Mark sat on the floor, staring at his staff where it leaned in the corner of his room. He scratched absently at the patchy stubble on his neck.

How the heck do people even shave here? Do they just use a dagger? Some sort of magical cream?

He shook his head. He needed to focus on the task at hand. Namely, how to use his staff without it screaming “unlicensed magic user” to the world.

Mark got up and walked across the room to stare at the length of wood. As he had done so many times before, he reached out and touched the staff, watching as the whorls illuminated its full length before stretching up his forearms nearly to the elbow.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered.

Touch it, and it lit up like a Christmas tree. Wear gloves, and he couldn’t dump his seizures.

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Mark moved his fingers on and off the staff, watching the lights glow and dim as he tried to think through the problem.

Hang on a second…

Taking a knee, Mark peered closely as he moved one finger towards the staff with excruciating slowness, watching for the exact point when the whorls began glowing.

There!

Mark gave a fist pump of silent elation as his heart raced. He’d always assumed that the staff lit up when his skin made contact, but that wasn’t true. It actually happened when his hand was a tiny distance from the staff—only a couple of millimetres at most. Like a spark jumping across disconnected wires.

With carefully measured movements, he tried to determine exactly how close he could get before triggering the staff’s light show.

That’s when he got his second big surprise.

Mark had always noticed a vague sensation in his hand when touching his staff, and he’d always associated it with the whorls appearing on his skin. That impression remained unchanged, but the major shock came when he realized that the whorls on his hand actually preceded their appearance on the staff. He had always assumed that the whorls moved from the staff onto his hand, but now that he was investigating closely, he could see that the lights simply appeared much faster on the staff, creating the illusion that it was the point of origin. Which raised a critical question: At what point was he able to drain his seizures into his staff? Because if he could do it when only his hand was glowing, that made it much easier to use without alerting the world. And if he could somehow extend that distance…that was a game changer.

Unfortunately, seizures were an ambush predator, meaning his entire hypothesis was impossible to test until he had one in a time and place where he could experiment. Still, he was feeling confident that, for the first time, he was making some real headway.

Class Quest: “The Mysteries of the Staff” Part 1

It’s tough to come up with good quest names when I have no idea where your quests are heading, but I think we can all agree that it’s a good idea for you to look into this whole staff business a little more. Just, uh, hold off on using any actual magic for a bit, okay? We’re all a bit leery of that at the moment.

Quest Completion Criteria: Learn the nuances of interacting with your staff.

Reward for success: XP, a deeper understanding of your staff’s capabilities.

Penalty for failure: None. For all I know, there might not be anything else you can do with the thing, which would still count as a quest success. We’re after information here.

QUEST AUTOMATICALLY ACCEPTED

A sound floated up from downstairs, pulling Mark’s attention away from the notification page in his hand. He had thought he was the only one awake—who else was up?

Mark grabbed his staff and left to check the other rooms, only to discover they were all empty.

Meaning his mom was downstairs.

Mark closed his eyes. Memories of yesterday came rushing back, causing him to clench his staff tightly.

He knew what was coming. The thing they had to talk about. And he wasn’t looking forward to it.

With one last glance at the glowing runes on his staff—there were more mysteries there to be explored—he headed downstairs. His footsteps fell quietly despite the empty rooms, and he could see through the window at the end of the hallway that the skies had gone dark, the rain forming an appropriate accompaniment to the mood in the house.

Mark discovered his mom sitting on the kitchen counter, staring out the window.

“Where’d the house end up today?” he asked.

She turned and gave him a tired smile. “I don’t know. It’s just residential buildings out there today. They’re not in the best shape, so we’re probably to the west.”

Mark nodded and walked over, joining her in peering at the rain.

He looked around the kitchen. “Where’s dad? Gone to get food?”

She shook her head. “No, he went with your sister to the Druid Grove. He didn’t want her wandering around the city alone while it was still dark out.”

“Probably a good call,” Mark noted.

He hesitated, taking in his mom’s vacant expression. “You okay? I mean, obviously not, but….”

She gave him a forced smile. “I’ll be fine. Bit of yoga and some meditation. Maybe a light flirtation with alcoholism. I’ll get there.”

Her black humour was out of character, and Mark had to force himself to give her a smile.

Ugh, I really don’t want to do this.

But it was just the two of them, and he knew he wouldn’t get a better chance.

“Can I ask you a serious question?” he said. “It’s just…what is your plan for not getting crushed under the weight of what happened yesterday?”

His mom’s eyebrows pinched, adopting the look that mothers reserved exclusively for expressing displeasure with their kids. “It’s been less than a day. I think I’m entitled to some time to deal with it.”

“Absolutely,” he agreed. “But I know a thing or two about getting crushed under the weight of depression, and I’m concerned that ‘dealing with it’ isn’t something you’re going to do.”

“I’m not depressed.”

“Well, you are staring forlornly out at the rain.”

She scowled in annoyance. “Lots of people like to watch the rain.”

“They don’t usually look like the GIF that appears when you search for ‘depressed.’”

“And your point is?” she said, shaking her head at him. “So, I’ll be a bit depressed for a while. I’m not superhuman, Mark. I’ll deal with it.”

Mark took a deep breath. “See, I don’t think you will, and that worries me.”

His mom’s glare immediately transitioned from “annoyed” to “mad.”

“This just happened! I’m perfectly equipped to work through this on my own, and I’d appreciate a little support from my son.”

Mark shook his head. “If you’re able to work through it on your own, then why didn’t you tell us that you ran away from home in high school?” he said, his tone more accusatory than he’d planned. “How you lived with Grandpa Jack for a whole year? You lied to us, mom. That’s not what you do when you’ve gotten past something.”

Her eyes went wide as her anger was replaced with shock. “How do you know about that?”

Mark shook his head and calmed his tone. “Grandpa Jack.”

She looked betrayed. “He said he would never mention it.”

“He didn’t, not really,” Mark said. “Grandpa Jack would never break his word, but you know him—he wouldn’t lie, either, so I kept badgering him with questions to see what he would answer and what he wouldn’t.”

“But how would you even know to ask?” his mom asked, shaking her head in confusion.

“Remember last month, when we had bats in the attic, and Auntie Kathy helped me go through our stuff to see what was ruined?” he said. “We found your high school yearbooks.”

Realization dawned, and his mom dropped her head into her hands, her voice coming out muffled from within her palms. “She told me you didn’t see anything.”

“I didn’t,” he said, “but only because she was super weird about it. She insisted on holding them herself and only let me look at certain pages. Then she told me she wanted to take them home to show her kids and ghosted out of there. I was like, ‘Uh, you went to high school with my mom. Don’t you have your own copies?’”

“I’m sure that quenched your curiosity,” his mom said dryly. “And that’s why you spoke with Grandpa Jack?”

“Yup.”

“Fine,” she said, throwing up her hands. “I lived with Grandpa Jack because when my mother got sick, my father essentially stopped all attempts at parenting. Are you happy?”

“Of course I’m not happy,” Mark said, matching her hand-throwing gesture. “And yeah, that part totally sucks, don’t get me wrong. But after talking to Grandpa Jack, I still wanted to see the deal with the yearbooks. So I googled your high school, name, and year to see if they were online somewhere.”

The colour drained out of her face. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding sadly. “‘Oh’ is right. Do you see now why I’m so worried?”

She slouched, staring at the ground. “Why haven’t you asked me about it before?”

“I only found out about it the day before Thanksgiving,” he said. “I haven’t even told Angela.”

She looked up. “And you were…what? Going to bring it up at the dinner?”

Mark sighed. “Seriously? You think I’m going to go, ‘Hey mom, pass the mashed potatoes. And while you’re at it, why don’t you tell us about how you were one of the top-5 judoka in the country while still a teenager until you ran away from home, lived on the streets, and gave up judo forever after breaking a guy’s neck when he tried to—’”

“Stop!” she snapped, her voice a whip crack that shut him up immediately. “I know what happened. I don’t need my 20-year-old son lecturing me about my trauma as though he’s the expert. Do you understand me?”

Mark swallowed and nodded.

“What is the point of this?” she said icily. “Are you trying to make me feel worse? Yes, I had a promising judo career, one that also made my life extremely stressful at a young age. I felt a ton of pressure from both my coaches and my father, and when my mother got sick and my home life went to hell, I simply broke. I just wanted to get as far away as possible, and that’s exactly what I did. But I was 14 years old and wasn’t equipped to deal with the consequences of that decision.”

A piece of paper appeared in front of her, but she grabbed it out of the air without looking, pulled out her belt knife, and stabbed it into the countertop where it fluttered weakly before disappearing.

Mark’s eyes snapped back and forth between the knife and his mom’s eyes. “Uh, that was a bit hard-core.”

“Isn’t that what we’re talking about? How ‘hard-core’ your mom is?” she said with an intensity that, quite frankly, freaked him out.

“No, it isn’t,” he said with genuine concern. “Don’t you see why I’m worried about you? These are two brutal, traumatic events we’re talking about. The first one caused a huge amount of upheaval in your life, and given that you never told us about it, I don’t think you ever dealt with it. Did you even see a therapist? And for that matter, why wouldn’t you tell us? Did you think we’d love you less if we knew?”

The anger seemed to drain out of her. After a while, Mark noticed tears forming in her eyes; as effective an answer as any words could provide. He desperately wanted to speak some words of comfort, but a seizure arose, inconvenient as ever, robbing him of his ability to talk. He scowled inwardly in frustration but pushed it aside, choosing instead to hop up on the counter and put an arm around his mom as he waited for the seizure to pass. He could have gotten his staff but that would have shifted focus to him, and that wasn’t what his mom needed right now.

When Mark felt his brain settle, he gave her a squeeze. “I know how terrified you’ve been about Arenia. About how we’ll change in response to this world.”

She shook her head and sniffled. “I’m not afraid of us being changed. I’m afraid that we’ll be forced to reveal that part of ourselves that was hidden beneath the surface when we were constrained by Earthly society. I’m afraid of what we might find.” She chuckled morosely. “Or maybe I’m just lying to myself when I say I’m afraid for the family, and it’s really just myself I’m worried about.”

Once again, she sighed, the weight of the world in her breath. “Oh, honey. When you’re young, you’re so sure of yourself. And I was so, so young. I didn’t think I was capable of paralyzing someone for life. In my mind, I was too good a person, too good a judoka. I knew that if I ever got into a situation where I needed to defend myself, I’d be able to escape without anyone getting seriously hurt. But when the situation actually came up, all I could think about was my grandfather saying that you couldn’t show mercy to someone trying to hurt you. So I didn’t, and all those childish misconceptions about what kind of person I was were stripped away in an instant.”

“Do you think Grandpa Jack was wrong?”

“No,” she said with a mirthless chuckle. “I wanted to think he was. For a long time, I tried to visualize what I could have done differently. I even came up with some things that might have worked. But the truth I was forced to admit was that if it happened again, I would make the exact same decision. And I’ve always hated that. That I have it in me to hurt someone.”

“Even some piece-of-crap dirtbag?”

She nodded. “Even them. And after yesterday, it’s clear nothing has changed. That part of me is still there, hiding under the surface. Only this time, I actually killed someone.”

The tears started again. “I killed someone, Mark. Did she have a family? Kids? I don’t know.”

“Mom,” Mark said, “you have to cut yourself some slack. You were defending yourself.”

“But it makes me so mad!” she said, her voice sharp. “My whole life, I wanted to be someone who helps people and makes their life a better place. You don’t go into social work or teaching for the money. Instead, I’m this person with all this violence in their past. Is that who I have to be to survive in this place? Why can’t I just help people?”

“Then do it,” Mark said calmly.

She looked at him, confused, but he didn’t abandon the point.

“Seriously,” he said. “I don’t get it. What’s changed? Someone tried to kill you, now they’re dead. How does that stop you from helping the people in this city?”

His mom gave him a sympathetic look. “Who would want help from a killer like me?”

Mark laughed, unable to help himself. “Do you really think those kids at the orphanage care that you killed someone if it means the gang terrorizing their neighbourhood vanished overnight? This place is Oliver Twist, not Orphan Annie.”

“I killed a single, low-Renown street tough. That’s hardly the same thing as wiping out an entire gang.”

Mark stared at her incredulously. “Mom…you realize that every single one of those people is going to be caught, right?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “I appreciate the attempt to make me feel better, but how exactly is that going to happen? I’d love to see what passes for CSI in this place. Besides, what’s the incentive?”

Mark slid sideways on the counter and looked at her squarely. “I get that you were pretty mad yesterday, so I can’t blame you for not picking up on Naomi’s mood, but she was pissed. She took everything that happened to you as a personal affront. The people who attacked you were all employees of her Family, but instead of doing their jobs they were rolling people while wearing her Family insignia. The whole Family is going to be furious, and we’ve all heard how bad it is to piss off one of the Families. They’ll want to make a lesson out of everyone involved, and with Naomi in the mix, that’s pretty much a foregone conclusion.”

His mom scoffed. “Come on, Mark. She’s barely more than a teenager, not some grizzled CSI veteran.”

“She’s not human, mom. Literally. I don’t know what she is, but do an inspection next time you see her and you’ll understand. For all we know, she could be older than Grandpa Jack.”

His mom’s brow furrowed as she considered his words. “And if you’re correct? What do you think they’ll do with them?”

Now there was a loaded question. He had his suspicions, but he sure as hell didn’t want to share those with his mom.

Instead, he went with a more ambiguous answer. “In a place like this? It won’t be great.”

“Do you think they’ll kill them?”

Yep.

“I don’t know,” he lied. “I mean, I wish I could say no, but….”

She nodded as he trailed off. “It’s strange to think…They could conceivably round up the entire gang and hang them, and even though it wouldn’t be my choice, it would still ultimately be my fault. And while I would feel some guilt for all those deaths, it pales in comparison to how I feel about the woman I killed with my own hands.”

“They’re bad people,” he said. “Who knows what they’ve done, or would have done, and who they’d have done it to. None of this was your decision.”

His mom’s brow furrowed, and she absently tapped her fingernails on the counter. Mark knew it was best to let her work through her thoughts on her own, so he stayed quiet.

She looked up at him. “I need to find the woman who helped me. I want to know more about this gang and what life was like for the people down there.”

“That first part will be easy. Her name’s Cara—Angela got her contact info before she left.”

“Really? That’s good.”

“For sure,” he said. “You might also want to, uh, cut Naomi some slack. Partially because she didn’t know what was going on, but also because she’s extremely influential in this city and the only lead we have on figuring out my magic.”

His mom waved off his concerns. “I already extended an invitation to her before you woke up. She was a natural outlet for my anger when I saw her family symbol yesterday, but now that I’ve got some separation it’s clear that I shouldn’t hold her responsible. Plus, there’s the strong chance that she knows we’re not from Arenia, which makes her someone to be wary around.”

She smiled and put her hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Oh, and Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t try and speak with someone about trauma again. You basically broke every rule in the book.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“I’m serious. Every single one. I’m almost impressed.”

“I know, I’m not a pro like you.”

She shook her head in feigned bemusement. “I mean…you don’t even have the training to know all the ways you could have mishandled that, but you nailed them all. You’re like a savant.”

He laughed, genuinely this time. Then a knock sounded on the front door, interrupting their conversation.

“Speak of the devil,” his mom said. She slid off the counter and headed to the front door with Mark right behind her, only to discover that it wasn’t Naomi waiting for them.

“Aye, that didn’t take near as long as I figured!” Darius boomed, his hand on Gavin’s back. They were both wearing huge grins, and the boy was carrying a large sack that clinked as he raised it towards them. “Now…what do you say about us getting you folk some furniture!”