Axeton opened his eyes. The pain was gone, but so was every other feeling. He felt like he was drifting into an infinite void. All his field of vision would let him see was a vast cosmos of stars, in a panoramic view that seemed to never end. He recognized the constellations; Zhorii the Archer, The Battle of Rhondrogranda, The King’s Scepter. His father had taught him, although he had forgotten most of them.

He was about five years old, and as much of a terror that he was, he was equally as curious. He had seen his father lug a big, heavy leather suitcase up to the roof for months (he normally did it past the boy's bedtime), and every time Gideon would ask what he was doing, his father would reply with, “grown up things”. This, of course, made him want to solve the mystery of the suitcase even more.

His older brother Xander had been up to the roof with his father many times…but torturing a younger sibling is too rewarding not to do.

“You know father’s suitcase?” He asked one day at breakfast, when his father had already left for the day.

Little Gideon's eyes widened. “Yeah?”

Xander leaned closer. “I know what it’s inside…”

“YOU DO?!” he gasped.

“I do”, he continued. “Father told me to never tell anyone about it, because it’s so secret. It’s like the most secret thing in the world. Not even the king knows about it.”

Gideon was enthralled beyond reason at this point. He didn’t know who the king was or where he was, or that there even was a king, but if he didn’t know, it must be serious.

“Ok, I’ll tell you”, Xander whispered cautiously. “But you have to keep it a secret. Promise?”

Young Gideon nodded with gusto.

The older brother looked around, as if checking that the coast was clear.

“...Magic…apples”, he said, with a flourish of his hands.

The boy’s brows furrowed. “...apples?” he questioned.

“Magic ones, yes,” Xander replied. “Father is a member of the Civil Council, right? Well, he throws magic apples from the roof to the city. They land in peoples’ gardens, they tell the apple what they want the Council to do, then the apples fly back, and father picks them up.”

Gideon knew nothing about magic at the time, he hadn’t been trained with his Sight yet. So, this was within the realm of possibility. He marveled at the new information, his brother looking satisfied.

He must feel so good to share such a secret with his little brother, he thought.

The boy made a bit of a fool of myself over the next week or so. Walking around the district his father represented, he would ask various people in a whisper, “Have you received your apple yet?”

A few feigned understanding, just nodding with a confused look on their faces. Most had no idea what he was talking about. Maybe they weren’t the ones trusted with the secret. One of them gave him an apple in return, and try as he might, he couldn’t tell if it was magic or not.

A while later, the family was at dinner when Gideon's world turned upside down. His father was there, sitting at the table having arrived home a few minutes before. His mother made stew, and he was in the process of dipping a chunk of bread into his bowl when his father spoke.

“Gideon…people in the district say that you’ve been pestering them about fruit. Do I need to call the physician or are you just playing games?”

The boy stopped mid-dip and stared at him. He had been caught spreading an important secret.

His eyes darted to his older brother, who shrugged innocently.

“I wanted to make sure that they were telling you what they needed to say”, Gideon finally confessed. It was all over now.

His father’s brow furrowed, then he turned his head to Xander. “Are you torturing your little brother again?” he demanded.

Xander scoffed, picking up a mug of water. “Father, I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

His father pointed his finger at Xander, as if saying “As soon as I get proof, your chores are doubled for a month”, then relaxed. He continued to eat dinner, making small talk with their mother before retiring to the study for a cigar.

Gideon was helping his mother with the dishes a while later when his father came back, putting his hand on my shoulder. When he looked back up at him, he motioned with his head to join him in the study. He obliged, and they both went in.

Gideon would never forget that room. Wall-to-wall books, various statuettes and other trinkets placed tastefully on the shelving where there was space for them. A small fireplace crackled peacefully at the far wall, an antique clock on the mantle above it. The sweet smell of his father’s cigar smoke had permeated the overstuffed armchair that sat in front of the fire, and it radiated the aroma to anyone who stepped inside. Although it was “his” room, the boys were allowed in on occasion to read. Well, Xander was. Gideon followed and sat quietly because he wasn’t allowed to touch anything.

His father led Gideon to a trunk in the corner. An old, wooden thing with leather bands and a big lock. They stopped in front of it, and he sighed.

“Gideon, please tell me what your brother told you”.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

The boy looked down to the ground in shame, rocking back and forth on his feet.

“I know the secret of your magic rooftop apples”, he muttered under his breath.

His father squinted at him. “...What?”

He continued. “He told me that you take the suitcase up to the roof to throw magic apples at people, and they tell the apples what they want you to do, then they fly back here, and you catch them.”

He stood, musing, trying his best not to crack a smile.

“I see. That would explain your growing concern over fruit lately," he chuffed.

“I won’t ask anyone else about them," Gideon begged. “Just please don’t punish me for telling your secret”.

“Gideon," his father said as he sat down to match his height. “There are no magic apples, your brother was lying to you to trick you.”

The boy nodded, embarrassed. “I just wanted to know what was in your special suitcase”, he replied with a gentle whine.

Gideon's father had the Gift of Discernment. Not as flashy as an Elemental Gift, but it served him well at work and at home.

“I figured it had something to do with that. I’ve seen you watching me carry it up the stairs to the roof,” he said. “But maybe it’s time I show you what it actually was. Before you start worrying the neighbors”.

Gideon looked up, shocked. “You said it was for grownups”, he argued.

His father nodded. “Yes, it is. But growing up has to start somewhere. If you promise to be careful and not touch it without him being with you, you can see it. Are you ok with those terms?”

The boy reached his hand out, and his father playfully shook it. “Yes, I’m ready to be a man”, he said stoically.

His father pulled a key out of his vest pocket, unlocked the chest, and pulled out the suitcase. He stood up with it, then gestured for his son to follow. He willingly obliged, and it felt as though the climb up to the room was ascending into a heavenly realm of mystery.

Once the pair reached the top, he set the suitcase on a table he had in the middle of the roof, popping the brass latches. The boy could barely see past the top of the table as his father reached in and pulled out a shiny metal tube. He looked at him in confusion.

“It’s a telescope”, his father said, patting the cold metal gently. “You put it together just right, and on a clear night, you can see the stars”.

It took him a few minutes, but eventually he was able to assemble the strange device. It was longer than his son was, with brass knobs and pieces of glass, Gideon had never seen anything like it. The largest section had a big glass eye that pointed up towards the stars.

His father looked through a small piece connected to the other end, turned some dials, and asked him to come over. Once again, the son obliged.

He pointed to the small piece. “Axeton, very carefully look at this eyepiece right here and tell me what you see”.

Gideon gladly did so. The tiny dots in the heavens suddenly became bigger, amazing his little mind. “I can see more stars than I normally do," he whispered in awe.

“Yes, that’s what a telescope does," his father replied. “You can see all kinds of things out there. Mostly stars, sometimes…”

He pulled his pocket watch out of his vest pocket, looking at it for a minute before putting it back. He surveyed the skies without the telescope, then sat back down, swiveled the biggest piece, and looked through the eyepiece again. After a moment, he smiled and looked up at his son.

“Gid, do you want to see something amazing?” he taunted.

The boy nodded vigorously before practically shoving his eyes onto the eyepiece and gazing through it again. Through the lens, he looked out into the night sky and saw a bright speck of white, streaking through the sky. He watched in amazement as it kept going, until it left the view of the telescope.

“Wow," the boy gaped. “What was that?”

His father brightened. “It’s a huge rock that’s moving so fast that parts of it are breaking off”.

“How did a rock get all the way up there?” he asked.

“Who knows?” his father replied. “But sometimes, they come down and hit our planet. It’s very rare, but they leave an enormous hole in the ground, and when they hit it’s like a fountain of fire erupting from the earth!”

Axeton blanched. “They…hit us?” he asked, terrified.

His father snapped out of his excitement. “Oh, Gideon don’t worry. Like I said, it’s very rare and most of the time they just hit the ocean, not the land.”

He bit his lower lip with worry. “What happens when they hit the ocean?” he managed to squeak out.

His father’s eyes shifted back and forth, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t scare his child. “Uh…nothing. It just scares the fish”

The boy suddenly started to panic. “But what if one of them hits the house and there’s a big fire and everyone inside gets squished what do we do?!” He spurted, his eyes starting to tear up as he imagined the carnage.

“Gideon”, his father said, after he grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “There will always be danger, but we can’t get upset by it every time. Things happen. Do you understand?”

The boy grimaced, breathing heavily in, then out. “Yes," he replied cautiously.

His father nodded. “Good boy. Would you like to take another look?”

Gideon shook his head, not wanting to think about what horrible things waited for him in the sky. His father softened.

“You know, I get scared too, looking out there," he mused. “I see all the stars and falling rocks and it makes me seem so powerless. It scares him to think that if something did happen to anyone I cared about, I wouldn’t know what to do. And that makes me very sad.”

He stood up, his hands resting on the telescope. “But…maybe if you look at the stars with me, I won’t be so afraid. Would you be brave with me, and stay up here with me, so I can be as brave as you?”

Looking back, Gideon knew his father wasn’t afraid of comets hitting the house. He loved his family so much that his only fear was losing them, but knew his young son wouldn’t be able to understand.

Gideon stood a little taller at that moment, putting his hand on the telescope as well. “Yes,” he replied. “We’ll both be brave.”

After that, Gideon and his father would lug the heavy leather suitcase up to the roof on clear nights, stargazing at the wonders of the heavens. His father would show him the imaginary patterns the stars made and the stories behind them, and Gideon would tell him about his day. It was so important to him to be included, to feel that someone was listening. As Gideon became older, he was eventually the one who would carry it up to the roof. He would tell his father about his plans to get into Grenfield, what he wanted to do with his life…and he just listened.

After a while, the trips up to the roof became less frequent. Gideon's father was busy with work, while the boy himself was training to get into Grenfield and make his mark on the world. They were both too tired for the stars, it seemed. His father pleaded with his son to take the telescope with him when he left home, but Gideon told him “I wouldn’t have time to use it”. In reality, he felt like he had learned all that the stars could teach him, and now the telescope was just a big, heavy leather suitcase with a finite purpose.

In retrospect, Gideon figured it was for the best that he didn’t take it with him; it would have been left behind and probably stolen or destroyed when he had to flee Grenfield. But there were nights when Gideon, physically and mentally exhausted from his schoolwork, wished for familiar feelings. The stars were still there, but he would never admit back then that it wasn’t the stars that he wished were there to listen.