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  Trying to describe where I was would be impossible. For a moment, I honestly thought I was dead—then the fact that I could think at all told me I wasn’t.

  Which meant I was alive. And conscious… somewhat.

  Sound returned first. My ears “opened,” and I caught familiar voices, but it took too long to place who was who.

  “Jesus, man… how’d I let this happen,” a male voice sighed.

  “I’m asking the same exact question,” a woman answered sharply. “There is no reason you shouldn’t have told me.”

  “Why would I tell you about him attending the academy if it’s supposed to be secret?”

  “That’s not a good excuse, Bruce.”

  “It’s not an excuse. It’s common knowledge.”

  “Common knowledge?” Her voice rose. “We were in the same academy. Do you think common knowledge applies here?”

  “It was for everyone’s sake. It was already a risk that the board let you leave the academy and live a normal life. It wouldn’t make any more sense to tell you Connor was in this too.”

  “Bruce, do you hear yourself?”

  “Yeah. I do.”

  “So you don’t tell me that our son is in the very YMPA we both agreed to let me leave, so I could sell the look that I don’t know anything about the YMPA?”

  “It’s not meant to be a reasoning thing—”

  “You just said it’s common knowledge.”

  “It’s common policy. You’re out of the YMPA. I don’t tell you anything more about anything associated with spy mages at all.”

  “This is our son.”

  “Who is still under that policy, Sharon.” His voice sounded worn—hopeless, cornered, guilty all at once.

  A soft sob broke through.

  “Look what she did to my baby…”

  “He was a lot worse when we found him,” the man said quietly. “But… somehow he’s been getting better. Everything’s slowly coming back. Soon enough—hopefully—he’ll wake up—”

  I forced my eyes open.

  Mr. Drails and Mom were standing over me, eyes wide, pupils tight. Mom’s breath hitched. “Connor… can you—”

  I didn’t even know what to say. I don’t think my heart had ever surged that hard at the sight of someone.

  She lunged into an embrace. Mr. Drails watched us with relief that couldn’t fully erase the heaviness on his face. His smile was faint, but the way his chest expanded with every breath made it obvious he’d been holding it in for a long time.

  “Hey,” he murmured. “You okay, buddy? Does anything hurt?”

  “No… I don’t know.”

  “Well, at least you know you don’t know,” he said, trying for humor.

  Then it hit me. “Where’s September?”

  “She’s in the next room. We got her, but she’s not looking so hot either—”

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Wait, I need to—”

  I tried to swing my legs off the bed, but Mom and Mr. Drails stopped me before my foot even touched the floor. My ribs shifted—like they tapped each other—and the weirdness of it freaked me out enough that I sank back down immediately.

  “Yeah,” Mr. Drails said. “You still ain’t lookin’ all too great. But… you’re getting better, somehow.”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Not much, actually.” He leaned closer, voice turning clinical. “Your body was basically healing itself. When you fell, your Perk never stopped circulating—it kept working, kept repairing. It’s not fast, but the fact you can do that at all is… insane.” His eyes narrowed. “Almost as insane as what you did.”

  “What—fight Mari?”

  “No… but yes. I mean the last thing you did. That huge blue blast. You know what I’m—”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  “How’d you do that? Usually it’s red, but… you changed something.”

  “I—I don’t know,” I admitted. “All I did was point my wand randomly and it just… came out.”

  The words triggered a rough cough that scraped my throat.

  Mom’s expression snapped into fury. “Bruce, this is not the time to ask him questions to further your agenda.”

  “Sharon,” Mr. Drails said, firm.

  Mom’s glare locked on him. Then she took a breath—slow, trembling—and shook her head without looking away. “I’m not leaving,” she said.

  “I know,” Mr. Drails replied softly.

  He looked at me one more time, then stepped back and walked toward the door. When it shut, it sounded heavier than it should’ve—like the room itself didn’t want him to go.

  Mom’s shoulders caved. “I’m sorry, Connor. I—”

  “Nah. It’s okay,” I said quickly. “What else were you going to do? You didn’t even know.”

  “I should’ve,” she whispered. “Jesus… I don’t even…”

  “Mom. Mom, it’s fine,” I insisted.

  She stared at the floor, hands over her eyes. “It just hurts a little,” I added, and immediately regretted it because her breathing got shakier.

  She sniffled, then looked up. Her nose was red, and she wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm. “So… was that the girl you were talking about?” she asked, forcing in a small smile.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Is she okay?”

  “I—I wouldn’t know,” Mom admitted. “To be honest, a lot of people weren’t okay. That’s what your father said.” Her voice tightened. “Did she really save you by herself?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Somehow.”

  Mom shook her head like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. “If I’d known, me and her would’ve been a tag team,” she said. “I would’ve chased them all down. All of them.” Then she wiped her face with her white T-shirt. “But… good on her.”

  I nodded as the room came into focus.

  A wide set of windows lined the right wall. Doctors and nurses moved through the halls outside, fast and purposeful. Light slid through the glass and stretched into the room where Mom and I sat, making everything feel too bright for how heavy it was.

  “I see why you like her,” Mom said quietly. “Pretty young lady.”

  I started coughing again—harder this time. Mom’s hands shot out on instinct, but the fit ended before she could do more than touch my shoulder.

  “Sorry,” I rasped. “It’s just a little… dry.”

  “Connor,” she said, voice turning stern in that Mom way. “You’re hurt. Let’s just get that straight.”

  She pushed her hair behind her ears and scoffed.

  I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

  “Chess club?” she asked. “Why a chess club?”

  I shrugged, then scoffed too. “I didn’t choose that. And I didn’t even know he was gonna do it like this.” I exhaled. “Besides… I’m not sure how you end up back home like this after a chess trip.”

  “Well…” Mom’s voice dipped. “I don’t even know how you’re going to leave.”

  “They said my Perk—”

  “No, no, no.” She cut me off fast. “Not that.” Her eyes flicked away. “The YMPA. This entire world. I don’t know if you even can. The board would demand something out of it.”

  “Like my life?”

  Mom didn’t answer.

  She just stared—too long—then inhaled deeply and shook her head with a thin, broken smirk. “No… no…” she whispered, like she was trying to convince herself.

  She stood, kissed my forehead, and walked out.

  When the door closed, the room felt heavier—like the roof had settled onto my shoulders.

  Then again… my chest already hurt like it had caved in.

  Tuesday

  Honestly, I’d only been gone a week or two. But walking back into the YMPA felt like showing up to some high school reunion you never wanted—except the place looked like it was dressed up for a dance.

  Chandeliers glittered overhead, turning the hallways into something that almost resembled a ballroom.

  Students flowed through like nothing happened. Oblivious—at least on the surface. I mean, they probably knew about the stadium attack for the second time. Same move. Same chaos. It was appalling.

  I was back in my usual fit: white jacket, black shirt, pants, shoes. Can’t beat it.

  I headed into the cafeteria, where the noise hit me like a wave—shouts, laughter, arguments, and chaos vibrating the entire room. The food was decent, which was already better than the insult to cuisine regular school served.

  My eyes scanned the crowd. Before I could even focus on where we usually sat, two guys and a girl with weaponized braids jumped me so fast one of the braids smacked me right in the eye.

  “Connor!!!!” they all screamed.

  They dragged me into a bear hug so tight I couldn’t breathe—couldn’t speak—could barely do anything except grin like an idiot. My chest warmed so quickly it almost made me tear up.

  Tisiah and Greg let go first.

  Nikki didn’t.

  She held on longer, flaring her nostrils like she was analyzing me.

  “Nikki—what on God’s green earth are you doing?” Tisiah asked.

  “Did you put cologne on?” Nikki asked suddenly.

  “No,” I said.

  Nikki nodded slowly, eyebrows lowered, gaze sharpened—as if that confirmed every suspicion she’d ever had.

  “I’m heading back to the table…” Greg muttered.