Chapter 1: Chapter One

I groaned as I pushed the door shut. I was exhausted. Today had been my monthly compulsory education download, and those always took it out of me. No matter how many times I sat in that uncomfortable metal chair and let them stick those awful leads to my temples it never got any less jarring or uncomfortable. Still, it was better than the alternative, rumor had it back before the download had been perfected they forced everyone at or under majority to sit in cramped rooms all day and learn everything through rote memorization. That sounded like torture to me.

Luckily, the download didn't actually hurt, it was just tiring and annoying to sit through. I called it a win in any case. I dropped my wallet and scan ring on the table by the door as I slipped off my shoes and headed inside. The lights were on when I got here, but that didn't mean much, so I raised my voice to call for my Uncle. "Hey Zeke, you here?" I got no response, but Zeke could get a bit wrapped up in his work so I headed back to his workshop to double check. The door was unlocked, and pushing it open all I saw was an empty workbench full of creepy painted masks, as usual.

I shrugged. Seemed like he wasn't home. I headed back to the kitchen and popped a mat stick into the materializer, selecting the meal I wanted and pressing the button. I left the food to construct and headed over to slump down on the couch calling out a command to the scan box on the table against the wall. A floating screen of light identical to the one that appeared over my scan ring when it was in use appeared above the table, and I instructed the box. "Local news. Let's see what's going on today."

The scan box brought up the local feeds as instructed. Scan tech was incredibly intuitive, a sort of amalgamation of old style AR and hardlight tech pioneered about a century ago by an Ascendant who went by the name of Dr. Radical. No one was quite sure why he called himself that, but mad scientists tended to be even weirder than most Ascendants, and even the heroic ones were usually pretty nuts, as evidenced by their label. Still, their creations made up about half of today's commonly used technology, so it was hard to be too dismissive.

That attitude, sadly, was not one shared by most people in the Conglomerate, as mad scientists were part of a select group of Ascendant powers that were considered to be high risk for corruption. Any potentially corrupt power was treated with suspicion and scorn, and that was one of the many reasons heroic mad scientists like Dr. Radical were an anomaly. It was a shame too, because they were damn useful, but so many of them got driven off the heroic track and ended up specializing in weapons because of all the disdain.

The feed today was pretty standard. Some heroic Ascendants from the Unity going up against one of the local criminal gangs. Most of the heroic Ascendants in the city ended up working for the Unity, mostly because their training centers were the only real place to get an introductory course on your powers when you Ascended. There used to be other places that would give a tutorial class on power use, but over time they had all ended up being "uncovered" by the Unity as being villain affiliated.

They weren't all bad though, Zeke hated them with a passion but I was pretty impressed with some of the executives. I wasn't really clear on how Ascendant powers worked since non Ascendants weren't really allowed to be in the know on that kind of stuff, but they could do some amazing things, plus the girls were pretty universally hot and almost all wore skimpy outfits, so what was there not to like. My personal favorite was Nightstrike, probably the youngest of the executives based on what you could tell in costume. Some people even claimed she was eighteen like I was.

After watching a light type Ascendant newbie from Unity named Captain Polaris bounce a couple goons who wore the telltale black suits and red heart painted masks of the Queen of Hearts goons I ordered the scan box to open my emails and started sifting through all my messages. I figured it was unlikely that Zeke bothered to tell me he wasn't going to be home but it was always a possibility. I scanned through the list of messages looking for his name but didn't see anything, and I was about to close the client when a name jumped out at me from the list.

Elijah Wyndham. I frowned. My dad never bothered to message me, I hadn't seen him in years and I rarely even heard from him. Still I was curious enough to open the message. It was a video message, and when I clicked it my father's face popped up on the screen. His sandy blonde hair and bright green eyes were only a few of the many features we shared, and despite being much taller than average at six foot three, I lacked the gravitas my old man could project even over the screen.

His piercing green gaze locked onto me as the message opened, almost like he was staring out the screen right into my soul, and I swallowed nervously. He always had that effect on me. On everyone I was pretty sure. His voice was flat and composed as he spoke to me, like I was a business acquaintance. "Hello Shane. Apologies for my lateness but I wanted to wish you a happy belated eighteenth birthday. I realize I'm a week or two behind but I've taken the liberty of sending you a token of congratulations via courier."

I almost fell off the couch. That was...wildly out of character. My dad didn't give gifts. Not for birthdays, or Christmas, or even for special events like weddings. He felt they implied obligation in one direction or another, and despised the concept of favors owed. My father insisted that life was a series of transactions, and that if something was to be given, an equal price should be paid in recompense. I was honestly flabbergasted that he would even think of something like a birthday present. I wasn't really sure how to take that.

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His clipped voice continued speaking as if he was reading my mind. "This token is not a gift. It as a form of repayment for my years of absence and for my failure to enlighten you on certain subjects which will later become apparent to you. I felt this was only fair, as this will be the last time I take the initiative to contact you. You are an adult now, and my messages, as few as they may have been, were an attempt to engage with a child." His voice was hard, but not cold, as he stared out of the screen sharply.

I...didn't know what to think. He was just cutting contact with me? He'd never been a great parent, but this was a bit abrupt even for him. I saw a slight softening around his eyes as he finished his message, the last paragraph clearly meant to soften the earlier statements as much as he was able. "Our family is a harsh one, Shane. You have to be strong to survive being a Wyndham. If you can't gain that strength and come to find me, never speaking to you again is more of a kindness than you can know. For what it's worth though, I hope to see you again someday, son. Goodbye."

The message vanished. In fact, it was literally deleted from my inbox, and upon further searches so were all the other messages my father had ever sent me. I kept them in a saved folder, and I'd only ever had maybe a dozen of them in there, but now the emails and the folder itself had vanished, and any searches I did completely failed to bring up even a mention of my fathers name. Even mentions of him in other emails weren't showing up, and when I checked a few emails to Zeke where I knew I'd mentioned him his name had been altered or deleted altogether.

I was just floored. Not only had I never expected this, my birthday had been over a week ago. The email was recent, like from today, and lateness was not a habit my father indulged in. I stood up, walking over to the materializer and taking out the hot steak sandwich I had set to construct before beginning the message, what seemed like ten minutes or even an hour ago, but had been, based on the time one of these took to make, less than two minutes. I took a bite of the hot steak, trying to focus and figure out what the hell had just happened.

Before I could focus much though I heard a knock on my door. I jumped, having been so distracted by my reverie I actually dropped my sandwich on the hard wood of my living room. I cursed and picked the thing back up, checking to make sure it wasn't visibly dirty before wiping up the slight mess with the napkin I had wrapped around the sandwich. I shrugged it off. I was hungry and the wiper unit cleaned the floors while we slept at night so no muss no fuss. I took another bite, pleased it was still just as good and headed to the door to open it.

Whoever had knocked hadn't bothered to try again, just leaving as soon as they'd rapped on the door, because I didn't see anyone in either direction down the hall. I assumed this was the "token of congratulations" my dad had mentioned, so I picked up the dark wood box with my non sandwich hand and carried it inside, kicking the door closed. I carried it into the kitchen and set it on the counter, scarfing down the rest of my sandwich. Then I washed my hands, drying them thoroughly and carried the thing to the table in the dining room nearby.

Opening it proved to be simple enough. It had a brass cypher lock like the ones my father used to give me as tests when I was a kid. A brass dial surrounded by a series of shiftable rings. I had to turn the rings to make a labyrinth, shifting the dial in between turns to extend a metal wire along the path. Once the wire was threaded through the rings to the outside of the lock I would push it in and a short electric charge would be conducted from the dial the rim of the lock, popping the latch and opening the box.

This particular lock had twelve rings and was unusually complicated, but I'd done enough of these to figure it our after some trial and error and after about a half hour I finally pressed the dial button and the box opened with a click. I nodded with a smile, I'd always felt pretty proud of myself after I did one of these, and even my dad was usually impressed. That thought wiped away the smile, since it reminded me he'd just basically cut ties with me completely, so I opened the lid and looked inside to see what he'd sent me.

Inside the box was a rolled up piece of old yellow paper. I frowned, but figured he wouldn't have sent me something useless. I unrolled the paper, but as I did, a small point of metal, something like a needle, which had been rolled up in it, pricked my finger. I dropped the paper with a curse, and it oddly rolled itself out flat as my blood dripped onto the yellowed surface. When my blood hit the paper though, it didn't soak in. In fact the paper did the opposite of get wet. It caught fire. A wave of purple flame rolled across the parchment from the spot my blood struck and I stared in slack jawed amazement as it scrawled out a phrase that was meaningless to me, yet somehow filled me with trepidation.

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