I was worried. Something was wrong.

Roy had arrived, at long last, but he looked far different than before. The former thief’s eyes were sunken, underlined by the dark circles that stood out prominently on his ever-paling face. He shivered, his hands trembling; his shoulders slumped under some invisible weight.

What’s more, I couldn’t help but stare at the bruise that had formed on his cheek.

Something was wrong.

I pulled him aside, looking for some privacy; the youth reluctantly followed along.

I narrowed my eyes; Roy flinched, taking an involuntary step backwards and clenching his fists at his sides. He blanched, his face taking on the appearance of pure-white snow - were it not for the incriminating bags and bruises that dyed its surface.

I couldn’t let this go. I had decided to take the youth under my wing. Besides, we were friends now, weren’t we? I smiled at the thought, showing my teeth. Roy tried to smile back; it was a tentative, trembling attempt. The expression was wan, filled with unease. Something really was terribly wrong.

I narrowed my eyes even further in concern, as if I could spot the truth of the matter should I only squint hard enough. Roy’s eyes widened, the polar opposite of my own. I think that he knew I was worried for him.

We really understood each other. It was nice to have that with someone again - with anyone, really. I knew that I wasn’t at my best, nowadays, so I appreciated what I had.

“Do you want to talk to me about what happened last night?” I asked, putting on my best supportive smile. The words came out almost sickeningly-sweet, but that was alright. He needed the support, I was sure. I locked gazes with him, doing my best to convey the intensity of my desire to help. I wanted him to know that he couldn’t run away from this. This was important.

He stiffened briefly, before shuddering in what I was certain was clear relief, his body curling in on itself more than ever before.

“Y-you know already?” he asked, the words coming out in halting stops and stutters. He raised his hands in a defensive posture.

I nearly blinked in surprise at that, but weathered the startling question instead, continuing to show my support. How could I not know - or at least guess? It didn’t take a genius to notice that the youth had a poor home life.

Reading people wasn’t all that hard, sometimes. The signs were all there. His previous unwillingness to talk about his father, his constantly paling face - potentially from malnutrition, which was concerning -, his propensity to flinch away from me, and the hand-shaped bruise that I could see now. It was all so obvious.

“Of course,” I said. “Did you think I wouldn’t see things that appear right in front of me? I’m not blind, even if I may have my particular quirks.”

“Wha-what are you going to do about it? I haven’t told anyone, I swear on my life.”

I looked at the terrified youth, saddened.

“I’m sure you haven’t,” I consoled him. “It can be dangerous to speak up, when the threat is so close by.”

He shivered again, at that. My words must have been hitting close to home. He was becoming more and more withdrawn, but I wouldn’t let him pull back. I gripped his shoulder with one hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He flinched, so I only held on tighter.

I wouldn’t let him go. I was here for him.

Finally understanding that, he all but melted. I was proud to see that I was helping. I gave him another grin.

He tried his best to smile back.

I lowered my voice, leaning in closer. This was a private conversation between the two of us, after all.

“If you do ever feel the need to talk, just remember that I’ll always be around.”

Roy made an audible gulp, touched by the offer of a listening ear. Sometimes, that was all it took - somebody willing to listen, somebody to be able to trust.

“I...I’ll remember that,” he said softly, looking down.

I smiled happily. “I know you will, Roy.” For a moment, I hoped that was enough; that knowing I was here would help to alleviate some of the stress and strain that loomed over my young mentee.

Judging by the way he maintained his distressed expression, it wasn’t quite sufficient. I decided that I should broach the subject more directly.

“I can heal that for you, you know.”

For a moment, Roy looked completely taken aback. “Huh? What?”

“That bruise on your face.”

“Why?” he asked.

“What do you mean? Even if you don’t want to talk about it, I can still heal the bruises. That’s what any friend would do, at the very least.”

Roy froze momentarily. Immediately afterwards, he adopted a confused, almost constipated expression. The former thief turned towards me with narrowed eyes.

“Markus?”

“Yes?” I asked.

“...can you tell me what you think we’ve been talking about?”

“Are you sure that you’re comfortable with me putting it in words?” I asked, worried. This was a big step, an important one, but I didn’t want to push him too far.

“I’m...pretty sure at this point, yes.”

I took in a careful breath, thinking carefully, before deciding to simply voice my suspicions outright. “I suspect that your father may be abusive.”

Roy let out a hysterical laugh. “Wow, that is...well, you’re right, but…” For some reason, Roy looked so dramatically relieved that I almost began to doubt my previous ability to read his body language. Perhaps it was freeing to have someone that knew the truth?

He laughed again, the sound coming out slightly unhinged. “Saviors, I thought I was screwed.” His shoulder began to shake uncontrollably; tears slowly dripped from his eyes.

I stood there awkwardly, waiting for the moment to pass.

Finally, he managed to calm himself. “You really need to work on your people-skills, man, I swear. You are one scary motherfucker, you know that?”

I didn’t understand what was happening. Had I lost track somewhere? My confusion must have shone through, because he clarified next.

“The things you were saying sounded extremely ominous, Markus. Especially after…” he cut off at that, suddenly appearing tense again.

“After what?” I asked.

Roy released an aggrieved sigh, his lips pursing like he had tasted something foul. For a moment, he appeared to wrestle with himself, until he finally came to a decision. Straightening his spine, he met my eyes.

“After...” he started out strong, but slowly faded into a whisper, “after I saw what you are.”

“You saw...what?” I asked.

“You - and whatever the hell you did to those two men last night.” He started talking faster, the words unstoppably ejecting from his lips like a runaway train. “I was walking around last night and I heard a woman’s scream and I went to go see if I could help and I saw you and I -”

“Oh.” As simple as the word was, it wasn’t able to fully express the depths of my distress - but neither could I find it within myself to say anything more. The world was falling out from under me. My shame had been witnessed. The secret was out. Now, he knew that I was broken. Now, he knew that I was insane.

Wait. He probably already knew that, didn’t he? I didn’t exactly put up a solid front.

Oh. He was talking again.

“...woman wasn’t there, so I tried to tell myself that you were there trying to help like me and please tell me that I’m not confessing that I witnessed you attacking random people and -” the words just kept coming. Judging from the ever-widening of his eyes and the irregularity of his breathing, he was probably panicking.

“They had attacked a couple,” I interjected to cut off his panic. “The Guard came and picked the two up later, I saw one of them in custody earlier today.”

“So, you aren’t running around attacking random people?” he asked, looking relieved. I was mildly offended. “That’s good, that’s good - and they lived?”

I nodded vigorously. “Healed right back up to full physical health.” I avoided mentioning the debilitating fear of bugs at least one of them had acquired. Some things were better left unsaid.

Now that his fears of me potentially being some sort of indiscriminate murderer had been allayed - and, wow, I just realized how bad our previous conversation must have sounded to him - he had begun to relax more.

I, on the other hand, was feeling rather tense.

Having heard more about the world as it was from Katrina, Jack, and Will, I knew that natural superhumans weren’t exactly...well-received. Still, that didn’t change the way I intended to act.

“Hold out your hand,” I said. When he did so, I touched his outstretched limb with my own, casting [Woundshift]. The growing bruise on his face shifted, transferring to the Risen Crow that had perched itself upon my shoulder.

As the mark disappeared from his cheek, Roy stared intently at the flare of light that pulsed from my shoulder. His brows furrowed in confusion.

“I knew that you at least had to have similar powers to Neladrie’s Mark, but...you really are Marked.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I asked. “You’ve obviously seen my Risen and conduit abilities,” I continued, gesturing at my crow-self.

“I don’t know. I thought it might be some close approximation, maybe. I’ve never seen or even heard of a Corrupted that possessed a Mark before.”

“Never?” I asked, surprised. That was extremely strange; given the prevalence of Marks based upon my own limited experience, I would have expected at least a rare few would discover their Gift after already being Marked. But none?

“Not as far as I can remember, anyway.”

The thought troubled me. What was the connection?

Roy snapped his fingers. “Do your powers synergize with Neladrie’s Mark? Maybe there has to be some sort of common link.”

“Maybe…” I voiced in response, unconvinced.

“What are your powers, anyway? Besides, you know, creepy bugs and eating people.”

Now that he was no longer in fear for his health, Roy had become far more talkative. I think that the novelty of the situation was exciting for him - like being the first to witness something never before seen.

Still, I wasn’t sure what answer to give him.

Did I tell him who I really was? Did I tell him about the lives that I had ended, the atrocities I had committed, the -

Wonderful, horrible life that I had made my -

No.

That would be too much.

What, then? What did I tell this former thief? What did I tell this abused youth?

I didn’t have a good answer. In the end, I did the only thing I could bear: I did what all adults do when faced with the hopeful questions of the younger generations.

I lied.