“Ryan?” he asked.

The older boy sat there on one of the tiled ledges underwater, with his arms spread out on the edge behind him and his eyes closed. Was he relaxing here? Micah could imagine that being nice after a long day of fighting monsters and saving people, but he had never seen the other boy around before. Was it a coincidence that he was here today or did they just miss each other all the time?

When he called his name, Ryan opened his eyes and lurched, flailing in the water to get up.

“Micah,” he said. “You’re awake? What are you—”

He didn’t get to finish his question before Micah remembered his manners. First things first, he thought. He bowed deeply like his father had taught him to do when he wanted to express deep gratitude.

“Thank you for saving me,” he said.

He heard more splashing in the water and looked up to see Ryan waddling over and sputtering.

“It— It was just— You don’t need to bow— What are you—”

Micah blushed himself, a little bit embarrassed that his bow could have such a great effect on a person. He would have apologized for that, but apologizing to someone for thanking them seemed off.

“Are you even ok to walk around on your own?” Ryan asked.

Micah scowled. So people really did think he couldn’t walk on his own.

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “I just ate something.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Uhm, washing up?” he said, and then thought larger picture. “Oh, my brother-in-law owns this bathhouse. We didn’t have any food at home so my parents brought me here to get something to eat.”

“Oh, your parents are here?” He looked behind Micah as if he expected them to walk in at any moment.

“They’re in the kitchen, talking with my sister,” Micah said. “I wanted to wash up before food was ready.”

“Oh.” He whistled for some reason, and asked, “Do you want to join me, then?”

“Uhm,” Micah started. He had been headed for the general washing area at the other end of the room where the seats and faucets were, but there was a pair between two baths right here that was just fine. If he grabbed a bucket and some soap, he could join him, he guessed.

“Just a second,” he told the other boy and went to grab those things. When he came back, he sat down beside the bath.

He started putting soap in his hair while they talked.

“Really, though, thank you,” he said again. “If you want to have any if that loot after all, it’s yours. Anything you want. Just ask.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Micah,” Ryan said.

“But I do.” He turned on the faucet to fill up his bucket.

“Anyone would have done what I did,” Ryan insisted. “You hear a whistle, you go to help. That’s what we learned.”

“Just because anyone else would have done it, doesn’t mean I should take it for granted. You were the one who heard me and went to help. If it wasn’t for you, I would still be stuck in that cave,” Micah said the words earnestly because it was the truth. It seemed like it was too much, though. His classmate looked stumped.

“Other people helped, too …” he mumbled.

People I still have to thank, Micah thought.

“And I will thank them, in time. Right now I’m thanking you,” he said.

Finally, Ryan got the hint.

“Then ... you’re welcome.”

Micah let out a deep sigh of relief and dumped the water over his head. One less thing he had to worry about.

“Actually, there is something I’d want,” Ryan suddenly said and Micah pushed his wet hair back to look at him.

“Yeah?” He smiled.

“But it’s not loot. It’s just … I have to ask, why were you in the Tower in the first place, Flower Boy?”

His smile fell. So he wanted an explanation, just like everybody else. Micah sighed. He supposed he should have known. He would never get to live this down, just like that nickname. Then again, he hadn’t really stopped using the potion. He just used much less of it.

He considered joining Ryan in the bath before he answered, just to relax in the hot water. Thin vapor rose from it and coiled around like festive lights. It had the softest shades of orange and blue, but was mostly just a distortion in the air, similar to heat essence on its own. Micah looked down. The water itself was only missing the air essence. It was brimming with heat though ...

He changed his mind.

“I’m an [Alchemist],” he explained to Ryan. “It’s my class, but not my Path. I kind of got stuck before I entered the Tower because I didn’t have the right ingredients to make more advanced potions, so I went in to collect them on my own.”

He had tried to look at Ryan when he spoke, but by the end of it he was looking at the ground again. He didn’t even know why. His nails on his right foot were almost clean, he noticed. There was a little bit of grime there. The ones on his left had a thick line of black and brown that used to be red just under the tip of the nail, though, from where he had run around with only one sole. His boots wouldn’t have fit him soon anyway, should he feel bad for having ruined them?

“What’s your Path then?” Ryan asked.

Micah looked up.

“Why do you think I have a Path?” he asked. His parents hadn’t even asked him until he told them. Why did Ryan of all people think he had one?

“You lied that you had [Cantrips Path] so you knew how to fake having a Path,” he said, “and you just said ‘it’s my class, but not my Path’ just now. Plus, the doctor in the infirmary spoke like you had one.”

Micah was surprised. He knew Ryan paid attention in class and was considered a prodigy, but Micah had always thought of him as a fighting prodigy, not being … well … smart. What an asshole thing to think, he realized.

Then he had another thought.

“Wait, how did you know I lied about having the [Cantrips Path]?”

Ryan grimaced.

“The doctor told us,” he said.

“Us?”

“Lisa, she’s the other girl who helped rescue you, me, Linda, probably my instructor by now, too. Everyone, basically.”

Micah took a moment to let that sink in. Okay, he told himself. That didn’t change anything, did it? He had been wanting to apologize to Linda anyway. At least now, he could do it properly. Clean slate, right? he asked himself.

“My Path is [Essence Path],” he said.

“Essence?” Ryan asked.

Didn’t he know about essence either? Come to think of it, Micah had never heard people speaking about it in the Climber’s Bazaar either. Only alchemical patterns and qualities, like preservation, or strength, or healing. Did other alchemist have a different way of judging ingredients?

“It has to deal with, uhm, it’s hard to explain,” Micah said.

“You know what your Path is about?” Ryan asked him.

Micah frowned. “You don’t?”

“Mine is [Exemplarism Path], but I only have a vague sense of what it means.” He whistled then and it sounded almost like a bird shrugging, if such a thing existed.

Exemplarism, Micah mulled the word over in his head.

“Are you like a perfectionist?” he asked.

Ryan chuckled.

“No, no it has nothing to do with that,” he said and then reconsidered. ”I mean, I might be, but it has nothing to do with my Path. It’s more like … I like to capture slices of life that I witness?”

“Uhm,” Micah said. He didn’t follow.

“You try putting your Path into words,” Ryan said and splashed some water at him. Micah attempted a dodge and grinned.

“Easy,” he said and faltered. He quickly realized he’d never tried to conceptualize his Path before. “It’s like, uh, well ...”

“Yes?”

What is essence? Micah thought and looked at the steam essence.

It was a force of nature. That much he was sure about. Or at least, it was like a mirror of nature’s forces, and its patterns and behavior and consistency. The steam was made of heat and air and water, hence it was made of heat and air and water essence. It got its curling patterns from the way the actual vapor behaved in the room, and maybe even the water and heat? Water could flow like that, too, after all. And heat … well, heat crawls and soaks into things and it disperses, doesn’t it?

Micah remembered thinking the bark essence was like a shadow play the first time he had seen it. The comparison didn’t seem that far off. Essence mimicked the world and all that was in it.

But people could influence it, too, because fire had a pattern even though it wasn’t alive. Well, everything had a pattern, but there was a large difference between that of a rock and that of a butterfly. Fire essence grew teeth and tried to eat everything that was around it, to conquer and consume. It turned everything it touched into its own version of poo, a large pile of soot.

How had Micah ever thought that was cute? Maybe … because that was what it became? People thought of fire as something alive and so it had a pattern as if were something alive. Micah thought of it as something cute, and so his fire cantrip had small eyes and a tongue and it looked like an adorable little ball that just nibbled on his finger.

People gave fire essence its pattern.

Essence was a force of nature and thought, then. It mimicked existence, but it also influenced and was influenced by it, just like how enough fire essence stuffed together could create a real fireball, but without fire, there was no fire essence ... Probably. Humans might be able to create fire essence without fire. Did it influence the world beyond that, without human intermission though? It had to. That only made sense. But could Micah find proof of that somehow?

Micah had a hunch, just like he did when [Basic Alchemy] tried to tell him something, that—

“Essence is one of the things that holds the world together in its innermost folds,” he said and suddenly remembered wondering about just that when he was little—like really, really little. When he was about six or seven. Hadn’t he always asked questions like that? What made the sun rise in the morning? What did the clouds come from? Why did it rain? Why did seasons change? Why did the moon shine at night? Where did babies come from? How did magic work? What is fire? Why do we throw shadows? What is music? So, so many questions he had always asked when he was younger.

When had he stopped asking them?

When I got my class, he realized.

It was when he became an [Alchemist]. Ever since then, the only questions he had asked were about potions. How do I make this concept work? How can I shape this pattern into healing me? Why can’t I make a comfort potion during midday? Those questions weren’t necessarily a bad thing. They just weren’t big enough. Alchemy was a small part of a much, much larger picture.

Micah remembered the Path he had just gotten and frowned — a picture that apparently involved violence.

Suddenly he remembered something else that was important. Ryan was still there. The older boy was staring at him and Micah realized he’d drifted off.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I kind of got lost there.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s funny when other people do it,” Ryan said, whatever that meant. “And ‘hold’, by the way.”

“Huh?” Micah had no idea what he was talking about.

“You said ‘things that holds’. It should have been ‘hold’. Plural.”

“But otherwise it wouldn’t rhyme?”

“What?”

“Huh?”

Ryan groaned. “Nevermind. So you’re not a [Fighter]?” he asked Micah.

“No. Well, I wasn’t. I am now,” Micah said and decided to join Ryan in the bath after all. It was just a little bit of hot water. He could handle that. He couldn’t hide from hot baths for the rest of his life, especially since his sister owned a bunch.

“Wait, you got the [Fighter] class?” Ryan asked when Micah sunk in. It actually his soothed his muscles a little, but he still didn’t enjoy it. Not yet, at least. He hoped he would in time.

“No,” Micah corrected him. “I got another Path. [Of the Warrior Path].”

When he looked at Ryan, the older boy was frowning at him. Micah must have said something wrong, then. What? Was there something Ryan knew, but he didn’t?

“What happened to you in there?” he asked instead, surprising Micah.

Micah remembered teeth looming above him, thick strands of essence twisting into a ball of flames, a red river rushing towards him. He immediately regretted getting into the hot water.

Ryan must have seen something on his face because he quickly pulled back.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that. It was rude to ask—”

“No, it’s alright,” Micah said. He was going to have to tell someone eventually. He might as well push through it now.

He took a deep breath and told the other boy. Everything. From the first day he got his class to the way he had behaved towards Linda. How it hurt when the salamanders bit him to how he thought he was going to die and might as well take the Kobold down as well. How everything went blank and the next thing he knew he was in the rubble, happy that he’d even woken up again. He told him about fighting the wolves and how he only survived out of sheer luck, and about how he found the cave and hid inside, whistling in the hope that someone would come find him.

He had planned to leave the cave and find an exit on his own if no one showed up, but he never did. He slept most of the time after he killed the wolves and he hadn’t gotten the warrior Path. Maybe it was because he lacked resolve? Maybe he just didn’t have time to reflect on what he had done? He thought of [Savagery] — wasn’t it something he’d had already? — and his mother’s words to soothe him.

There are no monsters here, Micah.

He was lying again, wasn’t he? He did it unconsciously, and then he did it purposely when he shoved those thoughts aside and put a smile on for Ryan.

“All that time, no one came. I’m lucky you heard me,” he said.

Ryan had a pained expression on his face, which was understandable considering everything Micah had just told him. He even asked questions all the way through and gave Micah his condolences. Micah was happy his classmate cared. He didn’t really have friends anymore, not real ones, and was beginning to see more than just the mistakes he had made in the Tower. He’d been making them ever since he got the [Alchemist] class. It would be nice to start fixing things again.

“I only heard you because of a Skill,” Ryan said. “[Enhanced Senses].”

Micah jumped at the idea of switching topics, and especially at the chance of hearing about other people’s Skills.

“Cool,” he said. “Did you get that from [Exemplarism Path]?” He asked, but it was more him wondering out loud. “We always saw you training, the other classmates and I. We all thought you had a combat calling.”

“I do, kind of. I have the [Fighter] Class, but I’m only level 4. I get most of my Skills from another Skill I got, called [Mimic Beast]. It kind of … lets me … copy monsters?”

The water shifted as Micah leaned forward, suddenly much more interested. He was sitting cross-legged on the ledge in the curve of the bath and gripped his bandaged ankles as he stared at his senior. Whatever else he might have thought about monsters, he was still a thirteen-year-old boy. Copying them could only be described in one word—

“Awesome. What kind of monsters have you copied already? Can you talk with them? Do monsters even have Skills? Can you throw up a demon egg?”

“I— a what?”

“Or can you, like, turn into a monster? That would be amazing. Are you like a mage? Oh, wait. Now that I think about that, that would be awful. Please don’t turn into a monster in front of me. I’d have to kick you.”

“I can’t turn into a monster, Micah,” Ryan said. “I can barely copy them as is.”

“Ooh, so which ones have you copied already?” Before Micah could ramble on, a wave of water hit in him square in the face.

“If you would shut up, I could tell you,” Ryan said, exasperated.

Micah just laughed. He motioned locking his mouth and throwing away the key. Then he stared at Ryan attentively. But the older boy just looked at him, seemingly thinking about something, and smiled.

“What?” Micah asked and clamped his hand over his mouth again.

“You’re usually so quiet in class, it’s nice to see you have a personality,” Ryan said.

Micah acted offended, but with a hidden smile. Beneath that he suspected something else. He was pretty sure Ryan had meant to say ‘it’s nice that it survived’. He wasn’t so sure himself … nor if that was necessarily a bad thing. When he thought about the way he had behaved towards his classmates, his family, the people he met, himself.

If a part of the last two years of himself had really died in there, then good.

“Micah?” a familiar voice called and his head snapped to the back entrance. Prisha came walking into the baths from there. She looked out of place, fully-clothed in the men’s baths, and wore sandals that clacked against the tiles with every step she took.

Micah noticed her spot him and smile. Then he noticed Ryan spot her and lunge for his towel, blushing. He laughed at the older boy, who scowled.

“There you are,” she said. “I wanted to tell you dinner’s ready soon, so you could dry off, but I see you have company.”

“Prisha, this is Ryan,” Micah introduced him. “He’s a classmate of mine and the one who rescued me from the Tower.” The moment Micah said it, he cringed at his choice of words, wishing he could take them back.

“Ha!” Prisha said. “What are you? A princess?”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he said.

She just fake laughed even louder.

“Ryan, this is Prisha,” Micah said, through gritted teeth. “She’s my elder sister and married to the owner of this bathhouse.”

Ryan looked too embarrassed to get up and shake her hand, but he needn’t have. He was about to drown anyway when Prisha bowed just the way Micah had.

“Thank you so much for saving my idiot brother,” she said.

Ryan’s face went completely red and he dunked himself in the water.

“What’s his problem?” Prisha asked.

“I think he’s bashful,” Micah said.

“So are you.” She nudged him.

They both looked at the water and chuckled.

When Ryan came back up, he did so suddenly and gasping for air. He had really tried to stay down there for as long as he could while Prisha and Micah just stared at his silhouette, waiting. She even sat down next to the bath and idly waved through the water with one hand.

Savagery, Micah thought. Maybe it runs in the family?

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Ryan mumbled, clearly embarrassed. “I didn’t know Micah has siblings.”

“There’s three of us,” Prisha said proudly, holding up three fingers with her other hand.

“Unfortunately,” Micah said and she splashed him.

“We have an elder brother, Aaron. He works in a caravan. Very successful.” She rolled her eyes. “And we have an eldest sister, Maya. I’m not sure what she does now. She was a registrar, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, but mom said she quit,” Micah added. “I think she’s a researcher now. Whatchamacallit, [Explorer]?”

“Right,” Prisha said and looked at Ryan. “Do you have any siblings?”

He shook his head.

“Good for you,” they said at the same time and turned on each other. They immediately started a splashing war.

“Go away, stupid sister,” Micah said. “Ryan was about to tell me about his awesome Path.”

“Ooh, awesome Path? Tell me, tell me,” she said, clapping her hands, but she didn’t wait for him to speak. She put her chin up and stuck her chest out proudly. “You know, I have a pretty awesome Path myself.”

“Oh, no. Here we go again.”

“[Love Path],” she said, resting her chin on her interlaced hands with a sigh. She made a mock face of being in love. Or maybe it wasn’t mock, which could only be worse. “Let me tell you all about it. It was a story straight out of a play.”

“Prisha didn’t have a Path when she went to school,” Micah cut her off loudly and dove out of the way when she tried to grab him. “She fell in love with the first hot guy she met and got the [Love Path]. They hooked up and got married two years later. They made us all wear stupid clothes at their overcrowded wedding. Some people didn’t show up and it was a huge scandal. The end.”

He summarized what would have taken her an hour to tell in two, three, four, five, six sentences, he counted. Wait, did ‘the end’ count? Five. That had to be some kind of record.

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

Prisha was scowling at him in answer, but Micah ignored her and turned on Ryan.

“So,” he asked excitedly, “what other Skills do you have?”

“I, uhm, have [Lesser Strength] and [Enhanced Senses],” he started. “Like I said. And I got [Bird Singing] and the [Salamander Path] from [Mimic Beast].”

“[Mimic Beast]?” Prisha asked.

“[Salamander Path]?” Micah did, horrified.

His sister swatted him.

“Don’t disparage other people’s Paths,” she said.

“Ow,” Micah said and rubbed his arm, but he grudgingly agreed. “I’m sorry, Ryan,” he admitted. “Really.”

“It’s fine. I don’t like salamanders either. They’re hot and look stupid, and they show up out of nowhere. I still wake up with numb limbs some nights.” He scowled. “I got [Hot Skin] and [Enhanced Traction] from them. That’s all.”

“What’s [Hot Skin]?” Prisha asked.

“So that’s why you’re hot!” Micah exclaimed.

“You have a Skill that makes you more attractive?!”

“What? No—” Micah and Ryan said at the same time.

“I meant physically hot,” Micah pushed on. “I can tell, remember? You always stand out, especially in the winter. You always look like you’re one step closer than everyone else.”

“Oh,” Ryan said.

“So you get whole Paths from monsters?” Prisha asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is that why your parents let you into the Tower?” Micah asked.

“Yeah?”

“So you’re the Payne’s kid,” Prisha said in sudden realization. “No wonder why you have to go inside the Tower. Some of us wondered.”

“Hey, we’re the same, then,” Micah said, having a stupid thought. Unfortunately, he spoke before he could think it through. “We both have two Paths and a Class.”

“You have two Paths?” Prisha asked and Micah realized what he had just done.

His eyes widened and he tried to dunk himself under the water to hide like Ryan had done, but his sister grabbed him under his arms and dragged him back while he flailed helplessly.

“Noo,” he said. “I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you have two Paths?” she asked.

“One of them is new anyway. It doesn’t count!”

“New?” she asked and dropped him.

Micah hit the underwater ledge softly and scowled. When he turned around, his sister was staring at him, realization dawning on her face.

“You can’t be serious,” she said. “Is it a combat Path?”

Micah looked away.

“It is, isn’t it? Are you serious? Dad told me you cried, Micah, when you said what happened. You can’t possibly be interested in fighting again. Promise me you won’t fight again,” she said and grabbed his face.

Traitor, Micah thought of his father.

She forced him to look at her. “Promise me you won’t fight again, Micah. Promise,” — she shook his head a little — “me.”

He knocked her hands away and pushed himself back.

“I can’t. Alright?” he said as he splashed down on the water. “I’m not saying I’m interested in fighting, Prisha, but it’s a part of me. The same way your love for Neil is a part of you.”

She was staring at him, looking unconvinced — annoyed even, that he had pulled that card — so Micah went on. He wanted her to understand.

“What else am I supposed to do? It’s not like I can change it. I can train in safety, of course. And it won’t define my whole life. I have another Path. I’m an [Alchemist]. I want to level. But I can’t promise that, Prisha. I can’t just ignore it.”

“Do mom and dad know?” she asked.

“No,” he answered and blushed, suddenly ashamed of his outburst. Ryan had heard that bit about the crying, too, right? The other boy looked deeply uncomfortable still.

“Are you going to tell them?” Micah asked, trying to sound calm.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Prisha asked back. “Why wouldn’t you?”

He shook his head. “You saw the way they yelled at me. You didn’t see the looks on their face when I woke up and told them what I’d done. They’re happy I’m an [Alchemist]. Can’t we just keep it that way?”

She crossed her arms and stared at him. He tried to look confident, but slowly he switched to puppy-dog eyes. Even Ryan was looking at her, waiting.

“Alright,” she said eventually. “I won’t tell them, but I won’t lie to them either if they ask. And neither will you, am I understood? You will have to tell them eventually. Just say it’s a hobby, Micah. Self-defense. They’ll understand … considering.”

He only answered with a nod, but that wasn’t enough for her so he said ‘yes’ reluctantly.

Prisha sighed while she got up, and frowned at her water-splashed clothes.

“Dinner should be ready about now,” she said. Micah started waddling back to the edge of the baths. “Don’t be late. And you’re welcome to join us, Ryan. I’m sure our parents would like to thank you personally for saving Micah.”

“Uhm, no thank you, Mrs. Prisha,” he said, still looking uncomfortable.

“It’s really no big deal,” Micah said. “You can join us if you want to. She makes great food.”

“No, it’s late and I have to be getting home. My parents will be worried. You should understand that.”

Micah made a face. “Yeah, I do.”

“Alright, then. Micah, get changed and say goodbye to your friend,” Prisha said. “I’ll try to stall mom and dad in the kitchen. Have a nice night, Ryan. It was nice meeting you. And don’t be a stranger.”

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you, too.”

She walked off, her sandals slapping against the tiles, and Micah and Ryan headed into the changing rooms. He was surprised to see that the other boy still had his blood-soaked shirt with him. He didn’t put it on, of course, and Micah asked what he was going to wear instead.

“I’ll just go like this,” he said, bare-chested.

“You can’t go like that. You just got out of a bathhouse, you’ll get a cold.” Micah wished he sounded less like his sister.

“I have a Skill, Micah. It’ll be fine.”

“No, it won’t,” he insisted.

He told the other boy to wait there while he ran off to find Neil and badgered the young man into giving up one of his old shirts. He was tall, very tall, and the shirt was clearly too large for Ryan, but Micah had seen him in loose or sleeveless shirts before. Often, actually. He always wore them to school.

Was that the ‘cool’ way to dress now? Micah wondered.

Ryan laughed when he mentioned it and said, “No, I’m just warm all the time. Plus, this way my parents don’t have to buy new clothes every few weeks.”

“Smart,” Micah answered, and wondered if he should bother buying oversized clothes. There was always hope, right?

He’d pulled off his own wet bandages earlier and was drying himself off when he noticed Ryan staring at him.

“What?” he asked.

“You’ve got something, there,” he said, pointing at Micah’s right arm.

He knew what the other boy meant. There was a small burn mark there, right between his shoulder and the upper part of his right arm. Aside from the scratches, some of which would probably leave small scars, it was the only lasting wound Micah had from the Tower. He shrugged. He’d gotten lucky, all things considered.

“It’s just a scar,” he said. “From the fire.”

Thankfully, Ryan let it be.

When they stepped out into the night-time street they found it empty except for Ed, who now had company. Two more of Neil’s extended family were playing cards with him. Micah thought he’d seen them around the bathhouse from time to time, and maybe at the wedding? Too many people. He couldn’t remember.

The street lights were on and their flames flickered over the stones. Micah couldn’t help but stare up at the Tower then like he did almost every night, and its silver essence sensing its way through the world. He could see rivers of it making their way through the stars’ essence, spiraling in circles. But over the houses below it just appeared all the sudden around the halo of light and warmth made by the lamps and windows.

He said goodbye somewhat distractedly.

Ryan didn’t leave.

“Micah,” he said in a low voice as if he didn’t want Ed or the others to hear. The man was probably too busy anyway. Still, Micah blinked and gave Ryan his full attention.

“What?” he whispered back.

“You’re planning on heading into the Tower again, aren’t you?”

Micah froze.

Don’t lie, he told himself. Not to Ryan.

“Yes.”

He hadn’t even admitted it to himself before, not fully, but he did now. Ryan didn’t seem shocked, or disappointed, or even angry. He just nodded like he’d known all along and understood him.

Did he?

“Why?” he asked, and it was Micah’s turn to nod to himself. Of course he didn’t, but at least he was willing to try.

Micah considered before he spoke. There was the obvious reason. He was an [Alchemist] and he still needed ingredients. There was no way he was going to let his parents decide which ones he got to use. But that wouldn’t be the whole truth, would it?

“Earlier today,” he started, “my whole family was yelling at me for how stupid I am … Was? Am. Definitely am. Anyway, I smiled when they were done because I’d missed that. I missed them. I really thought I would die in the Tower, Ryan, that I would never come home again. But there I was, so I told them that and they welcomed me back. It wasn’t true, though. Isn’t true. I’m not home yet.”

He glanced up at Ryan to make sure he didn’t sound like a complete idiot, but the other boy was just listening patiently. What was going through his mind, now? Was Micah embarrassing himself? Did he sound childish? It was only a little more, either way. He pushed on.

“I think I lost something in the Tower, Ryan. Or I went somewhere I shouldn’t have. I can’t remember. I don’t want to. But now a part of me is stuck there and I can’t get it back. I just want to be home. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Not really,” Ryan admitted.

Micah sighed.

“But only because you suck at expression,” he went on. “I got the gist of it. You want some kind of revenge, don’t you?”

Micah thought about it for a short moment and nodded. It was the closest thing he could find to understanding how he felt.

“Just train before you go, please,” Ryan told him. “Don’t make the same mistakes as last time. Get a combat class first and read the guide. It’s actually pretty cheap compared to other school books. I could lend you my copy if you want. You can come to me for help if you need it. You don’t have to go alone.”

“Thank you,” Micah said, and he meant it. He was glad that he hadn’t driven everyone away.

“You’re welcome,” Ryan answered. “See you later.”

“Later.”

He watched the older boy leave until he turned the corner near the end of the street. Then he headed back inside, solemn. Prisha made good food, she always did, but he couldn’t enjoy it tonight. He’d wanted a clean slate, but he knew he couldn’t have both that and do what needed to be done. The solution was obvious, it was as familiar as the pain in the palm of his left hand. He didn’t like it, but it was necessary.

He was back to lying.

How unfortunate.

Micah walked into the kitchen with a fake smile that quickly became real around those of his extended family. He got help with rebandaging himself and then helped carry things to the large wooden table in the common rooms, plates, cutlery, cups, dips, and bread. It smelled delicious. The bathhouse was closed by now and people were gathering for a very late dinner. Something was bugging him at the back of his mind, though, growing more urgent with every trip. Micah didn’t know what it was. Had he forgotten something important?

His father swatted him away from the large pot on the stove when he tried to pick it up.

“You’re still weak. What if you dropped it?” he asked.

Micah apologized while he carried it off. Then he saw the flames that had been burning underneath the pot on the stove. No shadows. No teeth. The world seemed closer around it from the gathering heat, like a water-stained page of paper, but the flames themselves were just flames. For the first time in two years, Micah couldn’t see their essence.

For just a moment, the confusion drove the fear from his mind and he whispered a word there instead, Candle.

He stared at his finger.

Nothing happened.