Tyrius turned his gaze toward George’s killer.
To his surprise, Marcus wasn’t looking at him.
Instead, a lone golden ring hovered inches from the man’s face, pulsing gently. Marcus stared at it, transfixed. He could tell it was his mother’s storage ring.
Tyrius, however, felt a sense of danger from it now. The ring glowed with a strange mixture of colors—vibrant, shifting, incomprehensible. He didn’t know what they meant, only that they were powerful.
Then, space warped around it—and the ring erupted in a blast bending the very air.
Marcus tried to toss it aside, but it was too late.
Tyrius raised his remaining arm to shield himself. Immense pressure hammered over him… and passed just as quickly.
He lowered his arms in confusion at how he was miraculously unharmed.
Tyrius didn’t know much about magic in this world. He’d only seen it a handful of times—flickers here and there.
He had never been allowed to learn more. His questions were ignored, brushed aside. Some outright forbade him from even asking.
But in a world filled with magic, there’s only so much you can hide.
His first sighting had been something trivial—a firebolt cast by a Creedmore guard during training.
He was mystified.
Hearing that magic existed was one thing. But seeing it—feeling the heat of a conjured flame, born of nothing but will—that was something else entirely. That was real.
His mind, still cluttered with half-remembered science and physics, rebelled. He understood how the world worked—rules no one else here could even begin to grasp.
Everything he knew said this shouldn’t be possible—yet here it was
Tyrius already had ideas—experiments. If even one of them worked, he’d have an edge.
And if science failed him? He had hundreds more, drawn from the fictional worlds he’d devoured.
If magic could summon fire like that… what couldn’t it do?
He knew, in that moment, what he would pursue.
Magic.
He would dedicate himself to unraveling the secrets of this world.
Nothing would stop him.
Not pain. Not fear.
He just had to wait—until he could take that first step to Tier 1.
Until then, he would study. Watch.
And it was for this reason Tyrius often found himself studying magic even when he probably shouldn’t be.
That explosion… it hadn’t just warped the air.
No—it had bent the space around it.
He had never seen anything like it. So he tried to study its aftermath.
But before he could, a pair of arms swept him into a tight embrace.
He recognized the feeling instantly.
His mother.
“Tyrius, baby!” she cried, her voice tight with urgency.
“Everything is going to be okay. I promise.”
“Why is Marcus attacking us?” he whispered.
She didn’t answer right away—her empowered body already carrying them through the forest faster than any Olympian ever could.
Trees blurred around them as Tyrius bounced in her arms, barely able to hold on.
He hadn’t experienced this kind of speed many times—but it never failed to overwhelm him.
The people in this world… they’re so strong.
“I don’t know, baby,” Lillia said softly. “But we need to get out of here. Hang on tight—and stay quiet.”
He obeyed instantly, tightening his grip.
The march of rain swept across the land, its distant voice closing in fast.
Moments later, cold drops struck his face—
Then the downpour came.
Every second his mother put between them and the battlefield mattered. Even the sounds of combat were starting to feel distant.
But Tyrius could still hear the clang of steel. They were ringing out less frequently now and more… final. The fights were ending.
He noted how tight Lillia’s face was with exertion. She was pushing herself to her limits for him.
His last remaining family, doing everything she could to protect him.
Lillia wasn’t struggling to carry him.
No—this strain came from trying to run faster than she should be able to.
Advancing through tiers enhanced many things, and the physical body was one of them.
She could sprint faster than any human while carrying Tyrius easily.
But even magical bodies had limits.
Her eyes were locked forward, rigid with focus—and fear.
She wasn’t thinking about herself. Only about getting him to safety.
That’s respectable, he thought. Doing everything you can for someone you love.
Then a strange sensation caught his attention—its pulse rippling away into the distance.
His eyes locked onto her hands—and the dimly glowing stone she cradled. Faint lines pulsed beneath its surface, subtle and deliberate. Tyrius had never seen this relic before.
Why has she never shown me this? Wh—
He didn’t finish the thought. Something was answering the sensation he’d just felt. A new tide of power was approaching—fast.
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Goosebumps prickled across his skin as it coursed through him. The pressure was overwhelming.
BA-DUMP.
His heart pounded as the energy swept by. It was unnerving, powerful... and angry.
The sensation surged into the crystal. The dull stone pulsed once—then began to glow with a color he couldn’t even comprehend.
One might find comfort in a glow like that. But Tyrius didn’t. He felt it for what it was—a warning.
The shift caught his mother’s attention immediately. Her eyes flicked down to the relic, then narrowed. Her grip tightened around it.
She’s anxious. What is she doing?
He didn’t know what the change meant—only that it mattered. And whatever it was, it had put his mother on edge.
The sounds of battle were fading. Steel no longer clashed.
Then came yelling—organized, sharp.
And through it all, a ragged voice tore through the night:
“YOU STUPID BITCH!”
Lillia flinched—but she didn’t stop running.
Moments later, the voice came again.
“Lilllliaaa…” Marcus called, like one might to a pet—mocking, casual, and far too close.
Tyrius clutched his mother’s clothes tighter as he felt her muscles strain. She was pushing harder now—eyes darting, legs cutting through the forest in a desperate attempt to throw Marcus off their trail.
Her eyes widened—then she sidestepped sharply.
A sword hissed through the air behind them.
Lillia’s maneuver had made it miss.
But they weren’t safe yet.
Her foot caught on the uneven forest floor.
They began to fall.
Lillia curled around Tyrius protectively as they flew sideways.
They slammed into the ground, a dull grunt escaping her lips. They rolled over each other, bodies skidding through brush and dirt.
Both Tyrius and the crystal were unwillingly dumped from her grasp, scattering onto the ground in front of her.
The speed they’d been moving made the impact brutal. Tyrius hit the ground hard, his still-fresh wounds flaring in protest.
He bounced, tumbled—
Then slammed into a tree.
“Ugh!” Tyrius growled through clenched teeth as the air was forced from his lungs.
Bark tore into his back at the sudden stop, ripping open fresh flesh.
The falling rain had turned the earth damp, and mud quickly seeped into his clothes, chilling him.
He looked up, vision blurry and disoriented from the impact. He spotted the blurry form of his mother already on her feet and running toward him.
Lillia moved swiftly, deftly snatching the crystal from the ground.
A looming shadow appeared behind her.
“Mom!” was all Tyrius managed to scream—
Before a flash of silver tore a gash across her back.
She screamed in agony, falling to the soaked earth, eyes never leaving his.
They were defiant.
Frantically, Tyrius clawed at the ground—panic constricting his chest.
NO! Not her too! I have to get to her.
He dragged himself forward, his body limp. Wet dirt packed beneath his fingernails as he struggled.
“That really hurt, you know,” Marcus said, feigning a pout.
He stood triumphantly over Lillia’s fallen form, his clothes had oddly neat tears with edges soaked in blood. The wounds from the blast were already closing—his natural healing and a health potion stitching him back together fast.
“But it would seem it wasn’t enough. And, our little chase is now over,” he sneered.
Lillia ignored the man’s taunt and tried crawling toward Tyrius as well.
Both mother and son, battered and bleeding, made slow progress. The storm only grew heavier by the second.
Tyrius had always cherished the sound of rain. Gloomy days had felt like comfort to him—soft, peaceful. Not just in one life, but both.
But now, it felt different. Colder. Sadder.
Maybe the heavens are mourning this day.
“Hey! Are you two even listening to me?” Marcus snapped.
Tyrius didn’t look up. His eyes were locked on his mother. He had to get to her.
Marcus didn’t like being ignored. With a flash of anger, he lashed out again—drawing another long gash down Lillia’s leg.
As if to compliment the horrific slash, lightning lit up the sky as thunder cracked loudly overhead.
It would seem the heavens were indeed watching this battle after all.
She screamed once more, raw pain tearing through her voice.
Marcus chuckled at Lillia’s scream, the sound wet and guttural.
“Now that’s what I wanted to hear,” he spat.
Still, Lillia ignored the man and crawled toward Tyrius, blood streaming down her body and mixing into the muck below.
“Scream for me again! Stop worrying about that boy—he’ll be dead soon enough.”
He slammed his boot into her side.
This time, only a pained grunt escaped her lips. Marcus clicked his tongue in annoyance at the sound.
But Tyrius didn’t notice. Marcus’ presence was nothing to him. He could only see her.
The force of the kick sent Lillia sliding across the ground, stopping just in front of Tyrius.
Marcus' boots sloshed wetly as he followed deftly, watching them both crawl toward each other.
She looked up weakly, tears streaming down her face.
“Mom! Mom, are you okay?” Tyrius cried as tears fell freely. He clawed forward the last few feet. His hand landing on her shoulder, he gripped tightly on the fabric and dragged himself almost nose to nose with his mother.
“Tyrius… my baby. I love you so much. Everything’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
Her eyes filled with pain—not from her injuries, but from seeing him like this.
“Blah blah blah,” Marcus mocked, approaching slowly. His offhand lazily pulled down his hood.
Lightning cracked through the sky, illuminating the clearing.
Marcus wore a disgustingly satisfied grin.
Tyrius glared up at him. Marcus’ dark green eyes gleamed with joy—sick joy—at the suffering he’d caused. A scar ran down the side of his face.
Tyrius remembered that scar. Marcus had earned it fighting beside his father.
He’d thought Marcus was a friend. Not close, maybe—but not cruel. Marcus had never treated him with open hostility. If anything, he’d kept a polite distance.
Tyrius had assumed Marcus just didn’t want to be mocked for being kind. He understood that.
But this?
Was it all an act?
Rage flared in Tyrius' chest. Weakly, he pushed forward, trying to shield his mother.
“Leave her alone, Marcus!” he shouted.
Marcus sneered—and backhanded him.
Tyrius hit the dirt with a wet thud.
“Tyrius!” He heard his mother cry but she was slowly bleeding out. Tyrius knew his mother didn’t have much ability to fight. That was the nature of her path.
Limply, he looked up at his mother, their eyes locking. She had her hand outstretched toward him. In it was that same crystal.
Does she want me to take that?
Tyrius lightly reached out to take it from her.
The crystal thrummed, air trembling.
Marcus noticed the shift and dashed toward his mother, stabbing his sword down through her back and burying it into the ground below—pinning her.
“What the hell is this!?” He barked, kneeling down and snatching the crystal. He turned it over in his hands several times looking at it.
His mother let out a painful groan, her body skewered to the ground.
But her eyes never left her son.
“What did you do?” Marcus barked, pointing to the crystal. “What is this?”
“Tyrius…” Lillia choked out, blood at the corner of her mouth.
“I called him… for you. Just know… he would never hurt you.”
Her voice trembled.
“Don’t fear him. He loves y—”
Her upper body detonated in a flash of brilliant white power.
Gore sprayed in every direction. The broken fragments of her body mixed with the downpour, coating the clearing.
Tyrius sat frozen, his mother’s blood dripping from his face.
His eyes widened in despair.
“Man, I despise being ignored,” Marcus said calmly. His outstretched hand still shimmered with the power that had ended her.
“Oh well. I couldn’t sense anything from this anyway.” He shrugged casually tossing the glowing rock into the shallow crater that had once been his mother.
“I’LL KILL YOU!” Tyrius roared, forcing himself upright with every ounce of will he had left.
Marcus simply watched as the boy staggered to his feet.
As soon as Tyrius stood, a fist slammed into his gut.
He collapsed to both knees, coughing blood into the mud.
Marcus watched him—silent, indifferent.
Tyrius leaned back, legs splayed beneath him, and looked up with defiance.
“Your turn,” Marcus muttered, raising his sword.
Tyrius ignored the motion. Instead, he stared up at the dark clouds overhead.
The rain was cold. But it felt… nice.
He wanted to fight. He wanted to struggle.
But his body had nothing left to give.
He closed his eyes with a single thought.
I just wish I could see the sky once more.
