Scott Jacobi had been waiting awhile. Actually it was a bit longer than that. It was closer to 15 years, give or take a few weeks. He figured it was about damned time. Still, it was no simple thing . . . letting go of his son.

Love never came easy for Scott, but he truly loved his son, even though he was something of an accident. When his wife, Lisa, first became pregnant it was only because the fucking condom broke. Foresight or not, the heat of the moment caused this little problem to go overlooked. After all, a day or two advanced notice wasn’t nearly enough to determine pregnancy. Things of this nature, that took time to develop, made Scott feel surprisingly human, which never resulted in anything good.

Everyone knew most pregnancies were a death sentence. If he’d had the choice back then he would’ve aborted or traded his soul for some magical potion that could undo time, which was an incredibly vicious thing. Time was his enemy and always had been. Youth couldn’t undo the flow. He could never go back. Time was the only enemy he’d never bested, nor ever would.

Even so, Lisa was overjoyed she’d gotten pregnant, saying things like, “We must plan the nursery! You know we only have a few months to prepare! You choose the color. You know I . . . won’t be here.” Her enthusiasm waned, but not for long. She was a truly vibrant soul. Scott doubted even death could slow her down. In a world buried in misery, this solitary trait stood proudly as the primary reason he fell in love with her. She’d never been one of those wretches who sought death, but she was willing to die for a cause. What greater purpose than that of a child? A few years prior, her intense devotion to modern society had nearly landed her in the military, but times were tough and she’d been denied on a technicality. It was a dilemma she was powerless to alter and, if his memories didn’t betray, she hadn’t really wanted to.

Though, not a certainty, pregnancy and death were synonymous. No self-respecting country could allow their dwindling female population to die off in war, nor could they deny them the opportunity to self-mutilate for the betterment of their offspring. The hypocrisy would’ve reeked into scandal. All branches of military won over new recruits by spouting the centuries old jargon of responsibility and patriotism. Even so, everyone knew the brave women who gave their very lives for their children were the glue that held each country and perhaps the world together. How could they deny them that basic right by asking them to either lessen the pain or simply not get pregnant, due to military service? Both choices were unacceptable. So the only option left was the regrettable banning of women from military service for the dependable protection of their country’s future. Thus pregnancy was deemed not only patriotic, but the ultimate sacrifice a woman could make for their country.

Lisa believed in her patriotism to society; even more so for the loss of military life. Before they’d met and fallen in love, her mantra was, “What’s life without duty?” His answer was, “Love.” It wasn’t a loss of devotion, but simply a transfer from one to another. Slowly he’d opened her eyes to a life that promised more. As their love blossomed, a conflict raged within her, but she eventually swore to honor his wishes not to get pregnant. However, accidents happened. So she stipulated if she did anyway, he’d lose all rights to deny her that lauded patriotic duty.

He’d been around. Lisa had no clue how old Scott truly was, nor did it seem to matter in their bliss. She knew he had a past, but who hadn’t? She just never knew how deep it all went. He’d been with countless women and married a number of them, but most valued life more than the advancement of their child or simply weren’t interested in procreation. Not that he’d never before been paired with a woman of a more patriotic nature, but when the relationship matured past a certain point he simply walked away.

Lisa was the very first woman he’d ever been with who wanted children but was willing not to have them, because he didn’t want them. She’d loved him enough to do that. How then could he deny her the right to die for her child if pregnancy happened by accident? He couldn’t and he didn’t, but often wished he had.

He’d convinced himself it wouldn’t happen, despite that it already had on more than one occasion with more than one woman, but they’d always been the first to suggest abortion. He didn’t even have to ask with Lisa. It simply wasn’t an option. Those four months were the most grueling of his entire life, or at least that’s how it felt at the time. He hadn’t loved a woman as much as he loved her in well over a century. He missed that feeling and was reminded of how he’d lose it every step of the way.

Of course, Lisa could see his pain and felt for him. Naturally, she knew why he didn’t want her to have children . . . he loved her and didn’t want to lose her. Her response was always the same. She may not die and even if she did their time together would be all the more special for shortness of it. Just another version of the well-worn cliché, the candle that burns the brightest, goes out the fastest or something like that. He forgot exactly. Not that it mattered. The clock ticking down intensified everything; love, pain and everything in-between. Few moments in his extraordinarily long life were so vibrantly alive.

Despite how devastating Lisa’s death would be, the truth was far more cryptic. He’d been enmeshed in an obscure prophecy he didn’t want to believe. As an ancient he’d once lived a life dedicated to ritual and plagued by heartache. He was in fact a cornerstone in its creation, but it evolved into something he no longer recognized. In all honesty he couldn’t distinguish truth from fiction, at least not on this matter. Since the dawn of prophecy, his greatest desire had always been the freedom to direct his own life, so sacrilegious or not he abandoned that wayward faith, if only to prove he still could.

Up to that point none had ever walked away; he proved the first. Nor did he part ways on good terms, but with bloodshed. It couldn’t have happened any other way, as his departure damaged the faith, infecting others with his poisonous ideals. He used up the better part of a century burning his bridges. Regrettably, he’d even been branded as evil by seeing to the death of a few fellow ancients that dogged him too hard. Then he began committing even more heinous acts, placing him beyond redemption. Many ancients had firstborns back when the prophecy was still fresh in the minds and beliefs of nearly everyone. Much like any flesh and blood humatran some were prideful and thought themselves a step beyond royalty. In their delusion, they assured themselves it was them the prophecy spoke of. Well, it wasn’t. Obviously it wasn’t. Because in their haughty nature a few of them also sought to strike down the renegade, Sarafyn Tdena, which was his ancient, but long since abandoned name. None survived the encounter.

Sarafyn was arguably the strongest and smartest of all the ancients, but all he desired was to be left alone. Never had he killed anyone from that line who hadn’t sought him out with malicious intent. Nor had he killed any ancient or firstborn by his hand alone to reap their youth. He could’ve as he was older, but he hadn’t. He didn’t consider himself vengeful, but none would listen to reason. Death was the only recourse. Whether by his hand or not, over time all firstborns perished. Not that Sarafyn could know, but it was a fair assumption, especially as hope in the prophecy slowly faded into myth. Time buried most who still cared. As such, to have a child, his own firstborn, would mean being thrust back into that life. That wasn’t an answer he could give Lisa, who still thought ancients referred to humans.

Naturally, there were countless second, third and fourthborns. The generations marched forward and Sarafyn found himself burying some of them as well, but they cared less about tracking him down because their lineage had not been foretold by prophecy. Namely they didn’t matter. Many bellyached and whined over that, but Sarafyn longed for their spat upon anonymity.

No one ever really forgot about him. No. Sarafyn Tdena was legend. To some he was myth. He preferred the latter. Still, those who remembered came for him. The longest he’d ever gone without someone coming for his head was 18 years. Near the end of that particular 18th year he actually believed he’d slipped out of the known timeline. He’d become accustomed to his long sought solitude, but then they found him. His complacency almost cost him his life. From that day on, he swore to never again stop looking over his shoulder.

After all, those who sought him out sometimes claimed his wives instead and even stole their youth. What choice did he have but to find them and steal theirs? Down through the years, his lovers and wives had become accustomed to labeling him as massively overprotective and paranoid. A few even left him for it. They never realized he’d a very good reason to be both those things. They never knew because he chose never to burden them with such a devastating truth. He wasn’t all so selfless. Sarafyn lived a solitary life. Loneliness ate away at him, so when he stumbled upon a woman halfway compatible, he wasn’t about to push them away with something as nasty as the truth.

His first wife, Mychelle, knew what he was, but only because she too was an ancient. She was his first love. With her he had the luxury of being completely honest. She’d also endured tragedy left in the wake of other ancients. She’d gone away with him fully compliant and knowledgeable as to why he’d abandoned the faith they’d both adhered to. That wasn’t exactly true. Secession had been her idea and it was him she’d won over. When lost in ritual, Mychelle was the only one who managed to convince him just how much the original vision of the clan had warped. It didn’t help that his sister, Wferium was the cause of it all. So Sarafyn adopted his wife’s zeal; which grew exponentially after she died for her heresy. This passion was shared by only one other wife, who was also of an ancient line, but that too was long ago. She was the only other one who, after learning what he was, accepted him for it. Most of the time, the truth was too high a price to pay.

So, how could he tell Lisa the truth? Would she even believe him if he had? Repeated foresight told him no. Did it matter? He was still just as overprotective and paranoid, but she was the first to love him for it. So he endured every grueling day of her pregnancy, knowing full well what it meant and the hellish life his child would lead. Once known, half the world would want him dead, as true or not, he represented a forsaken faith. The other half would try to steal him away, knowing he could never reach his full potential under his father’s care. He caught himself silently praying, from time to time, that Lisa would miscarry. That didn’t happen. No. She carried her little boy to term.

Scott had one final bit of consolation. The prophecy stated the firstborn would not be advanced. In the beginning no one knew what that meant. Everyone knew now, but all the firstborns were rotting by the time the practice became commonplace. So, there had never been a firstborn who had been advanced. Not one. His would be the first and that, in and of itself, would null and void the stupid firstborn prophecy.

This was the sole reason Scott wished for his child’s advancement. Advancing meant the likely death of his wife. It wasn’t a price he, himself, was willing to pay, but it was no longer his choice. Aside from that, advancing was pointless. Society put a high price on the heads of children. They were good for simple, relatively quick and painless youthing. Advancing a child was supposed to give them a head start on life. It was supposed to make them older faster. The quicker they reached adulthood the less danger they’d be in. It was all smoke and mirrors. It was all purely ludicrous.

Youth could only be harvested from AA, never EA, regardless of how old a child appeared. If a newborn baby was advanced to EA5 and was subsequently killed, the murderer would only gain maybe a day’s youth. So it was all for appearance’s sake, which society still believed protected children. Who knows? Maybe it did. But at what cost?

The problem was much broader than that. Advancing never gained a baby an ounce of experience. A child could be EA5 but remain completely helpless. They couldn’t walk, much less talk. They were literally grown babies. Everything still had to be done for them, but since they weighed more and still instinctively knew how to hit and kick, everything was far more challenging. Diapers still had to be bought, but for that of a toddler and a few years beyond. All the normal amenities a baby required were still needed, but in larger sizes and quantities because they went through them faster. They had larger appetites and took larger, nastier dumps, which often overflowed their diapers, with cries that were just as ear piercing. Size made everything more expensive, coupled with a baby’s ignorance to destroy things, which necessitated the purchase of these pricey items multiple times, often with only a father’s income. Advancement did not make things better, not even as they got older.

School was only for the wealthy, who could afford protection. The children who attended started and ended later, because even if a parent shit money out their ass, the schools wouldn’t accept any child who hadn’t been advanced by at least four years. All this usually fell on the father’s shoulders. It was no wonder a pregnant mother could be so gung ho about the whole prospect. They wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences. Of course, he was just being cynical. They had their own dire consequences.

Advanced children were inherently harder to teach at home, being surrounded by all their toys and other common distractions. Most children wanted to rebel far more than listen. Imminent death eventually changed this perspective, but none of them understood that in the beginning. Hell, they usually didn’t believe it until they’d seen it with their own eyes. It seemed a child’s universal, silent rule that all parents, especially fathers, were lying until proven otherwise. This necessitated constant protection for children who didn’t believe it was needed and went out of their way, aided by curiosity, to get into trouble. These often found death instead, but that was not a lesson they could learn from.

For those who gave a shit, this usually resulted in stricter fathers. After generations of motherless children, a society spawned full of adults mostly devoid of compassion and often morals. A dead or dying conscious made it all the easier for them to murder the next generation of children. So, in Scott’s pessimistic mind, the end result of advancement was the slow and torturous extinction of the humatran race.

Regardless, he’d made his deal with Lisa and couldn’t renege on it. Doing so would shatter a delicately built trust. For the chance to end the damned prophecy, he almost welcomed the child. After all, Lisa may still survive and if the other ancients knew the prophecy was false then wouldn’t they leave them all alone? Aside from vengeance that was the reason for their pursuit. He knew this. He knew they knew this. Though attempts on their lives naturally continued during his wife’s pregnancy, not one of them came from an ancient. They wanted this child to be born. He imagined they might’ve even protected Lisa by killing other would-be murderers. Perhaps even to protect him, as if he needed protecting, to prevent the trauma of his death that could lead to a miscarriage and the end of their beloved firstborn prophecy.

So, he waited, loved and cared for Lisa, while he simultaneously saw to the death of all who would see to theirs. He also suffered for his wife’s imminent death. Sometimes the wait felt like a hyper-extended wake. It was unbearable at times, but when things were good they were better than they’d ever been. That happened only during the rare times he could be made to forget what was coming. It was amazing how she could accomplish this, but then she was a remarkable woman, which only made her loss weigh all the more. Eventually the time came near and his only consolation, aside from the slim possibility of Lisa’s survival, was the fact that the firstborn prophecy was about to be shattered. What could possibly go wrong?

When an ancient fell ill, their foresight blurred and twisted, rendering them unreliable at best. This fact went largely unknown due to the rarity of their kind, but also to the preventative effect of Atreon. As if to counter balance the wave of death, the merging of humans and Atra nullified most disease and pathogens. Though it remained possible to get sick, antibodies flourished within their hybrid bodies, effectively annihilating most microbial invaders.

Scott thought it strange when pneumonia overtook him shortly before his wife was due, but he wasn’t overly worried. Advancement had been a tried and true medical practice for well over a century. Though degrees varied between damage and growth, for the most part, the only deterrent was a very palpable fear of death. He’d known few people more courageous than Lisa. What could possibly go wrong?

Scott was far more concerned at not being allowed in the hospital on what would most likely be Lisa’s last day alive. Though illness was rare, it was strictly monitored and contained, as the decimated global population likely wouldn’t survive an outbreak. He’d been told his presence would lessen her chances of survival. That was true, of course, so with tears in her eyes, Lisa swore to maim herself slightly less than planned and not cut into any bone. Under the circumstances no shame could come from it. The husband, father, relative or friend was always present on that fateful day, provided one existed. Aside from tearful moral support, someone must claim the body, tend to the child and the mother, if she survived.

It seemed both patriotism and courage were undone by simple error. The fucking nurse cut the damned umbilical cord before a single drop of blood had been spilt! Rage aside, Scott remembered being irrevocably torn. His wife was alive and well, but the God-damned prophecy was right on track and he hadn’t even seen it. By not being present he’d lost all chance of altering it! Still, it would’ve been worth it for Lisa’s life spared, but a deep shame had fallen on the entire family. He’d be no less shocked than if the starry sky snuffed out one by one, as if so many flickering candles run dry of wax and wicker.

Suddenly all three of them smoldered radioactive, as a freshly born shame pulsated. Everyone seemed to know about it, guaranteeing the word would spread. Everyone acted differently towards them for it, signaling the hunt was on. Within moments Lisa regressed into a shell of her former self; her cheerfulness having bled out into a hazy, endless abyss. The death that was once on the horizon now beckoned her as it drifted beyond reach.

Yet she did not die. Scott wouldn’t allow it. He recalled repeating, “Your life and that of our beautiful baby boy are the only good things to come from this trauma. Both are worth living for.” Sometimes her mood sunk too low to even respond to his compassion. The shock and shame resulted in a parody of a coma. She’d stare blankly at the wall for hours on end. Every now and then a tear would fall, unhindered as it traveled on its one way journey; no less than she felt. Death may be forbidden to her, but life seemed an impossible feat. Where else was she to settle but limbo?

It certainly didn’t help matters when the vagrants and miscreants came out of the woodwork after Jason was born. The evil bastards wanted his youth and that of his mother. It was a common practice, unfortunately. Shameful events such as this bred suicidal thoughts. So if some scum of the earth lowlife offered to kill them, those mortally inflicted by shame would often accept. So they tried, but Scott turned them away with a simple message, “Return only if you seek a death all your own. I’ll happily oblige.” None wished such an end, but equally none believed in the possibility of failure. So, some tried once more, but only once. Still, others wanted the whole family gone; convinced they shamed the nation as a whole.

Then the inevitable happened; the ancients learned of Jason, his whereabouts and threatened to destroy everything. Scott moved the family time and time again; bit by bit possessions fell aside as he returned to his nomadic roots. In the process, he held all comers at bay, seeing to the death of those who refused to stop. His practice of a solitary warning fell upon deaf ears, so that too was left to wallow in the dirt. Unsurprisingly, not even death proved a reliable deterrent. Still others came, convinced they’d succeed where so many had failed. For a moment’s peace, they moved again and again. Lisa and the baby evolved into little more than baggage. It was tearing Scott apart. Lisa couldn’t even look at little Jason. She loved him dearly, but every time he was near she was irrevocably reminded of her deep set shame.

The only time Lisa would smile was at the mention of having another child. This gave her hope to fix past mistakes, but Scott always said no. He just couldn’t go through that again; especially not if it meant he’d be a single father of two infants. Lisa wouldn’t even argue at his refusal, she’d just allow her catatonia to deepen with her irreversible shame. Each attempt proved her weaker and weaker. Soon, it truly would be an impossibility.

Eventually it all became too much to bear, so he gave in. Lisa came out of her stupor just long enough to have the worst sex either of them would ever experience, which was saying something because ancients had powerful libidos. Her mood gradually improved at the news she was once again pregnant. Each day brought back a little more of the woman he remembered and still loved. She was even able to give Jason some of the maternal attention he so needed.

In fact, every facet of their lives improved, except of course, for the continued attempts on all their lives. That seriously dampened her joy and utterly destroyed his. He’d just gotten his wife back, but because of the pregnancy the clock was ticking down once more. Pregnancy mocked a sadistic game of Russian roulette that never afforded second chances. How could she possibly survive this time and did she even want to? To rectify the situation would almost certainly require death. They might as well move a coffin up next to her gurney.

So, if this was all the time he had left with the woman he loved then those who interfered would suffer a wrath unlike any before. During this time, not one was turned away. All met with brutal torture and death. The torture was second nature. He’d learned the art long ago, but put it all behind him for the sake of family. No more. Now he must drudge it all back up for the same reason. The bastards brought out the worst in him and every last one pleaded for death long before he granted it. He found himself burying ancients once more. They deserved even less mercy, for they knew what they did, as some swore to protect little Jason, take him away and worship him. Still other ancient’s frothed at the mouth at the sheer blasphemy of Jason’s existence and did all they could to offer bloody penance. Death found both camps without bias.

Such days bled into weeks and months. All were excruciating. Even when his foresight predicted no attacks, he’d second guess his interpretation, summarily granting the shadow of every tree unholy life. Even in the quiet times, Scott had trouble being happy for Lisa. Once she’d even caught him coming home in the dead of night soaked in someone else’s blood. Fortunately, it was one of the few he’d actually harvested for life, so he’d had a viable excuse, but still there was an argument, because youthing was one of the things they were supposed to talk about as a family and plan for.

*** Murder was, for lack of a better term, a family event. It was a very special occasion, indeed, because it came around much less often than say an annual birthday or Christmas. So, Lisa was understandably upset, especially since everyone knew, but never discussed, the fact that her days were numbered. This would’ve been her last family murder and Jason’s first. Because of Scott’s callous irresponsibility they’d both missed that sacred event. She couldn’t, after all, kill someone herself. That was taboo. The baby wouldn’t survive the pain. So, Lisa was furious not about the blood, the mess or even who’d died. She couldn’t care less about any of that. No. She was pissed because she’d missed it. Even though he’d never remember it, little Jason missed it too. That was a hard thing to forgive.

In addition to this spilled the almost prerequisite questions such as, “You could’ve been killed! Were you guarded?! Where were you?! Did anyone hear your screams?!” He tried to calm her, and he usually could, but she wasn’t having any of that now. Whether it was hormonal responses or the sudden need for her baby to have a father who was actually alive, he didn’t know, but he understood her concerns. He just wished she understood the precautions he always took. He didn’t answer a single one of her questions directly, which only served to further infuriate her. He beat around the bush because he knew she wouldn’t like his answers. In her mood was there even an answer that would do? He doubted it.

He had to tell her something, so said, “But I wasn’t killed! I’ve never been killed! I’m far too careful for that! I wasn’t guarded because I didn’t need to be guarded. You know those stupid car alarms that are always going off? No one pays attention to those anymore. They’re par for the course. Literally dozens of screams rip through the city every single night! No one pays attention anymore! I was fine! I’m always fine! Please believe me. If it helps I was in my usual place with barred doors, window, bolt lock. You know, the works. Still, no one even tried to enter. No one cares anymore.”

Well, he knew as he said it, that this was the exact wrong way to end his spiel, especially since she was pregnant and fit to be tied. She took it personally, even though if she gave it half a second’s thought she’d realize it wasn’t meant that way. “I FUCKING CARE, you fucking asshole!” With that Lisa slammed the door, locked it and proceeded to fume, while Scott just stood there at a loss of what to say, and all the while, dripping blood on the carpet.

Because her time was near, they eventually made up and were good again. Scott still arranged the deaths of their would-be murderers, but he was much more careful about it now. He foresaw, captured and viciously tortured people. He fed them alive to wild animals. Then he tip toed back home to shower, hoping his wife wouldn’t catch him all bloody. Of course, she sometimes knew. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know some wanted them all dead. That was par for the course too and her husband was a good protector, so she slept soundly in the knowledge of that safety.

Then the fateful day of her delivery arrived. Scott wasn’t sick this time and so attended, as was expected. What was unexpected was what his wife then did to herself. She’d sawed her whole arm off and then went for her foot. It was more horrifying to Scott than any of his previous murders. After sawing halfway through the bone she weakened from the blood loss, dying shortly after.

That was when the horror continued. It was too much, too fast. It was rare, indeed, when a mother visited a hospital twice, but even rarer when one tore themselves apart to such an extent. The extra age never harmed the baby, but the suddenness of age and equally fast youthing upon the mother’s death was always worse the older the child became. It was, in essence, harder to contain . . . much harder. At EA7, the umbilical cord needs to be cut within seconds of death. The nurses timing was off from shock, no doubt, and the child was helplessly caught in death throes, which lingered for minutes afterward. With that, Scott watched helplessly as his little baby girl screamed her way to a gruesome death.

Lisa was already gone, but Scott remained and the pain he felt for the child he hadn’t originally wanted was far worse than he possibly could’ve imagined. One recurring thought skipped through his tortured brain. “Lisa’s dead and she missed my last youthing.” The death of his little girl tore him up, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about that.

Scott remained nearly catatonic with grief for days afterwards. Naturally, people wanted to end his suffering, not knowing, never knowing, that if they actually succeeded DOE would follow. Two snuck in the house and walked right past him to Jason’s room. They picked him up and started to carry him out. It would’ve worked too, but they’d made the mistake of taunting Scott about the “death of his baby” right in front of him. At this, Scott snapped and painted the room red with their blood. That was before they died. He let the family dog finish them off. That cost the dog their life. It was far sadder than the intruder’s demise, but it was a necessary end. No ties to people or pets. Scott took Jason and moved that very night, leaving most everything behind. The blood could be washed away, but he couldn’t stand living with Lisa’s memory one moment longer.

Nor could he just disappear. He now had a child to take care of. Damn the prophecy to hell. Damn every damn thing to hell. As much as he tried to deny it, he loved baby Jason. As much as he wanted him dead, he couldn’t do the deed. As much as he wanted to abandon him, he just couldn’t. No matter how he felt, no matter what the future held, he was a part of Lisa. He was in fact, the only part of her he had left.

As much as he too reminded him of her, Jason sparked mostly good memories. Why? Simple . . . Lisa was happiest when pregnant. God only knew why, but then why should god be any reliable source of reason? Nothing that was attributed to him made any sense. In fact, he didn’t believe cursing god would do any damned good, because he didn’t believe there was one. He’d only considered that possibility because Lisa believed. She was dead and gone. Her god had died with her . . . as well he should, for not having lifted a finger to help her.

He wasn’t worried about retribution for the two murders. They were just leeches, always looking to expand the range of tragedy and profit from it. Revenge only followed him from the ancients. It was something he didn’t think he’d ever be able to shake, but now he welcomed them. Their pain distracted him from his own, if only briefly. So, to make it last he began to experiment with his methods of torture. Thinking about these things calmed him as he carried baby Jason through the snowy night, not knowing entirely where he was headed.

His destination was summed up in a single word . . . away. Maybe two . . . far away. Though, he wasn’t totally clueless. He’d been alive far too long and been too many places for that to be possible. Still, he’d always been careful about where he lived, but it didn’t matter. He’d end up where he ended up. Maybe someplace new would help. Maybe that would make him harder to track and harder to predict. That would be a good thing for keeping little Jason safe. Even so, they’d eventually find him. They always did.

Eventually he found a place, but didn’t stay long. Nothing without Lisa felt like home. Hell, home didn’t feel like home anymore, which was why he’d left. So, he reverted back to his nomad roots in full this time, which was a familiar, if not comfortable existence for him. However, nothing was easy anymore. Despite his experience in the wild, he’d never taken care of a baby. It was strange for anything to be new to him. Staying alive really wasn’t all that hard, but feeling alive was something else entirely. He remembered from long ago that the pain and joy of new experiences helped. Baby Jason did that for him. It was Jason’s gift to Scott. Just as Jason was Lisa’s gift to him. He convinced himself not to abandon those gifts; no matter how dire things became.

The years passed slowly in this convoluted, painful, but joyous tedium. During this time Scott taught Jason basic things that every father teaches their child, like reading, writing, arithmetic and the importance of murder, how best to commit it, when to commit it and the high price of it. Yet he also taught him other things in subtle ways that would pertain to his basic survival, like how to avoid strangers who inexplicably knew who he was. He taught him basic defense, but stressed the importance of avoidance because most of his battles would be unwinnable. He told him no matter how old they appeared, very old people would come for him, but neglected to tell him why aside from the fact that they wanted his youth.

After all, many ancients wondered what it would be like to end a prophecy or what exactly would happen if they killed a firstborn. Some already knew. Scott wasn’t one of them. He’d seen to their deaths, but never committed that final act. Still, some wondered if anything special would happen for killing the last firstborn. Scott swore they’d never find out. Other ancients had no such dire motives. They wished only to kidnap Jason to preserve the prophecy. That wasn’t going to happen either. His son was going to live, if not thrive, and he would be protected.

Of course, Scott could read minds and knew many future possibilities. This proved a vital aid, but wasn’t enough against fellow ancients who could do the same things. However, these innate gifts were something of an addendum to his self-taught guerrilla tactics. Many ancients had scattered to the winds and learned similar ways to stay alive. Not to mention one important point. No matter what Scott had up his sleeve, other ancients would know about it. Still, Scott kept surviving against all odds. There was a reason for that . . . a couple of reasons really.

Scott, or Sarafyn, wasn’t the first ancient, but as far as he knew, he was the oldest still alive. Through dedication, abilities improved with time, use and mental training. Centuries of solitude had given him the opportunity to master his gifts. Others had as well, but he was older and therefore more powerful. He could see further into the future, possessed clearer visions and could differentiate dozens of different thoughts all in real time.

He’d also mastered something called sway, which was simply the ability to influence people’s minds and often convince them to do what he wanted. He wasn’t the only one who could, but that didn’t much matter. For some reason ancients and their direct kin were immune to it. As the generations evolved from direct to distant their resistance to sway grew considerably weaker. The range of abilities possessed by future generations also deteriorated through genetic cross breeding, or coupling with a normal humatran. This naturally meant that Jason would be weaker for it. Why then was he so valued? Why then did the prophecy bother with him at all? He couldn’t know, but chose not to dwell too much on it. He just added it to the list of things that frustrated him, which was already quite large.

Scott found a way around the ancient immunity to sway. On more than one occasion he swayed a murderous humatran, originally bent on his son’s destruction, to attack an ancient with the same intent. Very rarely did the humatran succeed, but the distraction was plenty enough to give him the edge he needed. Naturally other ancients knew of this practice, used it and used foresight to defend against it. Yet it didn’t always work. Future events can change constantly and in the heat of battle it’s often difficult to keep track; thus the intrinsic value of mental multitasking.

One lesson commonly taught to ancients within their first fifty years of life was the domino effect. Namely one event led to another and another and another, etc. In light of this, it was theoretically possibly for one man stepping on a thumbtack to end up destroying a nation. If that first event had been avoided so would all the others. In essence, different events would occur which could theoretically lead to something far worse. These were not things ancients could avoid, because they usually took years to transpire, such as a childhood trauma, and no ancient could see that far ahead or anywhere close to it.

In the same regard, allowing oneself to get punched in the stomach could win a fight. Say someone else had a gun and ended up killing the one who punched you because you were doubled over. That would be an immediate event scenario and could nearly always be avoided by both parties. Regardless, someone had to win and someone had to lose, which nearly always ended up in death. This only ever happened because someone eventually made a mistake they couldn’t recover from. Pain caused most of these mistakes, as both would often choose the path that lead to being wounded, over that of death.

However, mental acuity played a key role, as it directly affected the fortitude to focus on current and future events simultaneously. Most ancients never bothered too much with training their mental acuity, because most ancients dealt only with normal humatrans, who were indescribably easy to predict without glancing into the future. Scott didn’t have that luxury. He had to work harder just to stay alive and he did exactly that.

Another useful lesson learned by most ancients was the ability to erase certain memories. This was also something that fellow ancients and their direct kin were immune to. It was a tricky thing even with normal humatrans and required practice, timing and luck. No ancient could delve inside anyone’s mind, so reading wasn’t really the right term. Rather, listening was. An ancient could hear whatever a person was currently thinking about, but things repressed or not currently on their minds were inaccessible. Therefore, only known thoughts could be erased.

This didn’t extend to facts. An ancient could know nearly everything about a humatran, as when married to one, but could not erase this knowledge. It was more like the ability to erase immediate thoughts, as in deleting a sentence that didn’t sound right. This didn’t work well for knowledge repeated. A humatran could plan to meet up with a friend after work. They would think about this all day long since they looked forward to it. Erasing a couple of these thoughts would not erase the plan because not all the thoughts on the subject were gone. So the meet would still occur. Erasing worked mainly when a humatran was caught thinking an original thought or idea. If erased fast enough all memory of it would be gone.

Most ancients saw it as too much work for too little gain. It was, in effect, a minor ability that was rarely used because most saw it as useless. In fact, some had neglected it so long they’d forgotten about it, or couldn’t properly use it for lack of practice. Scott never saw the ability to erase as useless. He practiced it often, but never on Lisa. No. He saw that as a betrayal.

Even so, properly used, erasing played into possible futures. For example, if he could erase one’s sudden thought to go somewhere else for lunch, then they would still end up at their original destination and perhaps play a key part in what was to come or avoid disaster. It was very tricky though because foresight never extended to thoughts, only actions and events. Scott would have to foresee the sudden change in plans and be at the right place at the right time to take the chance that his assumptions were correct. It was very touch and go and didn’t work if the thought was spoken, but it could be made to work and had saved his life on a few occasions.

Erasure worked particularly well when confusing a swayed humatran. A fellow ancient could preset the thought to kill Sarafyn, but successfully erasing that agenda would give them pause. The resetting and re-erasing could easily become a repetitive process that had the swayed fool twitching like a marionette on a string, but controlled by someone experiencing a seizure. It was brutal to abuse a normal humatran in such as way . . . as it nearly always resulted in lobotomy, should they actually survive the experience, which was rare indeed.

However, erasure was mainly used on a chance by chance basis, since the opportunity for it could never be certain, but then an ancient usually lived out their lives preplanned. After seeing all the possible futures they would choose the path that best suited them. Taking the chance presented to erase could very well alter the chosen course of events; for better or for worse. It couldn’t be known since no ancient could see the future at will. It simply came to them at certain times of day, often at random times. When the visions came they could be in flashes, with or without sound, or they could be crisp and clear. They could run fluidly, slow motion or fast forwarded. It all depended on how well one trained their mind to it. Practice makes perfect.

Then came the clincher of memory and interpretation. Nothing foreseen could be acted upon if forgotten, which was why staying young was important. All humatran, ancient or not, were susceptible to the frailties of old age. Senility or Alzheimer’s disease could easily obliterate a good foresight. Also if flashes or anything vague came, the result could be misinterpreted. Either of these could easily lead to choosing the wrong path, which could lead to death. It was by no means a refined practice and those humatrans who knew and trusted ancients didn’t seem to be aware of how easy it was to get things wrong. Even Scott, himself, sometimes got things wrong and he had a very high mental acuity, but fortunately he’d never made any fatal mistakes.

As far as that was concerned, “losing” Jason was not a forgotten foresight, misinterpretation or an oversight in any way. No. It was planned. Loosely planned, but planned all the same. Scott could’ve easily arranged it, but felt that it should be his son’s own choice, that he should leave when he felt ready to. The pain proved a necessity, as the bond they shared would not be easily broken. Much like Lisa, he hadn’t wanted to prearrange Jason’s choices. Sure, he’d withheld all knowledge of ancients, the firstborn prophecy and any clue as to who or what he was, but that was all for his own protection. True as this was, it was only half true.

Scott wished time and again, and still did, that not telling his son about why he was special would somehow make it not true. That having no knowledge of the firstborn prophecy would null and void it. After all, how could Jason do whatever it was he was supposed to do if he didn’t even know who he was or why? It made sense to him and it was the only real recourse he had. Short of killing Jason himself, he knew there was no sure way to end the dreaded prophecy. He couldn’t know what was coming that far into the future, so he couldn’t do anything about it.

Still, he thought, his son wouldn’t always be with him. That would surely lead to his capture or death, so he had to equip him with the basic skills of an ancient, which was his birthright. He hoped he’d gain the skills needed without the knowledge of why or how he could do such things, but that was wishful thinking. He had to make a sacrifice to prepare his son for the future. Hopefully, not their future. Not the prophesied future, but a future where he at least stayed alive, and knew how to keep it that way . . . on his own.

The key to making it all work was his sister, Wferium, who as he had now foreseen, was also the key to losing his son forever, and perhaps to the mother fucking prophecy. He couldn’t decide which was worse. Did it even matter? Both were likely to happen now. This was not a misjudgment or a miscalculation. No. It was a judgment call.

This particular event hadn’t been well planned because he’d wanted the decision to leave to be Jason’s and Jason’s alone. His son may not have known who or what he was, but he did know how much protection was provided him. Whether by curiosity or rebellion, Jason’s choice to leave made him a man in his father’s eyes. After all, only a man could handle what was to come. Even so, there was a price to pay for this . . . namely, incomplete foresight.

Scott knew much of what would happen and that his son would survive it. He would be tested in ways he direly needed, but learn things he didn’t want him to know. Another price paid. He saw and planned for the future where Wferium would make a sacrifice to save Jason’s life. This was to end in his release from the camp, which would end in his safe return to his father. Scott was, as Wferium had discovered, manipulating her to his own end. That discovery had changed everything deep into the unknown.

Now he could see no further than an escape and a dark mystery in the woods. He knew nothing else and that terrified him. It also infuriated him and no matter the reason this rage was transferred upon Wferium. She’d played her part too damned well, but now served no further purpose. If her own betrayed camp didn’t do it for him, he would personally see to his sister’s final exit from this world.