Hybrid Theory 1

The rain fell steadily, a dull roar on the roof, little rivers running down the windows. Inside the little house on the edge of town, three young children played, safe, warm, and dry.

Xander was the eldest of the three. A dark-eyed blonde, nine years old, he already had a look and a way of carrying himself that made his godmother and his aunt say that he would be a heartbreaker when he grew up. A lady-killer, his uncle said.

Seven-year-old Trevor was the only child of Xander’s godmother, Ria. The unruly mop of brown hair on top of his head perpetually covered the child’s blue eyes. He had all the childishness displaced by Xander’s early maturity.

Katrina was the youngest of the three at age five. A year before, she had come to the village with her parents to take care of her mother’s sister, Xander’s mother Elisa, who had fallen ill. She looked a great deal like her cousin, with golden ringlets around a cherubic face that promised future beauty. Kittenish yellow-green eyes had earned her the nickname Kat.

The trio had taken refuge from the rain in Xander and Katrina’s home. Left in charge by the adults, Xander sprawled on the rug in front of the fire, watching the two younger children.

A large piece of paper was spread on the floor, and Trevor and Kat chased lines around with color sticks[†]. The brown-haired boy would begin a drawing, only to have the little girl sweeping lines across his spaces. She would flee to another part of the paper, and he would chase to interfere with her artworks.

After half an hour of this game, the paper was covered in map-like lines. Exhausted, Trevor crawled to sit at Xander’s side.

“Draw magic?” Xander allowed them to pull him to the paper, and watched as the younger children turned the sheet over to give him a clean surface. He selected a green color stick from the box and lay down on his stomach.

Xander touched the stick to the paper and began to draw in broad strokes. His eyes were half-closed, his hand guided by a subconscious part of his mind. His friend and cousin watched his face intently. He changed colors without looking at the box and continued working.

The three children referred to Xander’s art as magic for reasons that were clear to anyone who saw a finished piece. Sinking into his trance-like state, the dark-eyed boy would create impossibly intricate and realistic landscapes. The viewer of his pictures was in danger of falling into the worlds the boy depicted.

Xander drew steadily for an hour. At some point, the rain stopped. If asked, none of the children would have been able to say when the world around them quieted. All three were firmly trapped in the energy of the creation.

The spell broke when the artist dropped his color stick to the wooden floor. Katrina jumped in surprise, the sound loud in the silence they suddenly noticed. Trevor sat back and pushed his hair out of his eyes, looking at the picture.

In an ocean of blues and purples, iridescent fish swam in large schools beneath the rippling waves. In the distance, a lush tropical island awaited the arrival of a sunburnt figure lying prone on a driftwood raft.

“Fishies!” Kat squealed. Xander smiled tiredly, his soul poured into his artwork. His young cousin’s exuberance restored him somewhat.

“It’s beautiful,” Trevor said in an awed voice, notably subdued. The images, the worlds Xander created never ceased to amaze him.

“Thank you,” the older boy replied. He released a sigh. “Oh, now I’m tired.”

“Yes it does.” Xander squeezed his friend’s hand. “We can play more tomorrow. It must be almost dinnertime, anyway.”

Trevor grumbled as he stood up. “Bye.” He waved, moving to the door. The cousins waved back.

The door opened before Trevor could touch it. Standing there was Kat’s mother, Lizabeth. She placed her hands on his shoulders and moved out of the doorway with him. Her husband, Deirik, entered next, Elisa’s limp form in his arms.

“Run on home, Trevor,” Lizabeth said quietly as Deirik moved into Elisa’s bedroom. The boy nodded and ran through the open door, and it shut behind him.

Xander followed his uncle into his mother’s bedroom. “Is she okay?” he asked in a soft, worried tone.

“She just got too excited at the show. A rest will have her fine. See to the horses, boy.”

Xander nodded and went back through the living room. Kat was showing her mother the new picture, pointing out all the secret details so she wouldn’t miss anything. The boy went outside.

Trevor was still standing nearby, at the junction of two of the wooden walkways which were suspended a foot above the mud. He looked sadly at his friend. “Xander?”

“She’s just tired,” the older boy said shortly, heading for the town stables. Trevor followed him.

“I hope so…” Xander took the hand offered to him and squeezed it tightly, drawing comfort from the younger boy.

“Everything will be alright,” Trevor announced. “Just wait and see. Besides, I’ll always be here for you, so that helps, right?”

“The boy has so much talent,” Lizabeth said to her husband that night as he prepared for bed. “It’s uncanny, and it’s going to waste in this backwater swamp.”[§]

“Did you see his newest piece? Think of what he could do with training if that is what comes naturally!”

“He wouldn’t worry so much for his mother if he was kept busy schooling, and she wouldn’t worry so much for him,” Lizabeth said, throwing in two of her special persuasion cards.

The biggest benefit to building a village on the edge of a swamp, so close that everything had to be on stilts to keep the homes from flooding or sinking, was the rich quality of the soil, the perpetual decay of the swamp serving as easily accessible fertilizer.

Even the soil unfertilized by human hands was rich. The clover patch Xander rested in was thick and soft, the perfect bed. The ground below him was dry at this distance from the swamp.

Trevor came toward him, making no attempt to quiet his steps. When he sat down beside his friend in the clover, a quick, long-fingered hand grabbed his wrist.

“Yes.” Xander sat up, and Trevor’s arms went around him. “They’ve apprenticed me to an artist magician in a big city three days’ ride from here.”

“Someone who draws like I do, apparently.” Xander sighed. “A school of sorcery.”

Xander was silent for a long moment, his own arms slipping around his friend. “We’re leaving today.”

“No!” Trevor tried to pull away, but Xander held onto him. “No, let me go! I won’t let them!”

“Stop it. We can’t do anything. I’ll come back and visit as soon as I can.”

“What am I supposed to do without you, Xan?” The younger boy’s blue eyes filled with tears.

“What do I do without my boyfriend?” Trevor whimpered. Xander blushed crimson.

“Kat insists that you’re her boyfriend. Don’t think about me like that, especially now that I’m leaving. Take care of Kat.”

Xander hugged him close, then released him. “Uncle Deirik is waiting for me, Trev. I have to go now.”

“Goodbye.” Xander stood and walked away. He never looked back at Trevor, crying in the bed of clover. He couldn’t.

The carriage was waiting on the road just outside of the village. Deirik had loaded the trunk containing all of his nephew’s personal belongings onto the back and was waiting inside the carriage.

Xander pulled himself into the carriage and closed the door. Deirik knocked on the front wall, and they began to move. The boy sat on the edge of his seat and looked out the window, back the way he had come. He didn’t expect it, but he hoped to see a small figure watching him go. Trevor wasn’t there, and Xander felt himself start to cry.

“He won’t come out of his bedroom. He won’t even eat.” Ria sat in her kitchen, across the table from Lizabeth. They sipped from steaming cups of tea.

“Since Trevor was born, he and Xander have never been parted for more than a few hours. Trevor’s lost without him.”

“No, no no.” Ria was quick to calm her companion. “I’m not blaming you. That’s just the way it is.”

“Alright. I’ll bring her over.” Lizabeth stood. “I’ll go get her now.”

The door was pulled open, and Trevor glared up at her with vehemence a seven-year-old should not have been capable of feeling. “I. Don’t. Want. Guests.” He moved to shut the door, but his mother grasped his wrist and pulled him out of the room. The boy released a startled cry as he was pushed down into a chair.

“Trevor, if you do not shape up and cease behaving like a spoiled prince, you will answer to your father when he returns home.”

Trevor’s blue eyes widened, and he nodded. Ria released his wrist as the front door opened again.

Katrina pulled away from her mother and ran to hug Trevor. With a sigh, he hugged her back. Then he hugged her tighter as he started to cry.

Years passed in Xander’s absence. When Trevor was ten, his father, a captain in the royal army, returned from a war which ended in a supposed victory for their kingdom.

Nathan, Trevor’s father, was given a full report of what had occurred in his long absence. He and Ria began conferring with Lizabeth and Deirik, and the two sets of parents began pushing their children together.

Oblivious to these outside forces, Trevor and Kat grew closer, first merely comforting each other in Xander’s absence, then preferring each other over all others.

When Katrina was eleven, and Trevor was thirteen, their parents finalized an agreement of betrothal. A year later, Trevor received the second heart-rending shock of his young life.

Trevor walked along the handrail of the bridge leading to the large town center building. With carefully balanced movements, he leaned forward and transferred his weight onto his hands, lifting his feet into the air. Katrina squealed in delight, applauding vigorously as her fiancée showed off for her.

“It will be a three-year engagement,” Trevor’s father had told him. “That will give you both time to mature.”

“Aunt Elisa is doing much better lately,” Kat said when Trevor sat down on the rail. She took the hand he offered and hopped up to sit beside him, smoothing a hand over the soft material of her skirt. “Mother says it’s because she’s finally gotten used to not worrying about the way her illness effects Xander.”

“That doesn’t matter. He was my closest friend. I don’t know. I just—“

“Don’t depress me, Trevor! He’s in another city, not dead. And if he were dead, the mourning period would have been over a long time ago. You don’t seem to be past that, though.”

“No, I don’t. I’m sorry, Kat.” He gave her a light hug. She pinched his arm. He jerked to the side a bit and gave her a sidelong glance. She stuck her tongue out, then screeched as he nudged her backwards into the mud.

He leaned over the railing and grinned down at her. “I guess Father is right. I do need to mature a while longer. See you at dinner!”

By the time Katrina had managed to climb to her feet and back onto the walkway, Trevor had dashed away.

Katrina, her parents, and her aunt weren’t at Trevor’s house for dinner that night as had been planned. The boy felt a pant of guilt as he looked at the four empty chairs while he ate. It had been a little mean to throw her in the mud like that…

He went to bed without hearing word from them, but when he woke the next morning, his parents’ faces were somber. Trevor sat slowly in the chair his father indicated.

“Trevor…” It was his mother who spoke after a few moments of pregnant silence. “Yesterday afternoon, Katrina wasn’t feeling well, so her parents took her to the doctor.”

“Is she okay?” The guilt flared into terror. Had he made her sick by pushing her into the swamp muck?

“According to the doctor,” Nathan interjected, “she has Morbin’s Disease, like Elisa.”

“The disease is more serious in children than in adults, so they’re taking her back to the city, where she can get better care.” Nathan’s tone was formal, impersonal. He could see the pain in his son’s eyes and fought rage at his inability to soothe it. The details Deirik had given him offered little room for comfort.

“What about Mem[††] Elisa?” Trevor asked, his mind struggling to digest the information he had been given.

“She’s doing well. Most of her symptoms have faded. She’s in remission, according to the doctor.”

“A messenger has been sent, and Xander should be back here in about a week,” Ria added, hoping this good news would help to balance out all the bad. She was not disappointed.

Nathan felt a sick twist in his stomach at the spark of joy that appeared in his son’s eyes. He remembered Xander as a dark-eyed toddler, too quiet and too mature for his age. Something had happened in his absence… There was no other reason for the happiness in Trevor’s face… happiness overwhelming the sorrow, the fear that his fiancée might die.

Deirik, Lizabeth, and Katrina left four days later. Kat had been too sick to see anyone, so Trevor had to watch from a distance as the carriage pulled away. It reminded him…

Xander walked away without looking back. He was almost out of sight by the time the smaller boy jumped up to chase after him. When Xander broke onto open ground and headed for the road, Trevor stopped. He pulled himself into a tree and sat on a branch with his back to the trunk.

The leaves concealed him as he watched Xander climb into the carriage. The door closed, and Xander’s face appeared in the window as the horses pulled the black box away.

Vision distorted by tears, Trevor watched until the cloud of dust filtered away.

The carriage was gone when the boy turned and headed back into the village. His feet carried him to the town center building. He pushed aside the curtain that served instead of a door during good weather and entered.

The sounds and smells—usually so well blocked by the thick walls and the heavy material of the doors spaced around the large hexagonal building—bombarded his senses. From sunrise to noontime, the town center served as the marketplace for the village. Stalls lined the walls, selling everything from clothing to tools, from fruits and vegetables to meats, and from toys to jewels. One section was dedicated to foul-smelling products such as fish; on the wall at about head-height were panels, which could be slid aside to allow the smells to escape.

Straw crunched under Trevor’s feet, the sounds lost in the din of villagers arguing with merchants, shoppers gossiping together, and children begging their parents for this apple or that toy.

Trevor followed his nose and his feet to the fruits, the vegetables, the herbs, and the spices. Passing too close to one stall, the boy found a leathery hand stuck out under his nose, a freshly broken leaf in the palm. The sharp, cold smell of the herb made his eyes water.

“The exotic Northplant,[‡‡] bringing the snow to your home and your mind!” the herbalist crowed into his ear.

Trevor ducked away, pushing through the crowd until he found himself in front of a fruit stand run by a quiet, plain woman a few years younger than his own mother. There was a small bubble of peace around the stall. The woman neither called for nor attracted attention, and nothing about the neat rows of fruits caught his eye.

Trevor selected a fully ripe peach and picked it up. The woman spoke in a voice that was quiet, yet carried well despite the background noise. “Four cidens.[§§]” Trevor placed the four small coins into the outstretched hand, and the woman’s face brightened in a smile. “Enjoy.”

The boy returned the smile and moved on, finding a chair away from the crush of bodies and sitting down.

In the afternoons, the center served as a school; nights were reserved for town council meetings. Seating was available at any time during the day.

Trevor brought his snack to his mouth. At the touch of his teeth, the skin split. He closed his mouth over a large bite, and the meat melted juicily on his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, senses focusing on the tangy sweet flavor. He savored, then he swallowed. Slowly, he continued eating the fruit, enjoying each bite.

He protested with a soft cry as a hand took the peach away. He opened his eyes to see a tall teenager standing over him. Dark blue-violet eyes glanced down at his frown as the stranger took a bite.

“Hey!” Trevor tried to stand, but the older boy’s free hand easily pressed him back down into the chair. A single finger then pressed to the center of Trevor’s forehead, and try as he might, he could not lift himself from the chair. “That’s mine,” the boy whimpered.

“You did look as though you were enjoying it,” came the reply. Teeth pulled the last of the meat from the dark pit, and the large seed was tossed casually into a nearby wastebasket. “Too much, almost.” The stranger pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped away the line of juice running from the corner of Trevor’s mouth to his chin. The finger moved from his forehead to tip his head back. The cloth slid down over the front of his neck, catching the runaway drop of juice.

Angrily, Trevor smacked the hand away. The teenager jerked back, then laughed softly. In the sunlight from the roof windows, the stranger’s golden hair glittered as he shook his head.

“It has been a long time, then, if you now push me away rather than clinging to me as if you would never let go.” The stranger turned half away to face the busy marketplace, but kept his eyes on Trevor, watching the anger on his face melt to confusion, and the confusion shatter with wide-eyed realization.

The teen was unprepared to be tackled, and hit the floor when the smaller body collided with his. Trevor’s arms were tight around his neck, cutting off his air, and knees squeezed on either side of his stomach. The general population ignored the two, even when Trevor began speaking in a near-yell.

“Xander! You’re back! You’re early! I wasn’t expecting you for a few more days!”

“Guh…” Xander slid his fists between Trevor’s arms and his own neck, taking a deep breath. “Fast horse… no carriage.”

“Ahh…” Trevor sat up, sitting on the older teen’s stomach. “You own me a ciden for that peach.”

“Robbery!” Xander’s exclamation, meant in jest, did draw a bit of attention, but the lack of terrified screams assured that the interest of the onlookers faded quickly.

The older teen closed his hands on Trevor’s waist and flipped them over, pinning the boy to the floor and peering intently down into the blue eyes. His concentration was broken when a heavy hand closed on his shoulder.

“But we’re—“ Trevor was cut off when Xander’s finger pressed to his lips.

“You heard the man.” Xander nodded. “We’re going.” The guard let them up, escorting them out through the nearest door.

“It’s a shame,” Xander sighed, looking across the village from the top of the hill the boys had climbed.

“It’s a shame that you’re trapped in this backwater hole, that you’ve never had a chance to see the city…”

“I’ll see it eventually.” Trevor sat on the grass and watched a bird as it hopped along several feet away.

“Eventually? Life is so short, Trevor. If nothing else, I’ve learned that.” Xander sat beside his friend.

Trevor’s voice was quiet when he responded. “I know. I know how short, how fragile life is.”

“Your aunt and uncle didn’t tell you? A little over a year ago, they and my parents fixed up some sort of betrothal contract.”

The older boy snarled. “They just want your father’s money to keep them in their old age.”

“They wanted their daughter to be cared for.” Trevor’s gaze was calm, a contrast to Xander’s blazing eyes. “Don’t they have money of their own?”

“Not as much as they want. Never as much as they want. Nothing to compare to the money an army captain gets in the years following a war. You’re rich, Trevor, whether your parents let you know or not.”

“It matters, Trevor. Now Katrina’s sick, and you’ll start getting letters. ‘The bills are overwhelming us. As Katrina is Trevor’s fiancée, we expect you won’t mind aiding us in paying.’”

“Of course she was.” Xander’s voice was bitter, and Trevor wondered what he had been through for the past seven years.

“Morbin’s isn’t contagious, Trevor. It’s the result of exposure to a poison.”

Trevor was unaware of his mouth falling open, his eyes widening and staring of into nothing. Xander’s words echoed in his mind. Poison. With effort, he was able to speak again several minutes later. “Poison? How do you know?”

“I researched it. I wanted to help my mother. I went to an alchemist, I looked through his books, and there it was. Morbin’s Disease is caused by embil berries, which grow only in snowy areas. Mother might have eaten some when we were on vacation in the mountains, but Kat couldn’t have accidentally poisoned herself.” Xander stood. “Either her parents poisoned her or she’s not really sick.”

Trevor drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them. “It can’t… she can’t… they wouldn’t…”

“I think I was starting to love her, Xan, and her parents would… why would they?”

Xander’s voice was soft, pained. “Because you care. Because your parents will pay for her care because you care.”

“We can’t. If she really is sick, she won’t live long. If they are lying, they must have changed their minds about the engagement.” Xander pulled Trevor to his feet. “You need to forget about her.”

“How?” Tears ran down the younger boy’s cheeks and his face was twisted in agony.

“I can’t think, Xander. I can’t handle thinking about them doing something like that to us…”

Trevor nodded, brown hair falling into his eyes. Xander smiled faintly, brushing the strands away to kiss his friend’s forehead. “I’ll do that, then.” They hugged each other tightly.

Nathan Aerril was a stubborn man. Xander realized this quickly as he spoke to Trevor’s father. The man’s face was impassive, as if he had not just been given the news of his future daughter-in-law’s potential murder. The teenager watched Nathan’s face, remaining silent.

“These are serious accusations,” Captain Aerril said after several minutes. “Poisoning, fraudulent termination of a betrothal contract…[***]”

“Xander, when we told Trevor that Katrina was sick, he was understandably upset. However, when we told him you were coming home, he cheered up very quickly, as if he had not been given the bad news. Why?”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh was loud in the quiet house. Xander’s head was jerked roughly, painfully to the side when the back of Nathan’s hand collided with the side of his jaw. Red bruises rose on the skin, and disbelief was evident in the young man’s expression.

Xander’s starring eyes narrowed and focused intently on his friend’s father. Smoke drifted in the air, the smell of burning cloth distracting the soldier. The young man slipped from the house as Nathan attempted to pat out the flame that had started on his tunic.

“He thinks I’m lying. Xander wrapped an arm around Trevor and pulled him along the walkway, away from the house. “He doesn’t want me anywhere near here, or you…”

“It’s alright. You can come see me at my mother’s house. Come on, now, I haven’t even had a chance to tell her I’m back.”

Elisa greeted both boys with hugs and sat them down to treats of frosted spice cakes. She demanded that Xander tell her everything about the city. “We’ve all missed you so much…”

Xander spilled seven-years’-worth of experiences and sights over the snack, and Trevor was able to push Katrina from his mind, relaxing in the pleasant, homecoming atmosphere.

“Trevor will be around more often,” Xander said casually. “His father doesn’t want me around their house, but Trevor and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart,” Elisa replied pleasantly. “Trevor’s always welcome around here.”

“It is late.” Elisa smoothed a hand across her hair. “I’ll see you boys in the morning.”

“I’ll write a letter to the alchemist,” Xander said as he stood to clear their dishes. “I’ll warn him about my aunt and uncle, and he can report them to the guard if my suspicions are true.”

“Thank you, Xan.” Trevor moved to hug the older boy. They held each other close, only one aware of the long gap of time that had separated and changed them.

Trevor sat outside of Xander’s home, listening to the violent argument going on behind the door. The seventeen-year-old was flushed bright red to the roots of his hair, his face mostly hidden by his arms.

Over the past three years, Deirik, Lizabeth, and Katrina seemed to have vanished. Xander’s alchemist friend saw them once, determined Katrina was not sick, and confronted them. The family never returned. They had never tried to contact the family or friends they had left behind in the swamp town.

Trevor was able to move past his memories of Katrina. There had been no passionate love between them, merely the affection which could be seen between a brother and sister.

Xander’s near-constant presence had sped the healing process. Trevor recalled the innocent childhood crush he had had on the beautiful older boy, and discovered his feelings had matured and grown stronger over the years. Trevor began to recognize the subtle, varied hints Xander was dropping, and the boys grew closer.

They aged and became bolder, more sure of themselves. Xander made advances; Trevor responded. They became intimately familiar with each other, and it was that familiarity which now caused them trouble.

Through the door, Trevor could hear his father’s voice, and Xander’s. Elisa’s voice was there, but not as audible.

Elisa had gone to visit Ria, leaving the teens alone there in Xander’s home. They were in a rather amorous embrace when Nathan and Elisa walked in, the soldier there to retrieve his son.

Xander’s shirt was on the floor, Trevor’s was halfway off, and the younger boy would have sworn that his father’s head exploded. Nathan instructed his son to wait outside. The door closed and the fireworks began.

From what Trevor could hear through the door, his father was accusing Xander of being a foul, corrupting influence, a demon made flesh to tempt youths away from the pure and righteous path. Xander responded that Nathan was an ignorant, arrogant bastard who wouldn’t know true love if it bit his throat and wouldn’t be able to see the path of Destiny if the goddess herself pulled him onto it. Elisa was trying unsuccessfully to calm them down.

The fight continued for almost an hour before the door opened and Nathan stormed out. He gripped his son’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Trevor was crying from shame, fear, and pain as he was dragged home. At home, behind the closed door, the violence began.

Tapping on his bedroom window woke Trevor the next morning before dawn. He slowly rose from his bed, his entire body stiff and sore. Welts covered the back of his form from his shoulders to his ankles, bruises covered his arms, and one eye was swollen shut. Nathan had fixed the dislocated left shoulder, but the flesh around the joint was purple and swollen, sending bolts of pain down his arm every time it moved.

With his good arm, he opened the window. Xander was just outside, feet hovering several inches above the swamp mud. He winced in sympathy as he saw Trevor’s injuries.

“I’m so sorry, Trev,” he whispered. “I just need you to come with me one more time.”

“He’ll beat me again if he catches us together,” Trevor replied, his voice flat and dull.

“I know, I know. But he won’t catch us.” Xander held his arms out to the younger teen. “Trust me. You always have before.”

Trevor looked at him silently before holding his good hand out to take Xander’s hand. With help, he climbed out of the window and into Xander’s arms. Dressed in only his pajama pants, Trevor was chilled by the cool morning air. Xander held the thin, trembling form close to his own body, carrying him back to the walkway system and out of the town.

The coastal cliffs were half an hour away on foot, and Xander took his time in moving to them. He made his mind blank, allowing himself to enjoy holding Trevor close. Their parents had interfered with their secret, idyllic affair, and their time together was over. The older teen knew this; he knew this might be his last chance to hold his lover tight, so he imprinted the moment on the blank canvas of his memory.

They stopped at the edge of a cliff. Looking out to the ocean gave them a view of dark water stretching off into eternity. The surf beat against the base of the cliff with a distant roar.

“Why are we here, Xan?” Trevor questioned, arms around himself as he watched Xander move to the extreme edge of the cliff.

“I can’t take them anymore, Trevor. Since I came back to this swamp, I’ve felt stifled. You’ve been my fresh air, my freedom, but your father wants nothing more than to drive us apart.”

“Come with me, Trevor.” Xander took the younger teen’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “We’ll go away, and they won’t be able to hurt us anymore.”

“You have to trust me, Trevor.” The young mage’s long fingers tightened on Trevor’s as the brown-haired boy tried to pull away.

“We can’t…” Their eyes met. Trevor’s open eye was panicked, rimmed with tears. The changing colors of the pre-dawn sky were reflected in the blue iris.

Xander drew close to his trembling lover and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I will always love you, Trevor, no matter what. Don’t forget that.”

“Always, no matter what,” Trevor whispered with a nod. Xander released him and took a step backwards.

“Xander, what are you doing?” Trevor took a step toward him. Xander moved away.

“Turn around and walk home.” The pale-haired boy continued walking backwards, eyes focused on Trevor.

“Go, Trevor.” One last step brought the mage’s foot out into the open hair. He dropped out of sight, and Trevor screamed.

“XANDER!” He ran to the edge of the cliff, dropping to his stomach to look over just in time to see his lover’s form disappear into the waves.

[*] The year numbering began with the reign of King Emeridil (BE 26-23 RE), whose guidance restored the land’s population following a widespread, devastating plague. RE is “Reign of Emeridil,” BE is “Before Emeridil.”

[†] Color sticks are like crayons, but softer. They cannot be made into points, and become almost unusable after a few weeks.

[‡] It’s actually after dark.

[§] Deirik and Lizabeth are long-time city dwellers. Elisa moved to the country when she married.

[**] While Elisa is Lizabeth’s sister, Deirik is the one who cares for her the most. He married his wife only after Elisa, the one he secretly loved, married another man.

[††] A term similar to “aunt,” used for adult females outside of the family with whom the child is familiar. “Da” is the term used for adult males.

[‡‡] A type of mint.

[§§] (sih-den) – a copper coin, the smallest monetary unit. 10 cidens make one burke (burr-kuh), a bronze coin. 10 burkes make one disz (deetch), or a silver coin. 10 diszi (dee-chee) make one orn, a gold coin.

[***] Yes, this is considered a crime.