“I once heard a song,

as it cut through the din,

and it only cost forever.

My wants were not wrong,

but my logic was thin,

and so I lost her too.

I never could quite figure out what those lyrics meant, but the tune remains rooted in my mind after all these years.”

~Unknown

Fudge and I were able to leave the house without incident. The door to my parent’s room was closed, lending weight to Lionel’s claims about their preoccupation. I stepped softly, so as to not disturb them. Fudge was effortlessly able to duplicate my efforts, padding silently practically by accident. We didn’t cross paths with Vigil, so I assumed he was with Tulos and Tina, though he no doubt was aware of my movements.

There was a crisp note to the nighttime air, the kind that should have left me suppressing the occasional shiver. Instead, I felt comfortable; an additional benefit brought about by Advancement and the resultant ambient mana cycling around my body. The prospect of growing increasingly unbothered by the whims of the weather was enough to momentarily brighten my mood.

It wasn’t until I saw Lionel waiting by his impromptu campsite that I idly considered the ‘stranger-danger’ component of the whole situation, but I was quick to dismiss it.

Realistically, if he’s anywhere near as strong as Mira it is not much of a muchness, I thought cynically. If Lionel wanted to harm me - or us - I doubted we’d be able to stop him. The societal implications of such a thought weren’t lost on me. I silently justified postponing any reflection on the subject to a later date. One shit at a time.

A small fire was crackling and I watched as Lionel casually fed some kindling into it. I recognized it as some of the debris from Mira’s earlier demonstration.

“Please, take a seat,” Lionel said warmly. I heard a horse snort from somewhere in the darkness and narrowed my eyes at the direction the sound came from.

“I would rather stand,” I said. It was petty, but fuck, maybe I wanted petty. Maybe it was my turn to be unreasonable instead of getting dragged by the balls through the brambles of circumstance thrust upon me.

“As you wish,” Lionel replied. He didn’t seem bothered by my choice, which irked me further. I waited for him to say something else, but he just sat there patiently. The seconds stretched. A faint breeze passed through the fire, carrying a few embers along with it that quickly lost their light. Fudge made himself comfortable near the fire, quickly dozing off while bathed in its warmth.

“Well?” I eventually asked and crossed my arms.

“Well, what?”

“You called me out here to talk and then you just sat there!” I snapped back. Lionel used a long stick to poke at the smoldering wood, moving pieces around before giving me his attention. The bastard looked amused.

“You were not ready to talk, but I suspect you are now,” he said and again gestured for me to sit. I felt my hands momentarily flex into claws as I envisioned strangling the buffoon.

He’s not going to let this go, I realized. I sat, if only so that we could move things along.

“There. I am sitting. What do you want?” The astute of you may have realized that, technically, I was the one who agreed to come out and talk. Please refer to my earlier comments about a burning need to be petty.

“I want you to tell me what is bothering you so that I might offer you some advice. My experiences are deceptively vast given my youth.” I raised an eyebrow in response to the claim, but he just grinned. “Try me. If I cannot help you, then I will bow, scrape, apologize, and leave you to your brooding.”

“I was not-”

“Yes, yes, you were not brooding. Well, your not-brooding was what solidified my belief in your father’s claims about your advanced maturity. That type of behavior is most common in teenagers, not children your age,” he said smoothly.

Well… fuck, that was a low blow. It was like a bucket of ice water had been poured over me. I was an adult, but I’d been acting like a child. I excused the behavior in the months following my rebirth given the extreme circumstances at the time, but that was years ago. I was out of excuses. I took a deep breath. Something had to give.

My anger and frustration at everything was still there, simmering below the surface. I tentatively welcomed Perseverance back onto the playing field. Instead of running the Skill ‘passively’, like I had before, I made an effort to be more deliberate in my intentions.

Feel, but don’t get overwhelmed. Share, but don’t overshare. Start talking about your problems, otherwise they’ll haunt you forever. A steady stream of mana began to flow from Perseverance as I coached myself through the process. This time, as it passed through Recovery, the weaker Skill responded to my intent and amplified the effect.

Compared to the numb suppression I’d been practicing until that point, I remained sharply cognizant of my emotions but in a way that felt… manageable. It was like my Skills had formed a magical valve. The source of my turmoil was still there, but I only had to process a fraction at a time. With the help of my Skills, I wrangled back control of my composure.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “You win. Are you sure your advice is good?” A sense of relative calm settled over me. I can do this. In response to my question, Lionel just shrugged.

“That will be up to you to decide,” he said. I decided I would hold him to that.

***

To his credit, Lionel was a good listener, which honestly shouldn’t have surprised me given what I knew about his Skills. My words came slowly, at first, but as I gained momentum I began wildly gesticulating to punctuate my points. Lionel just sat patiently, even though I was basically shouting at him by the time I finished listing my complaints.

I spared a moment to check in on my mana reserves, but they’d barely taken a hit. Compared to when I’d drawn on Perseverance and Recovery together as an alternative to sleep, I could have kept the magic active for hours.

What’s different? I wondered. It would be something worth reflecting on when I wasn’t venting my frustrations to a relative stranger, so I pushed that line of inquiry aside. Adding to my pile of concerns felt less daunting while I was actively working through it.

I spoke of my doubts regarding Advancement, of my inability to be certain that I made the wisest choices. I lamented my concerns regarding my misuse of Skills, and how I worried they were turning me into someone I wasn’t supposed to be.

Catharsis. I only shared half-truths, but being able to unload the essence of my problems onto Lionel offered temporary relief. Even if it were just for a moment, someone else was there to share my burden.

Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

I needed that, I thought grimly. The relief was short-lived. As I sat illuminated by the flickering firelight, I felt my insecurities start to creep back into place on tentacles soaked with pitch and tar.

Almost unconsciously, I spurned Perseverance into overdrive but caught myself at the last moment.

No, you dumb fuck, I scolded myself and willed the Skill back into harmony with Recovery. I’d leaned on bad habits to get me through hell, but I couldn’t cling to them forever. On the back end of my partying years back in my first life, I tried to quit smoking. I was ‘only a casual smoker’, or so I told people, but kicking the habit took years and a brief stint of unemployment before it stuck. Having to choose between cigarettes and literally all of my other necessities was the final push I needed.

This is going to suck, I concluded.

“I had not realized your parents were putting so much pressure on you,” Lionel noted, breaking me out of my thoughts. “What have they told you, exactly?”

Wait, what?

“I never said that they were putting pressure on me,” I countered with a frown.

“Well, then I am confused,” Lionel admitted. He leaned forward, resting left-palm on left-knee and right-elbow on right-thigh. I’d never actually heard that style of sitting referred to by name before. “Did someone else force you to choose the Skills you did?”

“No, I made the choices myself after watching Jusep get attacked by the fueha,” I replied flatly. I’d already told him that though. That was the point. Circumstances had… had worked against me.

… huh. It sounded less convincing the more I repeated it. Lionel nodded sagely before addressing me again.

“Will, do you remember how I promised to treat you with maturity beyond your years?” I just nodded. “Good,” he said cheerfully before all the friendliness fled his expression. “Everyone doubts their Build eventually. Hear me, Will, in this, you are not special. Fortunately, it means you are also not alone.”

It took me a few moments to gather the brain function necessary to respond.

“... what?”

“You heard me.” He sighed. I saw some of the tension leave his shoulders and heard his voice soften. “If you wish to agonize over that which cannot be changed, I am in no position to stop you. I simply encourage you to consider an alternative.”

A flash of annoyance threatened to overwhelm my magically restrained temper.

“What could you possibly know about my-” My Skills flared with renewed force and I caught myself before saying something I’d regret. “Just… listen, Lionel, so far your advice is awful.”

“A fair critique, I suppose, if a tad preemptive.” When I didn’t immediately respond, Lionel carried on. “You have not even let me tell you what the alternative is.” He stood up and grabbed another chunk of wood to throw into the fire.

I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Lionel just sat back across from me and waited until I realized what he wanted.

Oh fuck right off.

“Can you tell me about the alternative?” My delivery was monotone, but it seemed to satisfy Lionel.

“I could,” he said and let the sentiment hang just long enough for me to wish great violence upon him. “And I will.” He chuckled while I angrily tapped my fingers against the side of my leg. “Just make the Skills you already chose become the right choices,” he said with a dramatic flourish that bordered on being jazz hands.

“... I take it you are not saying Skills can be changed.” I had almost hit my limit for verbal diarrhea. Like a dainty old woman presented with a half-empty plate of scones at a tea party, I simply could not handle another morsel. My battered enthusiasm for the conversation was growing increasingly fuelled by spite and a generous application of the sunk-cost fallacy.

“In that, you are correct,” Lionel replied. “It is a matter of perspective, and I doubt things are as dire as you have led yourself to believe they are. What are your goals that Skills like Taming and Recovery have forever barred you from accomplishing them? Do-” He cut himself off, like he’d just realized something. “Is this about your earlier inquiry? You wish to move so fast that it is instantaneous?”

It was close enough to the truth that I decided to roll with the alibi I’d been handed. Lionel’s line of questioning was starting to touch upon sensitive matters.

“It is,” I said and Lionel nodded thoughtfully. I could only imagine what conclusions he was drawing.

“Did my words earlier dishearten you? Do you, perhaps, regret not choosing a movement Skill because of my insights?” Again, not entirely accurate, but close enough.

“So what if I do?” I asked with more vitriol than the not-answer deserved.

“I would be disappointed,” Lionel answered with a shrug. “How unfortunate it would be if the young man with Perseverance faltered from a fictional disaster of their own design.”

“But what if-”

“What if, what if, what if, what if; do not waste your time on what ifs, for every second is precious.” Lionel began to whistle and the flames of the fire began to dance to his tune, quickly growing beyond the realms of the firepit and forming two small humanoid silhouettes. He made a ‘shooing’ gesture with his hand and stopped whistling, but the sound remained, like he’d magically set his whistle to play on a loop.

“Since you responded so well to Mira’s demonstration earlier, perhaps a visual aid is necessary. Here we have two young men, let us call them both ‘Will’.” I rolled my eyes at his complete lack of subtlety. Lionel ignored the gesture.

“One of these Wills is going to disregard their Uncle Lionel’s advice.” At no point before that moment had anyone pitched the familial moniker for him, and he continued before I could address it. “They will spend their days lamenting lost opportunities.” The flame wandered away, walking on the air for a few steps before curling up into a sad ball. The more Lionel spoke, the smaller it got. “They will come to anticipate failure and poor fortune. Soon it will be all they can see.” The flame sputtered out.

“The other Will is going to spend their days looking to the future.” Conversely, this fiery silhouette grew as the story progressed. “They spend their days not only seizing opportunities, but creating them.” Fire-Will began flexing dramatically. “There will be no challenge they cannot overcome, because they know that even temporary failures can still lead someone to their goal.” The whistling cut off and the flames dissipated, all that remained was the crackling of the campfire.

“Which will you be?”

Just out of sight, one of the horses noisily broke wind, which largely undercut his finale. To his credit, Lionel didn’t even flinch.

One cannot help but begrudgingly acknowledge that Lionel had a talent for theatrics. In that, I was no exception. Pride demanded I critique the puppeteered parabel, but I couldn’t. Annoyingly, it… helped. Sure, I already knew the lesson, but sometimes it’s important to get a reminder. I exhaled deeply, letting some of my frustrations out with the breath.

“Let it be known, I am pleased to see you are giving my words the consideration they deserve,” Lionel commented, perhaps noticing a shift in my countenance. “If I release you from my supervision, are you confident you can find your way back to bed?”

“Thank you, Lionel,” I said honestly. I didn’t bother justifying his other question with an answer as I sprung to my feet. Fudge remained soundly asleep; he hadn’t even stirred when Lionel whistled to the fire. I nudged the tired pup with my toes and he reluctantly stirred enough to stand.

“You are welcome, Will.”

As I turned to leave, a question came to mind, so I hesitated.

“What was your regret?” I asked.

“I was hoping you might muster such an inquiry,” he said with an approving nod. “My Core Skill is Music [Whistling]. I was given an opportunity to become a Slayer and be tutored in Spellsong, so it became the focus of my Build.”

I tilted my head to the side. “That does not sound like a bad thing,” I said.

“It most certainly is not,” Lionel agreed. “But it may surprise you that, among other musicians, I am considered somewhat of a buffoon.” He raised a hand to forestall the obvious verbal jab. “And not in the way you might think! They think me foolish for trading a life of crowded taverns, free food, interesting company, and mind-blowing- the point is, my path through life could have taken a drastically different turn.”

“You regretted learning how to whistle up fire?” At first, the idea seemed borderline ludicrous to me, as did the idea of someone whistling their way to a rock star’s lifestyle.

“At times. I will not bore you with the reasons I once gave myself to justify it, though. I have long since discarded them.” I could make some inferences the more I thought about it. Lionel basically traded relative luxury for a life of tents and fighting monsters.

Yeah, I can see how that might inspire some regret on lonely nights. I stifled a shoulder-shaking yawn. Evidently, childish anger was enough to tire me out. Lionel and I bid each other goodnight before Fudge and I returned to my room. There was a lot to do and more to consider, but as I willed my Skills into dormancy I knew it would have to wait until morning. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.