TR: 1

Chapter One: The Town of Hollow

3048 CE, Hollow, East Atlandia.

Kade felt the heat of exertion radiate from his forehead, beads of sweat rolling down his temples and trickling into his eyes. He wiped away the condensation with his wristband and glanced up as he watched his teammates zipping about in the air high above where he sat in the stall. He focused his eyes and his syncfocals, sensing the input from his optic nerve straining, zoomed in, bringing up a larger image in the lenses. Some of his other mates didn’t have the specialized goggles because they didn’t need them; either they had mods installed that allowed them to enhance their vision or they were running an app that did the same via the Link. Either way, Kade thought both were creepy and was happy with his good ole’ analog shades. Besides, his mother would never let him get surgically altered, even if he had wanted to.

“No boy of mine will live his life in a virtual sea of ads and secret surveillance.” She told him.

It was no wonder she was a lawyer.

But Kade’s syncfocals worked just fine. He watched from afar as the second-line finished up their round, the opposing team’s forward tossing the beet—an aptly if not uncreatively named beet-shaped ball—laterally to his partner before he was intercepted by one of Kade’s teammates. The boy plowed into the striker’s midsection, propelled by fittings latched around his appendages called limbs. Kade watched the beet fly out of the opponent’s hands as the two tumbled down toward the turf below, spiraling around as they fought viciously for dominance, their limbs spouting radiant blue bursts of air that was typical of Glo-powered devices.

Kade’s coach pointed at him. “Gear up, Allor. That beet’s got maybe eight seconds, tops.”

Kade jumped up from his bench and grabbed his limbs off a charging station on the wall, as well as a white carbon-fiber device–a halo, hanging beside them. He fastened the circular band around his head and a holographic visor projected down onto the upper half of his face, revealing the world around him in a fine mesh grid. Numbers and symbols flitted by in every direction, indicating details about the innumerable lines and splines whizzing by in his vision. Kade blinked and switched the view to depth-of-field, the Halo display dialing in its inbuilt tomographic scanner. Everything now appeared in cross sections, as if the field had been split into many layers. It was, Kade thought, the most appropriate view, given he needed to retrieve a falling object in space within a limited time frame. In three seconds, he was out of the stall and on the field, sprinting toward the falling ball, which appeared in its own illuminated slice of space.  He squeezed his hands and the propulsion kicked in, sending him speeding forward as he and four other players all rushed in to capture the beet before it hit dirt and was disqualified. Though Kade was the captain of the Blades, the best Up team on the eastern seaboard, even he wasn’t confident that he would get to the beet in time.

“He’s not gonna make it!” yelled one of the players watching from the Blades’ bench.

“Come on, Allor. We need this point!” The coach called after him.

As the beet came down and the five players converged, Kade punched in his lower limbs and propelled himself into the air. The other players followed suit but Kade’s split second head start was advantage enough and he caught the beet, somersaulting through the air as his magnetic glove gripped onto the metallic sensor on the side of the ball, locking it firmly into place on his palm. As he finished his aerial maneuver, the two entangled players from before flew past him, slamming into the turf below. Electric lines radiated across the field in the places where they landed, an invisible mesh conforming to their bodies as it absorbed the force from their fall. The two players bounced gently off of the field and rolled in opposite directions, out of Kade’s periphery as he headed into the air with the beet tucked firmly under one arm. As he reached the playing level, marked by a holographic plane hemmed in by holographic banners with blinking advertisements, he directed himself forward and made his way into the opponent’s end zone. He dashed gracefully around oncoming defense men as the other four players pursued him relentlessly from behind. He saw the goal posts floating ahead, projecting a holographic net between them, and the lone goalkeeper hovering back and forth as he kept a fixed eye on Kade. Kade glanced behind and saw half of the opposing team lagging behind him with no chance of catching up. He laughed and turned back to his course, running straight into a figure floating in his way.

Kade felt as if he had hit a wall. He flew backwards and found himself falling out of the air. He squeezed his hands but his limbs must have been damaged in the collision and were unresponsive. He watched through blurry vision as the dark figure grew smaller and smaller as he free-fell to the ground below. He struck the mesh and rebounded into the air a blade or so, the electrical lines radiating out as the sensors registered the impact. The beet flew from his grasp and he came back down a final time onto his stomach, his halo flying off of his head. The unfortunate thing about piezzoturf was that it only activated under extreme forces. While this saved one from a high fall, anything less than two blades—that was all on the player.

Kade spat out grass and pushed himself up, rubbing his ribs from the ache of impact. He turned and looked back up at the silhouette of the man hovering high above.

“Who let that guy up there? Where is security? Can’t you see that I was on a break…”

As his gaze tracked back to the field around him, Kade’s voice trailed off as he realized that the entire field was now empty. More, the bleachers surrounding the stadium, all the flashing holographic ads, the team benches—all of it was just blackness. Utter and simple blackness, as if he stood on a field in the middle of nothing.

“…away.”

Kade saw movement from out of the corner of his eye and he watched the beet roll out of the shadows, coming to a stop at his right boot. He frowned down at the object and followed its path back into the darkness. A tall shape emerged out of the darkness, revealing a cloaked figure.

“Who…who are you?” Kade asked nervously.

The man did not flinch. Kade could not make out any facial features but it appeared as if the man had his head down, perhaps in thought or prayer.

“Listen, I don’t know who you think you are just barging in on the game like that, but you need to leave. Now!”

The silence between them was broken as a murmuring sound began to come from within the figure’s cowl. Kade felt his anxiety level rising.

“What…what are you saying? I can’t understand. Speak up!” Kade shouted.

The murmuring continued, slowly growing more audible.

Kade huffed and balled his fists. “Fine, if no one else is going to do their job, then I guess it’s up to me.”

Kade came at the figure and the head tilted up toward him, watching him come. Two metallic hands reached up and withdrew the cowl. A sinister face sneered at him, radiant blue spikes of hair sticking defiantly in the air from under a golden circlet with a single embedded ruby in the center.

Kade gasped, grinding to a halt. He had seen this man before.

The man opened his mouth ever so slightly. “Wake up Kade”. He whispered.

Kade just stared in confusion.

The man seemed to be moving slower now as if time was starting to lag. He repeated, this time in a slightly louder voice. “Wake up Kade”.

“Huh? What do you mean, wake up? Wake up where?” He asked.

The world began to shift around him and he began to feel a growing sense of vertigo.

“Wake up Kade! You’re going to be late for school!” The man yelled impossibly loud, knocking Kade back on his rear.

***

Kade hollered as he sat up abruptly in his bed.

“Kade? What’s going on? Enough horseplay you lazy ass! Let’s go or you’re going to be late!” came a woman’s voice from downstairs.

He looked around frantically, taking in the scene around him. It was his room.

Another dream, great.

Kade sighed and rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. He moved his mouth, tasting the lingering yuck of sleep and complimented it with a halfhearted grunt of disgust. He looked over at a poster pinned above his desk, frowning at the man posed in mid-kick, being chased by several out-of-focus figures blazing toward him with ignited limbs. A caption in bold at the bottom:

Manny Kortono, New Syrdian Blades, ’44 World Series.

Kortono was a real Up champion and most likely the muse for Kade’s recent spell of nightmares. It wasn’t the first time he had that dream, even if it varied slightly each time. Staring at the poster across from him, his heart still racing, Kade entertained the idea of ripping it off the wall for the three hundredth time. Yet, like all the others, he balked and let it remain on the wall. Why he did so he didn’t quite know, but it had something to do with guilt, he knew that much. Guilt, perhaps, at being a mere mortal, unlike Kortono and his comrades, and so the poster served as something of a reminder of that fact. Or maybe it wasn’t just a reminder of his normalcy but also his desirability; his father had left him, after all, so maybe he kept it around as a stark realization of who he was: a bastard. The bastard child of a bastard father in a bastard world, surrounded by professional Up bastards who were better than he’d ever be.

Or maybe it was just a poster.

Either way, it was likely to blame for all of the recurring nightmares he was having; for all of the run-ins with that strange blue-haired man. Kade had never seen or heard of anyone like him in real life but that didn’t stop the mystical figure from haunting Kade’s nocturnal world. Strange how one could hate someone they had never met. Maybe it was his subconscious trying to tell him something.

Or maybe it was just a dream.

Kade caught himself as he spiraled down the emo drain and he reeled himself back in. He shook his head, focusing his thoughts on more productive outcomes. Like getting to school on time. No one on the Blades was a dropout, so it was a fair bet that would be a good place to start.

He turned to his bed stand where a metallic, oblong device sat passively beside a wireless touch lamp. He picked up the device which consisted of two bars pressed together, the top one with the inscription Holomate. He flicked it open with his wrist, the two bars sliding apart and revealing a holographic display between them.

GOOD MORNING KADE. The display read.

“Well if it’s morning, then why the hell didn’t you tell me?” He snapped at it.

Kade touched an icon shaped like a clock and groaned when he saw that it had been set to 7:30 PM.

A banner flashed by at the top. Holomate thinks you may have made a recent mistake in your routine nightly programming. Do you wish to correct the PM setting to AM now?

“Well that would have been helpful yesterday. But yeah, now that we’re doing this, why not?”

Holomate acknowledges your request. Resetting to 7:30 AM.

Suddenly the Holomate started buzzing in his hand, a supremely annoying ringtone sounding throughout the room.

YOUR ALARM IS PAST-DUE! YOUR ALARM IS PAST DUE! The Holomate screen read.

Kade groaned and threw the Holomate out his window. Except his window was closed and the metal object passed through the pane, shattering glass all over his floor.

“Kade, what the hell are you doing up there? This is no time to start one of your little experiments!” Came the woman’s voice again. “The S.T is always on time, you know that. It’s not like automated machines sleep in too.”

Kade stared down at the glass on his floor and sighed. He slumped back down on his pillow and pulled the blankets over his head.

“Besides, don’t you have trials today?” the woman’s voice added.

Kade bolted upright from under the sheets.

“Oh fael! What time is it?” Kade exclaimed.

He reached over perfunctorily to grab his Holomate but it had already left the building, no longer in its place atop the side table.

Kade groaned.

“Tobor!”

Kade jumped up from his bed and began running around the room haphazardly as he scoured through the heaps of clothes and electronic junk all over the floor.

“Fairy shits! Why didn’t you wake me up? Tobor!”

A few seconds later a small metallic being entered the room. About a blade high and with a head like a toaster on its side, the two circular lights which were its eyes blinked as it gawked around the room.

“Oh my, your mother is not going to be happy with this mess! And what language. Who taught you how to speak like that, master Kade? It certainly wasn’t I. I…”

“Tobor! What in Endabarron were you doing this morning? You know it’s trials today! Ahh!” Kade shouted at the small mech as he shoved his leg through a wrinkled pair or pants.

Tobor cocked its head as it put a metallic digit to its chin in thought. “Why, I was servicing your mother for breakfast, as is my programming, master Kade.”

Kade made a face. “I told you to stop calling it that. You know how gross that sounds? You don’t service someone unless you’re…Ah, forget it! You had one job, Tobor. One job!”

A small electronic wave coursed across the panel which was its mouth, as if it were trying to find words where there were none.

“Master Kade, I would remind you that you programmed me to service this household. I would have expected your little toy there—now growing grass in the front yard—to have covered your scheduling needs. If you would like, I can reprogram my executive functioning to prioritize your otherwise mismanaged time, though I must say that such menial tasks are quite a waste of my abilities.”

Kade slipped his jacket on and raised an eyebrow at Tobor. “Your abilities are looking pretty inadequate from where I’m sitting right now.”

“You are standing, master Kade.”

Kade opened his mouth to retort but the voice cut him off. “Kade! If you and your annoying little robo-friends are done messing around, you might want to get down here. Pronto!”

“Coming mom!” Kade yelled.

“Annoying is right.” Kade mumbled to himself.

“You do realize you programmed me with extrasensory aural capabilities. I can hear what you are saying, master Kade.” Tobor noted.

Kade glared at Tobor. “Where’s my scarf? It was right over there just the other day. And where’s SFR-8? That little turd probably got himself snagged up in something. You know I found him wedged in between the couch cushions last week?”

Tobor crossed his arms. “What would SFR-8 say if he heard you call him a turd?”

Kade scoffed as he pulled on his last boot. “Probably beep beep boop, beep beep. It’s all he ever says.”

Tobor made a disgruntled buzzing sound. “Somehow I get the impression you are making fun of us.”

“Impression? Damn, I thought I was pretty explicit. Now, where did I put that bloody…”

From out in the hall there came a sound like a high-pitched squeal, growing closer as it came toward the room. Kade and Tobor turned to see a red object fly into the room, flying between them as it struck the wall with a dull thud accompanied by an electronic exclamation, falling into a rubbish bin beside Kade’s desk.

It was Kade’s scarf.

“There you are!” Kade plucked his scarf out of the bin and from under it a set of multicolored lights blinked up at him.

Well, not just Kade’s scarf.

Kade frowned down at the little dumpling-shaped bot as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. Barely larger than a human hand, SFR-8 was a simple mech with a singular optical port in its center and a small grate for its vocal comm. Though Kade designed it with surveillance intentions in mind, the little mech got into more trouble than it prevented.

“Remind me to reprogram your thruster module when I get home. And will you stop running into walls already? I ran out of thermo-couplings so if you damage another lift node then you’ll be sitting in whatever garbage can you fall in for some time.”

SFR-8 made a series of chatters and buzzes in response, then stood itself up on two small antennae which protruded out of its lower extremities.

“He says that he is happy with his current thruster capabilities. That it allows him a sense of freedom.” Tobor explained.

Kade raised an eyebrow. “Freedom? He’s always getting lost! You think painting him bright green would’ve solved that problem.”

“Kade!” His mother called, more urgently this time.

“Coming!” He yelled, clearly aggravated.

Kade grabbed his backpack from amidst a pile of hodgepodge and ran past Tobor. He turned back to him at the doorway.

“Remind me when I get home to look at SFR-8. He needs to get that fixed before he takes out someone’s eye. Or their head.”

He turned back then did a double-take. “Oh, and remind me to look at your behavioral nodule when I get home. I think we need to dial down the sarcasm.”

He cast Tobor a knowing look and then he was gone.

Tobor ambled over to the trash can and looked down at his small counterpart sitting at the bottom of the bin, staring up at him quizzically.

“You know, I think master Kade may have a good point: you are in need of reprogramming.”

***

Hollow was a dingy little fishing town on the outskirts of society. It was more of a village than a town, with a running population of no more than three thousand people. There were four main streets—hard-packed dirt roads arranged perpendicular to each other which all conjoined in the town proper. They met in the public square which itself was near a causeway which ran around the sea-facing side. The causeway connected the upper and lower sections (which were not large enough to rightfully be called ‘districts’) and often had vendors peddling wares in their kiosks and sometimes performers if the weather permitted. The buildings in Hollow were mainly waddle and daub or stone, but the wealthier homes may have been made of amalgam imported from the cities. Amalgam was a building material composed of exactly what its name implied—an amalgam, composed mainly of a cementing agent and other recycled materials. Amalgam could be loaded into a printing mekkana and left alone to be completed within days. Though both stone and amalgam complied with the Natural Preservation Act of 2676, lower-income households could apply for building permits which allowed them to harvest lumber, since amalgam was rather costly. As most of Hollow constituted such folk, it was not uncommon for timber to be used for framing buildings. Outside of Hollow, this would have been a very rare sight indeed. In fact, the only truly paved thing in Hollow was not even really a part of Hollow— it was a stone monument in the center of the town square dedicated to some Second Era explorer that nobody had heard of. The statue was on loan from a Vos museum and was bequeathed to the town hundreds of years prior as a peacetime gesture, though any meaning it may have once held was long ago lost on the people of Hollow.

There was only one road in and out of Hollow called Berin’s Pass, which connected Hollow to the Ebony Coast in the north and the Shy mountain range—and the rest of civilization beyond it—to  the west.

To those who knew of it, Hollow was considered a frontier town, though it was by no means an old town in the scheme of Atlandian settlements. Founded in 1996 CE by the first cren emancipates from the southern continent of Madrol, Hollow served as a port for trade among the new settlers and mariners from the Forty-Nine Islands. As the main staple in Hollow had always been fish, it was also the main export, industry and overall way of life for those who lived there. The aragoi, salamar and futofish were the most common and sought after, and in summer the king tuna run offered an especially bountiful catch which fishermen could flash-freeze and send overseas to Vos where it was served as a delicacy. The brunt of business exchange was with the Islanders, however. The Islanders, as they were colloquially known to everyone in Hollow, were a mix of indigenous folk—either the yan, Bannamud or even Poio who had taken to land—who lived in the expansive archipelago of islands to the east. The Forty-Nine, as they were called, spanned nearly 500 kaldar across the Mislay Ocean, dividing Atlandia from its eastern cousin Voswun. Suffice to say, Hollow managed to retain its forgotten and abandoned place on the map.

It was a town interesting enough not to visit.

Geographically, however, Hollow was beautiful. It had a coastal, controlled climate, assuring a constant supply of well-tempered rain and ample sunny days. People were as happy as the weather and just as modest. If you tried to complain about the rain to a Hollower they would likely laugh and say something like, “you might as well complain to the desert about its sand.” Children would play out in the streets unsupervised because there were no strangers in Hollow; everyone knew each other. Husbands would work the docks during the day, if they were lucky enough to land a position with a skipper who had active contracts that is. And when work was slim there was always doing, if not in repairs and servicing to an old town that constantly needed it. Women played an especially important role in Hollow, as it was custom that men did not lay a hand on any document, paper or otherwise. This was a longstanding tradition born of superstition, as it was said that a General in the early continental army of the 15^th century nearly signed over all of the cren colonist’s military rights to the enemy, all because he had forgotten to have his wife double-check the Ladryan writ which, they discovered later, was doctored to deceive the colonists. From that day forward, cren colonists implemented a system known as the epicene proviso, which basically stated that a woman must oversee any “finalities” in any given transaction. While it was not an amendment nor a ratification by any legal means, it certainly became part of standard practice, especially in the “old” colonies. As it happened, Hollow was one of these and so nothing escaped the purview of the female filter. And it generally went off without a hitch.

Despite this effective if not unusual business approach, Hollow had very little to do with forces outside of the Forty Nine. Perhaps its only real connection to the outside world was its Up program, in which it was heavily invested. In actuality, it was not Hollow’s claim to fame per se, since there was no school in the town itself. Rather, children of Hollow went to school in the nearest town, a small community called Galema which was nestled at the base of the Shy mountain range. Galema was about an hour north as the wrift flies—the species of small hawk which bore their home team’s namesake and frequented the area in the autumn months. And there was no time of the year that suited Hollow more than its autumns. One could always tell when the season was at hand; the first dry winds would be blown up from the south, the usual humid vigor of Kallon’s Breath—the prevailing southerly winds—giving way to the dry spell which claimed the coast as its own. As the air dehydrated, the trees would follow a similar course. Shime leaves, normally as golden as the love that cultivated them, would be the first to turn a sharp, crimson red. Soon after, the poplars and aspens and all the other indigenous hardwoods, until Hollow was cast in the kaleidoscopic shades of autumnal bliss. The heat would begin to leave the dusty earth, bringing along with it the low-lying moisture, soon to fall as the first rains. Sometimes it would rain for two weeks straight and Karayus—Rynn’s local star—would get absolutely no say in the matter. When Hollow could no longer raise any more tarpaulins, replace any more overflowing barrels of gutter water, or lay another patch on a leaky thatch, as if sensing the town’s restraint, the weather would graciously move on. Karayus would sweep its graceful hand over the land, forming a giant rainbow in the wake, letting all know that it was official: winter had arrived. Then the days grew very short. Week after week the night would extend its shadowless form further and further into the sunlit hours as the end seasons encroached. On the harvester’s solstice—the last day of the winter season—the night would arrive as early as afternoon tea.

Little did the residents of Hollow know that an entirely different darkness was soon to descend upon them…

***

A crow sat aloft a power-line adjacent from the little house. Power lines were not a common thing in that day but the crow did not know that; it served perfectly fine as a perch for it. The little black bird watched the comings and goings down the road, cocking its head as it searched for its next meal. It eyed the house across the road suspiciously as a small object had flown out of it just moments before, spooking the crow into the air as glass was sent splintering down on to the lawn of the front yard. Aside from being uncharacteristically startling, the house was not anything out of the ordinary. A small stone cottage, the facade was so weathered by the sea that it looked almost like sand. The crow scratched its head with a small, black foot and glanced down the street as it watched a large vehicle come into view, hovering a half-blade above the ground. It watched as the hover bus came to a stop and little bodies emerged from their houses, hugging their parents goodbye as they saw them off for the day. A pair of large letters, ST, were painted on the rear, though the crow did not know what any of this meant and proceeded to clean plumage under its wing.

All of a sudden there was another loud crashing noise from the house across the road and a boy came jolting out of the front door, the screen door slamming abruptly behind him. A woman called out something from behind and the boy jerked to a stop at the end of his drive, doubling back toward his house. A small mech ambled out of the door, heading toward the object on the lawn to retrieve it for its master. The boy snatched up the object before the mech could get to it and the bot stood in the front yard, its shoulders slumping as it watched the boy take off down the street. The crow’s gaze followed the boy as he ran down the street, chasing after the shuttle which had departed without him. His backpack, which he had forgotten to zip up all the way, emptied out some of its contents onto the ground as he ran, one of which was a sandwich wrapped in a vacuum-sealed package. The crow wasted no time hovering down to the ground to lay claim to its newfound breakfast.

“Wait!” Kade yelled at the Student Transport as it spirited away from the bus stop, leaving a glowing blue trail in its wake which emanated out of two circular ports on its rear.

Moments later the ST mounted a hill and disappeared out of sight as it headed down Kearn Street—the main street in Hollow—where it would connect to Berin’s Pass just outside of the town limits. Kade’s run slowed to a saunter and eventually came to a stop, bending over as he caught his breath, the blue residue of the Glo streamer dissipating as it diffused into the air around him. Kade raised a hand above his eyes to shield it from Karayus’s glow as he peered down the road to see if he could catch the ST making any other non-routine stops. The vehicle was nowhere to be seen.

Kade cursed and paced back and forth in the road, rubbing the back of his head in frustration. He couldn’t miss school; it was the draft pick for the Wrifts after classes and he had trained all year to make the final cut. While he didn’t doubt that he would beat out the competition, he wouldn’t be competing if he wasn’t there to do so. The problem with that was that Gallema was over an hour away. By vehicle that is. He’d ask his mom to drive him but they didn’t have a personal transport. No one in Hollow did. And leaving Hollow was no simple matter; the Nova Corp. shuttle–an aerial convoy—only came every three days to take people to and from Rebelem—the nearest major city—and it wasn’t due for another two days. Suffice to say: he was walking to school.

***

Kade slugged along the dirt road of Berin’s Pass, watching pebbles as he kicked them, brooding over the long walk that was ahead of him. He had never missed the ST before. He had come close several times but he always managed to get on board before the AI triggered the vehicle to depart. While it was immaculately on time with unvarying consistency, the problem with something that ran on math was that it also didn’t wait around for those who didn’t operate the same way. And math was never Kade’s strong suit, despite his affinity for programming mechs.

The walk to school, though it seemed alien, turned out to be a nice deviation from the norm. The forest stood to his left—tall rows of thick evergreens that cradled the mountain range, the top of which was visible just beyond. On the other side of the pass was open countryside—the fields where the villagers harvested rice and other crops, the patties laid out row upon row, extending all the way out to the coastline in variegated patterns. The air was fresh and brisk to the skin and for the month of Ojot Karayus was pleasantly warm. Though he probably didn’t quite need it yet, Kade wore his red scarf. It was hand-knit and given to him by his father, perhaps one of the only heirlooms he had to remember him by. For whatever reason unbeknownst to Kade, he never took the thing off. His father had left them for military service when he was a young boy, called out to assist with the growing problem of Imtek raids in the surrounding colonies. His father was an engineer and had been a technical adviser to the Royal House Enbrazen in the capitol. Kade did not remember his father but that did not stop him from blaming his father for all of his own problems. His father’s abrupt disappearance from their life left a huge rift in his family and he had to grow up watching his mother live the lonely, devastated life of a widow. While his father may have died serving his country, he also died betraying his family. The scarf was a constant reminder of that betrayal and much, much more. It was a reminder that life could be treacherous and that nothing was forever. But it was also a reminder that people didn’t always get the lives that they had asked for, his father being among them. Acknowledging that, Kade also saw his scarf as a kind of tribute to his father’s misfortune, which inevitably became his own. In that respect, the scarf was both a thing that separated Kade from his father and bound him to him.

Or maybe it was just a scarf.

***

Hours passed and, eventually, Kade came into a small farming community. He passed several signs telling of the different paths leading either into the forest or onto private properties. Kade had grand memories of growing up in the forest, catching the fabled five-pound bullfrogs at Mikrel Bog in the summer with his friends, hunting for grouse in the salt flats in winter, building tree forts in the Endless Grove, and many other cherished adventures.

In his fugue, he nearly ran into a signpost which stood at a fork in the road. On the post there was a mailbox labeled Smythe, marking a crossroads which divided a local farm road from the main pass. Kade knew that Gallema was somewhere in the forested part of the pass but there many branches leading into the woods and only one led to the school. It was possible the farm road was a connector to another part of the pass but he couldn’t recall the ST going down that way. In fact, he couldn’t recall much about the route that the ST took at all. His attention was usually fairly absent to the goings-on around him while in the ST, as he would either be conversing with schoolmates or playing on his Holomate, which functioned as a GPS, planner, calendar, a flashlight, a utility knife, and a hardline to the Link, to name a few.  Basically, the thing thought for him, so he wasn’t often required to. And so it was that he had no idea how to get to his school, despite having taken the route countless times before.

Thinking of his Holomate reminded Kade that it could map him the shortest route to his school. He let a strap off one shoulder and dropped his bag on the ground. Unzipping a pouch he fished out the black object and flicked it open once more, the familiar green holographic screen popping up between the two bars as they separated. Kade began punching in coordinates to his school but the screen flickered twice and then died before he could finish.

“Aw, come on!” He shouted at the disagreeable device.

On top of punching in the wrong alarm time, he must have forgotten to charge it. Kade grimaced at the thing, folded it back up and plopped it back into his bag. He hoisted the pack back over his shoulder and glanced down the road leading into the forest.

“Okay, what do I know? Let’s see. I know the ST goes into the forest, but I don’t think it usually turns in until way later.”

He crossed his arms and frowned as he stared at the wall of woods before him.

“Or does it. Hmmm….”

He stood there pondering the conundrum until he realized he wasn’t going to convince himself out the fact that he was lost. It was a strange feeling—knowing that one was lost on a path that they had taken many times—and Kade felt embarrassed despite none of his classmates or teachers being around to admonish him for it. Deciding that he had gone too far to turn back, he shrugged and continued on down the farm road.

***

Four hours and many turn-offs later, Kade could no longer delude himself that he was heading in the right direction. Glancing around revealed only farmland as far as the eye could see and all of the roads were nearly identical, which created a serious problem for one hoping to retrace their steps. Kade decided it was in his best interest to forge on and try to find a landmark he could recognize to help him back along the right path. But before that—lunchtime.

He sighed as he flopped down next to a stack of baled hay which looked more like a pile of giant marshmallows than horse food. Though the hay had been baking in the sun and smelled somewhat unpleasant, the shade it provided was as good as any tree, and there weren’t many of those to speak of along the farming roads as it were. After eating a sandwich-less lunch (which wasn’t much of a lunch at all), he continued on for several more leaves until his thirst got the better of him. Shuffling through his sack revealed his sandwich had not been the only item upended; it was then that he realized he must have dropped half of his sack’s contents in town when he had hustled out of his house. Had he forgotten to fasten the straps on his bag in his haste? Now, he was paying for that mistake as Karayus reminded him of his carelessness, beaming down with unusual fortitude for an autumn afternoon. For whatever reason, the day had turned to something more resembling the desert climes not unfamiliar to the north but certainly odd for the coast. He recalled hearing of something about this on the radio, although he did not quite understand what the weatherman meant by ‘drought’.

Wasn’t that a fish or something? He thought.

Thinking about fish and his lack of water drove Kade to reassess his priorities; he needed to find water soon or he wouldn’t be making it to school, even if he found his way there. As the landscape began to fan out to wilder lands, the plateau eventually gave way to shrubland, marking the gradual descent from civilization. Kade took breaks where he could, under the shade of a tree or a large rock when available, always on the lookout for a pond or stream or any other source of hydration. But water never came. He could feel his stomach begging for fluid, his lips cracked and dry. If he did not find water soon he thought he would surely go mad. He plodded up a craggy incline which afforded him a vista of the landscape. He could see the farmland from whence he came, spread out beneath him though now it was but a mottled pattern in the distance. There was still no sign of Berin’s Pass or any other kind of trail. It appeared he had brought himself into rugged wilderness. The thought both excited and scared him; Kade was always one for adventure but not at the cost of collapsing of dehydration and eventually being eaten by a bear. Or worse. And there certainly were worse things in those lands.

Especially at night.

Whether in frustration or outright frivolity, he shouted out at the world and his own voice was all that answered back, rolling over the uneven terrain. Kade let himself fall backwards, landing on his bag which cushioned his fall somewhat. He tumbled lackadaisically down the grassy side of the hill and came to a stop at the base, facing the sky. As he squinted up at Rynn’s star, he thought of what his mother would do to him if she knew that he had gotten himself lost. The thought of dealing with her nagging made him grow tired.

A little sleep wouldn’t hurt I guess. He thought to himself.

Then he slowly dozed off, listening to the birds sing in the background.

***

He dreamed again, of the same Up match, of that same mysterious man in the cloak. This time, however, the man was surveying Kade from a cliff high above, as the game raged on below in some kind of valley of sorts. As Kade shot out of the box, rushing to catch the falling beet as before, this time he stopped short on the field as he caught a glimpse of the ominous figure watching them all from above. Though the man was nought but a silhouette in the setting sky, Kade could feel the man’s gaze burning into him as if it were a palpable force. Kade turned to see the beet fall to the ground and the other players launch themselves at, piling on to each other as a scrum ensued. The two strikers from above plummeted into the piezzoturf and rebounded off it, exactly how they always did. No one seemed to notice the fact that they were being watched. Kade turned as he heard yelling from his team’s box, his coach jumping up and down and pointing his finger at him, yelling things Kade could not quite make out, which Kade was somewhat grateful for given his coach’s sanguine expression. Kade pointed at the man on the cliff high above.

“Don’t you see him?” Kade yelled. “Up there on the rocks! He’s not supposed to be here. He’s…”

Kade turned back and saw the figure was now pointing back at him, as if mirroring the gesture. Suddenly the grass of the turf began to distort and liquefy around Kade as if turning into a viscous green fluid. Kade hollered and began to run off the field, heading toward the bleachers. As he ran, he watched the bleachers collapse in on themselves, the metal and stone melding together to form a disjointed wall which extended up and out of sight as it disappeared into darkness. That was when Kade realized he was in the darkness as well, just as before.  Alone, save a simple spotlight and a section of the field illuminated by it. Kade stopped at the edge of the light and began looking around frantically for somewhere to climb but he couldn’t make out anything outside of his small circle of light. He felt movement from below and looked down to see his feet sinking into the turf as if it were quicksand. He reached down and tried to pull out his leg but there was no give from the terrain. Soon he was up to his waist and then he found himself screaming as the earth consumed him, his screams choked off as his head sank beneath the terrain.

And then he was standing back on the field again, the same darkness all around. The same soft spotlight cast down on him, the penumbra of the circle fading away into utter blackness all around. Kade looked around in confusion, finding the earth to be solid once more. Before he could make a move to leave there was a new motion in the darkness: a beet rolled into the light, coming to rest at his feet. Kade picked up the beet and turned it over in his hand. Nothing out of the ordinary. And then the figure emerged again, shrouded in the cowl of his cloak. As before, he slowly revealed himself, his metallic hands letting down the hood to reveal the absurd blue hair, sticking up like knives protruding from the man’s scalp. Kade’s heart raced but he mustered as much courage as he could and reared back to throw the beet at the man. Before he could, the man raised his hand at Kade.

“Look”. A voice sounded around them, though the figure’s mouth did not move.

Kade’s eyes panned to the beet in his hand to find he now held a dismembered head. Kade screamed in anguish and dropped the head, stumbling backwards away from it. He tripped on his own feet and fell onto his behind, the head rolling over in front of him, revealing a man with a tortured expression.

It was his father.

He didn’t know how he knew that since he hadn’t seen his dad in years, but he knew it nonetheless. Kade’s voice caught in his throat and all he could do was make a kind of gurgling sound as he attempted to process what he was seeing. Suddenly the man was only a blade away as if the rules of time and space did not apply to him. The man walked toward Kade, kicking the head out of his way. Kade watched the head tumble into the darkness where it disappeared. The man reached into his cloak and withdrew an object from his waist–a metallic cylinder of some sort. He lowered his arm to his side, pointing the device at the ground. There was a small flash of light and a glowing blade protruded out of the end. The weapon looked to be made of pure light. Was that…Glo? Kade startled and tried to get to his feet to run but he found himself cemented in place. He looked down to see that the ground had once again consumed his hands and feet, liquefying beneath him as it held him in place. The man approached and raised his glowing weapon toward Kade. He reached out toward Kade, the searing heat of the sword noticeable as it came at him, the air crackling and sizzling around it. Kade opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out. The blade came closer and closer, honing in on his midsection. Kade held his breath as he watched the blade come at him and…it poked him. Once. Twice. Thrice, in the chest.

What is going on? Kade thought.

***

Kade jolted upright as he came to, the sunlight glaring down on him. He blinked and saw a hooded figure standing over him, silhouetted in the sunlight. It was him—the man in the cloak. Kade couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

How could he be real?

But then he realized it couldn’t be him. Because there were four of him. No not him, but four for certain. The figure in the front prodded Kade with his staff again and Kade leaped to his feet, backing away slowly.

Sure enough, the four figures wore cloaks but none of them bore any resemblance to the man from his dreams. They wore strange vestments—red vests cropped at the shoulders, the material wrapping around and crossing the chest and fastening together at a large buckle on the belt which bore a strange emblem that Kade did not recognize. They were cut square at the bottom and hung down nearly to the knee, which suggested it was some kind of ceremonial garb.

The man at the front—or rather the yan at the front, the one holding the staff—planted the butt of his staff in the grass and held up a hand.

“Tame boy, tame! We bear thee no ill will.” Said the elf.

Kade looked to the three standing behind him. Though they were all dressed the same they could not have been more different. One of them was a Gamza, a saurian race that mainly frequented the Forty Nine Islands where the weather was most fitting for them; another appeared to be a moa-cren, probably Kainese by descent; and the last was a technomorph—a cybernetic being that had altered itself to be somewhat human. Either that or it was a cren that had modded itself so heavily that it could barely be called that.

The moa-cren man stepped forward. “Speak when spoken to, boy.” The man said in a deep voice. “Or perhaps you would rather we place you back there in the dirt, perhaps a few feet further down this time.”

The elf held up a hand to stay the other. “Easy now, brother. The poor boy has barely gathered his bearings. Sleep still clings to him as evil does this world. We still know nothing of his predicament.”

Kade looked back and forth between the two.

The elf turned and raised an eyebrow at Kade. “Perhaps you would like to elaborate?”

Kade cleared his throat. “I…I fell asleep here…”

“Sssssleep?” The gamza interjected. “How can one ssssleep in the middle of nowhere? In the middle of ssssuch a day as this, no lesssss.” It crossed his arms and cast Kade a shrewd look, its tail flicking in agitation behind it.

All the while the technomorph stood idly by, watching keenly as it held tightly to its pennon, the long red flag with their emblem flapping in the breeze.

“Who are you?” Kade asked.

The elf looked taken aback. “Surely you have heard of the Brethren?”

Kade shook his head.

“Boy, either you are a shadowling tampering with my mind, or you truly do not get out much.” The elf said.

Kade was unresponsive.

The elf exchanged glances with his Kainese comrade and the moa-cren pointed at the emblem on his belt. “We are with the Brothers of Dawnchapel.”

Kade showed no sign of recognizing the name.

The moa-cren frowned. “The Shepherds of Old? Surely you have heard of the Order of the Light?”

Kade shrugged. “All names to me. I think we learned about the Order people in my socials class, but I don’t remember much about them. Some religious thing, I think?”

The man looked flabbergasted. He motioned in the distance. “We hail from the far north, of the Enesian Isles—Mar Ingles is home to our chapter. We seek out those—like yourself—who have…strayed from the path. Though we are not accustomed to dealing with…ordinary boys. Especially ones who claim to lack common knowledge.”

The gamza hissed. “It isss not our job to give him a hissssstory lesson, Duod. I sssaay we interrogate him on sussssspicion of collussssion. He is tressspasssing after all.”

Kade frowned. “Trespassing? There isn’t anything around here to trespass on! I’m just lost and looking for a path so I can find my way to school. Have you seen any?”

The elf crossed his arms. “Indeed, you seek a path and that we may provide, for it is our primary directive to guide those who are lost. But first, as my colleague has pointed out, tell us how you come by our encampment.”

Kade looked around in confusion, seeing nothing of the sort. “Encampment? I don’t see…”

The gamza pointed a finger at Kade. “Do not play sssssstupid with us, boy! Our Augur ssssensed your foul presenccccce leaves away. Whoever you are ssssspying for, they too will be found sssoon.”

Kade reared back. “Whoa! I’m not a spy! I told you already, I’m just…”

Before Kade could finish, a small blue butterfly floated down between them and landed on Kade’s nose.

Kade made a move to swat it away but the elf held up a hand.

“Do not move, boy! Don’t you know what that is?”

Kade stared cross-eyed at the insect on his face. “Um…looks like a bug to me.”

The four figures approached Kade and leaned in, fascinated, as they watched the insect slowly bat its wings as it rested on Kade.

“That is a saphin. It is a messenger of the creator himself! It is said that the species has a kind of genetic abnormality that is slowly turning them all into males over time. Thus, it is a miracle of a nature that the creator should confirm our prophecies; the ultimate embodiment of the masculine spirit and its dominance in the natural world.”

Kade focused past the thing on his face and raised an eyebrow at the four men gawking at him.  A salient detail that the elf’s monologue had brought to light—it was four men. There were no women among them. Kade thought this odd but, then again, there were much stranger things in Rynn than bigotry.

“What happens when they run out of females though? I don’t think the creator thought this through too well…” Kade posited.

The gamza stomped his foot. “This wretch dares trespasssss on our grounds and insult the creator? I say we ssssslay him right here, teach him a lessssson…”

The lizard reached for a curved blade hanging at its side but the moa-cren restrained him with an arm.

“We must remain vigilant of the creator’s signs, Lazair. The saphin is among the arcana of greater omens, you know this.”

A light breeze blew up and the saphin lifted gracefully off of Kade’s nose, fluttering between them for a few moments, as if saying ‘look at me’, then it flew away on a light draft as inconspicuously as it had come.

They all watched it disappear from sight and Kade was the first to return his gaze to the strange lot before him. A very heavy, awkward silence descended upon them.

The three from Dawnchapel stood with their faces in the wind, eyes closed as they took in the warm autumn air. The elf sighed and his gaze rested upon Kade. He walked up to him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, to which Kade flinched.

“It is clear to us now: you have been touched by the creator this day. But know that the saphin’s encounter is a complex omen and it is not to be taken lightheartedly. While your future is laid out for you, boy, it will not be without tribulation. There will be many a storm that you must weather before you are among the elect and fitting of the creator’s graces.”

Kade swallowed. “Um, okay. Sure. Whatever you say, mister.”

The elf stepped away and surveyed the land.

“So you’re looking for a path, you said?”

Kade nodded.

“What is your ultimate destination?” Asked the moa-cren.

“Gallema. Or at least, that direction anyway.” Kade said.

The elf looked at his technomorph comrade.

The robotic figure nodded. “Give me a moment.” It spoke, for the first time, in a voice surprisingly human, though there were hints of a mechanical nature in its quality.

After several seconds it responded. “Calculations show the nearest accessible path to be 136.45.78.”

Kade just stared at it blankly.

The thing raised its arm, pointing off in the distance. “About an hour and a half that way.”

Kade looked in the direction then after a moment, he gasped.

“What is it?” Asked the elf.

“I just realized that if there’s going to be a storm that they’ll probably move the trials to another location!” Kade said.

The four from Dawnchapel shared confused looks.

“Its’ an Up game, I mean. You know, like the sport?”

The gamza just shrugged and the others looked to be no more in-the-know.

Kade threw his bag over his shoulder and turned to go. “Jeez guys, it’s only the national pastime! I’d explain, but I don’t have time!”

He started running then stopped after several steps, turning back to the four men. “Uh…thanks for not, uh…killing me. Or something.”

The elf nodded. “Remember to walk in the light, brother.”

With that, Kade turned and ran off in the direction that had been shown to him.

The four watched the boy disappear over a small grassy knoll.

“Nice Kid.” The moa-cren said.

“It never ceases to amaze me who the creator chooses to do his bidding.” Said the elf. “Here we are, hundreds of kaldar from home, vying for the creator’s grace in unforgiving, unfamiliar lands, risking insult and injury from the undeserving reprobate, and a foolhardy child catches his eye, of all things.”

Duod shrugged. “It is not our place to judge the creator.”

The elf sighed. “Indeed.”

“You ssssshould have let me eat him.” Lazair interjected. “It would ccccccetainly have been a welcome change to that offal you call food.”

The elf grunted at the remark and motioned to the others to move on. “Show some temperance, brother. Tam bread is not meant to taste good. There is a reason it is eaten as part of the sacrament. It is holy food.”

The gamza crossed his arms. “More like holy sssssshite if you ask me.” He mumbled.

The elf motioned around them. “Besides, incurring the wrath of the Father is not something we need in times that are already dark.”

The technomorph pointed to the sky. “Speaking of which, we should move on before the shadowlings reclaim the hours. Or it is us that shall be the next meal.”

The elf motioned with his head and followed after his two brothers.

Lazair turned and looked back to the place where the boy had disappeared, his tail flicking behind him.

“Sssstill say we should have eaten him.”

With that, he sighed and followed after his three comrades into the setting sun, their blood-red banners trailing behind them in the late autumn breeze.