“Here. Try not to abandon this one, too.”

  Melmarc took his phone from Uncle Dorthna happily. The entire thing was extravagant. There was a gracious bow at the waist, and he received it with both hands. Like a subject accepting a gift from their superior.

  “What happened to the other one?” Uncle Dorthna asked, ignoring his dramatic display. “Don’t you kids always keep your phone on you?”

  Melmarc nodded. “We do, but communications between the portals and here tends to be kind of iffy.”

  “It doesn’t work,” Ark offered from his place on the floor. He adjusted a little, then looked around. In a low voice, he added, “Does anyone know when we’re going to go furniture shopping?”

  “Ask your mother, Ark,” Uncle Dorthna replied absently. “So, your phone, Mel. You’re telling me that you took it with you into the portal?”

  Melmarc shook his head. “Not really. I got a cloned phone. That’s the one that ended up with me in the portal.”

  “I see,” his uncle mused. “That would explain why I couldn’t reach you even when I tried.”

  “It wouldn’t have…” Melmarc’s words trailed off in uncertainty.

  There was a reason Melmarc had refused the enchantment services that he’d been offered at the store where they’d bought the phone two days ago. It was because in their house, Uncle Dorthna was in charge of all things enchantment related. He had an enchantment that kept you from misplacing your phone. An enchantment that helped you track your phone. An enchantment that masked your location if you wanted it to. He even had an enchantment that kept it cool to the touch at all times.

  He was about to tell his uncle that trying to contact him when he was in a portal would not have worked when he realized that his uncle most likely already knew that. There was also the possibility that his uncle was talking about something else. Something else being the actual ability to reach him on his mobile phone even if he was in a portal.

  It was seemingly impossible, but Uncle Dorthna had proven himself to be something of an impossibility. Even the interface held him to a certain standard.

  [Hope of ????], Melmarc thought, remembering the title he had gotten.

  Was the [????] in this situation supposed to be his uncle?

  He opened his mouth, ready to ask his uncle the same question that he’d asked his mother before stopping himself.

  Uncle Dorthna cocked a brow at him. “When has anything ever stopped you?”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a question,” Uncle Dorthna clarified. “I don’t see any reason for you to not ask it. Is it a rude question?”

  Melmarc thought about it. Some people would consider being asked what they are to be rude. In this case would it be considered rude?

  Uncle Dorthna had never raised his voice at them before. He was also always happy to be some variation of kind and helpful. But if there was anything Melmarc had learnt from being Ark’s brother and spending time with Delano, it was that smiles and kindness from a person at all times did not mean that they couldn’t be hurt.

  There were people who smiled through the pain simply because they did not want others to feel the pain.

  A second look at Uncle Dorthna and all his recent experiences with his uncle had Melmarc thinking that his uncle probably didn’t fall into that category. After all, Uncle Dorthna was always happy to say no with a smile on his face as he was to say yes with a smile on his face.

  “Alright,” Uncle Dorthna muttered. “If it’s rude, say it.”

  Melmarc looked at his uncle. “Really?”

  “It’s a trap,” Ark said, but Melmarc noticed how he leaned forward as if the conversation had suddenly become interesting. “Don’t fall for it.”

  Here goes, Melmarc thought, more than willing to fall for the possibility of a trap.

  “What are you?” he asked.

  Ark groaned and palmed his forehead. “I always told you that your curiosity is what will kill you.”

  “Tar’arkna,” Uncle Dorthna scolded. “Be nicer to your younger brother.”

  “I’m always nice to Mel,” Ark muttered, turning his attention back to his phone. Melmarc had no idea what he was doing on it.

  Judging by how it was turned on its side in his hands, he was either watching a movie or playing a video game.

  “As for you.” Uncle Dorthna looked at Melmarc with a smile. “Ask me again. And look me in the eye when you do.”

  That was another thing that left questions in Melmarc’s head. Their uncle had a habit of asking them to look him in the eye when they asked a question or had something to say. Once upon a time he had assumed that it was designed to teach them confidence. Now, he wondered if it was some prerequisite.

  Was looking his uncle in the eye at certain times actually an act of meeting some kind of condition or the other?

  Uncle Dorthna reached forward and poked Melmarc on his forehead with a finger. The action was very casual and simple, but Melmarc realized that he had been too slow to avoid it.

  “Thinking is good,” their uncle said in a kind voice, “but you should learn not to get consumed by your own curiosity. Some questions either have no answer or will never be answered. Still, I’m here and I have almost all the answers to questions about me.”

  “Almost?” Ark asked, sliding back into the conversation. “Who has almost all the answers to questions about them?”

  “How much does your heart weigh?” Uncle Dorthna asked him without missing a beat.

  Ark paused, stunned by the question. He blinked once in thought, then twice. Then he nodded in defeat. “Touche.”

  “So,” Uncle Dorthna turned by to Melmarc. “Question?”

  Melmarc looked their uncle in the eye when he asked it. “What are you?”

  “Really?” Uncle Dorthna asked, surprised. “That’s what you thought was a rude question?”

  Melmarc shrugged. “It just…” he sighed. “I don’t know.”

  Uncle Dorthna gave him a soft smile. “You kids really are something else. Powerful, yet weak. Some people would tell you that I’m powerful, simple as that. I was once called the bringer of…” He shook his head. “Never mind that. What you want to know is what I am, not what I’ve been called.”

  Melmarc would’ve been happy to know what their uncle had been called over the years. The ‘Powerful’ reference made him wonder if their parents had called him that or if he had heard his mother when she had said it to him. For now, though, what his uncle was was what was important.

  So, Melmarc nodded in response.

  “Human,” Their uncle said simply. “That’s what I am.”

  A slow smile touched Ark’s lips and he perked up. “I’ve got a question of my own.”

  “Yes, your class can use magic like [Mages] if you gain the correct skill,” Uncle Dorthna said. “No, I won’t teach you how to use the spells I use on the house. You do not have half the mana required to use it.”

  “I have over fifty points in mana,” Melmarc pointed out. “What about me?”

  Their uncle snorted. “That’s a big deal at your rank, but no.”

  “That wasn’t my question,” Ark said. “But it’s good to know that I’ll be able to cast spells one day.”

  Melmarc shivered at the thought of Ark casting spells like a [Mage]. His opponents would not be ready for him.

  “Go ahead,” Uncle Dorthna said, gesturing at him. “What’s the question.”

  “When Mel got back, you had a conversation with us,” Ark said, taking his time to approach his question.

  Uncle Dorthna nodded in agreement. “I did.”

  “Why did you refuse to answer if you were human?” Ark said. “It just seems a little, odd. You specifically avoided the question then, but you’re more than happy to answer it now.”

  Melmarc remembered that. Ark had asked if he was human, and their uncle had gone the extra mile of telling him that he was out of questions. Now that Melmarc thought about it, Uncle Dorthna had a habit of suddenly limiting the number of questions they were allowed to ask as the conversation headed in certain directions.

  He always played it off as being tired of answering too many questions, but now Melmarc was beginning to think that it was really all about avoiding the need to answer certain questions.

  “Because I could,” Uncle Dorthna answered with a smug smirk. “I get to pick and choose what questions I answer and when. It’s this thing called being in charge.”

  “Then why are you happy to answer it now?”

  “Because the both of you have found yourselves cooking up scenarios where I am not--inside those pretty little heads of yours.”

  Ark raised a hand in objection. “I would like to put it on the record that Mel actually has a large head.”

  “I don’t,” Melmarc muttered.

  “Anyway,” Uncle Dorthna continued. “I will feel insulted to be thought of as anything but human. And seeing as I’m currently stuck with you guys, I will not have you thinking I’m something else. Got it?”

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  A thoughtful silence fell over them once their uncle was done. Melmarc used it to think of how many lies were in his uncle’s words. He knew enough about his uncle not to trust his dissonance trait around the man. Someone who could see your interface without your permission was an anomaly that the rules did not work on.

  In his own opinion, it was stupid to think that a man who was not constrained by the laws of gravity would be constrained by all the other laws of physics.

  “Are you Adam?”

  Melmarc and their uncle turned to look at Dorthna. In Melmarc’s head, it almost made sense. Uncle Dorthna had said that he was quite old and powerful. He also said a lot about the first sapient being and procreating. Adam could be a loophole, but it wasn’t wrong.

  “I am not Adam,” Uncle Dorthna said.

  But there was something in his voice. Worry? Melmarc wasn’t sure. Still, it sounded firm. As if he was denying the concept of being Adam specifically.

  “Are you the first sapient being?” Melmarc rectified. “Are you, like, the first man?”

  When a very constricting frown filled their uncle’s face, Melmarc stepped away from him without thinking.

  A heavy silence settled in the living room. It was so heavy that Melmarc wondered if it reached their parents' room and settled on their mother, too.

  Uncle Dorthna breathed gently in the silence, rhythmically. Something about it seemed like calming breaths. Their uncle was calming himself.

  It was a moment before he spoke.

  “Class is in session, kids,” he said very carefully. “Listen, pay attention, and commit it to memory.”

  Melmarc had never heard their uncle sound so serious before. The last thing he was going to do was disobey. Ark must’ve had the same thought because he locked his phone and placed it on the ground beside him.

  “Mel,” their uncle began patiently, “who told you about the first man?”

  Melmarc was more than happy to shake his head. “No one did.”

  Uncle Dorthna’s eyes narrowed at him. “Did your void-beast friend tell you about the first man?”

  “No—”

  “No,” Uncle Dorthna shook his head, answering his own question as he cut Melmarc off. He looked thoughtful. “It won’t be able to. I doubt the demi-god you killed has any ideas about that, either. Demi-gods tend to be focused on the single goal of evolution.”

  He shook his head again.

  Melmarc spared Ark a very quick glance. His brother did the same thing at the same time. The moment their eyes met, Ark shrugged as if he already knew Melmarc’s question. Simply put, he was saying that he had no idea what was going on.

  “Class is still in session,” Uncle Dorthna muttered, reminding them that in his moment of thinking, he had not forgotten them.

  Melmarc and Ark returned their attention to him.

  “There is a being called the [First Man],” he said slowly, as if talking to infants. “He is powerful and dangerous. He is also trapped away somewhere.”

  Melmarc and Ark nodded.

  Melmarc had definitely not been expecting that.

  “And no,” Dorthna said, “his name is not Adam.”

  Ark took that as his cue to ask a question of his own. “Are you the one that trapped him?”

  “No,” their uncle answered. “There was a war. He was a part of it. He lost and got trapped. But that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point I’m trying to make is that, at some point, one or the both of you might get a quest.”

  “Related to the [First Man]?” Melmarc asked with a frown.

  “Yes,” Uncle Dorthna answered. “And it’s not just a title. He is the first man. He’s that old, and powerful. If you get a quest like that, I need you to know that you can reject the quest.”

  Melmarc had never heard of a person rejecting a quest. When you entered a portal, you got a quest. It was as simple as that. Your two options were to succeed or fail. You didn’t get to choose. It was automatically accepted.

  “Don’t the Delvers say that you don’t get to pick your quests?” Ark asked Melmarc, as if he could read his mind. “I swear I’ve heard you say something like that before. Or was it Delano?”

  “You don’t get to pick your quests,” Melmarc confirmed. “You get them, and you do them or you get a Chaos Run for refusing to complete them.”

  “When you’re strong enough, you’ll get to choose,” Uncle Dorthna pointed out. “But I don’t think any of you will get a quest regarding it anytime soon, except maybe Ark.”

  “Hold on, why me?”

  “Because you have a child demon that ran away from home,” Uncle Dorthna said. “Who knows what you’ll end up getting into every time you go off world?”

  Ark looked worried by it.

  “You’ll be fine,” their uncle said. “Just learn how to say no, and make sure that demon of yours knows not to get you into too much trouble.”

  “What about me?” Melmarc asked.

  “You’ll be fine, for now.” The touch of thoughtful worry in their uncle’s eyes didn’t make Melmarc feel fine. “The void-beasts will be keeping an eye on you, which means that they will make sure you don’t do anything stupid. They don’t trust [August Intruders] so there’s that.”

  “Sorry, what? I thought they wanted to become sapient.”

  “They do, but your kind are not the only sapient beings out there. Anyway, you should be fine. But if you get a quest regarding the [First Man], refuse it.”

  “And if we can’t refuse it?”

  “Then just don’t do it. Quests like that can last your entire lifetime without consequences.”

  “What types of quests?” Melmarc asked. “Or is it just the one quest?”

  “Mostly, they just involve finding him.”

  “I thought you said he was trapped?” Ark pointed out. “I assumed we wouldn’t have to go looking for him.”

  “Do you know where the [First Man] is?”

  Ark shook his head.

  “Good,” Uncle Dorthna said. “And let’s keep it that way. You do not want to find yourself on a quest to find him.” He turned and pointed a warning finger at Melmarc. “Especially you.”

  Melmarc reeled back in surprise. “Me?”

  “I’m with Mel on this one,” Ark said. “I’m the impulsive one. Melmarc thinks things through.”

  “You’re the impulsive one,” Uncle Dorthna agreed. “But Mel is the curious one.”

  “He’s smart, too.”

  “Curious more than smart,” Uncle Dorthna objected. “He’s smart because he’s curious. If you are faced with a quest about finding the [First Man], you picking it is fifty-fifty. Hell, if it doesn’t sound interesting enough, I can trust you to reject it.”

  Melmarc could see where their uncle was going with it. For him, getting answers was more important than if something was boring or not. So, their uncle’s next words didn’t surprise him.

  “Mel, on the other hand,” Uncle Dorthna was saying, “will pick anything that satisfies his curiosity. He’d pick a fight with me if it would answer a question he thinks is important.”

  Melmarc opened his mouth, then closed it. Uncle Dorthna was right. If he stumbled upon a quest that told him to find the [First Man], he would actually consider taking it if it didn’t endanger anyone else.

  “So, no,” Uncle Dorthna continued. “You do not take any quest relating to the [First Man]. It does not matter if it’s about finding him or one of his artifacts or anything like that.”

  “Was he evil?” Melmarc asked. Their uncle seemed a little too adamant on the matter.

  Uncle Dorthna shook his head. “It’s not about what he was, Mel. It’s about who else is looking for him.”

  “Who else is looking for him?” Ark asked.

  Uncle Dorthna’s eye twitched at Ark’s question. “Questions and questions and more questions,” he muttered to himself, then he looked at Melmarc. “I blame it on you. Ark only asks questions because he knows that you want answers.” He scratched his head in exasperation. “Remember the story of the Dying Light?”

  Melmarc shook his head. Ark nodded.

  “People like that,” their uncle said. “People so strong that when they fight, they lay waste to entire worlds. Stay away from anything concerning the [First Man]. And Mel, learn to take your phone everywhere with you. Even portals. My enchantments have more safety features than you think.”

  With that, their uncle turned, throwing his hands in the air. “No more questions. I swear you kids make me feel older than I am.”

  He disappeared around the corner and entered the kitchen.

  Melmarc looked from where their uncle had disappeared into to Ark. “Any idea what that was about?”

  “You’re the one that can tell when people are lying,” Ark pointed out. “Was he lying?”

  Melmarc didn’t think so. But he also had a feeling that any lie he caught their Uncle in only happened because their Uncle allowed it.

  “No idea,” he answered finally. “I don’t think the thing really works on him.”

  “Won’t say I’m surprised.” Ark got up from the ground, taking his phone with him. “Did mom say when you were going to Brooklyn?”

  Melmarc nodded. “If dad doesn’t wake up by the end of next week, then we’ll be going at the end of next week.”

  “Any idea what’s going to happen?”

  Melmarc gave his brother a look. Ark had been the one who told him they were going to get his things back.

  “Oh, please,” Ark rolled his eyes. “You and I both know that it has nothing to do with the things you left behind. We just replaced your phone the day before yesterday. We also know your laptop can be replaced anytime, and you have almost as many clothes as a girl. You guys aren’t traveling because of clothes.”

  Sometimes Ark was so jovial that it was easy to forget that he was smarter than he actually acted. His real problem was—in Melmarc’s opinion—that he didn’t like thinking, not that he was bad at it.

  “I think mom wants to punish those that were in charge of my mentor program,” he answered.

  “Sweet.” Ark slipped his phone in his pocket and rubbed his hands together. “It’s been a long time coming. I have a few suggestions that could help if you’re interested.”

  “Sure.”

  Melmarc walked up to his brother. Together they headed to their room.

  Melmarc was more than happy to hear the creative levels of punishments his brother had in mind. If they succeeded in finding David Swan, he was more than happy to use them.

  After all, a traitor by choice deserved what was coming.

  Melmarc felt so strongly about it that he knew the part of him that was obsessed with punishing people for their actions was responsible for that line of thought.

  For once, Melmarc and that part of his mind were in complete agreement. David Swan deserved what was coming for him.

  The moment he agreed on it, his interface popped up.

  [Optimum Existence (17.02% -- > 20.00%)]

  “You good?” Ark asked, and Melmarc dismissed the interface.

  That had been a leap in the percentage. The question was if had happened because he completely agreed with his mind.

  Not for the first time, he asked himself one worrying question: What would happen when it hit one hundred percent.

  “I’m good,” Melmarc said as he started walking again, catching up to Ark. “What were you saying about this non lethal idea you had for being drawn and quartered?”

  “I was saying…”

  Melmarc listened as his older brother talked about the most vividly descriptive way of how to draw and quarter a person without the lethality that came with it. Apparently, it involved all the usual requirements with the addition of an S-rank [Healer].

  He hated to admit it, but his brother had a possible career in being a torturer.

  If the whole [Demon King] think doesn’t work for him.

  Ark closed the door behind them and began on a different idea. This one was about dropping a person from the top of a skyscraper.

  He was barely two sentences into his explanation when Melmarc’s phone vibrated in his hand.

  Pulling it out, he looked at the notifications.

  “When are you calling Nin?” Ark asked. “Your phone is all prepped and ready. She’ll be expecting your call.”

  Melmarc was going to call Ninra tonight when he was sure that she was at her place. Right now, however, his attention was captured by something else.

  Ark walked up to him and looked down at his phone.

  He had five new email notifications. Each one was highlighted with the names of their senders. Melmarc’s heart beat heavily in his chest as he saw the names of the email senders. All the top five schools had replied to his application.

  He was nervous. What if they all rejected him? Maybe he should’ve applied earlier? What if they were emailing to inform him that he didn’t make the cut?

  “Calm down, Mel,” Ark said casually. “Your hair’s glowing.”

  Melmarc’s hand swept up to his hair where there was a white patch. He switched on his front facing camera and looked at it. The white lock of hair was not glowing.

  On his screen, Ark grinned at him.

  “Wouldn’t it have been awesome if it was?” he laughed.

  Melmarc frowned at his brother before returning to the screen with the messages.

  “All five of them, at the same time?” he muttered.

  Ark rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Moment of truth, brother mine. Moment of truth.”

  Melmarc clicked on the first email. It was from the Seat of Wisdom.

  “Dear mister Lockwood,” Ark read. “We wish to inform you that…”

  A new notification popped up, interrupting him. Melmarc’s attention couldn’t help but snap up to it even as Ark read the new notification.

  “Please tell me you’re alive and safe?” Ark read, a little confused. “And why does the name sound familiar?”

  Melmarc swiped the message out, returning to the email from the Seat of Wisdom. “Just finish reading.”

  “No need. I already have. They accepted you.” Ark moved so that he stood in front of him. “Now tell me, who is Pelumi and why is the person begging you to tell them that you are alive and well?”

  …

  “Hey! Calm your ass down!” Pelumi’s aunt barked when Pelumi suddenly sat up, shocking her. “You’ll give me a heart attack. You might be a Giftted but I’m not.”

  “Sorry, ma,” Pelumi apologized. But it was a weak apology, thrown without thought as her mind focused on something else.

  After days of sending messages to Marc’s phone number she’d gotten from Detective Alfa, one of her messages had finally delivered successfully.

  She stared at the black dash that appeared beside the message, prove that the recipient had successfully received the message.

  Come on, she prayed, turn green.

  Green, after all, was the color that implied they’d read the message.

  As she waited with her heart in her throat, her mother walked into the living room with a plate of food in hand.

  “What did I miss?” her mother asked, staring at television. “Did the… Pelumi, which boy is making you smile like that?”

  Pelumi’s mother was usually very teasing whenever she was smiling at her phone. It was always some joke about what boy was making her smile or what terrible video she could be watching. Today, however, Pelumi couldn’t be bothered by her mother’s teasing. She was smiling at her phone and she didn’t care.

  Why?

  The answer was simple.

  The black dash had turned green.

  Her smile widened in relief. She could be wrong, but she had always been more of an optimist. So, she banked on one thing being true, the simplest explanation.

  He’s alive.

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