(K'hab)

  K’hab’s chair creaked as he leaned back, waiting for the final initiate. He closed his eyes, enjoying the few moments of peace before his next obligation. J’aksun, his assistant, knew to take their time bringing his next appointment. The obsidian-scaled draconi always spaced out K’hab’s meetings further apart than necessary.

  ‘Mother bless his soul,’ K’hab thought.

  He’d just gotten done with Eury’s review. She’d passed, but that was to be expected. She was the daughter of King Xavier after all. The king had raised two exceptional daughters. His first born reached rare-ranked adventurer in almost record time, claiming a guildmaster’s title for herself shortly after.

  And Eury was cut from the same cloth as her sister. K’hab knew Nightshade was lucky to have caught her eye. She’d go far in her long life, but he wouldn’t be vacating his own position anytime soon. There was too much at stake.

  K’hab had tidied up before meeting with any of the initiates today, as he usually did when entertaining guests in his office. J’aksun always offered to help, saying K’hab needed to learn how to delegate, but there were things K’hab couldn’t risk letting anyone know about. So he played at being absentminded, always “remembering” after he’d cleaned off his desk and put away all his research books.

  K’hab opened his eyes to the cleared surface. Tidying his workspace had a way of tidying his thoughts. A placebo, perhaps, but one that worked.

  Most of the books were harmless, just references—encyclopedias—public knowledge you could find in any library. All of those books remained in his office, just a dozen steps away. He kept books of the heart and entertainment in his personal library where Dylan and Nathan currently waited. Not that he’d touched a single volume in that room in decades.

  He’d have digitized his books, integrating them with the latest magitech networks. But that would make the troublesome ones, the ones locked away behind bookcase facades, stand out even more. Those were the ones he couldn’t risk J’aksun running into.

  He really liked J’aksun. The draconi was attentive, passionate, perceptive, and handsome. Everything he could ask for in an assistant—a shame he had a spouse. Not that it had stopped K’hab before—the heart wants what the heart wants, and luckily for their marriage, K’hab’s heart belonged to another.

  Then there were his restricted books, those that placed him on a very short watch list with the League of Adventurers. Hypocrites, the lot of them. He was doing the same as them, collecting and protecting knowledge. Only on a smaller scale and a shoestring budget.

  The League often sent teams to recover such dangerous items. And Nightshade endured countless “random searches,” though the League’s agents always left empty-handed. K’hab never took his restricted items out of his personal dimensional space—a generous gift from the Legacy of Dimension. Only K’hab had access. Apart from the legacy, of course—they were a legacy, after all.

  Although K’hab wouldn’t call him a friend, exactly. They were friendly enough. Trust didn’t come easily to K’hab, but their mutually aligned goals made them allies. The unique, personalized, and exceptionally handy gift was a nice touch too.

  In fact, K’hab knew at least three legacies, which was impressive in its own right. Especially since there were only fifty-three legacies at anyone time in the entire universe, give or take a few Time legacies—they rarely followed the rules.

  His mind drifted, and he wondered what would happen if he ignored the trial and just let Dylan stay. It could accelerate his plans by three months—time he’d gladly steal. But Dylan had already warned K’hab not to cut any corners with him when they’d first met a long, long time ago. While Dylan had purposefully avoided specifics, K’hab recalled him saying, “Past Dylan is a bit of a hot mess.”

  Dealing with Dylan was usually a confusing affair. Past Dylan to Dylan, was Future Dylan to K’hab, who K’hab was just getting to know now.

  Still, it was tempting to speed things up. The young man had found and brought back the skill book, even taking down an uncommon-ranked kaiju in the process—a truly impressive feat for anyone unranked. It even rivaled some of Lo’kai’s most outlandish accomplishments.

  But this was a conversation they’d already had. There were things Dylan needed to learn on his own, important experiences and lessons yet to come. Dylan had stressed that following the timeline was of utmost importance. Which was ironic, since that’s the exact opposite of what K’hab was ultimately trying to do.

  Upon first meeting Dylan, K’hab had been onboard with following the timeline. But since then, K’hab had seen a glimpse of where that led, and he was doing everything in his power to change it.

  A quick knock on the door told him J’aksun had stalled as long as he could. It was only a couple of minutes, but he cherished every one of them. He wasn’t looking forward to what he had to do next.

  “Come in,” he said, standing up to greet Nathan.

  J’aksun held the door open, and Nathan was the first to enter, giving a courteous bow of his head—a symbol of respect and well wishes among draconi. Nathan always had a big heart and a kind soul, but K’hab put on his practiced smile and returned a bow of his own.

  ‘This has already happened,’ K’hab thought. ‘It needs to happen.’ He reminded himself.

  “Please, take a seat,” K’hab said, choosing his words carefully.

  He avoided gesturing to the four chairs in front of his desk, not wanting to influence Nathan’s unconscious decision. Normally, there’d only be two, but he had J’aksun bring in more.

  Even something as simple as choosing where to sit revealed much about a person. It was just one of his countless tactics for manipulating information from people. He found knowledge gleamed unconsciously to be more honest.

  Nathan glanced at the chairs, hesitating a moment before taking the rightmost seat. K’hab had hoped his time with Dorian would’ve helped his self-esteem—something Dorian had in abundance. He’d also hoped Dorian might pick up a bit of self-reservation, or at least preservation, from his brother.

  K’hab noted Nathan’s choice of seat and thought, ‘The boy hesitates, believing he’s failed his charge and me. He still sits to my left, struggling to see his self-worth. The choice of the edge-most seat speaks to the guilt he feels, hoping Dylan will sit farther from him.’

  Altogether, it told him of Dylan’s failure—but he already knew that. They were all just going through the motions.

  The boy was still putting everyone’s needs above his own, and K’hab knew this would be hard on him. He wanted to comfort Nathan, to tell him how proud he was and that this wasn’t his fault. But he’d already been accused of favoritism with Meekan—and rightly so. He loved that girl like a daughter. Still, Nathan and Dorian had held a special place in his heart ever since he’d taken them in.

  “Well,” K’hab said. “How’d he do?”

  Nathan’s leg bounced with nervous energy. “He killed a kaiju for Mother’s sake…”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  He’d give Nathan the time to come to terms with everything. He owed the boy that much.

  Nathan sat up, gripping the armrests in each hand as he leaned forward. He glanced over his shoulder before whispering, “Really? A skill book?”

  K’hab nodded, answering his question.

  “But…” Nathan trailed off, not really wanting the answer—he knew better. He sat back, crossing his arms. “He… he was the one to find it and bring it back.” Nathan gestured in front of him, trying to emphasize his point.

  “Indeed, he did.” K’hab sat back and continued to let him dance around the topic as they swirled around it inevitably.

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  “It’s not fair.” Nathan looked up at K’hab. His eyes shifted to black, but K’hab didn’t need to see his eyes to know the boy was mad at him.

  “You’re right,” K’hab agreed. “It’s not fair. To go through so much, only to trip at the finish line.” But Dylan wouldn’t be the first initiate he’d fail, not even the first today.

  Nathan clenched his jaw and K’hab was sure it was the only thing holding back an unchecked tongue. He wished it didn’t. He wanted Nathan to scream at him, to yell and get upset. To say the horrible, terrible things he kept bottled inside.

  “Can’t you make an exception? Just this once. I’ve never asked you for anything—”

  “I know,” K’hab said, cutting him off. He didn’t want Nathan to cry—he didn’t handle crying well. Meekan had learned this early on, giving him plenty of practice at resisting. Though it still made him unreasonably uncomfortable. Thinking ahead, he hoped Dylan wouldn’t cry like the earlier initiate had.

  “Which is why I’m making an exception.”

  Nathan’s eyebrows shot up. “You are?”

  “Yes, he’ll be allowed to take the trial again.”

  “How does that work?” Nathan asked, scrunching his face in thought. “He’ll already know the test. How does that prove he can keep knowledge safe?”

  K’hab chuckled at Nathan’s questions. “Sorry.” He held up a hand to compose himself. “Are you arguing that I shouldn’t give him a second chance?”

  Nathan’s eyes went wide, and his mouth snapped shut. He shook his head, suddenly onboard with the proposal.

  “Good.”

  K’hab knew Nathan would second guess and berate himself for the next few months over this, even though it wasn’t his fault. But K’hab saw an opportunity to bring another individual into the fold, and Dylan was going to do all the work for him.

  Everything was in place. All it needed was a little nudge in the right direction, and the rest would take care of itself.

  “I know you meant well, but I think Dylan should be taken under the wing of a real adventurer, common-ranked or higher.” K’hab watched the blow land on Nathan, who nodded in agreement.

  “Someone like Athrax,” K’hab said, choosing his words carefully to avoid lying. He didn’t really want Athrax to train Dylan, but he wanted them to think the idea was theirs when they chose his actual choice. “If you can find someone in the guild willing to do it, I’ll toss in a quest for their troubles.” He gave Nathan a moment.

  “But that’s all the guild assistance I should offer. I’m afraid that, on top of the offer of a second trial, it will seem like I’m showing favoritism with this initiate over the others.” Which was true, he was. But appealing to Nathan’s sense of justice had always gotten him what he needed.

  “I think it’s time we give Dylan the bad news,” K’hab said, getting up from his seat. Nathan quickly stood as well, his jaw tightening as he braced for the conversation ahead. K’hab made his way to the door and opened it.

  “Send him in,” K’hab said to J’aksun, and then shut the door. He could have asked Nathan to retrieve Dylan, but he wanted to be in position to use his ability—it required physical contact to work.

  K’hab made his way over to the side of his desk, leaning a hip into it. He positioned himself so Nathan would be on his right on purpose. He truly cared for the boy, and hoped he’d have more time to tell him how proud he was, but this would have to do for now. They all had a part to play, and this was his.

  Another quick knock on the door told him Dylan was ready.

  “Come in,” K’hab said, just as before, only this time standing beside his desk, not behind it.

  Dylan walked through the door and into the room. His appearance surprised K’hab, whose smile didn’t falter.

  Dylan’s figure had changed drastically. Two weeks ago, he was soft, round, cute—nothing like when they’d first met. But now, he’d lost weight, and K’hab saw the outline of the tough, lean man he’d eventually become.

  ‘How old was he when we first met?’ K’hab wondered for the first time. He hadn’t thought to ask back then, and Dylan appeared only a little older than he was now. But, as he’d learned with Meekan and her father, age was almost impossible to tell when someone possessed a Time orb.

  Dylan gave him a quick nod and took a seat beside Nathan.

  ‘Oblivious to his failure. Strong trust in Nathan. Lacking independence to stand on his own,’ K’hab thought as he observed Dylan take his seat.

  “Dylan, do you remember the motto I said during your sendoff?” K’hab asked, crossing his arms.

  “I can’t even remember what I had for dinner last night…” Dylan said and then frowned. “No, that’s a lie… It was flak, it’s always flak. Man, jokes are a lot easier back on Earth.”

  Nathan responded first, shooting him a look of disbelief at speaking to K’hab in such a flippant manner. “Dylan—”

  But K’hab raised his clawed-hand. Dylan had always been an odd one, and K’hab already had some experience dealing with him. He knew patience, like with most things, was the key.

  “Knowledge to seek and to keep,” Dylan said with much less mirth. “Yeah, I was paying attention.”

  “Good,” K’hab said. “Remembering is good, but understanding is better. It seems you missed the point of the motto.”

  Dylan tilted his head, frowning. “What do you mean?”

  “Before you left, I gave you four instructions. Do you remember them?”

  “No,” Dylan said, shrinking in his chair. “I can’t recall specifically.” His gaze dropped to the floor.

  “The first was to assist Tome & Key. You were instrumental in completing the quest. Without you, it would have failed.”

  K’hab pushed off the desk to take a lap around the room as he spoke. He needed Dylan to listen and learn, and was worried his focused attention might shut him down, like it usually did with Nathan. K’hab didn’t want another yes man; he had plenty of those.

  “The second was to follow instructions. Runemist and Wedge made it clear this was a weakness in your trial. Yet, had you fallen in line and simply listened, the quest would have failed. More importantly, your actions saved a lot of lives,” K’hab said, stopping and pretending to adjust an out-of-place book.

  “The third was to learn what you can,” K’hab turned around to face Dylan. “I’ve been told your curiosity is only rivaled by your ignorance.” Dylan frowned. “A strange compliment, I know, but we all have much to learn. And mistakes can be valuable lessons for those with a keen eye and an open mind. Nightshade can help you find any answer you seek.”

  He returned to his previous spot, leaning against his desk as his last sentence sunk in.

  “The last, and most important instruction, was to tell no one the details of your quest.” K’hab crossed his arms again, watching ripples cascade.

  Dylan winced, closing his eyes before slowly turning to Nathan, whose own gaze focused intently on his hands in his lap.

  “Don’t look at him,” K’hab said. “All he did was ask a simple question. It’s not his fault. But if you need to be mad at someone, you can be mad at me.” K’hab knew Dylan wasn’t mad at him, but he needed Nathan to know. He couldn’t afford to lose the boy; he played an integral part in what was coming too.

  “I’m not mad,” Dylan said softly, still processing what this all meant. “Does this mean I failed?”

  K’hab gave him a gentle nod and said, “Yes, it does.”

  “But,” K’hab was quick to add. Dylan and Nathan looked up at him, listening intently. “Taking into account everything else, I believe you deserve another chance.” He was glad they’d chosen to sit next to each other. It made this next part less suspicious.

  “You do?” Dylan asked.

  “I do.”

  K’hab pushed off the desk and walked behind the two of them, resting his hand on their shoulders, and activated Mindblock. [Mindblock] was a Void ability from his Psychic framework. It altered a memory, removing one or more aspects from it.

  He quickly sifted through Dylan’s memories, reviewing them in reverse and searching for the closest reference of the skillbook. He had to be surgical with his alterations. Each additional aspect altered made it more obvious to the target. He had learned the hard way—nearly costing him his life on more than one occasion. Since then, he stuck to altering one aspect at a time.

  K’hab was pleased when Mindblock upgraded to uncommon, allowing him to alter all references with just a single use. Before his uncommon upgrade, he had to find and alter every reference individually. Often, he’d have to seduce his target into a romantic affair to have enough time to get everything. That was messy and had earned him a reputation for a while, but at least it was fun.

  Even then, it wasn’t until his rare upgrade that he could affect multiple targets. Now, Mindblock removed all the references in Nathan’s mind at the same time as Dylan’s. It was another major improvement, and convenient for instances like this, where a failed trial led to an information leak that needed to get plugged.

  “I’ve no personal wealth I could afford to offer as thanks for your efforts,” K’hab said. It wasn’t a complete lie, not enough to trigger that troublesome passive.

  He’d amassed a considerable amount of wealth over his long career as an adventurer, but that was stored in his dimensional space and bookmarked for another important project. Besides, as the guildmaster, he had the authority to spend guild resources as he saw fit, without question or oversight.

  Making an exception was just a convenient excuse that indentured both Nathan and Dylan to him—an investment that cost him little more than a few months.

  “While it’s never been done before,” K’hab said. “I’d be remiss not to give you a second chance for your help in completing the quest.”

  K’hab had found a reference to the skillbook, quickly excising it from both their memories. Now, when they thought back to the quest and the objective, they’d recall every aspect except the actual item. A minor detail that would easily go unnoticed. Even if pressed for the information, they’d feel as if it was on the tip of their tongue, just out of reach and eventually toss it up to age, poor memory, or just another piece of information lost in the sands of time.

  [Quantum Thoughts] was the passive ability from his Psychic framework. It allowed him to split his mind, with each part focusing on a separate task at the same time. K’hab had always been good at multitasking, but after absorbing the Psychic orb, he was on another level.

  He let go of the boys and took a seat back behind his desk. K’hab’s mind drifted back to the last night he’d spent with Kairos together. The enigmatic Lord of Time assured him that the future couldn’t be changed. But K’hab refused to believe that. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept it. Not when everything he held dear was at stake. And not when the key to winning the war sat in front of him, picking at his nails.

  “And Dylan…” K’hab said.

  He looked up, his face still in shock. “Yeah?”

  “You’re the only exception. No one else will be allowed to retake the trial.”

  “Thanks,” Dylan said, yet again hearing but not understanding K’hab’s words. But that was okay. Something told K’hab that he’d start catching on soon enough.

  “The next trial is in three and a half months,” K’hab said. “I’d wish you luck, but it seems you’ve an abundance of that. So instead, I hope you learn from your mistakes. You’re dismissed.”

  He watched them both rise and leave the room without another word.