The moment he took off on his own, it was as though the cosmos itself were breathing life into his limbs.

  I’m alive, he thought. I made it! Hah! I’m alive!

  Yes, Avesta had lopped off a bit of his earlobe. And yes, there had been some potentially life-changing revelations made about his father. But he was very much alive and mostly in one piece.

  That's what matters.

  Avesta had guided him through the pillared gloom of the forest until they reached the edge, and there she crossed her arms and gave him one last look. “You would do well to remember what we agreed upon, Petyr.”

  “Of course,” he told her quietly, like a knight taking a solemn vow.

  But in his heart, there was a party. I’m alive, I’m alive, I’m alive. The triumphant grin was difficult to wipe off his face.

  Petyr half-expected her to go against what they’d agreed upon and strike him dead with that bolt of hers as he went up the stairs of the porch towards the house.

  No bolt came.

  Alive.

  As he pushed the door open, he wondered how exactly he’d approach the subject of what happened with his father. Hi, Dad, so, I heard you’re Squeezer and you make drugs for the bandits. Not the best way to start the conversation.

  At first, Petyr was surprised that no one was waiting for him in the hallway. He figured Alis and his father would be worried half-to-death and standing by the door praying for his return.

  Maybe they’re out? Maybe they’re looking for me?

  Just as the thought crossed his mind, the basement door opened and his father emerged, tired, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his bald head. Hard at work cooking up some drugs, no doubt.

  In the middle of the day too. What a champ.

  Gregory wiped his hands on his apron and was about to head towards the kitchen when he noticed his son standing in the hallway.

  “P-P-Petyr!” he said, spooked by his appearance.

  All this time, he figured his father would just be relieved to see him.

  The tone, though, was almost accusatory. Hadn’t he been worried about me being gone?

  Gregory rushed over and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into the house proper and away from the door. “Petyr, where have you been?” he snapped.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  This was not the voice of a concerned and worried father, but an angry and frustrated one.

  Petyr wasn’t even sure what to say. Why was he acting so strangely? Why wasn’t he on his knees crying with relief that his son was back? Was this just what an over-worried dad acted like?

  “Petyr…” Gregory sighed deeply and held his eyes. “Tell me you had nothing to do with this.”

  The hand remained on his arm, squeezing tightly.

  “To do with what?” Petyr snapped back.

  “Petyr.” His father inhaled sharply, releasing his arm.

  Gregory lowered his head, then his gaze shot back up. Why did he look so damn worried? “Petyr, Jayne was found dead.”

  The words barely registered for a moment. Petyr stood next to his father in the gloomy end of the hallway, staring at his shiny bald head. “What do you mean dead?”

  The look on Gregory’s face made him wish he hadn’t asked that. “What do you think I mean, Petyr? That Oni of yours found her in the middle of a field.”

  “That Oni, he corrected, “isn’t mine. And what are you trying to say?" It was almost unbelievable that he was implying... "You think I had something to do with this?”

  Though the news was shocking, the fact that his father thought he could in any way be involved was even worse. How could he think that? Petyr? A killer?

  Just how?

  “If you tell me you had nothing to do with it, son, I’ll take your word for it.”

  “To hell with that!” Petyr unleashed, taking a step back. “I can’t believe you’d think I’d kill someone! A girl! You think I’d kill Jayne? Have you lost it, man?”

  Gregory sighed again, and rubbed his creased forehead with a pained expression. “Petyr, listen… You came home the other night with that bump on your forehead. And then yesterday, right after she’s discovered, you disappeared! What am I supposed to think?”

  “No, you’re right,” said Petyr, his sarcasm dripping with venom. “Clearly proof that I’m a murderer. Then again, you would think that. Being in your line of work.”

  For a moment, his father showed no reaction, freezing in place just as he had done before.

  Then, after a few seconds, Gregory calmly asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  Petyr considered telling him what he knew. It was just one word after all. Squeezer.

  Every muscle in his body was tense and ready for release. But he knew he was standing at a threshold.

  The moment he said that word their relationship would be transformed forever.

  “Petyr,” Gregory repeated, the panic from before replaced by an icy tone. “I asked you what you meant by that.”

  The way he reacted all but confirmed it. It’s true, then. He does work with the bandits.

  Though Petyr ended up agreeing with Avesta before and buying into her theory, a tiny part of him still allowed the possibility of being wrong. The best theories could prove wrong, after all.

  But now…

  “Only that alchemists are all crazy,” Petyr said with a wry smirk.

  Before, it seemed logical to tell his father everything about Avesta. This confrontation shifted that a bit. After all, if his father could think he was a murderer, what else might he think?

  What else might he do?

  Gregory bobbed his head, deflating once more. “Son, I’m… I didn’t mean to make you think I was doubting you before. It’s just—I needed to be sure. Accidents happen.”

  “Right.”

  “Sometimes people do bad things because they’re bad people. Other times… other times life just comes at you too fast for you to know what you’re doing.”

  Were they still talking about what had happened to Jayne? Somehow he doubted it.

  “I’m going to go to town. See what’s going on,” he said.

  By the time Gregory saw fit to respond, he was already opening the door. “Petyr!”

  He sighed, turning, expecting to hear his father warn him about staying home.

  Instead, he asked, “Where were you last night?”

  Petyr paused, then smiled. “Let’s talk about it when I’m back.”