[Respond?]
A silent question that traversed reality until it arrived on the doorstep of its creator, floating in front of his eyes. A welcome curiosity. The Prodigy was well and truly fed up with his usual tasks. With a mental command, the system prompt opened into a detailed report of its problem.
Ah. There was always a problem with the perfect plan. Always a stone in the road, however big or small.
And this one’s about the size of a mountain. And would certainly take his hyper-intelligence a moment to chew over.
“Started another side project, have you?” A small voice asked, emanating from the flashing screen in front of him. Spark had been modulated to bother him occasionally if he were ever in deep thought, just to make sure he wasn’t being mind-fried by a Thinker.
“Something like that.” The Prodigy spoke in contemplation, forwarding the details of Lukas L Welter’s system integration dilemma to Spark, his rusty trusty A.I. assistant.
He could feel a slow creeping judgment from his helper as the colour of its simulacrum slowly shifted from a calm blue to a vexed pink. At least he thought pink was vexed. The Prodigy wasn’t skilled enough to program complete emotional packages for his minions. Which meant they had to sort through their feelings more often than not.
Out of curiosity, the Prodigy pulled up his own, vastly modified version of System One on the left. He ran calculation variables for the rate of successful integration and the odds of the outcome. A list of numbers rattled down his vision, quickly painting quite a ghastly picture for the lonely cashier.
…3.745% chance of brain death on integration, 1.34% chance of Echo-related psychologic collapse, 11.945% chance of instant terminal side effects, 99.9999999989887423% chance of delayed terminal side effects- okay, Great One’s above I may have had a lapse in judgement. The chances that Luke would live through integration with the ability the Prodigy had gifted him were so drastically low that it almost looked intentional. But he wasn’t trying to murder the young man, just give him an option in life he wouldn’t possess otherwise.
“Lucky I put safety protocols in place.” The Prodigy mumbled. If it had forced integration, he’d already be dead.
“I understand that as a human, you possess a capacity for generosity that you simply must act on, but this was reaching a little too far, even for you,” Spark said, dressing down its own creator. “What were you thinking, giving something that interacted with the Ether to a Taken?”
Spark wasn’t wrong. It had been a ballsy move…
But his sister had an Exodus? Her existence had been able to accept Ether into itself, creating a unique foothold on reality that she was able to exert according to her will. Superpowers, to be short about it.
It seemed her brother did not possess the same unique constitution that allowed her to adapt to the Ether.
“Run me through it, Spark.” The Prodigy asked as he leaned back on his holo-chair. “The description for Taken. I need to hear it again.”
The lights around him turned an information white.
“Taken, as they are most commonly referred to, are a select group of individuals that were frozen in space-time during the very instant the Echos first made contact with Earth as well as their biological descendants. The why is widely speculated, but the most common and agreed-upon assumption is that for whatever reason, there exists a human gene sequence that is intolerable to Ether, the supernatural substance that now permeates the planet. The question of why they were specifically frozen in space-time is unknown, but again, it is widely assumed that their existence presented some negative effect for the Echoes' arrival.”
“So Taken are Ether intolerant? Is this a known fact, Spark?” Prodigy asked. He knew the breakdown of why it was presumed as much, but hearing the number would help him… clarify ideas.
“Evidence proves as much. Ether shrouds the majority of the world so wholly at this point that any living creature on earth is, at least a little bit, subject to its effects. The percentage of humans that have a complete Exodus, which expresses itself as powers, ranges from an average of 1.3% per year to 0.9%. However, the percentage of humans who by the age of eighteen exhibit some amorphous Ether mutation is believed to be 100%,” Spark explained, providing the breakdowns above in front of his eyes
That fact was well-checked. All humans would experience some change from the Ether. They were almost always tiny, minuscule changes. But they were there, in the Ether that had implanted itself inside every person alive.
Besides the Taken, of course.
“What is the percentage of Taken who have an Ether mutation but haven’t experienced an Exodus?” The Prodigy asked, mulling it over.
“Zero,” Spark answered.
What? He hadn’t known that. The Prodigy didn’t keep up with Ether mutation research, only knowing the professional basics.
“Are you sure?” He asked. Feeling his brain tick with the formation of an idea.
“Yes. No singular mutation has ever been exhibited from a Taken.” Spark confirmed.
“But then what of those who had an Exodus?” He pushed, feeling his mind on the verge of understanding something. Exodus were different from simple mutations, but foundationally, they were formed from the same components.
One thing was for damn certain and that was that Ether was involved in the process. The stuff was the building block of every supernatural occurrence that had ever taken place on Earth. Easy and impossible to understand, capable of seemingly bending the laws of physics on a whim. So much so that some of his more fanatic scientific brethren referred to it as Ichor, blood of the gods themselves.
Stupid zealots. It’s not even a liquid. I’d barely even call it a wave because it certainly doesn’t function the way a wave should. Hell, it’s not even a frequency… It’s just there. Something you could observe the effects of only, never seeing the substance behind them.
“Of all the Taken that have exhibited physical signs of Ether intake, 100% have had an Exodus,” Spark said, showing fourteen different images for the fourteen different times it had happened.
The most recent was a blonde-haired girl with yellow eyes being hit by a car in a high-speed collision and then walking it off just as confused as everyone else. A lot of people had seen this video, mainly because the Hero she’d become was so popular among the Federation.
But I’d be lying if I said this was the whole reason I was interested in her brother. His current project, System Seven, would be better served on someone who already had powers, or at least a notable Ether mutation. It was technically a mutation of its own after all.
But the Prodigy couldn’t help but see a deep, plaguing desire for more in the young man, and he of all people knew what it felt like to be overshadowed by a sibling. More than that, though, Lukas showed up. His life may not have been a complete effort on his behalf, but he showed up on that Bright when he needed to, when perhaps it was most important.
Can’t believe I gave him System Seven in a can. On a whim! Reggie too… The Architect had named himself that on a whim as well, and maybe it was the nostalgia of the name that had inspired him when he’d imprinted fake memories in Lukas's head. Maybe it was because the cashier reminded him of himself.
The reason didn’t matter much anymore to the Architect.
What mattered was making sure the poor fellow didn’t keel over because of Buzz Bitters.
“Spark shut down all of System Seven’s primary functions besides integration.” The Architect instructed as his hands flicked through the integration function’s presets.
System Seven is powered by Ether. The transmutable I store it in has Ether in it. Which meant they couldn’t retrieve it from Lukas and just move on. Some small amount of Ether traces had wormed their way inside him already, and more traces were every second it was within him, so the damage was already done.
At 100% Exodus rate, he’d immediately gain power. Or he’d die because his body was incompatible with even the smallest amounts of Ether. Funnily enough, the integration process that would kill him if done the way it was originally designed was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. Because it was designed to segment Ether initially, it was capable of storing that Ether for a short time.
“System Seven wasn’t designed as an insulated Ether battery,” Spark said, echoing his own thoughts.
It was intended for the exact opposite, considering it was meant to merge with its host completely. Keeping them as separate entities and stalling the integration process, which would merge System Seven with Lukas, was an extremely short-term solution.
“For now, just have it drip-feed integration.” The Architect said, wondering.
100% Exodus rate. Kept ringing in his head over and over. It felt odd that every Taken who adapted to Ether had an Exodus. It planted an idea in the Architect's mind.
The Quest feature is still a bit buggy. But it might get him the conditions he needed. The only problem was the feature responded to desire, and the Architect couldn’t force Lukas to desire anything.
Do I just leave it in his hands then? Activate the possibility and let the young man decide his fate with his own two hands.
He couldn’t help but sigh. How it all spiralled so far out of control so quickly was beyond him. After a moment of thought, the Architect made his decision.
“Fuck it.”
**************
How many did I have last night? Luke wondered as he parked his moped, grasping his head as if it would settle his dizziness.
The cashier had woken up with a splitting headache and a constant ache. It felt like he was sick, but he wasn’t sneezing or coughing. It meant he just had a hangover. He didn’t remember actually drinking. He remembered only fragments from the past twenty-four hours, but he tried not to worry about it. It was probably just the alcohol killing his brain cells too fast.
At least his drunk self had done him the favour of disposing of all the cans before he’d crashed on the couch.
“Not like the boss will let me off because I got smashed, right guys?” Luke laughed, motioning to the… empty parking lot.
Apparently, hangovers make FPS worse. Luke groaned internally, finding it far easier to talk aloud as if other people were watching him when they weren’t. Sometimes, there were flashes in his vision too, as if someone's screen was inches away from his eye. No doubt a lingering side effect of getting electrocuted is that he’d have to go get checked out.
I should’ve gotten the insurance. But no, he had to make a statement to himself and mildly inconvenience a super-powered millionaire.
Luke grumbled about how he hated his life as he donned his Super-mart apron and strolled into the grocery store. He prayed the moment he entered the store that they wouldn’t be understaffed because he needed a break from the registers and people.
The store was busy, loaded with the usual catalogue of undercover heroes and villains. Bright made it so all the customers of yesterday rolled over into today, and by the looks of his rushing coworkers, that was a very stressful fact.
Luke made his way towards the back, slipping past women who looked a little too much like a spider and a mechanical golem who had a taste for hot dogs. He could see his fellow company minion Vena grappling with the swarm of customers who all expected super service.
He offered her a wave of sympathy on his way to the breakroom.
“Luke!” Vena shouted at him, waving back. “Nathan wants to see you. Head’s up, he looked real pissed.”
Great. It probably had something to do with knocking off inventory. Bitter Buzz's weren’t exactly cheap. Luke tried to keep a positive expression as he slid past customers to get to the breakroom. Super-mart's breakroom was about as super as Luke, with a plastic grey table, a couple of foldable chairs, a barely working coffee machine and a kettle that Luke didn’t dare to use because he was convinced it was going to explode.
He didn’t see Nathan, so the manager must’ve been in the bathroom. Luke knew not to punch a gift horse in the mouth, shoving all the tools he needed for stocking shelves into his apron as fast as he could.
The cashier heard the bathroom door swing open just as he was about to make a break for it.
“Luke! Just the man I wanted to see.” Nathan said, catching the cashier just before he could escape. “Listen, you mind sitting down with me for a minute? Just got some things about yesterday that I need to talk to you about.”
Excuse time.
“I’d love to, but with how busy we are, someone should run stock before they start complaining,” Luke said, pleading inwardly that Nathan would just let him off the hook. Your manager wanting to talk to you was never a good thing, in Luke’s experience.
His smile dropped when Nathan kept sitting on one of the folding chairs, waiting for him.
“Fred and Yusef are running stock already. I’ll need you to register today, but that can wait a bit.” Nathan repeated, motioning to the chair across from him.
Luke could feel his headache get just that little bit worse, but there was nothing to be done about it. He planted himself on the shitty foldable chair that made his backside numb and prepared for whatever scolding was coming his way.

Maybe it’s a promotion. The cashier scoffed at the stray positive thought. Nathan seemed relaxed enough, so he wasn’t getting fired. That was an actual positive to think about.
“First off, I’d just like to thank you for actually coming in on a Bright like yesterday.” Nathan prefaced, showing the good before the bad. “You have no idea how many people just ignored my phone calls, I promise I was trying to get you more help holding down the store.”
“It’s fine,” Luke said, finding the sympathy appreciated but not necessary. Him and-
“Argh.” The cashier clutched his head and let out a groan.
It felt like ants were crawling across his brain, nipping at its edges. The pain was sharp and sudden and dissipated almost instantly after it came. But the uncomfortable sensation of something seeping into his head stayed. It felt like there was water leaking through his skull. The aching sensation across his body from the hangover only magnified it. It took a few moments before that disappeared as well.
“You alright?” Nathan asked, looking a little concerned.
“Yep,” Luke confirmed, trying to shake off the numbness in his fingertips.
Okay, that was weird. He’d never got numbness in his limbs from a hangover, and Luke had some pretty hard ragers in his youth. His paranoia demanded he go to the doctor as quickly as he could, but Luke would have to leave it till after work, especially if Nathan was upset with him as he suspected.
What bothered him more was how it had started to hurt worse when he tried to think of…
Yesterday. Working yesterday.
“That's good to hear because I wanted to talk to you about some things that happened yesterday,” Nathan said.
The older man pulled out a tablet and put it on the table. The black screen had Super-mart engraved into the top of it, which probably meant it was proprietary tech from the Prodigy that owned Super-mart. He pressed a few buttons on the screen, and a video feed opened, showing the camera that watched directly outside the front of the store. In the morning. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“There are cameras set through this entire store, set to record 24/7 and monitored by a private security company,” Nathan explained, speeding the video from 0.00 to 12.34 where Luke saw himself strolling into the store. After he saw himself push the side door open and walk inside, the video cut off.
“I see…” Luke said, a little confused by why Nathan was showing him this.
“What you just watched is the only footage recorded yesterday. All the other feeds were completely corrupted.” Nathan explained further, his expression starting to crumple. The older man always tried to keep a calm and in-control demeanour, but everyone in the store knew he liked to run a tight-ship, as he would call it. Anything out of place quickly pissed him off.
Luke put his hands up, expecting the obvious allegation. “I didn’t-”
“I don’t think you did it as of yet.” Nathan interrupted, not looking any happier. “The security company came to check the cameras today, and they are all working fine. The reason I needed to talk to you is because I need to know what happened yesterday.”
“Wel,l I…” Luke started… his mind turning black as soon as he thought of something that felt so simple. “...I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?” Nathan asked, annoyance seeping into his voice as he tapped his pen against the bench.
Luke scratched his head, thinking. He decided to be honest. “I remember leaving early, and that’s it. Someone… someone else closed the store, so maybe it was them.”
Nathan gave him a strange look. It might have been suspicion. It might have been confusion. It was probably a mixture of both.
“Luke, there wasn’t anyone else in the store yesterday. It was just you.”
He was right. Luke knew he was right. He’d looked at the roster in the morning before coming to work. He could remember that. There was no one but him scheduled. He’d gotten a good luck text from Nathan about it in the morning. But…
I know there was someone else in the- oh. Oh, that bastard.
“I think a Supe might’ve been in the store.” Luke blurted out, drawing Nathan's full attention. “Was anything stolen?”
“No. All the money we have on hand is safe, and anything valuable is still here. Even the inventory seems spotless.” Nathan said. “Why do you think it was a Supe?”
Because there's a giant black hole in my head that hurts every time I think about it.
“Because I know there was someone else, but I can’t remember anything about them,” Luke said, seeing the thoughts churn in Nathan’s head before he caught on.
“A Thinker?” Nathan mumbled before leaning back in his seat and grabbing his face. “Oh god, why me? That would complicate things so much. If it is, we’d have to involve E.R.A.O.”
“I’d have to undergo a full mental and psychological evaluation, wouldn’t I?” Luke asked, knowing how hard the government cracked down on anything to do with Thinkers. Because it only ever took one bad Thinker for shit to hit the fan.
“Yep,” Nathan answered, sounding just as uninterested in dealing with the entire ordeal that would become as Luke. “You feel any sudden urges to commit homicide or any other crime this morning?”
Luke shook his head. He felt… like himself, which wasn’t something most Thinker victims could boast. Then again, he might’ve been programmed to think he was acting like himself. Suddenly, the cashier felt even shorter of breath. He really, really didn’t like the idea of someone messing with his head.
And with every passing second, he was more and more sure that was exactly what had happened. There was something deeply terrifying to Luke about the thought of someone altering his autonomy. He already lived in a world that dictated a lot of what he could and could not do. The idea that a person could control his thoughts and the way he thought, or the way he felt, or the way people felt about him disgusted the cashier.
Luke felt his hair standing on end. There must’ve been a grimace painted across his face as the possibilities of what a Thinker could do to him weaved together with his natural paranoia.
“Luke!” Nathan shouted, snapping the cashier out of his overthinking momentarily. “If it worries you, you can go to an E.R.A.O. hospital after your shift. They can ensure Thinker hasn’t left anything dangerous in your head.”
The cashier agreed with his boss. It would be much better to head to the hospital now and deal with whatever the hell had been done to him. Although he didn’t want to go after his shift, he wanted to go right now. Nathan must’ve figured whatever he was acting like wasn’t too far off from normal, otherwise, he would’ve sent him straight there.
I should leave now. That much was obvious. The number one thing you were taught in crisis prevention classes around Supes was to never, under any circumstances, be lax with Thinkers.
But… what if Nathan held it against him?
He was his boss, and Nathan did decide exactly how much and how little work Luke got regularly. Would he hold it against the cashier for leaving immediately? Was that… wrong?
“Yeah, sure I’ll do that,” Luke mumbled, almost out of instinct. In moments like this, it felt easier for him to comply. Working for a couple of hours before he started worrying about himself wasn’t such a big ask.
It’s fine, isn’t it? It wasn’t. But sometimes you had to do things you didn’t want to for the best of everyone. That's what his dad always used to say. Conversation done, Luke got himself up, managing the slowly growing headache he now wasn’t completely sure was a hangover and started heading towards the door.
“You can leave at lunchtime, Luke.” Nathan amended as he walked out the door. A little guilt must’ve seeped in. “I should be able to get someone in by then.”
“Thanks,” Luke said, and he didn’t mean it at all.
I just want to go home and sleep for a week.
************
Thinking hurt. It hurt more when it was about yesterday. He was so sure that someone had been there that Luke felt he could almost snatch the conversation they’d had out of the air with the right stray thought. But that wasn’t how mind alterations worked. There was a veil in his head now that no thoughts would get past.
His hands were numb, and his body skin felt stuffy to wear, as strange as that sounded. Luke’s eyes flicked to the clock at every chance, hoping that the hour hand would start ticking as fast as the minute hand.
Only until lunch. He kept telling himself on repeat as he went through the motions. Soon, it would be over. Soon, he could hop on his moped and speed his way to the nearest E.R.A.O hospital to get some antibiotics or a recommendation to Hygieia. A free recommendation because he didn’t have the money to pay for Supe healing.
“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Vena asked for the sixth time. He was only counting because he felt it made the time go faster.
No, it feels like my skin is about to fall off.
“Yep, totally fine,” Luke lied with a thumbs-up for good measure. She gave him a cheerful smile back.
Vena was a good person. She was a little chatty and had a lot of opinions on dating, but she was always nice to Luke. He could tell she was making an effort to get more people in her line and free him up. She also hadn’t taken her break yet, and he was guessing she wouldn’t until he had left.
She had nothing to do with all the negative feelings boiling up inside Luke. So it was better to just keep his mouth shut.
“Lukas.” A low, dreadful woman’s voice said the second he looked back at his line. Which now had a familiar face at the front of it, with a trolly full of things to scan through.
“Hello, Susan,” Luke said in a deadpan voice, feeling just a tiny bit more of his will to live fade away.
The cashier started to slowly and subtly grab things and scan them through, careful not to disturb the predator. She probably could only see you based on fear and movement. Something like that. Luke wasn’t sure he was thinking straight anymore. His head did hurt really bad.
“I saw your face sooner than expected after yesterday,” Susan said with a smug smile. She had that grin on her face that kept insults and misery behind it, insults and misery that-
“You saw me yesterday?” Luke asked. Of course, she’d come in yesterday. She was on a public media restriction, so what better things did she have to do on Bright?
“That super service doesn’t include a super memory, does it, Lukas?” She laughed, in a decibel that sounded like claws scratching a chalkboard. It made him feel even dizzier than he already was.
“Did you see anyone else in the store?” He asked, as earnestly as he could.
In response, Susan tapped her finger against her chin, making a show of trying to think about his question before ultimately answering.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Luke pressed, passing a whole chicken through his smart scanner.
Susan stared at him. She didn’t scoff. She didn’t grin. She didn’t even give him a nasty quip. She just… stared at him, with her two wide crimson eyes reflecting into his yellow ones.
It almost looked like she was frozen in thought. Frozen stiff.
Then she blinked, and the sparkle of doom in her returned once more.
“Why would I remember anyone in this store anyway?” Susan scoffed as if the very thought of acknowledging the people who served her stained her.
Well, there goes that chance. Luke wondered why he had ever dared to put some hope in Susan. It was honestly dumb for him to expect to remember… remember the other person with him yesterday. It started to hurt more every time his thoughts approached that fog in his mind. Better to just get on with the day.
A glance at Susan’s almost empty shopping trolly told him he was almost done with her anyway. Another, at the clock on the wall, said he still had about an hour left before he could leave. Almost over. Almost home.
Just a few more things to scan, then Susan would be on her way. A packet of sub-temp soothing soup, a high protein pasta sauce and a banana that was just a bit too green-
The banana rolled onto the scanner with a soft thud as Luke’s hands twitched, losing grip on it.
The feeling in them was gone.
“Be careful with that, Lukas!” Susan ordered, putting the banana into the bags herself. “This stuff is basically gold nowadays.”
“Right…” Luke nodded, staring at his hands.
His fingertips had been numb for a while, and that wasn’t a particularly new experience. But now both his hands felt like they were just… gone. He could see them still very much attached to both his arms, and he flexed them with only a thought. But he couldn’t feel them.
His heart started to beat a little faster again. The air around him was now just a little harder to breathe. Luke darted his eyes between the banana, Susan and the clock before gripping the counter to steady himself.
He couldn’t feel the metal counter either. All the sensation was gone.
I need to go. Luke realised, maybe a little too late, as he gripped the counter as hard as he could. Just trying to feel something.
I need to go now.
“Hey, Vena,” Luke said, tempted to punch the glass screen just to see if he would feel the pain. “Could you come to serve this customer? I need a minute.”
The world was starting to spin, just a little. Luke made sure he was tightly holding the counter as he slid past Vena, who looked very concerned. It felt like vertigo, slowly ramping higher and higher. Tiny little black spots were starting to sprout at the edges of his vision too, creeping closer.
I should’ve left earlier. It’s fine.
“Do you want me to go get Nathan?” Vena asked, putting a hand on his shoulder to help steady him. “Maybe if you just wait a minute and sit-”
“I’m fine,” Luke mumbled, pushing past her and towards the double-doored exit.
Every step he took felt heavier and heavier.
Everything is fine.
“What? Are you just leaving midway through bagging my things? What kind of service is that?” Susan said from behind him, staring a hole into his back.
Luke turned to look at her and felt his whole world stop.
“Will you just fuck off for once!” Luke shouted in front of the whole store. It was filled with all the venom that could be mustered.
The surrounding area was as quiet as a mouse. Susan looked a little horrified and certainly too shocked to speak. Perhaps her brain was still processing how to respond to retaliation. Luke knew for certain whatever next came out her mouth he didn’t want to hear. So he tried to turn around and found… he couldn’t.
His legs had gone completely numb. His skin was so warm it felt like it was on fire.
And it felt like maggots were nesting in his brain. All of the dizziness and nausea he presumed was a hangover was rapidly mutating into pain. Pure, blood-curdling pain spread throughout his body. There was a ringing in his ears, slowly getting louder.
The Thinker did this.
Amidst the black spots in his vision, a small amount of light started shaping in front of him. It followed wherever his eyes went, stapled to his sight.
Words, glowing bright red, burned themselves into his eyes.
[Congratulations, you have unlocked the Quest function!]
Looking at the words was like staring into the sun. It hurt. It hurt so badly.
What's happening to me? Luke wondered vividly, barely capable of keeping a thought together.
“Luke… your… nose,” Vena said something that sounded like that, although the cashier could barely make it out.
He touched his nose and pulled back his hand. Red stained it.
Blood was dripping down.
I can’t even feel any of this.
He wobbled in place. The black spots in his vision were growing like tumours. His vision was getting blurrier and blurrier. The blinding red words were like lava.
Luke heard someone shout as his knees buckled.
He saw people rushing towards him.
But he was rushing towards the ground faster.
There was a thud.
Then there was darkness.

*************
There was a boy.
He wore a green sweater and shorts with Christmas trees on them, hair as yellow as the sun his mother had told him about at bedtime. He sat on an island of grass that smelled like his father on the weekends. Like a freshly mowed lawn. His legs dangled over the edge of the floating island. An abyss loomed beneath him, although the boy didn’t feel the need to fear it.
The sea of darkness felt familiar.
There was a tree behind him, shadowing over the great dark sky full of pretty lights. Its branches extended far out above him, filled to the brim with thick leaves of a bright red. When the boy looked high above him, he could see those pretty leaves catch the dripping starlight that fell from the dark sky above.
Why do you catch all those pretty lights? The boy asked.
To protect you. The tree answered.
The boy didn’t understand. The starlight was so pretty; how could it hurt him? Then he looked closer. The starlight stole the colour out of the leaves it touched, rendering them a shadow of their former selves. There were glowing lines in the tree trunk that grew brighter every time a droplet of starlight rained on it.
It looked painful.
Why do you protect me? Said the boy.
It is my purpose. The tree replied simply.
The boy pondered on that. The tree was there to protect him. That was its purpose. It was a good purpose. A kind one. Not the kind that deserved to suffer under starlight.
Can I help you? Asked the boy.
The boy saw the tree shudder for a moment. If ever so slightly.
Is that your purpose? The tree asked.
The boy shook his head.
It is my wish. The boy said instead.
Roots as big as twice as big as the boy’s arms and many times longer twisted out from the ground around him. The great tree offered one of those roots to the boy, with a string of glowing silver stardust dripping down its edge. The boy looked at the root offered and the line attached to its end.
Then, at the sea of swarming darkness beneath his dangling feet.
An idea clicked into place.
Do you want me to cast the line into the dark? The boy asked.
The thing that sleeps beneath the sea won’t answer your call. The tree answered.
So, I have to catch it? The boy tried to clarify.
The great tree didn’t answer, remaining silent even when the boy took it upon himself to snap the rod off. If it caused the tree any pain, it didn’t show it.
The rod was heavy in the boy's hands, and the line that dangled off its edge scared him. The silver starlight glimmered like fire, and something intrinsic about it felt unnatural to the boy. Unwanted. He felt that if he let it touch him, he’d burn.
Careful under the tree’s watchful gaze, the boy reeled the rod back with all the strength he could muster, then cast the starlight line into the darkness. The silver line seemed to stretch forever off the end of his rod until it finally crashed in the shifting darkness.
Subtle vibrations shivered up the line, but the boy kept a firm grip.
The boy knew he had to be careful.
There was something under the sea, tasting the edge of his line.
A second of confusion. A single momentarily lapse of judgment. That would be all it took for the thing to steal the rod from his hands.
“How do I know when to pull?” The boy asked, staring into the swarming darkness.
“You don’t.” The tree responded, sounding pained.
“Then what is this meant for?” The boy said, confused.
“The line isn’t for you. It’s for them. This way, they can see you. This way, your soul might resonate with theirs.” The tree answered.
“Why?” The boy questioned.
“Because you weren’t made for the stars. Your self will shatter if you stay here much longer.” The tree said with a sad note. “Your only salvation lies down there.”
“In the darkness." The boy mumbled, unsure. The abyss felt familiar, not safe.
There was a loud creaking above the boy, and he looked up, seeing the great tree grow further around him. Its roots extended out, curling around him and creating an enclave of oak. An ambient feeling of desperate encouragement spread through the roots, reaching the boy as the tree embraced him.
“Catch one, boy.” The tree advised. “You will not drown in the dark. But you will burn in the light.”
The boy nodded, giving more attention to his task.
He would not miss his chance.
Not for…
“What was the beeping sound?” The boy asked.
Before his dream could answer, consciousness found him.