In a mossy cave with a single beam of daily light, Ezekiel had a happy childhood.

  He grew up surrounded by fireflies and glowing mushrooms, bioluminescent plankton in the saltwater lake, the clean scent of wet moss, chirping crickets, croaking frogs, a bubbling stream, and a network of caves that seemed to branch out forever. Their home was grand and carved out of solid stone long ago. Beside their home was a gated pen for lambs and chickens.

  Zeke’s earliest memories were of hunting and foraging with Mama. As soon as he could walk, she filled his mind with ideas.

  In almost all things, Mama and Papa were total opposites.

  Mama was passionate and knowledgeable and summoned fire.

  Papa was quiet and absurd and summoned shadows.

  She was a kitsune with jade-green eyes, copper-red hair, claws, and a bushy red tail. Mama was lovely.

  He had burn scars on half his body and head. His face was mostly spared, but one ear and most of his jet-black hair had melted off. His left arm was entirely burned, as was his backside. Papa’s legs were severed at the knees. He conjured shadows to move around. Simple legs, usually, but on occasion, wheels, or a column to reach high places.

  Papa wouldn’t talk about his injuries, but sometimes Zeke spotted Papa looking off in the distance with rage in his eyes. When Papa noticed Zeke watching, he’d put on a smile and say, “I love you. Let’s play a game,” and he'd pull some dice or a board game from his shadow pocket.

  Every day, for as long as Zeke could remember, at first light, Papa would make breakfast, and then Mama would take Zeke for a day of training.

  Mama knew everything. Encouraging yet demanding, she taught Zeke how to read, write, dance, fish, and properly swing a sword.

  Growing up, Zeke never felt lonely–his parents were always around–but he did wonder sometimes about other children. Why did he never see anyone but his parents and (once a year on his birthday) Aunt Gwen? He read about the sun and the sea, but he had never seen either. Why?

  Finally, one day he asked Mama, and she explained…

  Once upon a time, long ago, a bad man named Adam trapped Zeke in a sword called the Ivory Blade. For many ages, the bad man used the sword to rule the world, slaughtering anyone who opposed him.

  But, using cunning and skill, Mama and Papa stole the Ivory Blade, freed Zeke’s spirit, and brought him to the Luminous Caverns. That’s why Zeke had to grow up underground: because Adam is still hunting for Zeke, or more accurately, for the Ivory Blade.

  Zeke’s curiosity was overwhelmed. Questions lingered at the far edge of his mind, but he dared not say them out loud.

  So Zeke threw himself into his training. With few distractions and no frame of reference, Zeke grew up focused and lethal. His transition to adolescence was relatively uneventful. Wiry black hairs grew on his balls and above his penis, but he hardly noticed any other changes. He was still shorter than Mama or Papa.

  At some point, he started to rub himself at night before falling asleep. At first, out of absentminded curiosity, but eventually out of habit. He had no explanation for it, but it felt good.

  For some reason, Zeke didn’t want to mention it to his parents; instead, he looked for answers in the library, and that’s how he stumbled upon “Sex and Anatomy” written in Mama’s handwriting. Clearly, she meant for him to find this book, so he squirreled it away for private reading.

  That’s how Zeke learned the basics. More than the basics, really. Mama had drawn sketches, which were precise and descriptive. As a shapeshifter, she wrote from both a man's and a woman’s sexual perspective. She wrote not to titillate but to celebrate and inform. Zeke understood that one day he would experience these things, but he wasn’t ready.

  Still, Zeke learned new ways to masturbate. He learned what the wet mess was about, and he figured out discrete ways to stay clean. But eventually the novelty wore off, and so Zeke recommitted to his training, returning “Sex and Anatomy” to the shelf.

  But as Zeke grew older, an intrusive thought took root in his mind: an indescribable sense that something was wrong with him. His body felt wrong. The more he trained, the more he experimented, the more certain he became. His body was wrong. Inelegant, weak, small, ugly. His face in the water’s reflection looked more and more like someone else’s face.

  Zeke hated his body. He didn’t enjoy masturbating anymore, but intrusive erotic dreams made a frequent mess of his bedding, so Zeke started to masturbate every three days, resentfully. He tried to get it over and done with quickly, but he soon found it increasingly difficult to finish.

  Finally, one day, after a long time trying and failing to cum, deeply frustrated, wrist sore, his penis hurt, Zeke decided to stop touching himself forever. He took to gently wrapping a sock around his penis at night for easy cleaning. For years, Zeke pushed any sexual thoughts out of his mind, refusing to indulge his hateful body. In time, even the night messes became infrequent.

  He didn’t understand why he felt this way, so he kept it all to himself; for years, buried and ignored so that he could focus on training, on survival, on revenge, on making his parents proud.

  Then on Zeke’s 18th birthday, things changed.

  Aunt Gwen was there. A tiny yet powerful illusionist, Aunt Gwen had shock-white hair, a pixie cut, dark travel clothes, and a short jacket with lots of pockets. All around her, the air sparkled with prismatic lights. The room was a swirling rainbow of colors. For his birthday, she gave him a longknife. The edge was one-sided and gently curved. The handle was unadorned yet elegant, with a small knuckle bow guard. Made of good steel and razor sharp, it was a discreet weapon of a master assassin.

  Aunt Gwen was deaf and communicated through hand gestures. She signed, ‘My big sister Morgan gave me this longknife. Now I give it to you, my darling nephew. Carry this and know that you’re loved and supported.’

  Zeke hugged Aunt Gwen again and thanked her profusely.

  Then they all sat down to eat dinner. Mama had prepared a mushroom risotto with fish and carrots. Aunt Gwen lit the room with dancing, sparkling pixies.

  ‘Tell us about the war,’ Zeke asked.

  Aunt Gwen sighed sadly, ‘The war is over. We lost. Now we hide and survive. We wait for hope. We move refugees into safe homes, like this place. There aren’t many left. With 3 Ikons, Adam is still godly powerful, and he has an army of zealots and familiars all over the world, looking for the lost Ikons. Looking for you. But we’re still here, and that means he hasn’t won yet.'

  After dinner and dessert of honey cake and berries, Papa brought out a final present. The box was long and narrow. Papa put the box on the table in front of Zeke with heavy ceremony.

  A bit nervous, Zeke opened his gift to see a beautiful sword with intricate, detailed engraving on the hilt of a winged serpent coiling around the guard. The blade was a pristine white with an amethyst-like shine and quality. The sword, it seemed to call to him, and him to it. Zeke felt like he was falling into the polished ivory grain, a chasm so immense he might never escape, yet he reached out for it. He felt a strange kinship, an affection for the blade.

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  But as his fingers caressed its smooth surface, a shadow stirred in the deep and buried recesses of Zeke’s mind. A ringing began in Zeke’s ears. His heart started racing. His palms grew sweaty. The walls of his home, once so cozy and warm, were suddenly closing in around him.

  “Zeke? What’s wrong?” Papa asked.

  Tears filled Zeke’s eyes. He shook his head in confusion. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. His throat closed shut. “I’m... I… I can’t breathe.”

  Zeke ran stumbling outside for fresh air, but outside their home, the air tasted stale. Ezekiel loved his home, but for the first time in his life, he felt trapped. He had to get out.

  “Describe what you’re feeling, Zeke.” Papa appeared next to him, Mama close behind.

  Zeke struggled to put his anxiety into words. “I feel buried alive, like there’s a heavy weight on my chest holding me down. What is that sword?”

  Papa’s kind, scarred face grimaced in sympathy. “We think it was once part of your former body.”

  They stood there for a while in relative silence. Frogs and crickets sang in chorus with the chirping bats and birds. Deep in Zeke’s heart, a roil was brewing. Finally, Zeke turned to Mama and said, “I’m not your real son, am I?”

  Mama winced and then answered fiercely, “You are my son. In every way that matters. But your body was stillborn. We needed an empty vessel to house your soul.”

  “So I was some random afterbirth you found and used.”

  “No. You are not your vessel,” Mama said passionately. “It is a tool. You are my son.”

  “Mama is right, son,” Papa said, and together they hugged Zeke.

  But he pushed them away. “You trapped me in some dead boy’s body! You made me this way!” The pressure was closing in again. His temples ached and his vision blurred.

  Zeke walked away from his parents, stumbling at first, but as the pain subsided, he broke into a sprint, as fast and as far as he could get, down caverns he’d been forbidden to venture.

  He’d had enough sense to grab a torch, but not enough to grab any food before running away from home.

  Zeke couldn’t go home that night. Instead, he stayed up exploring the vast cave system. There was still so much he hadn’t seen, even after spending his entire childhood here. But eventually, Zeke realized why this particular cave route had been forbidden: it was nearly barren. He foraged a couple bugs, but after a day, Zeke got hungry and cold enough to go back home.

  Mama was waiting at the table with a warm hug and a bowl of oats with berries. She poured hot water over the oats when he sat at the table.

  Mama didn’t mention his absence last night except to embrace him and say, “I love you so much, and I’m glad you’re back. Please don’t scare me like that again.”

  “I won’t, Mama,” Zeke promised.

  That’s when Papa walked into the kitchen. He was carrying something small in his arms.

  “Hi, son,” he said with a smile. He didn’t look angry or disappointed as he sat down at the table across from Zeke.

  Papa continued, “I couldn’t sleep last night, so I went for a walk. While I was out, I heard a loud noise. It was a nest of minks being raided by an ocelot. This little guy was the only survivor.”

  He pulled back a blanket to reveal an adorable baby mink. His eyes were open and curious. He had black fur with little white booties.

  “Would you like to hold him?” Papa asked.

  Zeke nodded enthusiastically and accepted the tiny bundle. As the little mink stared up at him, an incredible peace came to Zeke. He felt himself relax and take joy in the moment like he used to do.

  Animals had that effect on Zeke. Growing up in a cave, the lambs were his best friends. But he’d been so wrapped up in training and himself, Zeke had forgotten how much he loved his home and his family.

  “I’m sorry for my behavior yesterday,” Zeke began, but Mama cut him off.

  “You have nothing to apologize for. We’re sorry. I’m sorry. It’s horrible what was done to you. It’s not right that all this should fall on your shoulders. If I could carry this for you or change it, I would. But we’re all born into bodies and roles we didn’t choose. There’s not much any of us can do but make the best of our situation. We can’t trade your body for a different one, but we can change some things about it. We can change your hair. We can ask Gwen to bring you new clothes, anything you like. Does that sound good to you?”

  It sounded like superficial changes to a deeper issue, but Zeke didn’t want to disappoint Mama, so he considered her suggestions. New clothes would be nice. He’d never thought about his hair except when the bangs got in his eyes. For practical reasons, Zeke’s hair had been short since he was a child. But he used to love running his fingers through Mama’s beautiful waves of copper red hair. Maybe it would be nice to grow out a proper mane.

  “Okay,” he said.

  Mama smiled. “Okay…” she hesitated. “There is something else: it’s time for you to train with the Ivory Blade. Papa will be stepping in to train you.”

  Creeping anxiety rose in the back of Zeke’s mind. He petted the mink to center himself. That sword evoked a tempest of emotions in Zeke. He was afraid of it.

  “There’s no need to worry,” Mama soothed, reading his expression. “You’re in excellent hands with Papa. And the sword is just an inert object now. You’re the one with the power.”

  “And what is my power?”

  Again, Mama hesitated. “I’m not sure. I wasn’t near Adam long enough to learn the specifics. But I saw him use the sword like a key to make doorways across great distances. So I assume your powers include creating doorways.”

  “Must I use that sword? If the power is mine, I don’t need a sword, right?”

  Papa answered, “Yes, you should be able to access your powers without the sword, but you’ve forgotten how. For thousands of years, whenever your powers were used, it was through this instrument. We think your time trapped in the blade left a mark on you both. The first step to mastering your power is to master the instrument. We start tomorrow. Today, you should give your new friend a name.”

  The next morning, after Mama cooked a breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and lamb gravy, Zeke followed Papa to a large, open cavern not far from their home cave. There was no glowing life in this cavern, so Zeke lit the oil lanterns with a torch he brought from home.

  Stalagmites, stalactites, and columns decorated the walls and ceiling, but the ground had been smoothed flat like the floor at home. Zeke assumed this enormous cavern was prepared long ago for open training.

  Papa drew the Ivory Blade from a shadow pocket, offering Zeke the hilt.

  Immediately, Zeke felt its pull, like magnetism; like Zeke was standing on the edge of oblivion, and his every instinct screaming, “Jump!” His heart began to pound, and his palms became sweaty.

  Papa looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

  Zeke swallowed his feelings and nodded firmly, taking the sword in both hands. It was heavy. Heavier than anything he had practiced with before. He needed both hands to hold it.

  Papa corrected Zeke’s grip and said, “Feel that extra weight in the pommel? That’s for balance. You’ll get stronger through daily practice. One day, you should be able to wield it one-handed.”

  Zeke was trying to focus, but all he could think about was throwing the sword and running in the opposite direction. Instead, he asked, “So what’s next?”

  “Next, you swing that sword around.” Papa raised his hand and gathered shadows from the surrounding darkness into a grotesque winged monster the size of a small person. It looked famished and skeletal, almost more claws and fangs than muscle. Its movements were rapid and twitchy. Its wings were bat-like and sharp. It simply stood there twitching.

  “What is that thing?” Zeke asked, horrified.

  “That is a cainkin. On Nod, where I was born, there are over a million cainkin. They provide slave labor, mostly, but one day, Lilith will conscript them all into her army… when she invades Eden.”

  “Who is Lilith?” Zeke asked, confused.

  “Lilith is my mother. She was the one who sent me to steal the Ivory Blade. Well, my mission was to kill Adam and take all his relics, but that didn’t go to plan, obviously. Your mama and I wounded Adam, and I took two of his relics home to Lilith, but the cost was… catastrophic. And when I finally recovered from my injuries, I realized I couldn’t serve Lilith anymore. My mission had changed me. I’d seen beauty in humanity, and I couldn’t let Lilith kill everyone. So I stole the Ivory Blade again… but as I was escaping, Lilith… punished me. She still has the Bone Gauntlet, you see. It gives its wielder power over fire and lightning…”

  “Your own mother set you on fire?” Zeke was aghast.

  Papa didn’t answer. He just continued his story. “Like Adam, Lilith wants the Ivory Blade. More accurately, she wants your power. It’s a race to capture you, Zeke. If Adam wins, he’ll imprison you again and use your power to rule Eden forever. If Lilith wins, she’ll use your power to open a doorway between Eden and Nod. She’ll unleash an army of these monsters, and they will slaughter every human on the planet. Unless Adam kills Lilith first. He still has 3 Ikons. Against Lilith’s 2, odds are in his favor. But the only certainty is the death count, which would likewise be catastrophic.”

  Zeke felt dizzy and had to sit down on a nearby stone bench. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the cavern walls. “Just the fate of the world, then. No pressure.”

  Papa chuckled and said, “Yeah, none at all. That is why we waited to tell you. But you’re ready. We believe in you, and we’re here for you.” He put his hand on Zeke’s shoulder.

  Zeke was uncharacteristically speechless. It was all so much. So he just took a breath, stood up, and lifted the heavy sword into an attack position.

  “Okay,” Papa said. “We’ll start slow, and don’t worry. This here beastie is my puppet, and I won’t let it hurt you. When you’re ready, begin.”

  Zeke gritted his teeth and lunged. The cainkin flew out of reach, then dived for Zeke’s head.

  Zeke swung on defensive instinct alone, cleaving the shade in half.

  Papa smiled. “Good.” He summoned another shade, exactly like the one before.

  “Again.”