Becoming Someone Worthy of Myself

A bustling city grew into the sky amidst a cold, rainy day, well past the mist-covered horizon. Footsteps clamored along the sidewalks as the soft whoosh of umbrellas opened toward the sky, their owners hoping to shield themselves from the chilly, late-autumn downpour. Skyscrapers lined every street, towering into the low-hanging clouds, obscuring an untold number of stories from view and yet more people. Rainwater pooled on the sides of the streets, splashing over the sidewalk with each passing vehicle, dousing unsuspecting victims in a wave of cold inconvenience. Foggy breath formed grey clouds as people walked by, warm breath escaping into the air, as they hurried anywhere but outside.

Despite the usual smog-filled skies and noise-polluted neighborhoods, the city had a certain charm to it. The nightlife was enticing: painted neon signs, brightly-lit souvenir shops, open-door cafes—evening possibilities were endless. There was little doubt that the recent increase in tourism was a major economic crutch but also one that could just as easily collapse, given the boom; several challenges presented themselves, the most prominent being the city’s homeless population—they needed accommodation and, after months of debate and meetings, city leaders had failed to come up with a solution. Under the guise of creating a fair city for everyone, city leaders had offered to move the homeless to a more-obscure part of town in exchange for a small monthly stipend. Unfortunately, after a series of whisper-heavy conversations and back-end budget cuts, it was determined such a program would be overly costly and thus the idea was scrapped entirely.

One rainy night, a final meeting was held. City leaders and local law enforcement had congregated to attempt one final round of internal discussions but, despite the secretive nature of said discussions, residents held little confidence in the council’s ability to come up with a meaningful solution, and the local media had already picked up on the happenings.

“I don’t know how many times we’re going to sit around and pretend like we have a budget for this kind of thing,” came a male voice from the front of the board room. “According to the numbers—”

“The same numbers that you voted to cut earlier this year to stifle any chances of a payout to those poor people? Look,” another council member said, “if we want to relocate these people, we need to do it sooner than later, and they’re not going to be willing to relocate if there’s nothing in it for them.”

Without warning, the doors creaked open as a young boy stumbled into the room, asking for the measliest scraps of food. Looks of uneasiness and concern quickly illuminated the faces of the room’s occupants. Some scrounged around in their purses for a package of crackers or stray piece of candy—others dug their hands into their pockets, awkwardly searching for spare change.

The boy’s face was smudged with dirt, tattered clothes hanging off his frail figure. His hair was matted and mangled, and it looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks, oily roots glistening in the light. A loud growl erupted from his stomach, silencing the room and panicked whispers of concern.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” he said weakly. “I’m just really hungry and don’t have a home, so I thought maybe I could find someone who might help me here.”

Unexpectedly, the city’s mayor pushed his way to the front of the crowd of council members that had migrated towards the front of the room. He was a tall, well-built and professional-looking man. His suit looked as if it had been freshly pressed, his shoes shined in the light, and his cologne was of expensive taste—woody and ornamental. He stooped down, leaning on his knee, level with the boy. Examining his face, he decided to get to know him.

“What is your name, young man?”

“Licht, sir,” the boy replied.

“Ah. How unique. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with a name quite like yours. Can you repeat it for me once more?” he asked kindly.

“It’s Licht, sir. It sounds like the word light.”

“That’s what I thought I heard… Very well then, Licht, how about I make you an offer?” A nervous look crept across Licht’s face. He’d only come for food and, if he was lucky, a warm place out of the cold, autumnal evening. “I’ve seen your name around, now that I think about it, so I have two conditions for you. One, if you’ll stop shoplifting and loitering around the entertainment district, and two,” audible gasps rose from different corners of the room, though the mayor remained unperturbed by their reactions, “if you can promise me that you’ll work off the debt you owe from your shoplifting, I will give you a roof over your head, warm meals, and enroll you in public schooling. How does all that sound?”

Tears formed in Licht’s eyes. “It’s not that I like stealing… I wouldn’t have come here if I was confident in shoplifting. I know it’s immoral, but I—”

“Tell you what. If you take a seat outside in the hallway, I’ll finish this meeting and then we can talk as long as it takes for you to feel comfortable and like you’ve explained what you need to. Sound good?”

Licht nodded.

“One last thing,” the mayor said. “How old are you?”

“Fourteen, sir.”

With a smile, he patted Licht’s head. “Take a seat out there,” he said, pointing to the hallway, “and I’ll come and get you when we’re done in here. There isn’t much left to go over,” he joked quietly, “so I’ll try to wrap this up quickly.”

***

Illuminated signs passed in flickering blurs, unreadable as the car embarked upon its routine evening venture home. The rain had picked up again, steam rising from the streets, releasing the last of their stored warmth. Licht found himself sinking into the soft leather of the passenger seat, simultaneously fighting off the clutches of sleep—he hadn’t slept well in months, and his hunger was unfathomable. He was weak and malnourished, but he was glad he had a chance to tell his story to someone who showed they were interested in offering him a helping hand for once.

“So, tell me,” the mayor started. “What made you begin shoplifting, and how did you end up on the streets? I’ve received numerous complaints from business owners in the area that a boy of your description had been incessantly shoplifting and loitering around their places of business. Like I said earlier, your name has slid across my desk more than a few times.”

The unexpected question pulled Licht from his motion-induced drowsiness. “My parents got sick over a year ago. For a while, they went on as normal. They went to work, came home, made dinner, and went to bed. It wasn’t until a few months ago that things got worse. They used up all of their sick days, even vacation days, and when they returned to work, they were told to go home.”

The mayor kept his eyes on the road, listening intently to his passenger. “What happened after that? Were they ever able to return to work? Did they get better?” he asked, curiously. Something had happened; the boy wouldn’t be homeless, otherwise. “Let me know if anything I ask is a bit too sensitive.”

Licht nodded, turning his head as he stared down at the floor. “No… They received a letter in the mail that told them not to come back. They were too sick, and their bosses were afraid it would hurt business. Eventually, it got to the point where they couldn’t even leave the bed. I walked in to check on them one day, but they were… umm…”

“You don’t have to explain any more if it’s too difficult for you. Why don’t you tell me how you survived the last few months. Do you have any other family? Any hobbies or things you like to do?” Licht’s stomach growled as his face flushed in embarrassment, trying to quell the hunger pangs. “We’re almost home,” the mayor said, laughing, “and then I’ll make us both something really tasty so, please, continue.”

Licht gave a weary smile before answering the mayor’s new questions. “I don’t have any other family, at least not family that wanted to take me in. I always made good grades in school and was even part of a nationally recognized engineering club. I mean, I didn’t have the most friends ever, but the ones I did have weren’t bad people or anything, I don’t think.”

The car made a wide turn as it pulled into a long driveway embedded with multicolored pebbles for aesthetic effect. Cleanly-trimmed trees lined the drive on either side as the car’s headlights slowly crept up the face of the house. Upon first glance, it looked like it was a large single-story home, but upon further inspection, it was actually a modest, two-story house that looked like it could fit at least a couple hundred people. The light brown stone complimented the tan shingled roof. Off-white cement sidewalks curved through the front of the yard, eventually emptying those who stood upon it through the front door and into the home itself. The windows were large and neatly centered between a set of adjacent, wooden shutters.

Licht’s mouth fell open. He’d never seen such an intricate, ornate home—thinking he would be living here blew his mind. He imagined afternoon sunlight beaming onto the sandstone, transforming the exterior of the home into sandy-white tones as they basked in the evening rays. Would he really be living here? Was his life finally ready to give him a break?

He collected himself a moment later, closing his mouth as he sat back. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly. “But to answer your question… I survived off of my shoplifting, not real proud of that,” he grumbled, “and sleeping on park benches. Sometimes, people would ask if I needed somewhere to stay and would pay for a motel room for a day or two, but it was rare.” The car rolled into the garage as the tires squelched against the epoxy flooring. “But when I get a job and earn the money, I’ll pay everyone back, and for all the things I took over the last year! I just…” His stomach let out an even fiercer growl than before.

“Let’s go inside and eat,” the mayor chuckled. “We’ll work out the details on how to pay for everything you took later. For now, let’s just focus on turning over a new leaf.” He seemed perfectly content, ready to accept a new addition to his life—to bring Licht into the fold. “Oh, and just call me Trey. You don’t need to call me Mr. Mayor or anything, and I’ll have the proper paperwork filled out by next week, if you’re alright with me becoming your official guardian, that is. I’m pretty good at cutting red tape, so the adoption process should be fairly simple.”

Licht nodded. “I don’t know how to thank you for giving me such an opportunity, especially so abruptly,” he said, rubbing the back of his head, “but I’ll be grateful for the rest of my life, that’s for sure.” As he stepped out of the vehicle, he couldn’t help but wonder what drove a man like Trey to display such kindness to someone he didn’t even know. “What makes me so special that I’m the one out of everyone else being treated with such kindness and an opportunity to start over?”

***

Several months passed as autumn turned to winter and winter into early spring. Flowers sprang up from beneath the remaining snow cover and mounds of snow-dirt, the mornings had grown mildly pleasant, and the first rounds of early-spring pollen were all the local meteorologists could talk about. The days were growing longer, offering more recreational activities through the area schools and community centers, and hiring signs, seeking lifeguards for the coming summer, were posted all over the city.

Licht had transferred into one of the local high schools at the start of the year, quickly making new friends. He’d shown fervent desire to learn all he could, given the new opportunity, simultaneously scribbling away as he took notes in every class lecture. It was harrowing at first: a new school, new people, and unfamiliar routines. Despite the improved living conditions and renewed outlook on life, there remained one thing that his new life refused to part from.

As the morning sun rose above the top of the school, he wondered what life was like for everyone he had to leave behind after his parents became ill. Of course he was distraught at their passing, having walked in on their bodies that one morning; the abrupt nature of their illness did scare him, but life had happened so fast he didn’t know when to breathe or how to express what he was feeling—there were certain things in life he knew he’d never get over. He wanted to sit down and pour his heart out, but at the same time, he didn’t want to get cold feet and stumble over his words. Either way, the opportunity would present itself eventually. He’d open up to Trey completely—someday, just not today. There was always more to the story, and he knew Trey understood that.

Still, his parents’ deaths bothered him. It had all happened so suddenly and without warning. He didn’t understand why the universe had to take the only things he ever had from him, and so suddenly, at that. Why didn’t he ever fall ill himself? Why was he the one forced out of the home and onto the streets when his extended family refused to take him in? He loathed the idea of a crowded foster home, choosing, instead, to run—run far away, away from all of the negativity. That day, he’d wanted nothing more than to make tomorrow wait—to enjoy one more normal day with his parents. When was the last time he’d told them ‘I love you’? He’d been so traumatized he couldn’t remember anymore.

The school gates creaked open, welcoming the sleepy student body back for another round of lousy school food before the first classes of the day. Licht dropped his bag off at a front table before rushing over to beat the crowds of other tired, but hungry, students. As he stood in line, he couldn’t help but wonder how everyone at his old school was doing. Eventually, his mind wandered to a friend he’d made a couple of months before his parents had fallen ill. He was the only one around to take care of them, forcing him to withdraw from school—the start to a new life he’d never wanted, much less asked for.

“I wonder how he’s doing these days,” he wondered aloud. “I guess you can’t stop missing someone when they had such an impact on your life… Sure, I can always make new friends, but it feels wrong to just forget about someone who meant so much…”

Suddenly, someone from the back of the line bumped into him, snapping him out of his thoughtful daze. A quick apology later and Licht found himself seated at a table closer to the back of the cafeteria, casually striking up conversation with a small group of students. It had happened so fast that he didn’t even realize he’d made a small table-full of new friends in a matter of minutes.

“Do you like trading card games by any chance?” one of the students asked. “I know it sounds kinda lame, but being able to live in your own world sometimes is the best way to get away from the real world, ya know?”

Licht nodded. “Unfortunately, I haven’t really had the time to get into card games or the like, but I’m open to learning if you’re willing to help teach me. Honestly, I kind of need a hobby anyways,” he said with an awkward laugh.

“Then it’s settled!” another student shouted gleefully. “We’ll teach you everything we know, but in exchange, you have to promise not to beat us too badly when you really learn the game.”

“What they said,” a girl added, “but if you ever need something, don’t hesitate to let us know! Friendships don’t normally happen quite this fast, but you seemed so genuine, and the way you were standing there, looking so thoughtful… I had the guys go over and snatch you up,” she explained.

A smile beamed across Licht’s face. It had been a year and a half since the death of his parents, and while Trey had been a tremendous help, even paying for after-school counseling sessions, he still didn’t feel whole. As much as he enjoyed having new friends, sitting at the cafeteria table before class began, he also wanted someone who would listen to him when he needed a shoulder to cry on the most. Nevertheless, this was a good start and a gesture he swore never to forget.

“Okay. So, this game has a bit of a complex magic-system to it, but I think you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly,” the first student started.

“Actually, I don’t think I ever introduced myself, did I?” Licht interrupted. “My name’s Licht, and I’m a sophomore, though I don’t really know what I want to do after high school yet—life’s been a little tricky as of late but getting better.”

“Sorry. I guess we got a little caught up in the moment, but it’s nice to meet you, Licht. My name’s Kayden, and this here—”

The second student knocked Kayden’s hand away. “I keep telling you I can introduce myself. When the day comes I need your help, I’ll let you know. Until then,” he laughed, “my name’s Rowan. It’s nice to meet you!”

“It’s nice to meet you guys, too,” Licht said with renewed vigor.

“And Miss Wonderful over there in line,” Rowan said, leaning his head towards the girl from before, “is—” The intersession bell rang through the cafeteria, cutting him off before he could finish. “I guess we’ll just have her introduce herself, instead,” he laughed. “She tends to sneak away when no one’s looking.”

“Why don’t we pick this back up at lunch. Sound good?” Kayden asked.

“We’ve pretty much made this our table, so when you get your food, come on over and we can chat, play games, whatever—between bites of food, of course,” Rowan joked.

“Sounds good,” Licht nodded. “I’ll see you guys at lunch, then. Again, it’s a pleasure meeting you two. Maybe we can even do some practice sessions after school, too—like on the weekends maybe?” He slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Kayden and Rowan nodded, looked at each other, then quickly jotted down two sets of phone numbers on a spare napkin. “Giving out phone numbers may be a bit premature, but I have a feeling this is the right move,” Kayden said. “We’ll clean the table up if you’ve got a long walk. See you at lunch,” he winked.

Licht trudged through the scramble of students migrating towards the classrooms where they’d be confined for the next hour. Passing the dwindling food line, he caught a brief glimpse of the girl from earlier that morning and… was she staring at him? He blinked just as another student passed in front of him, obscuring his view. By the time they’d moved, she was already gone.

“Was I just seeing things, or…?”

***

Four years passed faster than he’d realized, and graduation had snuck up on everyone, unsuspecting and abrupt. While things at school hadn’t changed much since the day he met Kayden, Rowan, and the mysterious girl, of whom he’d only caught in passing between classes since, his home life had changed substantially.

When someone asked why he laughed and smiled so much, he’d reply with a simple “I’m just happy.” It was infectious; his smile permeated the home—Trey included. He found himself in the kitchen every night, helping to prep dinner and researching new recipes to try. On the weekends, they’d drive by the movie theater, eager to see what new movies had arrived on the big screen; the temptation of buttery-sweet popcorn, sugar-filled drinks, and sticky candy were too great to resist. When his facial hair began to grow in, Trey had offered to teach him how to use a razor and shaving cream. He appreciated the offer, but he was happy with an electric razor since it was mostly just peach fuzz still. For the first time in his life, he felt like the world was welcoming him into it with open arms—a life he’d never known was finally beginning to take shape. He did still miss his parents, but what good would it do him to dwell on the past, to stress over something completely out of his control?

A few months after Trey had finalized the adoption papers, a letter had arrived in the mail, addressed to Licht, from the hospital; it detailed the autopsy report and expressed the staff’s condolences for his parents’ untimely passing. At the bottom was the name of the local cemetery where they had been buried and a map to guide him to his parents’ headstones. He’d wanted to crumple the paper into an unreadable wad and burn it. Why wait to tell him where the very people who’d brought him into the world now lay in their final departure? What right did anyone have to tell him they were sorry for his loss as they continued to lie to him about just what, exactly, had happened that day?

Trey had done everything he could to clarify the details of their deaths, including the mysterious illness that had suddenly popped up out of nowhere, but it was no use. The hospital was tight-lipped, and the pathologists claimed to know nothing about a novel virus; even the coroners office listed the official causes of death as overstress. The mention of a ‘novel virus’ had tipped Licht off—he’d never told anyone he believed it was a virus of some sort; the letter only reaffirmed what he already knew, which was both painful and frustrating. In an effort to cheer him up, Trey had suggested they take a weekend to get some fresh air—a camping trip to the mountains would seek to clear both of their minds.

Despite the deception and consistent lie-pedaling, Licht couldn’t say things were terrible. In fact, he’d grown to love the outdoors, embracing the winter’s subzero breath again. Camping trips became frequent excursions, and road trips to nowhere every so often felt great, free from the shackles of urban life: car horns, pungent fast-food odors, and dilapidated homes seeking renovation that he could just make out on the horizon from his bedroom window. What had been long days of anxiety and shame gave way to days of brighter futures and weeks of normalcy that eventually blended into month and years of a new life: homework ate up the evenings after dinner, the weekends were for gaming, and holidays became days he could share with someone for the first time since he’d been thrust into the cold, desolate streets alone.

One evening, Trey had come home after a long day of work, ready to unwind for the night before fighting traffic for Licht’s high school graduation the following morning. The late spring air had a cool tinge to it, allowing a fresh breeze to sweep through the house as he walked in. Licht was sitting on the couch, deep in thought. He knew it wasn’t fair to keep his past from Trey, who had done so much for him over the years, and this being the night before his high school graduation, he wanted to make certain that both his past and future intentions were made clear. He finally felt ready to open up.

“You look deep in thought tonight. What’s up? Graduation anxiety?” Trey asked.

“Actually,” Licht said, sitting up, “I kinda wanted to explain myself, specifically my past, and where I think my future is headed. I don’t have everything down to a T yet, but I think it’s a good start.”

Surprised, Trey laid a leather briefcase against the side of the couch as he took a seat next to Licht. “I’m all-ears tonight, so take your time.”

Licht nodded. “So, when my parents got sick, I was both scared and kind of numb. I didn’t really know what to do or why I never got sick,” he emphasized. “After they passed, I told you I didn’t have any family that would take me in. That much was true, but I only gave you half the story that night in the car, when you asked me about what happened.”

Trey loosened his tie, giving Licht his full, undivided attention. Even now, he proved he was a gentle, kind-hearted man, willing to listen to the stories of a kid he didn’t even know four years ago.

“I didn’t want to be part of the social stigma of being homeless, but I didn’t really have a choice, I guess.” He laid out a stack of money on the table, amounting to the sum he had written down on a crumpled-up, makeshift spreadsheet, listing the then-price of everything he’d stolen. “I never wanted to be a thief, but I didn’t want to starve on the streets, either. When I was still in school, I had a really good friend, Brendan Greyriter, and he was the kind of friend you’d turn the world over for. It was through my desire to become a better version of myself that I strove to get off the streets via my own power, but that was hard to do when no one would offer a kid like me a job.”

Trey looked at the money on the table before picking up the penciled-in spreadsheet. “Is this a running tally of what you took and the cost of the item? We’ve yet to discuss this, but it looks like you went out and got a job without my knowledge.”

His face was like that of a proud parent whose kid had done something totally unexpected, showing their steady ascent from adolescence into adulthood. It was a look Licht couldn’t avert his gaze from; no one had looked at him like that since before his parents passed. He’d kept his promise to earn the same amount he stole, eventually reimbursing each business he’d taken from and, now, he finally had the money to right the part of his past he was the least proud of.

“I want to become a better person, someone who can put this kind of thing behind them. As for the other half of the story…” He put his hand on his chin, thinking. “There isn’t much of anything that’s of real significance, I guess. I mean, I know I said other half but, honestly, I was a pretty crazy kid, always pushing for bigger and better things. I loved to make stuff out of nothing and once almost accidentally blew up the robotics clubroom in junior high.” His face quickly turned serious. “There was a night, though, when I received a phone call. It wasn’t from anyone I knew or even a number I was familiar with, but I answered it anyways. What I’m about to tell you is really what the other half of my story is about.”

“Alright. Well, what did they say?” Trey asked, curiously.

“Well, I don’t remember exactly what they said but,” he dug around in his pockets, pulling out an old cellphone, “I managed to record the call on here, with a few modifications to this phone.” He put the call on speaker for Trey to hear.

“I like what you do. You’re a smart kid.” Several seconds of static broke the call before the remainder of the message played. “I can give you a life you’ve never even dreamed of if you’ll agree to work with me. I want to create a world where people like you and me don’t have to feel so disenfranchised, and all you have to do is say—” The message ended with a small click, also indicating the end of the recording.

“I hung it up. I don’t believe in things like that. How are you going to call some random kid and say you can offer them a life they’ve never even dreamed of?” he huffed. “Like I was ever going to believe some crap like that… Or so I thought.”

He pulled a large, brown leather journal from between the couch cushions. It was bound by a thick rope that held the pages together through a series of holepunches, though it had begun to fray at the ends—an otherwise completely normal journal but, for some reason, it reeked of alcohol and wet paper. Trey wrinkled his nose as Licht opened it to the first page, but the ink had been faded by sunlight, and the pages were caked with dried salt.

“I’ve never been real avid about religion or spiritual stuff, but this first page changed everything. At the time, I was too scared to thumb through any further but, after tonight, I think it would be best if I did.” He handed the journal to Trey, gently placing it in his hand as he examined the binding. “That phone call and voice message came the same night I ran away. Coincidence or not, I wasn’t stupid enough to be taken advantage of but, lately, I’ve begun to think maybe there was some validity to it… and some connection to that journal.”

“This is a high-quality leather, especially when you consider how it seems to have survived quite a bit of abuse.” He turned it over in his hands, examining the journal from the side. “The leather is cracked but, judging from the water-stained pages, for it to have survived this long is nothing short of a miracle, I’m sure.” He opened it to the first page, thoroughly examining the faded ink that was still legible. “How closely did you look at this?” he asked.

“Not real close. Just enough to figure out I didn’t want to know what was on the other pages.”

“Well, you might want to take a look at the bottom of this page. You’ve stumbled upon something, alright. What that something is, however, might be best left to an expert.” Trey’s face had furled into one of mystery: his eyebrows furrowed as his mouth turned into an aslant frown. There, on the bottom of the page, was an address to a small shop. “Do you realize there’s an address in here for Seria? That’s on the opposite side of Alura. You didn’t drive all the way out there, did you? That would be close to a seven-hour drive.”

“Would you believe me if I said it fell into my lap?”

Trey chuckled. “I’d say that’s a stretch, but I’m curious. What do you plan to do with it?”

“I saw the address once, but I totally forgot it was even in there until a few weeks ago, to be fair. So, I’m going to Seria to this weekend to investigate.” Trey looked uneasy, narrowing his eyes on Licht, waiting for an explanation. “I mean… Look— I only read as far as the first page before putting the thing down, but it was talking about some crazy stuff—fortunes that aligned with the zodiacs, luck so good people would think you were psychic, and even how to unlock 100% of the brain’s power just to name a few.”

“Ok, well, you know it’s going to take more than that to convince me to let you go to some strange place in a big city alone,” he said, handing the journal back to Licht.

“Then this next part definitely won’t change your mind because this gets weird.” He opened the journal to the first page again. “There are other things to do with resurrection, summoning something but it’s smudged out, and human sacrifice. Specifically, that last part mentions the need for a massive number of human lives for some kind of stone.”

“A philosopher’s stone?” Trey said, astounded. “It’s an ancient alchemic stone that was believed by many alchemists to grant immortality and rejuvenation.”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t mention any specific stone. I mean… Umm… Let me read it—maybe then it’ll make more sense.”

“These feats cannot be achieved without the use of a particular stone. Its name eludes me at this time, but the creation of such an object is not unreasonable. If my math is correct, one would need the equivalent mass of a small country’s worth of human sacrifices. Of course, no one in their right mind would volunteer, so I’ve already set plan B into motion. Seeing as Gila is such a barren wasteland and Alura’s continued overpopulation, I see this as a win-win situation.”

“I don’t care how much more of that you read,” Trey interrupted. “Whoever wrote that crap is not someone I want you involved with. No one has any idea who this person is, not to mention the discussion of human sacrifices.”

Licht placed the journal on the table. “I get that. This is some weird stuff, and I have no idea why it landed in my lap, of all people, but that’s why I have to go. Stuff like this doesn’t just happen for no reason.”

“No.”

“Trey—”

Apprehension filled his voice. “You can’t go alone. It’s too dangerous, and if I lost you, too…”

Licht gave him a surprising hug. He knew the risks of chasing after something as crazy and unhinged as a suspicious voice message from four years ago, but something was telling him to investigate the potential connection between the journal and the message. Still, if he did manage to run into trouble, leaving Trey alone would form a pit in his stomach—he wasn’t ready to give up on the only place he could call home and the one person who had been like a father to him. He studied Trey’s face, noting a hint of worry and melancholic fear in his gaze, the fear of losing everything he cared about—the fear of losing the kid he’d had the privilege of raising into a young man.

The hug wasn’t a one-off—he meant every last ounce of love he poured into the embrace, but he had a feeling letting something like the journal go, as crazy as it was, would be a mistake. After all, the thing had literally fallen into his lap, and the address on it had been written fairly recently, judging by the lack of fading and smudging of the ink.

Trey had given him a home, a warm bed to sleep in at night, an opportunity to get a formal education—all things that lacked tangibility in some way, ideas that had coalesced and formed parts of his identity. He’d lay back on his bed at night studying, nestled safely under the roof of a warm home and evening meals. His enrollment in public school had allowed him the opportunity to make new friends and meet new people in new places. Licht’s hug was his way of expressing his gratitude for the outpouring of love and care Trey had shown him since taking him in, but it was also a way to say that he cherished the bond they’d formed.

Occasionally, he’d think back on the cold, lonely streets he’d wandered at night, scarcity of food, and stares from random passersby that were so pitiful it made him want to curl up and die. He didn’t want their pity, and he didn’t like asking for help—it wasn’t something coded into his DNA. What right did people have to stare at him like he was some kind of animal, scrounging around for scraps of anything even remotely edible? He hated it, all of it—every last second.

These days, he wondered if it was fate that had descended upon the house he once called a home. He scolded himself for ever thinking his homelessness and thievery were in any way destined or pieces of his life that had to fall apart before he could start anew. To lose everything just to regain the pieces he needed to pick himself back up… He loathed a game as ridiculous as what the world was playing—a pawn on the board of life, moving every which way. He’d chalked the more unfortunate parts of his life up to bad luck before, he’d fended off bullies from vulnerable kids only for the bullies to twist his kindness into hatred to use against him, but was it truly just bad luck, or was there more to it?

Once, when he was ten, he’d misjudged the speed of his bike and ability to brake, suffering a nasty wipeout as he sped down the hill, the side of his face connecting with the ground. He’d limped home, blood streaked down his face, gravel sticking to his skin like glue, in his freshly tattered clothes. He was fortunate the bike helmet had taken most of the trauma, but his skinned knees said otherwise, stinging as his mother rinsed the dirt and gravel from his wounds. Another camper had witnessed the accident and hauled his bike back to him, catching his mother at the door, asking if he was ok.

Nothing would ever compare to the pain of losing his parents, though—not to some unidentifiable disease that either had no cure or was so novel no one would admit that the viral load had caused their organs to fail, eventually snuffing their lives out with nothing more than a soft whisper. He watched as their disease-riddled bodies were pulled from the house and placed inside airtight body bags, their cheerful smiles, bright eyes, and warm hugs never to be seen or felt again. The head of the local disease center had come down to oversee the process, telling Licht that it wasn’t an unknown, biological entity that had killed his parents—they were victims of overwork and overstress. He called bullshit from day one—not just at the bureaucratic lies the government would continue to feed him, but at the whole situation: the homelessness, unsupportive extended family, and moldy bites of food he’d later vomit into an already-garbage-filled dumpster.

He’d been spared; he wouldn’t have to share his parents’ fate, but that only drove the stake lodged in his chest deeper—spared, just to end up homeless and hungry. Fate was cruel, and life wasn’t fair, he understood that much, given the fact that he’d lived through something that would forever traumatize him—part of his unconscious mind that would reveal itself at night in the most twisted and abhorrent ways: nightmares of the neighborhood sending his home up in flames, terrified of his parents’ walking corpses with their arms outstretched as they burned alive. Other times, he’d doze off in the afternoon sun only to be jolted awake by his parents’ voices in his head, asking why he let them die and how he was a terrible son for not joining them in the cold and stiff embrace of death. His eyes would fly open as he screamed in terror, skin soaked in cold sweat.

It wasn’t that he rejected what reality had chewed up and spit in his face—he resented reality for forcing him into such a position, for forcing a kid to wander the streets alone, left with the weight of death that caused his shoulders to slump. He hated himself for having to resort to theft just to survive, but what else could he do? Was he supposed to enter the foster care system just for some random family to adopt him and eventually forget about him in favor of their own biological children? If he needed someone to talk to about the dark past that would eventually roll over him like a wave… Who would be there to listen? Who could even begin to understand what he was going through? Moreover, he didn’t want to burden anyone with the demons that lived inside his mind, frolicking around at the cost of his sanity.

“You said that you’re afraid of losing me, too. I… I can’t begin to imagine what that must feel like, and I know that this little adventure caused you anxiety, but I swear I’ve got this. I get that you’re worried about me,” he said, mid hug. “I really do. I don’t want to be cliché and say that it was fate I stumbled into your meeting that one night, or that it was fate that spared me from the thing that took Mom and Dad’s lives. But even if something as crazy as fate is responsible, well… That same fate is telling me that I need to check this place in Seria out.”

Trey’s face had relaxed some, eyes no longer the size of golf balls, but the apprehension remained. He’d given Licht a home, someplace he could call his own, and he’d made every effort to understand the pain that had attached itself to him, hiding in his shadow. He’d tried to make the house as inviting as possible, hoping that the space would give Licht time to grieve and formulate a way to work off his debts. However, instead of retreating into a lonely shell, he’d poked his head out, eager to explore his new world with a second chance at life.

“You’ve given me the best last four-ish years of my life. Honestly, I didn’t even think happiness was something I could find again. I mean, at fourteen, I never would have thought I could graduate high school on time, make new friends, or feel like I had a home again yet, you lit the path I’ve walked for years now.” He released Trey from the hug. “I have a lot to repay you for, so trust me when I say I’m not going to go out and get mixed up in something crazy. Besides, I’m more confident in myself and the person I’ve become than I’ve ever been. I have you to thank for that.”

Trey’s shoulders relaxed as the tension left his body. “I still don’t like it, but that was a hell of a speech you just gave, Licht. I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t go out and do something crazy, like you said. It’s just,” he leaned back into the couch, “that I worry, I guess. Both of us kind of got a shitty hand, huh? I’ve never raised a kid, at least not of my own, anyways. Knowing that you graduate high school tomorrow makes me proud, and to find you had a running tally of what you’d stolen and saved up the money to reimburse each individual business…”

“I guess I took you a bit by surprise, huh? I’ve grown a lot since you took me in, but there’s a lot left in this world for me to experience still.”

“Yes, you did surprise me, and I’ve watched you grow, but I never thought it would happen so fast. Then again, four years makes quite a difference, so I guess you’ve got me beat there,” Trey laughed. “In all seriousness, what you’re wanting to do could be extremely dangerous. Let me at least try to be somewhat of a father here, though. Do not go to Seria alone.”

“Well, actually, before we get too far, let me explain a couple more things. When I said I had a really good friend in Brendan, that was past tense—my bad. We went to school together before my life kind of took a detour. We didn’t keep in touch as much after I had to withdraw. I don’t want it to seem like some kind of strange coincidence he calls in a minute,” Licht said, rubbing the back of his head. “Plus, he might have some leads on this journal. Granted, he hasn’t told me how, but—”

Suddenly, Licht’s phone began to ring.

“So, I’m already ahead of you on the whole not going alone thing, trust me. It’s hard to explain, but something’s about to happen and he just might be the one with answers.” He put the call on speaker for Trey to hear. “Go ahead, Brendan.”

“Hey, hey!” Brendan answered. “First of all, Mr. Mayor, I’m in no position to tell you to let Licht go to Seria or not, that’s up to you. However, I have some prior knowledge on that journal that’s on your table right now and a possible lead on its owner.”

“It sounds like you two have had a fair bit of discussion about this already,” Trey noted, raising his eyebrows.

“Well,” Licht started, “we’ve talked about it off and on the last couple of weeks, but we never came to a final decision on it. We were actually about to go over some new information we came across just recently though, which makes this phone call crucial.” He turned his attention to the phone on the table. “Trey and I discovered an address in Seria, and it might have an answer to some of the questions we have.”

“Hmm. Tell you what— I’ll answer one of them right now. The test results from the sample we took from the journal are conclusive. The paper itself isn’t anything special—just weathered over time. It’s the same stuff you can buy anywhere. The ink, however, was dated back nearly two-hundred years—same thing with the leather binding. I dated the ink back to a kind used at least that long ago, and the chemical composition of the leather offered a similar date.”

“If I remember correctly, wasn’t there some kind of big fight between a couple of powerful families around that time? I can’t remember their names or what they were fighting about specifically, but it involved a little kid or something.”

“Basically, yeah. Alurian history books are pretty scarce on the details, so it’s hard to go off of much but, since we’re headed to Seria anyways, I know someone who might have more information.”

Trey had no visible reaction to the conversation. “Seria’s a big place,” he cautioned, “and if you’re planning to spend a night or two out there, hotels could be full. However, the mayor is a pretty nice guy, so I’m sure I could get him to agree to let you stay in their guest bedrooms. The Mayor’s Mansion will make it feel more like a vacation, I’m sure.”

“Are you sure?” Surprise lingered in Licht’s voice. “I mean, you’re not going to set some rules or boundaries or whatever?”

“I think you’ve more than proven you’re mature enough to handle something like this, so I’m going to let you do what you believe is best. Besides, Seria is one of the safest cities in Alura. I’m not too worried about you and Brendan finding trouble.” He glanced at the clock on the television’s DVR. “I’m not sure what you two will find there, but keep me posted, ok? I’ve gotta get to bed, but if you two do get into trouble, call me.”

Licht nodded his head. “Will do, Thanks, Trey—seriously. We’ll probably head out before noon Saturday, so we’ll still be around for a bit in the morning.”

Trey nodded. “Be careful. God knows what you might find, but take some time to enjoy your trip, too. Maybe you’ll find something crazy,” he chuckled as he walked off towards his bedroom.

“Well, what do you think?” Brendan asked.

“I think we have our work cut out for us this weekend. When you consider what’s written inside of this thing and the mismatched dates between the paper and ink…”

“I know. You can’t just write on paper from 200 years in the future 200 years in the past, especially when that kind of ink is no longer produced. The tests I did in the science lab were certain of the dates, too—I even triple checked, and it’s like you said— Considering the actual contents of the thing, it just gets weirder.”

“I haven’t read it cover to cover yet, but the snippets I’ve peeked at are disturbing. Why did it fall into my lap, of all people, and where did it come from, ya know?”

“I have a theory, though it probably doesn’t have much merit to it.”

“If you say aliens teleported this journal into my lap, I will slap the shit out of you.”

“Hey, you never know. Crazier things have happened.”

“Like what exactly?” Licht poked, unamused.

“Like deez nu—”

Licht hung up the phone, smiling. “Heh. Almost got me that time.”