Sculptor

   

   "I never held much stock in dreams. The sky was blue in the day, red in the evenings, and black at night. The stars were nothing more than masses of light and intense flame, and the trees were warped and dead. That was the way things were. Homes were made of shoddily constructed frames and sheet metal nailed to rotted wood.

   A place to stay.

   A tomb to fester in.

   A cradle and a grave…"

   

   Chapter One

   

   

   Pitter patter. Small feet scampered across the lifeless soil, over parched roots and under twisting branches. The metronome in his chest filled his head with a steady beat.

   Tromp tromp. Larger feet right behind him, familiar and friendly. A reassuring hand patted his back, sending the signal to pick up the pace.

   They were fleeing from something. He was sure of it, but any further thought became lost in the din of his heartbeat.

   A yell. Something incomprehensible and far away, followed by an anxious grunt from the man at his heels.

   Through the maze of desolation they ran, around jagged rocks, over snake burrows and down several steep slopes. He hadn't remembered coming this far.

   The landscape became an indescernable blur around him as his legs started to ache. How much longer? He wanted to ask. He had no air left to spare for a question.

   Finally, as they rounded a small, natural wall of stone, he felt his father's strong hands grab the back of his collar and yank him to the ground. Though it was a hard fall, he quickly recovered and peered up at his grizzled savior.

   He found his father staring intently over the rocky barrier, scanning the tree line. The boy, in a cloudy daze attempted to remember his father’s name.

    Greyvel˗that sounded right−and people who knew him called him Grey.

   After seconds of silence, Grey began to turn away.

   A twig snapped: somewhere close.

   The man seemed to tense up, his eyes growing wide, his awareness now heightened. His eyes shot back to the tree line.        

   The boy attempted to rise, to see what his father saw, but he was pushed back to the ground.

   Another branch crackled, even closer than the last. Grey turned to him then, a sense of urgency in his expression. He lifted his massive hands to cover his eyes in a gesture for his son to do the same.

   The boy complied, if only long enough for his father to turn his attention away. The child felt the vibrations of the man’s feet scuffling out from behind the barrier, and no sooner had he left than the boy began to peer through his fingers.

   Grey was treading lightly, as not to alert their unseen pursuers.

   Quietly he slipped behind a large trunk and produced a small, makeshift knife from his pants pocket. There were small stones at his feet, as well as a fallen branch.

   Grey carefully grabbed up the stick and rapidly began to slice off bits of the tip with his knife, honing it to a steep point.

   As he was finishing, a patch of dead soil rustled, just on the other side of the stone wall where the boy was hiding.

   They grew closer, and the child could hear their heavy respiration behind the rock. With another short intake of air, he began to restrain his own breath in an attempt at silence.

   The thunder in his chest reached a dull roar.

   Across the clearing, he spotted his father reaching for the stones at the base of the tree. Swiftly, he snatched one up and lobbed it fifteen yards from his hiding spot.

   It landed with a harsh thud, and the area behind the wall fell silent. Seconds moved like hours as the boy’s heart rumbled within him.

   Movement.

   At last they came into sight. Men. They were not unlike Grey; strong-looking hands grasped primitive blades, and tattered clothes adorned their bodies.

   But their demeanor was not kind. They displayed no softness or compassion, and as they drew closer to the source of the sound they had heard, they raised their crude hatchets, ready to cut down any opposition.

   Their intention was clear.

   His father lurched into motion. The stick flew from his fingers as he began to charge at the two men in the clearing. They spun, and the javelin was promptly deflected.

   The smaller of the two raised his hatchet in preparation of a deadly toss. Next came the knife from Grey’s hand, careening into the smallest’s wrist.

   The man’s hatchet fell from his wounded hand as he doubled over, gripping his arm in shock.

   A cry of pain.

   By this time, the boy had dropped his hands from his face, completely absorbed in the brutality of his father’s actions toward these strangers.

   The burliest of the axemen reared back for a decapitating swipe as he attempted to rush their oncoming assailant.

   The boy watched in awe as his father’s arm shot forward, his fingers curling into a fist as the space above him distorted into a small bolt of light, which promptly rocketed through the air and into the chest of the largest man.

   An explosion of dark purple erupted from the stranger’s back, though he hadn’t suffered any physical trauma.

   His body crashed to the ground.

   With an agonizing cry, the remaining man ripped the knife free from his wrist, sending several drops of crimson blood splattering into the soil.

   His resolve seemed to solidify as he repositioned the knife in his good hand, holding it in a defensive stance as Grey veered towards him.

   He came into range. The stranger struck, a swipe from the left. Grey was too fast.

   He knocked the blow aside with his forearm before tackling the wounded man to the ground. They began to roll, wrestling for control of the knife.

   Somewhere amidst the confusion, the blade escaped one of the men’s hands, sailing through the air to land several feet from their brawl.

   A scrambling of arms and legs.

   The stranger clambered to his feet as Grey reached for one of the fallen hatchets.

   No sooner had the man picked up the discarded knife than the crude blade of the tomahawk ripped through the flesh of his back and into his spine.

   The stranger’s lower half went limp as he collapsed onto the ground.

   Grey stood. The boy watched as his father cautiously made his way to the man’s elastic form.

   Grey came within two feet of the crippled stranger when his foe spun and the knife whizzed past his head.

   The man’s feign was unsuccessful, a price he would pay with his life. Grey quickly tore the hatchet from his foe’s back and decisively smashed it down into his cranium.

   Grey heaved an exhausted sigh before slowly turning to his son.

   “It’s safe now, Tobynus,” he called.

   

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

         

   Night had befallen the land when the two came upon the mountain road which led to their village. Tobynus trudged dejectedly behind Grey’s towering form as they began the last segment of their journey, stepping onto the dusty trail, which seemed to bisect the dead forest around them.

   Briefly Tobynus glanced up at the plateau looming in the distance. Their home lay beyond the edge of that rocky surface, nestled in a small crater at its peak. From where the two stood, a pillar of smoke, surely from the ever-blazing bonfire, was easily visible against the starry canvas above them, kept alight by the moon’s ghastly visage.

   He diverted his gaze back to the earth at his feet as they marched.

   The sound of a coyote’s howl reverberated from the west.

   “They’ll eat pretty well tonight, huh Dad?”  Tobynus chuckled artificially, an attempt to break the silence suffocating him. He lifted his eyes to his father’s form, searching for a reaction.

   Grey glanced over his shoulder at the boy, his searing glare more than enough of a retort.

   They tread onward, up the rapidly inclining trail to the base of the plateau. It had only taken fifteen minutes, but Tobynus felt as though hours had passed in the achingly empty air on that small stretch of road.

   They rounded a twisting corner, framed by a colossal stone surface on either side. Tobynus tried again with an apologetic approach.

   “D-Dad?” He began to stammer.

   Grey grunted in reply.

   “Dad, look, I’m sor˗”

   “I told you to do one thing, Tobynus,” Grey interrupted harshly, turning sharply on his heel to cross his arms and peer down at his son, who jumped slightly in surprise.

   Tobynus could see that Grey was slightly trembling. He knew he had done wrong, and it was obvious that his father was trying his best to remain calm.

   Conversely, Grey noticed the pained expression on his child’s face, and Tobynus’s sincerity made great strides in cooling his fury.

   “Listen-”

   “It was one simple thing,” Grey reaffirmed. “What did I tell you?”

   “Stay right behind you,” Tobynus recited on cue.

   “Yes,” Grey nodded. “And what did you not do?”

   “Stay right behind you,” Tobynus echoed his previous answer, his head falling in defeat.

   “Exactly. I gave you a rule to follow, Tobyn. Do you know why I give you rules?”

   “To protect me,” Tobynus mumbled.

   “Right. I give you rules to help you survive.” Grey cocked his head to the side. “If you know all of this, why did you disobey me?”

   Tobynus remained silent.

   “Why, Tobyn?” Grey reiterated.

   

   “It’s just…” the boy started, attempting to gather his courage to share his thoughts clearly. He sighed. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

   Grey uncrossed his arms and placed a massive hand on his son’s shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “It is important, Tobynus. It almost got us killed… It almost lost me my son.”

   Silence.

   Grey heaved a deep breath, his head finally free from the clutches of his temper. He knelt before Tobynus to look the boy in the eyes. “Look, Tobyn. What’s done is done. I was frustrated that you wandered off, but now… Now I’m just thankful you weren’t hurt.”

   Tobynus’s eyes met his father’s. He couldn’t fight his emotions back any longer. A lump formed in his throat as a tear slid down his dust-covered cheek.

   “Those men…” he trailed off, his lip beginning to quiver.

   “Tobyn… I’m sorry you had to see any of that. I regret having to kill them… I really do. But you need to realize that I would do anything in my power to keep you safe.” Grey pulled Tobynus into his arms in a tender embrace.

   A warm wetness seeped into the cloth on Grey’s ragged shirt sleeve as Tobynus began sobbing softly.

   “It’s gonna’ be alright, Trooper,” Grey whispered, addressing Tobynus by his nickname in an attempt to calm the boy.

   When Tobynus ceased his cries at last, Grey spoke once more.

   “You ready to go home, big guy?”

   He felt Tobynus nod in reply. Grey stood then, ushering his son onward, up the winding mountain trail to their home. A few minutes into their trek, and a dull crimson glow began to coat the ground.

   As they rounded the final corner, a primitive wooden gateway came into view, through which they could see the village bonfire smoldering in its pit.

   Two men, beaten and worn, stood vigil on either side of the opening. When Tobynus and Grey stepped into the dim light, one of the guards began to rapidly approach them.

   “Greyvell!” he cried. “And Tobynus! Thank God you two are alright!”

   “Killian!” Grey exclaimed, sweeping the man into a half-hug before patting his back. “Were we missed or something?”

   Killian turned to regard a new silhouette in the gateway, one with long, curled hair. “Ask her,” he nodded to Grey before returning to his post.

   The shadowed figure took a fleeting step forward before shooting her hand to cover her mouth in shock.

   Grey nudged Tobynus forward, chuckling softly.

   “Greyvell and Tobynus Calloway!” the woman shouted. She rushed into her husband’s arms, before quickly pulling her child into the fold of her chaotic compassion. Tobynus felt his mother’s lips on his forehead in a show of relief. “Don’t you two ever do that to me again.” she whispered breathlessly.

   “Did you really miss us that much, Alex?” Grey inquired teasingly.

   The glare she gave him made his grin grow even wider.

   “That is not funny, Greyvell Callo-”

   Her words were cut off by Grey’s surprise kiss. When he pulled away, her eyes sparkled in bewilderment.

   “Well, whatever,” she stammered, taking up Tobynus’s hand in her own. “It’s way past your bedtime, Tobyn.”

   “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” the boy grumbled, following his mother into the village.

   Just before they were out of sight, Alex turned to meet Grey’s gaze and smiled, her eyes twinkling in the firelight.

   “What the hell happened out there, Grey?” Killian’s voice snapped him out of his trance.

   He stepped over to the boulder where his best friend sat, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… We went to check the traps.”

   “No shit?” Killian replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I thought you were going to the supermarket.”

   “Tobynus wandered off while I was fixing a broken one,” Grey continued, ignoring Killian’s comment. “I finished the job, turned around, and guess what? My son’s gone. My first thought was an Afflicter patrol. I was scared to death, Killian.” He exhaled loudly, his shoulders rolling up with his breath.

   “Well, that boy was alive and well when you guys showed up here, so I’m guessing the pain jockeys weren’t a problem.”

   Grey couldn’t help but let out a snide chuckle. “No,” he shook his head. “I only saw his footprints in the dust. I followed ‘em… All the way to Noose Ridge.”

   Killian jolted forward on the boulder and lowered his voice. “Grey, that’s Bleeder territory.”

   “I know,” Grey snapped, before softening his tone. “I know whose Goddamn land it is, Killian. I kept following those prints right into a couple of roamers.”

   “Did they see you?” Killian asked excitedly.

   “No,” Grey stated. “Well, not initially.”

   “What?” Killian squeaked, barely controlling his volume.

   “They hadn’t seen me; they had seen Tobynus. I could tell they were on a manhunt when I spotted them. I took cover behind a thorn brush when I noticed a pair of eyes watching me from a hollow log. I motioned him to make his way to me, and he started to crawl. But somewhere in between him and me a stick got rattled.”

   “Then what happened?”

   “I did the only thing I could think of at the time. I picked my boy up off the ground and we ran. Jesus, we ran. But they followed us.”

   “And then?”

   “I…” Grey trailed off, wincing at the thought of the act he had committed. With an unearthly clarity he said, “I killed them.”

   “Both of them?” Killian inquired enthusiastically. “How’d you pull off a stunt like that?”

   “I distracted them away from Tobynus. When they were close enough I charged ‘em.”

   “What the hell were you thinking, Grey?” Killian scolded.

   “I wasn’t,” Grey retorted flatly. “But the Bleeders must have been dry on mana. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here right now. I had to use the last of my own supply to take down the one that was closest. The other one was… more difficult…” Grey fell silent again as Killian stood from his perch.

   “I wonder what made Tobyn run off like that,” Killian mused.

   “You and me both,” joked Grey. “It’s not any different out there than it is here. Hell, this whole damn island looks the same, no matter where you go. There are just some places deader than the rest.”

   “Well,” Killian sighed, shooting his arms up to stretch, “however you look at it, you’re two and a half hours late for your shift.”

   Grey frowned. “I wondered how long it would take for that to wiggle its way into this conversation.” He shrugged. “Alright. Fair is fair. Let me put the little one to bed, and I’ll be out here to relieve you.”

   Killian nodded his appreciation and patted Grey’s back one last time before returning to the gate.

   With a reminiscent snicker, Grey trudged into town.

   “What a day.”

   

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *


   

   

   

   

   Chapter Two

   

   

   Grey stood in the den of the Calloway house, somberly watching Alex prepare their son for bed. She reached into a bin at her feet as Tobynus waited patiently, silent and attentive.

   From the wooden tub she retrieved a tattered piece of cloth, dripping water as she held it to Tobynus’s face and began to wipe the dust and grime away.

   A small flame danced upon their hearth, highlighting the edges of their silhouettes as Grey leaned against the far wall, quietly musing in the darkness.

   “You sure are dirty, Tobyn,” Alex joked warmly as she dipped the cloth back into the bin. “Off with the shirt,” she added, wringing the rag gently.

   Tobynus complied, pulling his garment up over his head and handing it to his mother, who placed it on the rickety table in the center of the den.

   “Man’s work will make you that way, right Trooper?” Grey jested, giving Tobynus a sly smile as Alex placed the cloth on the boy’s bare chest.

   One poisonous glance from his wife wiped the grin from Grey’s face.

   “And you,” she said sternly, “still owe me an explanation for this.”

   Grey sighed, moving away from the wall to collapse into a wicker chair. “Tobyn wandered off and I followed him. Some Bleeders started chasing us. It wasn’t a big deal.”

   “Wasn’t a big deal?” she echoed in disbelief. Having finished her work with Tobynus, she nudged him toward his room and slapped the rag back into the bucket. “Grey, what were you thinking?”

   “You know,” Grey spoke, an edge of irritation creeping into his tone, “it’s funny. You aren’t the first person to ask me that today.”

   “Whatever!” Alex cried, throwing her hands up in frustration. “You know I told you I didn’t think Tobynus was ready to go out there with you!”

   “Killian takes his boy out hunting already, Alexai!” Grey protested, rising from his seat. “I figured he’d be at least ready to check the traps!”

   “We’re not talking about Killian and Draven, Grey! We are talking about you and our son!” Alex scooped the bin from the floor and slammed it onto the table. “And if he’s not ready, he’s not ready…”

   “All I wanted was to do something with him!” Grey exploded, rattling the metal shingles on the roof of the cabin.

   Alex froze, her face contorting into an expression of concern.

   “Grey,” she muttered at last, “I…”

   “I know I should’ve listen to you,” Grey spoke softly, sliding back into the chair in defeat. “I made a mistake, okay?” His massive hands glided through his matted hair. “I just… I just wanted to do something with him. I know he’s still a child, and that’s the point.”

   Alex moved to comfort her husband; standing close behind his chair and wrapping her arms around his shoulders before bending down to tenderly kiss the top of his head.

   “Tobyn can’t have a normal childhood. Hell, it’s barely a childhood at all.” Grey shook his head and cursed under his breath. “I just want to give him something to remember ˗ something worth remembering. I thought the traps would be a fun diversion from all of the sorrow he sees here. Something we could do together ˗ as father and son.”

   Alex’s hands began to massage his shoulders as he fell silent.

   “I love you,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry. You’ve had a hard enough day without my nagging.”

   “It’s not nagging,” Grey said gently.

   “Oh, really?” Alex laughed, tossing her curled hair back over her shoulder. “What is it, then?”

   “A whip,” Grey snickered. “ But you only seem to bring it out when I need it.”

   Alex snorted, her chin falling to rest on top of Grey’s head. “Well, sometimes I crack it too hard.”

   Their conversation was cut short by a pair of tired feet scooting across the floor to stop in front of them.

   “Mom, Dad?” Tobynus asked groggily, raising a hand to rub his drooping eyelids.

   “Yes, Tobyn?” Alex replied, moving out from behind the chair to approach the boy.

   “Before I go to bed, I wanted to ask you something.”

   “Well?”

   Tobynus’s head tilted to the side. “Draven told me yesterday that he’d heard his grandfather say something about some place called the Outside.”

   Alex’s eyes grew wide in panic.

   “W-we’ll talk about this another day, Tobyn,” she stuttered, quickly shooing him back into his room.

   “But Mom-”

   “Another day!” she repeated, before closing the door.

   Grey rose, quietly stepping over to the edge of the hearth, his hands finding their way into his jean pockets. He watched the crackling flames twist and churn off of the parched lumber, his eyes beginning to gloss over.

   Tobynus knew. Not entirely, but the embers of curiosity were now burning in his mind. He was, after all, Greyvell’s son.

   “He needs to know,” Grey spoke, feeling the pressure of his wife’s shifting weight on the floorboards behind him. “ Everything. Sooner or later.”

   She reached for the bin and, cradling it in her arms, moved past him to the opening in the side of the den, which served as a window.

   Alex brushed the shredded curtains aside and began to dump the sullied water into the trench of their drainage system.

   When she finished, she replaced the tub on the table and came to Grey’s side, casting her own gaze to the fire which seemed to enthrall her husband.

   A sigh.

   “I know,” she breathed, “but not right now.” She leaned on him, her downy hair swaying with her sudden movement. “I know him. Once he’s got it in his head, he’ll be obsessed with it. He’s definitely your son.”

   “Yeah,” Grey admitted, shifting his weight between feet to support his wife’s added pressure. “But I think he should be allowed to dream every now and then.”

   “I’m just saying, Grey,” Alex retorted. “I don’t want to put any hope where there can be none.”

   “Well, there can still be some, can’t there? I mean, somebody could come. Maybe there are still some Eldrics out there.”

   He was lying. They both knew it.

   Alex let out a sarcastic giggle. “It’s been thirteen years, Grey. Thirteen.” She began to drift away from the hearth, back to the window, to scan over the buildings in their village. “If someone were coming to help, I think they would’ve been here by now.”

   Her words swam through the air, filling her husband’s ears with the words he knew to be true. The words he wanted to deny.

   “There’s a great, big world outside this island,” she laughed again, this time to repress her welling sorrow. “And nobody knows we’re here.” She began to weep, at last unable to contain her sadness. “And hell, even if they do know… they don’t care.”

   Finally Grey pulled himself from the front of the hearth to his trembling wife, whom he wrapped his huge arms around in a comforting embrace.

   He spun her around to face him, and with a soft caress, swept the tears from her cheeks. Gently he kissed her and whispered warm assurances.

   When Alex had calmed herself, Grey bid her a short farewell and insisted she get some rest, before shuffling out of the cabin.

   Now alone, she pulled the wicker chair toward her and sat before the fire, emptiness in her eyes as she watched it die.

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

   

   Tobynus blinked. Once. Twice.

   Impossible.

   He couldn’t be here. Not again.

   Grey stalked through the dead forest, just ahead of him. Tobynus followed close, careful not to make a sound. They were quickly nearing their destination; a small clearing where Grey had previously placed the traps.

   Traps.

   Vices.

   Prisons.

   The boy shook his head violently, trying desperately to shake his mind free of the encroaching web of dark, hazy thoughts. Why? None of it made sense, and the more he attempted to concentrate, the more garbled his thoughts became.

   The two reached the clearing. Grey held up a signal for Tobynus to stay put. He muttered an order, but the sound was muffled, as if the two were submerged in a thick, watery void.

   The trap…

   The trap was broken…

   The prison holds strong…

   The voice from which this thought flowed was not his own. The words were not internal, but instead came from nowhere at all. It rumbled with a sinister intent; undeniably clear against the muted humming of the environment around him.

   Tobynus clenched his eyes shut, hoping to awaken from this nightmarish delusion.

   It was a delusion.

   It had to be.

   His vision returned to him, his eyes having been forced open by an unseen factor.

   He was not in control.

   Grey had vanished. The ground just in front of him began to heave itself asunder, erupting upward in spouts before imploding into a stark abyss, tearing a straight division between Tobynus and the opposite tree line, which became engulfed in an ethereal, maroon wall of crackling flame.

   An unearthly shadow crept through the forest across the chasm, fanning out from the dead wood and into the sky. It choked out Tobynus’s vision, consuming the images of the distant hillsides and the drifting clouds overhead in a smothering blackness.

   Little morsel…

   Tiny being.

   Come to play, perhaps?

   He spun. With all the strength he could muster, he fled. Into the sea of warped lumber, he ran. Every trunk became a ghastly face, contorted in sadistic glee. Every branch was a grasping appendage, reaching to pull the boy to his doom.

   Run. As fast as you can go.

   Flee from the dark you fear.

   Try as you might, you’re far too slow.

   I’m always drawing near.

   Scurry away, hurry quick!

   But in your plan there is a flaw

   Hiding just won’t do the trick

   To escape my ravenous maw.

   An earth-splitting cackle exploded from the void behind him, the cacophony becoming too much to bear. His head was filled with the agonizing din, and his lungs were on fire, every breath stinging his core.

   Tobynus’s teeth screeched against each other as he ground them. He couldn’t see straight anymore. It was all a dull blur when his foot snagged on an exposed root, knocking him head-first into the dirt.

   Tobynus only felt numb as he hit the ground, his nerves already overloaded by repeated blasts of deafening discord.

   It only grew louder as he scrambled onto his back to rest against a log, threatening to tear his conscious asunder.

   Then, without warning, it stopped.

   He opened his eyes, greeted only by a sheer abyss. Somewhere in the vast infinity before him, the voice echoed once more.

   Wasn’t that a fun game?

   A figure trudged through the emptiness toward him. From where Tobynus lay, it seemed to be that of a man, though it was impossible to be sure.

   But I’ve found you now.

   You lose.

   It was the shape of a man - but much, much larger. It dwarfed Grey by at least twenty feet; truly a gigantic figure.

   It came to tower over Tobynus’s trembling form, scrutinizing the boy through a lone, light golden eye with an elliptical pupil. The being’s left eye socket seemed to spiral out into nothingness, having long since lost its contents.

   The creature was, in all aspects, abominable. It seemed partially skeletal, with several patches of flesh fading away into its underlying, bony structure. The same seemed true for its gnarled maw, which rotted into a display of wickedly serrated fangs.

   Portions of the giant’s frame were obscured from Tobynus’s vision, but it was just as well.

   “W-what are you?” Tobynus screamed at last.

   The colossus observed the child at its feet for a moment more before sneering and slowly opening its hellish jaws, allowing a noxious smog to seep out from its gullet.

   Oblivion.

   

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *


   

   

   

   Chapter Three

   

   

   Imposs……..believe…fail……

   ….you…....boy……alive.

   

   Tobynus awoke with a start, rocketing forward on his hay bed and tearing himself free of the vicious whispers in his subconscious. He had been sweating profusely through the night, the damp sheets around him a testament to that fact.

   Briefly he swung his head to either side, a quick reality check after the madness that befell him in his sleep. But, that was it, right? A dream. That was all.

   The morning breeze drifted lazily through the window at his right, caressing his bare chest with a chilling sensation and causing him to shudder in discomfort.

   Quietly he swiveled his legs onto the floor and stood, before moving to dress himself with the clothes at his bedside. The sun was out today: it reflected against the tiny, cracked mirror on the wall, showering the room in a dozen scattered shafts of light.

   Good. A perfect day for play.

   A warm scent filtered into his nostrils as he pulled his torn shirt down over his stomach, a reminder of his favorite meal of the day. After checking his hair in the ruptured mirror, he quickly threw open the door to the den and threw himself in.

   Grey and Alex were both sitting at the table patiently, their plates before them as they waited for their son to join them.

   Upon Tobynus’s arrival, Grey teased, “It’s about time, Trooper. I was about to come and wake you up.” He smiled as Tobynus took his seat and glanced down at the main course. Noting the boy’s puzzled silence, he explained, “It’s rabbit. Rabbit and beets.”

   “Do I really have to have the beets?” Tobynus whined, poking at the little vegetables with a grimace.

   “Yes, you do,” his mother answered, nudging his crude fork toward him. “They’re good for you.”

   “Okay,” Tobynus sighed as he took the silverware in his hand and stabbed into a beet.

   They ate their modest meal in relative silence, the only noise the occasional light chatter between Grey and Alex about the night watch.

   Uneventful. The only positive statement. Nobody tried getting in, and nobody attempted sneaking out.

   Somewhere amidst the silence, Tobynus began to wonder about his nightmare. It had been a perfect recreation of the events that had caused him to run from his father’s side the previous day, an occurrence he had assured himself came about from prolonged dehydration.

   After all, things like that didn’t just happen there, and the fact that he had been the only one to experience it added to his doubt that it was, in any sense, more than a mirage.

   He opened his mouth briefly in a moment of uncertainty, to share his dream with his parents, but caught himself and remained silent.

   They would think him crazy. They would worry even more than usual.

   “Tobyn?” Grey’s voice pulled him from his quiet musings. “Does that sound good?”

   “Hm?” Tobynus answered, blinking a few times to reestablish focus.

   “A magic lesson after school today?”

   “But,” Tobynus started, “I haven’t been able to do any yet.”

   Grey’s tone was supportive as he said, “Well, that’s only normal. Nobody learns how to do it right away. It takes time – like riding a bike.”

   Alex sharply nudged him with her elbow as Tobynus inquired, “A bike?”

   “Never mind,” Grey said. “It’s a dumb, old saying.”

   “Oh.”

   Tobynus promptly finished his meal and moved to the cabin door, quietly slipping on his shoes in preparation for his departure.

   “Have a good day at school, Tobyn,” his mother called behind him.

   “Yeah,” he replied, “I’ll try.”

   Quietly he trudged away from the cabin, flecks of dust kicking up with his feet as he went.

   The tiny structure which served as their school building was situated on a small hill in the farthest reaches of the village, and in reality looked identical to most of the residential dwellings dotting the crater.

   He trod past the small, fence-secured garden where his people grew their vegetables – mostly of the root variety.

   Tobynus was just past the last house when a familiar voice reached his ears.

   “Tobyn!” called Draven, his best friend.

   Tobynus whirled to regard the taller, more muscular boy quickly scurrying up the hill behind him, holding the hand of his younger sister all the while.

   “Hey Draven,” Tobynus responded.

   “Well?” Draven prodded. “Did you ask them?”

   Tobynus’s eyes were glued to the ground as he nodded and sourly kicked at a few loose pebbles.

   “Yeah,” he said. “They told me we’d talk about it some other day.”

   “Oh, well,” Draven shrugged as Tobynus opened the door to the school. “It was worth a shot.”

   Draven motioned his sister into the building as Tobynus held the door for them.

   Before Draven could move through, Tobynus caught him and asked, “What do you think it’s like? You know, Outside?”

   “My grandpa said-” Draven began, but quickly caught himself midsentence. “My dad told me not to talk to you about it anymore.” He glanced at Tobynus, throwing on an apologetic half-smile. “He said your dad told him to keep things quiet.”

   “Oh,” Tobynus mumbled in disappointment, upset his parents had forbidden him the knowledge he so desperately wanted. Why would they go to such lengths? “Well,” he spoke, deciding to change the subject, “how’s Miri?”

   “Still not talking,” Draven replied. “Well, not speaking, anyways.”

   “What do you mean?” Tobynus asked, nodding for Draven to enter to building and quickly following the taller boy through.

   “It’s just a sibling thing, you know? Sometimes I can tell what she’s thinking, without her having to say it at all.”

   “Hmph,” Tobynus grunted, moving to take his seat next to Draven in the front of the classroom. “Wouldn’t know about that.”

   Nobody besides the three of them had yet arrived, but that was the norm. Tobynus enjoyed arriving early, and Miri must have too, as Draven always insisted she was the cause of his premature treks to the now-empty building.

   Their desks were each comprised of creaking stools and the freshly-ripped pieces of bark which lay on the floor beside each seat.

   The inside of the wood was strangely smooth, thus it served as a great writing pad, and each student brought with them a tapered chip of lumber to etch their lesson into the surface of the bark.

   Tobynus shifted anxiously on his stool, glancing to his left at Draven, who twiddled his thumbs impatiently.

   He jumped as the door crunched open and the other children began to pour through it, their incessant chatter quickly filling his ears.

   Silently their teacher waded through the wriggling swarm of high-strung kids to the front of the room. There, she turned and waited patiently for the children’s excitement to subside.

   “Children,” she smiled as the room fell silent, “today, we’re going to learn more about concepts of arithmetic.”

   A collective groan.

   The stools rattled as the children reached for their note boards.

   Minutes began to blur together, the air becoming filled with the dull racket of wood hitting wood and the teacher’s contrastingly melodious voice.

   Every now and then, Tobynus would glance to his left and see Draven struggling with an equation, the latter scratching his head furiously, having to scratch out his previous answer and start over.

   “It’s twenty,” Tobynus whispered at last, so low that only Draven could hear.

   His friend turned and met his gaze with an annoyed expression.

   “I know, Tobyn,” he declared, keeping his eyes on his classmate as he tried to inconspicuously correct his answer to the one Tobynus had provided him.

   “Right,” Tobynus mocked, grinning and rolling his eyes.

   “When are you gonna’ let me do this on my own?” Draven gave him a playful shove.

   “Is there a problem, you two?” the teacher warned them with the usual rhetorical question. The boys tensed up, their attention bolting back to their own work for the remainder of class.

   

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *

   

   Class was dismissed, and the room cleared as fast as it had filled, leaving Tobynus, Draven, and Miri to shuffle out of the building together.

   “Did you like today’s lesson, Miri?” Draven asked, searching the short-haired girl’s face for clues of emotion.

   Her eyes lit up. She gave a shy nod as she grabbed hold of her brother’s hand for the journey back to their home.

   “Oh, I almost forgot,” Draven blurted just before Tobynus was out the door. “The guys wanted to play burball by McCreary’s house later today. You want to come join us?”

   “Sorry, I can’t today,” Tobynus replied, scratching at an itch on his forearm. “My dad’s giving me magic lessons today.”

   “I thought you had one a couple days ago,” Draven noted as they stepped outside.

   “Yeah, but…” Tobynus trailed off.

   “But what?”

   “I haven’t learned any yet.”

   “Oh, dear,” Draven sighed, suddenly taking a serious tone. “You must not have any, then.”

   “What?” Tobynus gulped, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

   Suddenly, his best friend laughed, “Relax, Tobyn. I was just yanking your chain.” He clapped his hand on Tobynus’s back as he and Miri strode off toward their cabin. “You’ll learn sooner or later.”

   Or never.

   Tobynus threw them a fake laugh as Miri waved her silent goodbye to him, but his smile quickly faded when they were gone.

   What if he really didn’t have any.

   The disappointment – no – the shame on his parents’ faces would be too much to bear. Imagining it made the whole ordeal worse, so he attempted to throw it from his mind by humming as he walked home.

   He hummed lullabies, children’s folk tunes, and even a couple of his father’s favorite tunes – ‘oldies’, as he called them.

   He hummed so loud he wasn’t able to think about those things.

   Not until he reached his house– until he saw his father standing outside, clutching his dusty grimoire under his arm in anticipation of Tobynus’s arrival.

   “You ready, Trooper?” he asked eagerly, his eyes gleaming in delight.

   “Uh, yeah,” Tobynus stalled. “Listen, Dad. About that…”

   “What?” Grey asked, his grin melting away.

   “H-how…” the boy started, the lump in his throat choking out his next words. He cleared his throat and tried again. “How do we know I can even use magic?”

   Grey squinted quizzically, before tossing his head back for a throaty laugh. “What’s Draven been telling you this time?”

   “Well, he was only joking!” Tobynus explained. “But, you know… It got me thinking, and… well, what if I don’t have any magic?”

   Grey beckoned the boy to follow him to the open land behind their cabin and replied, “You have magic, Tobynus. There’s no doubt about that.” He looked down his son, now following close behind him. “Even if you haven’t learned any, yet.”

   They came to stop about ten yards before a large boulder in the side of the crater wall, where Grey had placed several wooden boxes as targets.

   “Alright,” he announced, “let’s review.” He sat down on a smaller stone to their right and crossed his arms. “What do Eldrics use for magic energy?”

   “Mana,” Tobynus recited.

   “And where does mana come from?”

   “The land the Eldrics are on.”

   “So why, then, is it important to conserve mana here?”

   “Because,” the boy answered, “the land is dead. It can’t offer very much mana.”

   “What’s the average amount of mana we can absorb from this land per day?” Grey quizzed him.

   “Enough for two spells – usually.”

   “And the exception?”

   “A larger caliber spell.”

   “When can we use a large caliber spell?”

   “Only in emergencies.”

   Grey raised his eyebrows. “Very good,” he admitted, standing from his seat and moving to the boy’s side. “And what does our clan specialize in?”

   “Heat.”

   “Do you remember the Eldric words I told you to memorize a few days ago?” Grey asked, spreading his stance and stabilizing his balance.

   Tobynus followed his father’s steps, moving his knees apart for better support.

   “N’ven’il Ichta’nym,” Tobynus breathed, extending his arm and pointing his hand at the boxes in front of them.

   “Good,” Grey complimented him. “Those words are the incantation for a ‘bolt’. Now, I assumed you were peeking yesterday when I used the spell on one of those Bleeders, so you know what it’s supposed to look like.”

   Tobynus nodded, his eyes remaining fixed on the boxes.

   “As you get better,” Grey added, “you won’t need to say them when you cast it – you’ll just think it, and let your feeling take the rest.”

   He glanced at Tobynus from the corner of his eye, before smiling at his son’s concentration.

   “Now, listen close,” Grey hummed. “Close your eyes.”

   Tobynus complied.

   “Focus on the mana you have. It’s going to feel like a tiny warmth, one that won’t go away. Do you feel it?”

   “I think so,” Tobynus answered.

   “Imagine that you’re grabbing hold of it. When you do… let it rip!”

   The boy remained silent, the sound of his deep breathing the only noise in Grey’s ears. The man watched his son’s form intently as Tobynus swayed lightly with the incoming breeze.

   “N’ven’il Ichta’nym !” he cried.

   

   He cracked one eye.

   Nothing.

   “It’s okay,” Grey’s voice scratched at his nerves. “We just need to practice some mo-”

   “Forget it!” Tobynus cried in frustration, tears beginning to glide down his cheeks.

   He turned and ran, as hard and as fast as he could; away from the cabin, away from his embarrassment, and away from his bewildered father, who merely stretched out a hand as if in a vain attempt to stop him.

   “Tobynus…”

   *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *     *