not when a hundred miles more would keep them apart. He couldn’t add to the distance.

And anyway, the more he thought about it, the more he hated the idea. Living like that so far away from them. It would be his worst nightmare, wouldn’t it? Distancing himself so he could, or so he could be a climber, or living like that, his family finding out, and they distancing themselves from him.

He thought of all the other stories of guys like him he’d heard about, of similar stories for other reasons in Westhill, of Micah running away from home after telling a lesser truth to his parents.

Exile. One way or another, no matter what he did, it was his future. And just like his career path, he too far in to turn back. He should have quit school and moved out here with them, gone to one of those three schools his parents had told him about. Staying had been a mistake.

He took a deeper breath and clenched his jaw, wondering what the hell he was even doing now. Fuck looking for a silver lining where there was none … It was always thinking about stuff that ruined everything for him. He had to stop. He couldn’t meditate here, but … He could try something close. Ryan took another breath, swallowed, and put on a smile.

The mirror hadn’t been hung up yet down the hall. It leaned against the wall near the entrance area and he walked over to check if he looked alright. His expression was shaky, but after a few seconds it seemed right.

Ryan nodded and headed back into the kitchen. Mrs. Tanner was waving directions in the air ‘to the green’ for his parents, so they could find the festival on Tuesday. Hopefully, they’d have fun.

He nudged Micah on his way to the sink, put his plate down, and offered to wash the dishes for the others. Micah took his cue and manned the drying.

“What do I get to do?” Lisa asked.

“We have more than one towel, you know,” he said and she took the second one to get the other half. It’d be faster that way.

Mr. Tanner complimented them. Or rather, he complimented the facade Ryan put up. There would be none if he let them see his rotten insides. Why the fuck did people think they could just compliment others based on appearances alone anyway? He should mind his own damn business.

Wait, no, that was … that was wrong. Ryan sighed and handed Lisa another plate. He was just being nice.

He talked and waited longer than he would have liked until their guests left, but early enough for them to still be polite. His mom mentioned their plans to go shopping and they gave them some tips for where to go, but said they didn’t want to keep them for too long, in that case.

The moment they left, his dad sent them back to work. Micah, ever the diligent, ran upstairs to folding the boxes.

“It’s a shame Lang couldn’t come along,” his mom said. “Even if you couldn’t have gone to the festival, you might have gotten enough people together to play ball on the field we heard about.”

“He was too busy with school?” his dad asked, looking at him.

Ryan nodded. “Yeah, and with helping his family clean up during the holiday,” he lied.

Really, he hadn’t asked. He felt awkward around the guy ever since his birthday. He’d cried in front of him and … actually spoken about stuff openly, for the first time. He had no idea how the fuck he was going to make up for that, how he could make sure Lang would forget.

The distance made the lie possible, but it made him feel like shit. He couldn’t avoid him forever.

“Isn’t it weird that we have a bunch of kids along for the trip to help us out?” his dad mused.

“What? You would have rather my brother had come along to help us out?” his mom asked back, a rhetorical question. “Or my mom?”

His dad shook his head. “I can actually hear her complaining about the poor weather, in my head. The boat ride would have been a nightmare. Or our furniture. Or lack thereof.” He shuddered.

“Yeah, no. We’re totally going to make this place our own before we ever let them set foot inside, right Rye’?”

“Yeah …”

They would make it their own, sure.

“Starting now,” his dad added. “We can’t let our guests do all the work while we chat down here. Hey, Micah!” He cupped a hand in front of his mouth. “How’re the boxes coming alone?”

“Fine!” he grunted.

They headed for the stairs, but Ryan hung back to say, “I have to go to the bathroom, actually.”

His dad turned to smile at him. “You don’t have to announce that, Rye’.”

“No, just … because it’s a number two? As a warning.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder and took a step back. “I’ve been holding it in for a while now, actually. I’ll go in the basement so …?”

“Oh,” he said with a wide mouth. “Well, good luck then. Take your time and— Oh, take toilet paper!”

Ryan snatched a roll from a box and held it up on his way down, glad they had some without having to go shopping first. It made things simpler. Innocuous. His parents watched him leave.

He’s going to clog our toilet on the first day here, isn’t he? he heard his mom say on the stairs down from the kitchen.

Has to happen sooner or later, his dad added.

He locked the toilet door, sat in the cramped space, and waited until he was sure they had left. Nobody was close enough to hear. Nobody expected him up there anytime soon. Only then did Ryan allow himself to cry.

The days passed in a haze of low thrumming restlessness. He hesitated to call it excitement, though it was clearly excitement on the others’ faces as they spent time in Cairn.

Not excitement for something, but about everything else around them. They got the essentials done on Saturday so the house could be inhabitable and went shopping in the market streets of the local inner city where the roads were paved with small, grey stones instead of the marked lawns and patches of unclaimed wilderness that marked the rest of the town.

A trickle from a fountain ran down a recess at the side of the street despite the mild spring weather, and Ryan imagined kids might splash in the shallow water in the summer, or people could lose their shoes to cool off.

The market streets seemed tidy in more ways than one. He could see no proper bazaar like Hadica had, but lots of little shops and a few stalls here and there, like the ice cream stall they bought at.

It felt too early in the year for that, but he didn’t complain about ice cream. Lisa and Micah shared a few words about some kind of aura the vendor apparently had, to cool his wares?

It made him think of his own, and the progress he was trying to make of it. He moved on to other thoughts.

This was only one of many marketplaces, though. Cairn was big, he learned. Or rather, it was expansive—expansive enough that it had its own trams that ran down some streets, which made them stop and stare the first time they saw one.

“What? You didn’t know?” his dad asked.

“I’d read about them, but …” It was different to see them in person, in the countryside like this.

“Why did you think they were on-board with the idea of connecting to the railroad?” he asked.

Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

They were large, open, and came in different colors. White and blue. Red and brown. Others. And they moved slow enough that people could jump on or off as they pleased. They did please.

Ryan joined last in line, they looked around the wagon in excitement, and hung off to the side to see the town passing by … Until his mom asked another passenger if they needed tickets to be on, the elderly woman nodded, and they fled the scene, anyway.

There were also lots of prominent carriage stops, unlike the well-hidden corners and busy streets in the city. He could hear hooves clack in the distance wherever they went.

The first time they spotted a horse with a mounted guard on it, his mom’s eyes went wide and she pointed. “Those!” She turned to their group with a smile. “I’m going to take care of those.”

“Guard horses?” Ryan asked.

“You’re going to be a mounted guardswoman?” Micah asked in excitement.

“No,” she said. “What? No. Not … yet? I’m going to work in the guard stables, I mean. I always did joke about being a stablehand, didn’t I?”

She smiled, and it was the type of parental smile where Ryan didn’t know if she was happy or being incredibly self-deprecating.

Micah was all questions all of a sudden, and he was, too. One, he tried to answer without asking out loud because it might be rude, but Micah beat him to the punch.

“And you wanted to do that?” he said, blunt and oblivious in the moment, but a flash on his face showed he’d realized what he’d asked a second later. There was probably context to the question he hadn’t gotten to overshare.

“Well, I’m tired of working with people at the gate, so it’s a definitive step up,” his mom mused and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “And it’s good that we both found something so soon, especially since David can only work part-time.”

But …?

She didn’t elaborate.

“All the more time to spend with my little girl,” his dad said in a baby voice as he bent around to look at her. She wasn’t young enough to be wrapped into a bundle all the time anymore, so he carried her on his arm.

Ryan was not jealous, he told himself.

Luckily, they had to hurry and it broke up the conversation topic. The sun began its descent in the distance and they had to stop wandering around before the shops closed early on Saturday evening. It looked like they would only have time for the essentials today, as well.

Aside from a few farmers’ markets in the morning, most shops closed on Sunday, they’d heard, so it was important they got it done now.

There were always bistros, of course, and his parents would later invite them to their neighbor’s on Sunday for dinner, but first, they made their first, proper home-cooked meal at his parents’ new home, seated at a kitchen table with napkins, drinks, lamps, and everything.

Still no tank for the stove, though. Ryan got to stand there and hold a flame to the pot for minutes on end to speed up the process, since their can of fire potion could only do so much.

He slept in his room for the first time that night—alone because his parents wouldn’t let Lisa sleep in the same room as him without supervision and Micah didn’t want to leave her alone.

It was mostly empty and despite the open doors and everyone running around to check on each other before bed, he stayed up long enough for it to be quiet, too. He stared at the ceiling while his thoughts tumbled in circles.

He got his usual amount of sleep that night, despite waking up at the same time as the others.

They bought a couch on Monday and slept downstairs for the last night, because the others insisted on it. Spring Cleaning was one of the shorter holidays, only an extended weekend up to Wednesday. And they still had to get ready for school when they got back.

It ended far too soon, though. They still hadn’t seen all of Cairn or finished moving in. Not really. The house was still half-empty and his room barely had three things inside of it. It would look the same when he got back.

But most of all, Ryan wasn’t ready to leave yet. Not if his parents weren’t also stepping on that boat back with them.

But when they got to the harbor that morning, it was only Lisa, Micah, and he who had their backpacks with them. And his parents stopped walking a few meters away from the boat.

They turned and still had a while until they had to board, but it was here where they would have to say goodbye.

He wasn’t ready.

The others had wrapped themselves up because of a chill in the morning. Hannah was almost in winter clothes. The stretches of grass that lined everything were covered in dew and mist hazed the distance.

Some of the others shivered from time to time and Ryan wished he could have worn more layers like them. Maybe then he would have felt ready, but he hadn’t brought any to wear, to save room.

He was dressed like he was just ducking out to bring out the trash, drop by a friend’s house for an errand, or head into another building. Not like he was about to travel a hundred miles on a river away from his family. He wasn’t dressed for a departure.

His mom hugged him. His dad had Hannah, so it was a proper hug this time and he relished the chance. “Take care of yourself, Ryan, okay? Promise me you’ll get back safely.”

He nodded numbly.

“And back from the exam, as well. Make sure you do well, but … also be safe, too, okay?”

He nodded again.

“You have your rain jacket?” his dad asked him.

For a second, Ryan jerked and had the stupid idea to lie and say he had forgotten at home. He would have to run back to get it then, right? They’d made him promise to wear it into the Tower and if he didn’t have it, he couldn’t leave. He would have to run to the house and would miss the boat. Then he would have to take the next one and … And that would be tomorrow morning.

He almost laughed at the futility of it all and broke into a smile. Of course, there was no way he could do that.

“Ryan?”

He slipped his backpack around and opened it up for them to see, touching the jacket and focusing for a moment to make the yellow glow.

“I’d almost rather leave it here with you,” he admitted, “to be sure that you’re safe. To wear to work, either of you?”

His mom aww-ed.

“I appreciate the thought, son,” his dad said, “but you know you have to wear that, right?”

He nodded. He would wear it and it would allow him to stand on the front lines during the exam without worry, so he could do what he did best but … He hated it at the same time.

It was irrational and he didn’t have the faintest clue as to why, but he just wanted to throw it away some days, or stomp it into the dirt. Fucking stupid jacket they had gotten back then, keeping him of all people safe.

“Keep safe,” his mom repeated, mirroring his own thoughts, “be good, but not too good. You can have fun while we’re gone, as long as—”

“I’m responsible about it,” he finished for her. What even was responsible, anymore?

She smiled and tapped his temple. “Yeah. Wise guy.”

Ryan leaned away, but only for a moment.

“And you’re going to come visit us during summer break, right?”

He nodded again. It was the one thing he could do, so he clung to it. “After we go into the Tower again.”

A pair of passengers walked by their small group and gawked at the cute baby, and it only reminded Ryan of the passing time.

“Lisa and Micah can handle the Tower on their own, you know? I’m sure they’ll earn a bunch when you’re gone.”

“A ton,” Micah said. “I can’t wait.”

Lisa shoved him. “Don’t be mean.”

“What? Oh, uhm—” His eyes went wide. “I meant, I can’t wait to go in general but especially with Ryan and Lisa!”

“Mmh,” Ryan said, though he supposed it was true enough. It was just, Micah got so excited by stuff it was hard to see the difference between the heights. How much ‘more’ excited would he be about climbing with them in comparison? Not much. Even he had his limits.

“Sure,” Lisa added.

“What? I am.”

“No fighting, either,” his mom added, “not when we’re gone and you can’t force us to go to an awkward dinner to fix things.”

Micah blushed, but nodded.

“Or in general,” his dad said.

His mom reconsidered. “Maybe a little fighting.”

Her counterpart raised a finger. “But you have to make up, after.”

They didn’t have to worry about that, though. Ryan had no reason to fight with Micah anymore. He had lost that battle on both fronts.

His mom glanced over their hands at the same time as his dad checked his watch, and then Micah did the same, probably because he could. She shifted her stance, a little more restless.

Were they running out of time?

He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t. Ryan took a step closer as if it could take him away from the boat and what it meant.

“You have your tickets?”

The other two raised theirs. Ryan just nodded, hovering near his mom like a kid on the first day of classroom.

“And you have the contact address for the scout trip sign-up?”

Another nod. He had everything. Why were they even talking about this? Weren’t there other things to say?

“Write,” his mom said. “Write a bunch. And check your mail every day. Letters are cheap, okay?” She ran a hand through his hair. “And that goes for you two, too.”

“What would I write about?” Micah wondered.

“Anything. Everything.”

“Mm, okay.”

They looked at Lisa; she noticed, looked lost for a second, and gave a questioning shrug. She probably knew even less what she would write about.

“You guys should probably head off soon, then. Or you won’t get any good seats. It’s a long trip.”

“Shorter than the way here,” Ryan croaked.

His mom must have heard. She gave him a sudden look and he tried to hide it, but she hugged him again and swayed from side to side.

“Oh, Ryan. It’ll be fine. It’s just two years or so and you’ll come see us whenever you can, right?”

He nodded into her shoulder. He would, as long as he could. As long as he was allowed to. Then: exile.

After she let go, his dad gave him a hug, too, and a pat on the back. The others said goodbye and it all went by far too quickly. They headed for the walkway. Ryan was last in line, but he had to show his ticket after the others … and then he had to walk up that echoing wooden walkway and stand at the railings while his parents remained on the ground.

Hannah made frantic noises at his dad’s chest all the sudden as she realized they were parting ways.

His parents bent over her to soothe her for a moment, Ryan hesitated, and then ran back down to say a proper goodbye to her as well. He wasn’t used to having to do it, but he wouldn’t forget again. He sang the first robin sound that had gotten her to laugh on Saturday, but she didn’t now.

I don’t want you to stay here, he thought. I want you to come back home with us. But he couldn’t say it.

The others waved from the boat instead, with wide motions she could see, and Ryan had to step back up. The horn sounded and his parents stepped away. The others reserved seats for them.

Ryan waited.

The horn sounded again, far too soon, and they left. Waving and calling over the side of the ship, sometimes with smiles, yes, but they left. And then it was over.

Micah was kicking his legs in the seat next to him and talking animatedly about all the things he was looking forward to once they got back, the school, their friends, the training, the exam, the news, his bed, the workshop … He wouldn't shut up.

Ryan stared at Cairn as it passed them by instead. The boat was faster down than upriver. The trip would be a few hours shorter, especially without the rain. He just wanted to roll up in his bed the moment he got back, but he knew they had to head to his parents’ place to put out the furniture first.

He wanted to groan.

Lisa was looking forward to her bed, apparently. Nothing against his parents, but she had gotten used to a certain standard, she said. It sounded like a joke. He didn’t laugh. She was also looking forward to getting back because maybe Garen had returned from his expedition?

Hopefully. There was no way they would have known if he had, all the way in Cairn.

She wanted to check home the moment they go there, and Micah started bothering her about how she had [Surging Strength] and how she should be the one to carry out the furniture while he checked for Garen.

“Yeah,” she barked. “Sure."

"Just saying."

"I mean, if you want to stay a weakling forever …?”

Micah immediately cringed. “I take it back. Bad joke. Actually, I’ll carry out all the furniture on my own! Because I'm totally strong!”

He puffed his chest and there followed a silence. Slowly, it turned to something more awkward and Ryan felt them staring at him. He didn't bother to reply.

They changed topics and their conversation slowly lost its momentum until Lisa nudged him. “Hey, Ryan, I’m getting something from the kiosk. Do you want anything?”

He grunted.

“Is that a no?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, yes?”

“Yes, no.”

“Ah.”

He continued staring at nothing. When she got back, she held a bag of fried nuts out to him anyway. He declined. Micah didn’t, by the rustle of the bag.

“Hey, Ryan, want to practice spells again?” he asked with a mouth half-full.

“No, thanks.”

"Oh. Well, okay then ..."

He practiced on his own for a while and later called, “Hey, Ryan, look! Another boat!”

He glanced up, saw the other vessel passing them by, the empty rolling fields beyond it, and knew they had left Cairn ages ago. There was no way he could go back. He waved to get the others to shut up, but dropped his arm the moment it was gone.

“Ryan, do you want me to help with the furniture later?” Lisa asked.

“No. We’ve got it, but thank you”

“Mm … want to spar when we get back? Let off some steam? You could practice with your new spear some more …?”

“No, thank you.”

“You want to—”

“I’m going to meditate,” he decided and sat up. The moment he did, his body seized the chance to remind him of how tired it was and pushed him into a stretch. “On the topic of training, y’know?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I’ve been working on some stuff of my own. So like …”

He looked at them and saw in their eyes that they were not going to leave him alone, so he dragged his backpack out from under the bench and used it to prop his legs up into a proper meditation pose, to make it somewhat official, then closed his eyes and took deep breaths.

It took him forever to get there, especially since the other two seemed like they were about to ask or say something every second, but eventually, the void greeted him and he sighed in palpable relief.

Finally.

It took him even longer to get to the silver ring in the center as he had to take the long way. He didn’t feel up to sprinting across the distance, but he was used to that by now.

He wandered; to the [Bird Singing] tree where he listened to their discord together as they hopped around to get closer to him—he scowled at the bluejay—and where groups lived together.

To the massive bonfire surrounded by almost featureless [Scouts] and the smaller campfire near it, where Darren sat though he wished he wouldn’t anymore. It represented his [Pack Aura].

To the edge of the silver platform, where he just sat and watched the dark grey bands of wolves, sheep, insects, horses, Teacup Salamanders, fish, and so much more run through the night sky. They looked almost like bands of ornamental knots in the distance.

It and the congregations of animals about represented [Strength in Numbers], which was also an aura of sorts, he knew by now. Of sorts.

Auras were all things magical that radiated outward from someone, or something, and those bands radiated out from him. Even if the others couldn’t see them, the man at the seminar had been able to. They registered people and when they made contact, they … sort of rallied ‘something’ inside of him. He could see it in the multiplying birds that appeared out of nowhere, the eggs that hatched, the Salamanders that hunted down people in packs, the stampeding bands of animals that broke out of their lines, and the way the colors around him would grow tighter. Less painting and more sculpture.

Unlike [Surging Strength], it wasn’t a well that refilled and was expended all at once, but a slowly rising water level. It rose with numbers and it rose in battle. There was a hint of something bestial about it. A combat Skill, at best. A small nudge of strength for every nearby friend at worst.

But it had its limits. An army of allies wouldn’t give him [Greater Strength]. Or it shouldn’t at least, since it was limited to what was inside him, but …

He suspected the Skill drew something from those it made contact with, like the fields of influence for their cantrips flowing back to their makers; or maybe it took something from the world in general.

That had been the hint to understanding [Pack Aura], because [Strength in Numbers] should have just been focused on what was inside of him based on the presence of others, but [Pack Aura] was the outlet that opened the former up to others. And that opening went both ways.

[Strength in Numbers] sensed the people around them, whipped the ‘something’ inside of him into shape based on their numbers and circumstances, and then [Pack Aura] let some of that out to the others while taking a little bit of their ‘something’ in to be whipped into shape.

He was like some kind of processing center for that, then.

He didn’t know what that ‘something’ was, but he had his suspicions. And he was still trying to figure out how to add and remove people from [Pack Aura] for various reasons.

But the real question was … if he could link [Pack Aura] to [Strength in Numbers], then could he link it to other Skills as well?

And that, he struggled most with. Because he hadn’t had the faintest clue as to how to do that. The two Skills overlapped so much they were almost intertwined, probably because he had made them both at the same time and the same imagery.

If he removed [Strength in Numbers] he wouldn’t have ‘bands’ that interacted with the people around him and he wouldn’t have the effect that whipped the ‘something’ inside of him into shape. Whatever he linked up, it would be weaker, right? Unless … he meditated on changing his other Skills into ‘in numbers’ Skills as well? 'Gave them bands of their own?

Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to or even could do that, because ... what if he truly would be on his own someday? [Pack Aura] had been a fluke … but it was already here, now, so he might as well make the most of it. The reason he tried was because of Lisa. He hoped, if maybe he could link of [Lesser Fire Affinity] up to his Skill, he could get a fire aura for her to make her spellcasting easier?

Micah’s stupid lecture about alchemical fireworks on New Year’s had given him the idea and he'd been struggling with ideas and reading books on the topic ever since, in part to distract himself ... just like he was doing right now. He hesitated and pushed the thoughts down. Better to be productive and distract himself than focus on something he couldn't change. He had to stop thinking about stuff like that.

So he looked to his left where his [Salamander Path] was, and to the right at the bonfire of [Pack Aura]. The small painting of his [Lesser Vitality] stood beyond it and the [Bird Singing] tree in-between.

He got up, dusted his hands off out of habit—despite being a figment of his own imagination—and walked the long journey over to the [Salamander Path] to pick up one of the many Teacup Salamanders that hung out on the platform or in the parchment tunnels. Hugging it to his chest, he carried it all the way over to the massive bonfire and threw it into the flames.

It went up in a burst of smoke and unfurling colors.

There.

... No?

Nothing happened.

Damnit, he didn’t know what else to do. He had tried ‘scooping up’ some of the red color as well and bringing it over, breaking off pieces of his Path, or even trying to drag the bonfire along the void. Nothing had worked. How the hell was he supposed to link the two together?

He was going to have to draw a new Skill, wasn’t he? Something like [Fire Affinity in Numbers], or somehow imagine a connection between the two but … he felt like he shouldn’t have to. It seemed wrong to him.

After all …

He walked around the silver ring and kept his eyes to the right so he wouldn’t look at himself up there, the naked silver giant.

The [Mage] impression, painting, visage, idol—whatever he wanted to call it—looked at him from his right and shone somewhere between porcelain and a faint blue luster. Its depiction had changed slightly ever since New Year, but he didn’t like to look at it either way. All they did was show lies, he knew.

The [Scout] visage was the most bearable, or he liked the lies it showed. Three Ryans in three facets: one in a prim and proper uniform with a friendly smile on his face, the second at a campfire with the other scouts at night, and the third in some kind of rough terrain with a spear in his hand ready to turn around and lunge.

[Surge]? And maybe [Sure Grip]. Then the campfire could be [Basic Fire Craft], and the third facet … He frowned and shook off a headache.

Lies.

The [Fighter] visage was worst of all, because it was cracked and looked like pieces had been lifted out and replaced with another image. Ryan stood in it with sword and shield in armor surrounded by hints of foes, tan city colors standing against the darkness around him, surrounded by the oppulant frame with gold and the thinnest of silver rims.

But here and there, part of his sword had been replaced with the shaft and half a spear tip instead. He almost thought it was the new one Lisa had given him. His armor was a patchwork of old and new, the rain jacket only half a hoodie and golden glow around him. Each aspect of his face showed another emotion. One shoulder was hunched lower than the other as if from a different pose.

It didn’t really show much, just him standing there in combat, but … Ryan didn’t like how much it said. Lies, he wanted to think, but it was harder this time. A patchwork painting of a [Fighter] for the patchwork person, the Class he'd never known if he really wanted.

He placed his hand against the chest of the Ryan in the painting and the earthy colors of the visage lit up.

Hints of yellow light pushed into his arm and a river of it flowed down the silver walkway to the giant. On the other two walkways, green light and only a few motes of blue did the same.

He didn’t understand why his Skills needed to be ones that interconnected to work with [Pack Aura], like [Strength in Numbers] when after all, his Classes— everything already was interconnected. How else had he made Skills out of [Lesser Charisma] and [Lesser Strength]?

He risked a glance up to see what the light, energy, potential—whatever he wanted to call it—did, this time. It always did something, showed him something when he touched the visages.

The storm of tan yellow flowed into the silver giant representation of himself and his muscles began to fill out, his back straightened, and his expression shifted until he almost looked the way Ryan actually looked. He almost seemed a hint taller.

That wasn’t what caught his attention, though. His right arm resting on his knee was slowly beginning to rise up, almost as if someone was pushing up against his … elbow …

Fucking hell—

His head began to hurt as the reassociation set in and the world around him cracked and crumbled. Ryan shut his eyes and jerked his head to the side with a force of will to get himself to wake up sooner.

Sam was scrambling against the armrest to push itself under his arm and onto his lap, Micah holding it steady with a beaming smile behind it.

“You don’t mess with people when they’re meditating,” Ryan grumbled.

He let go in surprise and Ryan caught the Salamander before it fell, guiding it onto his lap.

“You noticed?”

“Of course, I noticed.”

“Sorry—”

“We thought Sam might be able to cheer you up,” Lisa interupted. “It was Micah’s idea, but I asked the crew if it was fine.”

He frowned and scratched the monster’s neck. "And?"

“As long as we don’t bother the other passengers,” she said.

“Hrn.”

He would have fallen out of the void anyway, soon after glancing at himself, but … still. You didn't mess with people while they meditated. It was about principles.

Ryan let it go with a sigh. “You know, the gesture would have been nicer if we hadn’t known that Sam is a pure construct now.” He was basically scratching a monster-shaped heated pillow on his lap.

“Really?” Lisa asked in a challenging tone. “Because I disagree.”

“Why?” Micah asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“The Sam back then would have only have crawled onto your lap if there was a monster there, or food, it needed a better vantage point, or it wanted to use your warmth to save energy, or stuff like that, not because of any drive to comfort.”

“Oh. And now ...?”

“Now, I told it to.” She smiled.

Ohh, he mouthed. It was like she was hugging him … or had lent him her monster-shaped heated pillow, anyway.

“Thank you,” he told her and frowned, something itching at the back of his head. Sam really was warm. It was his first enchantment.

He held it up and its leg twitched. “You still haven’t fixed that? I thought you had a Skill that let you change summoning enchantments, uh …”

“[Mold Pattern] and no,” she said. “I’m not changing anything before I’m sure about the consequences. It would be better if I had a crystal to practice on, but …” She shook her head and smiled. “Anyway, I like the twitch.”

Sam didn’t seem to. It looked annoyed, though Ryan knew he was just imagining things. Its current enchantment … it had [Hot Scales] or whatever its version of the Skill was, so …

“I’m going to meditate again,” Ryan said.

“Aw, what? C’mon,” Micah complained. “We’re on a boat ride!”

“Yeah, but I’m in a bad mood and I have a hunch.”

He hugged Sam again and made a face that told them to leave him alone for now. Legs up, back straight, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths. The moment he was in the void, he looked up and around until he spotted the bands of beasts running through the night.

There was his clue. He didn’t want to change his Skills and he didn’t want to make new ones because he was afraid of the cost, and as long as he didn’t know how to use the interconnectedness of his Skills he couldn’t link other ones to [Pack Aura] … but what if he didn’t need to?

What if he could go for variations instead, as Micah had done with his different lenses for [Essence Sight]? That was supposed to be easier.

He focussed on the bands above the [Bird Singing] tree, asserted mental control of the loose direction they flowed in, and drew them closer to get as many as possible in two points alone, A and B, his [Salamander Path] and the bonfire.

And then he sort of … pushed them through the Path itself, the scales of his [Hot Skin] Skill, and tainted the menagerie of beasts into one type alone: Teacup Salamanders.

The bands shifted from dark grey to red, and the ornamental knots in the distance looked like scales instead, and those Ryan pushed out through the flames of [Pack Aura’s] bonfire.

[Exemplarism Path explored!]

[Salamander Path explored!]

[Skill — Hearth of Salamanders obtained!]

He … didn’t know if that was what he had been going for, but he would take it!

He spent most of the rest of the trip sharing the good news with the others and exploring his new Skill, since they both claimed they could actually see it around him, unlike the strength aura.

“Switch here,” Micah said, having repeated it often enough that it became ‘here’ for him.

Ryan focused. [Hearth of Salamanders]. It took a moment for it to work, unlike active Skills, but he immediately felt himself weaken as if he were left with only the lazy, [Lesser Strength] part of his Skill that hadn’t been whipped into shape. Probably even less than [Lesser Strength] on its own would have given him, since Class Skills changed by Paths usually lost a little in quantity while they gained in quality.

He'd been hoping the new Skill would actually make him even stronger, since he wasn’t sharing with the others anymore, but he had lost the portion he got from them and lost something else besides due to the variation from the menagerie to just Salamanders, he guessed.

That was a shame, but Micah lit up when he saw the aura. “Switch back,” he said, the counterpart to his earlier statement.

[Strength in Numbers].

After a moment, the other guy’s smile turned into a frown. “I don’t get it. Why can I see one of them but not the other?”

Lisa wasn’t looking at either of them when she spoke. She concentrated, ‘leafing through pages’ as she called it. “Different x-axis, same y-axis maybe.”

“Ugh, please don’t remind me that I have to study for math,” Micah grumbled. “Now come again?”

“Basically, you can see the heat essence he’s spreading, but either not the ‘wavelength’ of the aura itself, or not whatever else his [Strength in Numbers] shares with us, or both.”

Ryan frowned. “Which would be …? What I share with you?”

“‘Strength essence’?” she guessed and shrugged.

“Wait, that actually exists?” Micah asked.

“Oh, yeah. There are essences of basically everything.”

He squinted. “Is there ‘Micah essence’?”

Lisa pushed her lips into a flat line. “No. And let’s keep it that way.”

“But you said—”

She shoved a hand in his face.

“Did you find it?” Ryan asked after the moment was over. “What you were looking for?”

She shook her head. “No. There’s too much to look through. I’ll try again some other time. It’s not really important, anyway.”

“Mm.”

“I mean,” she quickly said—she must have sensed his disappointment, “It’s still a good Skill, but …”

“‘But’?”

“It’s not really as useful for me …?”

He genuinely felt disappointment then and Lisa added a, “Sorry.” But he had been working on that for over a month, just wrapping his head around how it all worked and now it wasn't supposed to be useful for her?

“It’s nine parts heat essence really, and only one part or so fire essence, and I don’t really need any more of those. Sure, they could help a little but … I’m not exactly starved for affinities, right now.”

Micah frowned up at her. “You use his heat essence all the time to cast spells when you stand next to him.”

Wait, she did?

She nodded. “And that’s more than enough. But it might hurt Micah’s cold spells more than it helps and, in comparison, wouldn’t the [Strength in Numbers] be better for the both of you?”

Oh, she was thinking about it in relative terms. Ryan shook his head. “Of course, it would only be situational use, like when we're not fighting at the moment or something, or making camp.”

“Oh, well then it’s awesome.” She smiled.

Puh.

He quickly remembered why he was relieved, the context in the bigger picture, and added, “Just so you know, this is part of your birthday present, though. Because, like, that was why I trained for it: to help you?”

She squinted at him.

“I got something else, too, of course! And I paid for the tickets—”

“I’m just joking,” she cut him off. “Thank you, Ryan. It was thoughtful of you.”

He sighed. That was all he needed to hear. Sure, he had screwed up again by taking a shortcut to the Skill, but Ryan was a screw-up. That was just how things were now. So if he could still get a partial win out the messes he made … wasn’t that more than what he should have expected?

Maybe. He still had a proper present for her, if not.

In the distance, they could already see Hadica and the first glimmers of the Tower looming above. Micah jumped up to lean over the railing and see. He turned back to ask them something, but Ryan frowned and shushed him.

“What?”

“Don’t you hear that?”

“No?”

They waited a few moments and more and more passengers perked up as they began to hear it. It sounded like music, and noisy crowds, and drums, and— More. It sounded like the city was in an uproar.

No, it was a festival. They saw it when they reached the first streets of the outer city and people were throwing confetti around with impromptu decorations hung up and stalls abound. They were getting drunk in cafes, outside their homes, or on the streets.

What was going on? This was far, far too much just the end of Spring Cleaning. It sounded like the entire city was celebrating.

When they passed by one of the bridges, the crew whistled and called out to the crowd to ask what was going on.

“You didn’t hear?” a man asked.

A piece of confetti landed in Ryan’s mouth and he sputtered it out. A few had already layered on the other two’s hair, which meant there had to be some on his own as well.

“No! We just got into the city, ye’ dumbass!” someone else called, an older passenger.

The man on the bridge laughed it off, but the boat was moving and they were losing their chance. He had to raise his voice when he answered, “News got out this morning! Someone finally found the Gardens again! So all of Hadica’s is celebrating— Well, most of it, at least. There are some assholes who aren't.”

“Who?” the crew called.

"Y'know, some districts—"

"No, who found the Gardens?" they interrupted him, panicking now.

“I bet it was Garen,” Micah said at the same time as Lisa cupped her hands to her mouth and bellowed, “Was it the [Dragonslayer]?!”

That would be awesome, Ryan thought.

But the man furrowed his brows a fraction and smiled. “What? No, not him." His voice drifted off as they moved away from the crowded bridge and was almost drowned in the fanfare of the city, but Ryan could hear his words clear as day. “One of our Guests pulled through.

Enon, the Hermit!”