Blythe ran through the dark, trees crowding the path around him.

Looking over his shoulder, he could only see the gravel path winding gently behind him, muddling into a wall of tree trunks and darkness about 200 feet back. Turning his head back to face the direction he was running, Blythe shouted in surprise as his next stride fell through clear air and he tumbled over a sharp precipice. He felt a wind on his face as he plunged through a deep cylindrical hole. Bits of gravel rained down ahead of him, sending echoes up as they hit the walls and floor of the hole. As Blythe rapidly approached the ground, his heart leaped into his throat. He made a sudden, graceful movement with his arms, trying to twist himself and not land on his front, hoping that doing so would hurt less. As he did so, he heard a strange, windy whisper and felt a rustle of cloth...

As his body was about to come in brutal contact with the hard, stony earth at the bottom of the pit, Blythe sat up in his bed with a frightened shout.

Blythe was surprised to find, looking around the dimly lit room, that several loose objects were flung in a clumsy spiral about the room. The blue curtains that normally draped over the windows had been sheared askew, one caught over the end of the rod holding them, with the other fluttering as if a heavy wind had just lifted it and then released it. Loose papers rocked back and forth as they fell to the light gray carpet. It appeared as if a whirlwind had spun up around the bed and strewn most of the lighter items about the room.

While he was taking in the room and the nightmare began to fade in his mind, the door to the hallway swung open. The figure of a man of average height was silhouetted against the light flooding through the doorway.

Blythe blurted out, “Da! It was terrible! I was running the path through the woods! I tried to get away, but someone must’ve dug a hole! I fell and fell! It was so real! And when I woke up, my room was…”

“Blythe, are you OK?” Reagan, Blythe’s father stepped into the room looking concerned. “It sounded like a gale blew through...” Reagan’s head swiveled as he took in the state of Blythe’s room, “here.”

Blythe heaved a deep sigh, “I don’t know, Da.  When I woke up everything was a mess.  I had this scary dream.  I think I just need to talk... like last time.”

“Blythe, it’s OK now,” came Reagan’s reply as he strode across the room and sat down on the edge of Blythe’s bed.  “I’m here.”

Blythe clung to his father, tears streaming down his face as he began to recount the events of the nightmare again between sobs.

“I was here in the house, and we were sitting at the kitchen table, but it was in the living room.”  Blythe paused, thoughtful before continuing, “I think we were eating dinner, but it was too dark for our dinner time.

“The next thing I knew, I was running down a path in the woods, but they weren’t the woods where Cas and I play.  These woods were strange to me... I’d never been there before, but in the dream, I knew the path would end at a safe home!  Isn’t that odd, Da?”

Reagan nodded, “Dreams don’t have to make sense, son. They are how your mind refreshes itself for the next day or works through events in your life.  I had some very strange dreams when I was your age.”

“Anyway,” Blythe continued, “I was running down this path and something was chasing me.  I couldn’t remember what it was, but I knew I didn’t want it to catch me.  Then, suddenly, there was a deep hole that I fell into!  It was pretty deep too; I was falling for a long time!  Then I did something and when I was about to hit the bottom... I woke up.”

 Telling the story made him feel calmer and clearer headed.  His da seemed to notice as well because he patted Blythe on the shoulder and rose to his feet.

“Did you feel anything during that dream?” Reagan asked adding, “I don’t mean anything emotional, like fear or anger. It was a nightmare after all! I mean any sensations you don’t normally feel in a dream.”

Blythe thought for a moment and said, “I can still remember the feel of the wind at the end of my dream! It felt like I was awake feeling the wind on my face.  It did not seem like a dream wind where you feel it because you think you should feel it….”

“That’s what I thought. Blythe, I need you to promise me you will keep this between the two of us,” Reagan said, his expression becoming serious. “If the wrong people find out about this, they will take you away and I won’t be able to protect you.”

At this, Blythe felt a pang of fear.

“But don’t worry, we’ll just keep it between the two of us. Don’t even tell your brother.” With this, Reagan brushed a few of Blythe’s sandy blonde hair back, kissed his son on the head and walked to the door. Taking in the room again, he said, “I love you, son,” and turned to leave.

As the door closed behind him, Blythe just heard him whisper, “this explains the fire. He is still too young to be able to….” But Blythe was unable to catch the last of what his father said as the door closed with a click and cut off the soft tone of his father’s whispering voice.

Reagan Wood walked through the dimly lit hallway, past his oldest son's room towards his study. Opening the door to the study, Reagan was thinking back on the events of the night he first met Blythe. There was a lot of mystery around that night, especially considering the mysterious cause of the fire along with this toddler who somehow survived the inferno.

He kept articles he had written about that night locked in a safe built into the desk in his study and reviewed them regularly, trying to figure out how this child could have survived such an inferno.

Neither Reagan nor the fire investigators had been able to find any source for the flames, none that could be documented anyway, and the case was dismissed by most authorities. Reagan had taken the child in until someone could track down his family, but he had a suspicion that the two unidentifiable corpses had been the child’s parents. This seemed confirmed when no one came looking for the child.

No reports of a missing child matching Blythe’s description. Not a word aside from the piece Reagan wrote asking the community for any information to place the kid with his family. It had been nine years since that night and Reagan had not discovered anything else about this child’s family.

Blythe had shown some promise in a few areas even though he did not seem to realize that he was able to Manipulate things like Earth, Water, and Organics. It seemed like the child was Manipulating intuitively but he had been much too young to have been able to do any of this. Reagan decided then that, to protect his adopted son from prying eyes, he would keep Blythe on a short leash, Suppressing his abilities either personally or by module.

After the nightmare that showed Reagan the child’s ability to Manipulate air, he sewed a new, small Suppressor Module into the strap of the bag the boy carried to school every day. This, he hoped, should prevent anything dangerous from happening while Blythe was unaware of his ability to Manipulate. He also hoped that it would Suppress his Manipulative abilities in public, preventing anyone from asking questions about things Blythe was able to do innately. His backpack straps now were home to Earth, Water, Organic, and Air Suppressors as well as the Empathy Suppressor module to prevent faculty members from holding too much influence in Blythe’s upbringing. Reagan probed and found that Blythe was sleeping again and Manipulated a more pleasant mood for the child. Easing his son's emotional state seemed to help prevent him from experiencing the night terrors that had been growing more and more common, tonight’s being the worst thus far. He quietly went back to the boy’s room and straightened the room up. Once he was satisfied that the room was exactly as it had been before Blythe went to sleep, he stole back to his room and went back to sleep.

Blythe awoke the next morning to an orderly room with everything where it belonged.  The dream from the night before had seemed so real, he could even have sworn his father had seen the state of his room. He was worried that he’d have a huge mess to deal with, but apparently, it was just part of the strangeness of the dream.

He quickly got dressed and ran down to the kitchen so he could spend a little time with his father before they both had to leave, da for work and he for school. He wasn’t sure what his father did, just that he wrote a lot and seemed to know a lot more about the world than any of his friends’ parents did... or at least a lot more about it before their parents did. Blythe had dreams that maybe his father was a spy or some Ustan government worker. Reagan was not forthcoming with any details, even what happened to his and Cas’ mother, or why he and his older brother did not look anything alike. Cas liked to joke that Blythe was adopted, which always made their father upset and caused the kids to change subjects very quickly.

Cas and da were sitting at the table when Blythe came into the dine-in kitchen. Cas looked up from his bowl, some pastel-blue-colored milk dribbling down his chin as he cheerfully greeted his little brother.

“Blythe!  Good morning!  Hope you got as good a night’s sleep as I did!”

Reagan looked up from the news tablet and nodded to his youngest son.  “Hope you had pleasant dreams?”

With his father’s words, as often happened, feelings of warmth and calm flooded Blythe’s emotions. The last vestige of the nightmare from the night before completely faded from memory and he nodded to his father. “I had a weird dream, but it was mostly good... did you come into my room last night da?”

His father looked thoughtful, then shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.  “Just the normal rounds before going to bed.”

“Then the mess must’ve been a dream!” Blythe replied with relief, running a hand through his hair. “Some of it just seemed so real. I don’t remember all of it, but I remember there was a part that I was so scared about, but can’t remember why, and then you were there to help me.”

“Glad I could help then,” his father replied with a smile and a wink, “Now, you need to eat breakfast before the bus gets here. Can’t learn on an empty stomach.” He pointed to a plate at the table’s center stacked with pancakes, Blythe’s favorite.

Blythe grabbed an empty plate from the spot his father had set for him at the table and whisked three of the fluffy, steaming pancakes from the stack.  He smothered them in butter, powdered sugar, and dark brown syrup. Cutting through the stack, he took bite-sized chunks of all three pancakes in each mouthful, savoring the nutty, caramelized flavor of the syrup mixed with the rich creamy, and sweet flavors of the butter and sugar. As he ate, the last of his anxiety from his nighttime visions faded from his mind, replaced with contentment with his full belly and the love of his father and brother.

He finished his food, gathered his backpack and other school supplies, and went to the front door to wait at the bus stop with the other kids in the neighborhood for the bus. A few kids were milling about, mostly around Cas’ age, but a few were Blythe’s age.

The other kids all seemed to be friends, but they didn’t talk much to the two brothers. Blythe wasn’t sure why, but they seemed to get hushed when he and Cas came around, often whispering when they thought the boys were out of earshot.

On this day, the only exception was that there was a new kid at the stop.

She was about his age, a little shorter than him, and much more inquisitive than the other kids in the community. The first thing she said to Blythe was, “Hi! I’m Margaret, you seem a bit... out of sorts. Is everything OK? Did you have any weird dreams? I only ask because you look much more tired than everyone else here.”

“I'm fine, just had a really weird dream last night.” Blythe replied, “I’ll just catch a nap on the bus. Nice to meet you, Margaret, I’m Blythe and this is Cas, my brother.”

Cas waved and Margaret gave him a funny look and turned back to Blythe.

“I'm sorry, but most brothers at least look like they have some physical trait in common... you two look like the only thing you have in common is an address....” She looked thoughtful for a moment before jumping and putting her hands to her face. “That doesn’t mean you aren’t! Adopted brothers are still brothers, right? Or maybe you have a different parent? I just thought you were friends or something and...”

Cas and Blythe shared a look, the older brother looking quizzical. Cas looked back at Margaret, “is this just curiosity, or an attempt at small talk?”

Margaret looked down at her feet as if examining her shoes.

Blythe lightly punched his brother in the arm, “why you gotta be like that Cas?” Looking at Margaret he said, “he’s just a bit protective. To answer your questions, he’s the only one that looks like da but neither of us remembers what mom looks like. Da came back home with me when Cas was three and mom did not.  He doesn't talk much about that day and neither of us knows much about her. Da didn't even keep any pictures of her, says it ‘hurts too much to look at her and ‘not know’...”

Margaret looked up expectantly and whispered, “not know what?”

Cas opened his mouth to speak as brakes squealed on the bus pulling up to the stop the children had gathered around. The bus sunk on all four wheels with a light hiss and the doors at the front and center slid open with a whoosh. “Well, the bus is here, better get on there.”  Cas thought, and maybe we can forget this conversation.

Cas and Blythe climbed the steps into the bus behind Margaret, who sat at one of the sections of bench seats that were set up to face each other. Cas walked past her towards the back where benches all faced forward, but Blythe sat down on the bench across from Margaret.

Cas rolled his eyes and made his way back up toward the booth seats.  This girl’s gonna be trouble, I just know it. She’s way too interested...

“...why it hurts to see your mom’s picture?” Margaret was whispering to Blythe. They had bent closer to each other across the gap between the two benches to continue the conversation quietly.

Other kids were carrying on conversations around the bus, ignoring the new girl and the boy she seemed to have latched onto as a potential friend.

Cas noticed those that did look in the booth’s general direction looked relieved that it was the two brothers who held her attention and not theirs.  She’s making friend’s really well, isn’t she? She seems nice, but way too nosy. Maybe it’s just the newness...

Cas walked up to the booth and slid his way between the two younger kids to take the seat next to his brother.  Guess I can understand it. Let’s mess with Blythe though, that’s kinda the whole reason I’m here!

“What you two love birds talkin’ about?” He blurted to his younger brother and watched both their faces go red with a smile on his face.

Blythe looked at the floor, took a few breaths, and looked back up at Margaret.

“He’s just trying to get a reaction.  He’s good at that.”

“I could tell...” Margaret whispered, flustered. “He does it often.”

Cas started, that wasn’t a question. “Margaret, you’ve asked us a lot of personal questions. How about you? How old are you? Do you have siblings? Where did your family move here from?” How do you know about how my brother and I interact?

Margaret’s color slowly returned to normal as she responded, “That’s fair... I don’t have siblings. I've wondered what it would be like to have them, but my parents said they were good with just me.” She grinned at this and continued, “Not sure if that’s supposed to be a compliment, but it feels like they mean it with love when they say it. Mom seems a little sad when that topic comes up though, so I don’t talk about it with them anymore.”

“And we moved here from Hema Capist, mom and da saved up enough to move away from the city. They think it’s ‘too crowded’ and ‘not a safe place’ ever since the rumors of an Uwhali invasion started. They think people are, in their words, ‘getting a little too gung-ho about a couple of immigrants from a country most Ustans have never visited.’”

Cas waited a few minutes before asking, “you still haven’t answered one question: how old are you?”

Margaret shook her head, “I’ll tell you I’m about your brother’s age, maybe a little older, but that’s a guess. I’m not going to give you a number, as mom says, ‘a lady’s gotta have some secrets.’ Although she seems to think that’s funny when she says it to people who ask her how old she is....”

“You’re an odd one, Margaret,” Cas said, considering her response.  Hema Capist... Why would someone move their family out of that city?

“Thanks, I come by it naturally!” Margaret giggled in reply, “Nice to have my natural talents praised!”

Their father did not let the boys get exposed to too much news, but they did see enough to know most people did not trust Uwhali and that most immigrants from the country ended up settling in Secket Impra-Te if they even stayed in Ustad. Very few Uwhali came with - or retained - any affluence in Ustad due to the disdain most citizens had for them. A handful of Uwhali were killed in mobs when one Uwhali transplant tried to run for office a few years before, sparking riots in major cities around the country. After that, most Uwhali in Ustad sought citizenship and tried to learn Ustani to try to keep attention away from themselves.

Cas thought there was more to it than his peers and classmates believed. His father had always taught them that there are ‘two sides to every coin, each quite different, but without one, the other carries little meaningful value.’ Cas continued in this line of thought for the rest of the ride to school while Margaret and Blythe talked about dreams.

Margaret liked these two ‘brothers.’ They had an interesting dynamic and most of the other kids seemed to avoid them, which piqued her interest further. She had trouble reading Blythe the same way she could read most other people, which made him very interesting to her. For the last few months, she had been able to intuit most people’s emotions, it started as a twinge of emotion when directly interacting with people, but eventually, she was able to get a good ‘read’ on the emotions of those around her as well as who those emotions belonged to. Her experience with these brothers was a little different. Cas was an easy enough read, but Blythe’s emotions were a mystery. He seemed pleasant enough, but she couldn’t get a good read on his emotional state.

She gathered from talking to Blythe that the brothers didn’t remember much of their mother, just that she went missing when Blythe was still extremely young. Cas seemed to remember pieces, but not too much aside from stories told by their father. Neither had a good idea of what she looked like, their father didn’t keep any pictures of her.  Their discussion had touched on dreams, and Blythe had quite the memory for his dreams.

He remembered dreams where he was in a burning building, terrified and screaming with an infantile timbre. He seemed to think these started and were recurring from very early. He’d had dreams that he could move things with his mind and then woken to a room where things had moved. However, with these latter dreams, when he awoke the next morning, everything in his room was in order. There was one morning that he woke up, after a dream, a rock had shattered his window, that he expected to find shards of glass and splatters of blood on the floor and found a room in the same condition he’d gone to sleep in. His feet weren’t cut at all either. That, he’d said, told him it must have been a dream.

Margaret was not so sure, the dreams about waking up in the middle of the night to a messy room sounded too vivid in comparison to the parts before.  Just another mystery I will have to figure out. I think there’s a lot more to this boy, and his family, than most people know.

Margaret seems like a nice girl.  Blythe thought, she’s very curious, but she’s new here... so that makes sense! I would certainly have questions if I went from the city to a small town like ours.

Blythe and Margaret had become fast friends on the bus trip to school and it turned out they had some classes together as well. He did find some of her facial expressions to be a bit strange, especially when she made that face that looked like someone had stolen her favorite toy when she wasn’t looking. Mostly, though, she seemed to just have a lot of questions, mostly about his dreams. I wonder what that’s all about.

She had asked a lot about their family, especially the boys’ mother, and whether she appeared in his dreams at all.  The only family in any of my dreams is da. I don’t think I’d know if mom was in them. I wonder what that means, or if she thinks it’s something important.