Andrei

By the time of my scheduled meeting with Jakob Adler, I'd mapped out the layout of the lair, memorizing a half dozen routes by step counts and tactile landmarks. That being said, I didn't need Riz's help to find the laboratory, and when I left our room that night, he was fast asleep and snoring. I'd half expected Maryse to stand me up, so when she greeted me near the laboratory door with a whispered, "Hey," and a light tap on the shoulder, I responded with a small smile. There was the click of a lock and a squeak as she opened the way. A poke in the back urged me forward.

"You have ten minutes," she said. "I'll give you two your privacy."

I stepped into the laboratory and Maryse closed the door behind me. Privacy in a room full of caged Anima who would surely involve themselves in our conversation. Privacy, with a psychologist's ear to the door, no doubt. I filed through my recollection of the room last I was there. Two long tables on each side, stacked with delicate equipment. Carts parked at either side of the tables, ready for transport. There had been torches lit then, but I imagined they were now extinguished. Shelves packed with books and and corked bottles, far enough out of my way. Silver cages lining the walls, with Jakob straight ahead and slightly to the left. I took tentative steps, feeling for any surprises.

There were scurries from within several cages, and I turned my head to either side, as if it mattered. Nobody spoke, but I pictured their faces pressed up against the bars. There was silence within the laboratory until…

"Andrei, son of Andreas!"

He sounded happy to smell me, so I stepped to the left and turned toward Jakob's cage.

"Hello, Jakob."

"Come, come! Closer, let me feel you," he said. "I've been dying to know if you look more like mommy or daddy. The others can't seem to agree. Me? Mirror image of my mother." Tap, tap, tap on the silver bars in front of me. "Closer."

I learned forward and promptly felt a pair of small, cold hands upon my face, outlining my sharp cheekbones. Pat, pat—he dragged a nail across the cleft in my chin. He traced the contours of my prominent, aquiline nose, laughing and moving upwards, until finally, he stopped. He tugged at the fabric I'd wound around my head to conceal my disfigurement. On the day we'd first met, Jakob had been wearing one similar.

"Oh no!" Jakob said. "Did they get you, too, Andrei, son of Andreas?"

"They?" I asked.

"They, they—the eye-pluckers are going to pluck your eyes."

The eye-pluckers—mythical creatures designed to frighten Partisan children. If you didn't behave, the eye-pluckers would sneak through the windows in the orphanages and pluck your pretty eyes. If you didn't eat your vegetables. If you talked back. If you used your powers against the Barren children. If you even thought about running away. If I hadn't been so grounded in reality even as a boy, I would have lived in constant fear of the eye-pluckers. Though I had no choice but to eat my vegetables, I was surly and prone to temper tantrums, often ending in assault—albeit accidental—against the Barren children.

"It was one of your kind, actually. Lidia Roska."

"Oh shit," said a voice to my left.

Jakob Adler clicked his tongue. "Yes, yes. I should have known."

"How is Lidia?" another nearby asked. "I enjoyed watching her work."

"So sorry for my kin, Andrei, son of Andreas. They can be so insensitive. But I knew her when she was a girl of twelve, thirteen, fourteen. For a drippity-drop in time, she was my only friend. I fear I may have inspired her."

There was silence until I cleared my throat. For now, I had an important question to ask—a question I'd been trying to ask the first time we met, before we were interrupted by Rhydian Sinclair. "If the eye-pluckers took your eyes, Jakob, were you a Partisan?"

"Now, now, now—there was no such thing as a Partisan one thousand and thirty-nine years ago, Asa. Is it acceptable if I call you Asa?"

"It's fine," I said. "Then if not a Partisan, why would the eye-pluckers 'get you'?"

"An excellent question. Do we all agree?"

A chorus of murmurs from around the room sounded in accordance.

"Closer." Jakob tap, tapped on the bars.

I leaned in toward the bars, expecting the Anima to touch my face again, but Jakob kept his hands to himself and spoke six words which were barely audible. Oddly enough, his breath smelled of mint.

"Your ear to my lips, Asa."

I turned my head to the side.

"I will tell you everything," Jakob whispered.

"In seven minutes?"

"I will tell you everything," Jakob repeated. "But first you must do something for me."

The final minutes with Jakob Adler were spent discussing what Maryse agreed to bring me there to discuss—how to adjust to life without sight. The advice was predictable and for her benefit only: keep a clean room with everything in its proper place (as if I didn't), memorize routes in steps (as if I hadn't), consider, perhaps, a cane (doubtful). The most impactful advice, though: learn how to control your powers.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

My hearing and sense of smell, already enhanced, would become my new eyes. There'd be no need to find shelter if I were lost outside in the cold. As a Celestian, I could adjust my temperature on a whim. I could move obstacles with my mind or blow them to bits, if preferred. I could light a fire, or I could extinguish one—reliably. I could heat up my own food, cool down my own drinks, and even, with more advanced study, tap into the very elements around me to see for me.

When our time was up, Maryse walked me back to my room, but not before making me promise I'd see her in two days for another session. If I was to help Jakob, then I would have to play nice—keep my head down, conform, and attend therapy if I must. Riz was awake when I returned. I couldn't tell you what he'd been doing when I walked into the room—for all I know he'd been doing jumping jacks stark naked. Whatever it was, he ceased immediately and pulled the chair out of the way. A creak of protest when he sat. What we Celestian lacked in bulk, we made up for in height.

I made my way toward the bed.

"How'd it go?" Riz asked.

"Fine," I said.

"Yeah? Good. But I still don't understand why you'd want to talk to one of those things after what they did to you."

"They didn't do anything to me. Lidia Roska did something to me. Her brother, Alexander? He was a good man."

"You think he was a good man," Riz interjected. "Or, heh—a good Manima."

I sighed heavily.

"Listen," Riz continued, "I'm just saying—you don't know what kind of whatever Alexander was. Maybe he kept widows locked in a cellar and made them recite the alphabet backwards all day. I just don't think you should trust any of them. It's the safer bet."

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, I shrugged. "Who said anything about trust?"

"You seem to trust Alexander was good, yeah? But how many of those things did you encounter that weren't so good? Like, why aren't these Anima running around openly? Why do they live so secretively that the people in Amalia don't know they exist? That even most Partisans don't know they exist? If there are decent ones, it can't be many because then, what's the fuss? It's not discrimination, Drei. It's math."

"You're right," I said. "About the math. And those are excellent questions. But they are the reason I have to take a chance on Jakob. We aren't going to find the truth alone by speaking with those who seek to destroy the Anima. We aren't going to find the truth alone by speaking with the Anima either. The truth lies somewhere in the middle."

"I guess." A pause. "So did you get any? Answers, I mean."

"Jakob is one thousand and thirty-nine years old," I said. "Jakob is over a thousand years old, Riz. And yet, Jakob was a Partisan."

"You sure? Because Partisans didn't exist pre-Divide."

"Perhaps not Partisans as we know them, but what if our history is a lie, what if the theology is wrong?"

There was a creak as I imagined Riz slouching against the backrest.

The fast friendship I was forming with Riz was the highlight of my stay at the lair. He'd been nothing short of accommodating, seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me, and unlike any other Celestian I'd met, wasn't disgusted by the mere idea of my existence.

"Consider: we've determined the Anima existed pre-Divide," I continued, "as evidenced by the appearance of Zacharias Vonsinfonie—"

"I still can't believe you met him."

"I'd hardly call our encounter in the catacombs a meeting, and if he was the one to have healed me, I don't remember any of it."

"Yeah, but still."

I conceded with a shrug and a nod.

"So what else?" Riz asked.

"The eye-pluckers may, in fact, be real."

"You're joking?"

"If only," I said, explaining to Riz what Jakob had implied about the eye-pluckers—that they'd been the one to blind him.

"But isn't Jakob a little bit…" A pause. "…I don't know—crazy?"

"He's eccentric to say the least."

"So, is that it?"

"We only had ten minutes."

A huff.

"But he did have one piece of sensible advice for me," I said. "And it's something you can help me with."

"I am a fantastic helper."

I nodded. "Your offer to teach me everything you know. Does it still stand?"

There was what felt like an eternity of silence, and then, a steady swooshing sound—like two pieces of sandpaper grating against one another, only smoother. It took me a moment, but it was unmistakable. Riz was rubbing his hands together.

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