“So listen, would you be interested in meeting up again sometime?” Janine asked.

“Uh, maybe. What’ve you got in mind?” Tarik replied.

“Maybe lunch? Here, I can give you my number and—”

He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” she said, reaching in her purse.

“Thing is, I lost my girlfriend four years ago.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Look, I’m flattered. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

“I understand.”

Kori returned and gathered his things. “You ready, Grandpa?”

“You bet. Well, take care, Janine.”

“You too. Oh, Tarik?” She handed him the piece of paper with her phone number. “If you ever need a friend to talk to…just think about it. No pressure.”

He looked into her hazel eyes beneath the elegant, black glasses over her delicate face. She gave him a smile, and walked past him toward the door.

CHAPTER THREE:

Lukewarm winds blew across the coarse terrain in the Colovia region in northern Gesnia. Oscar Val Hagen’s field-worn vehicle rolled across winding dirt roads near some local woods. Leaves had begun to fall, scattering the roads and fields with paling leaves. He turned to his GPS monitor inside the cluttered car. “Should be arriving within the hour. He’s expecting my arrival.” He set his eyes back on the roads. “Strange that he called me first.”

Oscar drove through a barren field, passing a grand wood sign in the road: Now Entering Stittsburg. The car cruised beneath the cloudy autumn sky and passed through a seemingly time-forgotten part of town, its style of architecture appearing bland and archaic. Though he visited that particular part of the region once before, it still felt as if he’d entered a completely different world. Even the air felt slightly different. A muddled smell in the air pinched his nose almost like that of a wet, furry animal, with hints of woodsy moss mixed in that came across as more off-putting than desirable.

Oscar soon entered the acreage belonging to the man he’d met with weeks prior to his archaeological voyage. Beyond the gated perimeter stood a rustic, wood bungalow, dotted with unkempt hedges and trees. He parked in the dirty pathway and walked to the door. Oscar could vaguely see the rooftop of a fenced-off mausoleum beyond the abode, the empty field strewn with stone markers and headstones. He tugged the rusted metal knocker and a man in his late forties answered the door, wearing a bronzy tunic shirt with ragged sleeves.

“Good day, Mr. Val Hagen. You’ve come sooner than I anticipated,” he said with a weak, scratchy voice.

“Pleasure to see you again, Mr. Krazner.”

Traith Krazer shut the heavy oak door and welcomed him into the living space. “I trust you’re here looking for answers,” he said, a bit ornery.

Oscar removed his cap. “Yes, Traith. I was pleasantly surprised by what I discovered in the ruins.”

“I see. Perhaps you’d like to discuss your findings over tea?”

“Much obliged, thank you. I’ll set up in the den.”

The lanky man observed Oscar enter the living area through his grey eyes, then went on to prepare the water for tea. Outside, Oscar pulled a small laptop from his knapsack and booted up, then unloaded a slew of photographs and miscellaneous relics he’d found. Traith walked into the room with two cups of hot water and a box of teabags. “Sir.”

“Ah, very generous of you. Hmm…ah, this lavender smells intriguing.” Oscar dipped the tea bag into the water and let it steep.

“Looks like your dig was successful,” Krazner said, sitting in his recliner.

“In many ways, yes. I tried not to disrupt the integrity of the catacombs, hence most of my findings are captured in these photographs.”

“Very well.”

Oscar nervously took a sip of tea and gathered a handful of pictures. “These here were taken in one of the corridors,” he said, handing one to Traith.

“Mmm…it’s a burial ground for my old people. I’m sure you noticed the sarcophagi laden throughout those niches?”

“So they were graves after all.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know the identities of the deceased?”

Traith looked up from the photo. “Where was this location?”

“In central Matherland, around the southwest.”

“Ah. That is where my great, great, great grandfather dwelled. I remember now…he and his family were slaughtered.”

“My goodness! By whom?”

“One of the earth tribes. Many groups opposed the Hexorists. During those times we were outnumbered. Somehow we had to drive them out.”

Oscar twiddled his short mustache. “Interesting. I remember reading a myth about some of those old cultures. Living on the land, serving gods, and the like.”

Traith’s long, angular face frowned while sipping his tea, his thin lip wrinkling.

“Why were they killed?” Oscar asked.

“Hard to say. It was centuries ago. Humankind only governed themselves. It was only when the like-minded joined forces that trouble began.”

“Wait now, was that why all those cultures split apart, to form their own tribes?”

Traith chuckled. “You seem to know more than you let on, Val Hagen.”

Oscar crossed his leg, his stubby fingers scrolling through the photos. “It’s truly a remarkable fabric in history that seems to have been forgotten.”

“In short, civilizations split apart to separate from the dark forces. The earth-dwellers wanted to preserve the land for not only their own prosperity, but for the gods. By allowing others to desecrate their land was to betray the gods themselves.”

“And who were these dark forces?”

Krazner set down his tea and rolled up his scraggly sleeves. “Us, essentially!” He revealed his thin, sinewy arms, laden with symbols, brands, and letters.

Oscar gasped. “My lord, so you’re one of the Hexorists?”

“Not by choice. I, like many others, was born with innate supernatural abilities. Yet without proper training I could not harness them, so I was born into their religion.”

“Fascinating,” Oscar said, noticing the tiny star-shaped mark under the man’s eye. “So it was in fact an entire way of life for you people?”

“My ancestors developed methods for drawing out our powers to strengthen our numbers. Those with such birthrights were labeled as inhuman, unnatural—which made us targets.”

“What powers did they possess? I read along the lines of the occult.”

“Partially,” Traith said, straightening his collar. “Heightened mental capabilities, spell-casting, spiritualism…”

Oscar glanced to the side. “I thought as much, now things are beginning to make sense.”

“What else did you discover?”

Oscar swept his hands over the myriad photos and notes across the table. His eyes fell upon a photo of the cylindrical piece he found, and quickly shuffled it behind a stack of other photos. “Not much more, I’m afraid. I found as much as I could without tampering too much with your history there.”

“Yet you took a shine to these coins and bejeweled trinkets?” Traith said sarcastically while rolling a small, rusted ring between his fingers.

“Well, they were scattered throughout the graves, I thought the museums could provide some feedback.”

Traith set the ring back on the table. “Be that as it may, I’d advise against taking anything from that place. Despite the slow death of our religion, its essence lives in each of us. You’d do well do remember that.”

“I do apologize, Traith. I’m optimistic that I can help proliferate your old customs.”

Traith squinted. “In what way?”

“As you said, separation was what drove a wedge between cultures. Spite and misunderstanding caused many of your people to suffer. They didn’t understand you.”

“Yes, because we were a threat to their existence,” Traith said, becoming irritated.

Oscar stood up. “Don’t you think showing people the wonders of Hexorism would let them understand? Your abilities would be a great asset!”

“An asset for whom?”

“For technology, for archaeology. This talk of communicating with the dead, psychic capabilities…think of all you could accomplish. If nothing else, you can profit from such rarities.”

Traith held up his hands. “Sir, I admire the gusto you have for your craft, however, I advise you re-evaluate your motives. To approach a race of beings with which you are unfamiliar with your attitude is foolish.”

“This could be a chance to redeem your fallen brothers, Traith, to prove to the world how valuable you are!”

“Mr. Val Hagen, I was in fact born a Hexor, but it doesn’t mean I completely agree with the ideology. I was chosen by the gods to possess these crippling abilities. All the segregation and torment you speak of happened centuries ago. We merely co-exist with normal humans in this era, but—”

“If I were to help you uncover those secret relics, I could elevate you to a higher state of importance. Wouldn’t you want that for your people?”

Traith began walking across the room towards the door. “What I would like is for ‘my people’ to live a life free of constant mockery and exuberant showboating from people like you! Now, I must insist you be on your way, Mr. Val Hagen.” The room fell silent, and while Oscar hesitantly compiled his things, Traith opened the door. “I apologize for my outburst, but I won’t be responsible for public outcry from outsiders or my own creed. If you want to discuss more of our history it will be under neutral circumstances, but don’t return here with anymore ridiculous notions.”

Oscar walked slowly through the door, and bowed to Traith. “Forgive me. I only seek to help you. I’ll be in touch.” He walked across the walkway towards the car.

“You’re not thinking of returning to the ruins, are you?” Traith said.

“I’ll continue my search elsewhere, per your permission, of course.”

“You may conduct your search for knowledge. I am only opposed to you mishandling that knowledge. Good day, Mr. Val Hagen.” Traith shut the door to his worn-down home, leaving Oscar traipsing down the sweeping walkway. Upon getting in the car, Oscar tossed his sack onto the passenger seat, then pulled his cell phone from his cargo shirt. He opened a voice-recording application and pressed the stop button.

“That’s one piece to the puzzle.” He dialed a number in the phone. “Gunnar? Yes, I’m heading out now. Be ready to head southwest.”

* * * * *

Arondale Elementary School finally let out Wednesday afternoon. Lines of buses parked by the front doors, and soon droves of youngsters came pouring out from inside. Amid the crowds, Kori greeted the crisp air and zipped up his yellow jacket vest. Hiking up his backpack, he walked through the parking lot and saw Tarik sitting in the truck, flipping through a magazine. Kori tapped on the door, and climbed into the seat.

“Hey there. Good day?” Tarik said.

“Pretty good, aced my math quiz!”

Tarik played with the rearview mirror. “Nice. Read any good books?”

“Seriously? Just got this one, it’s about rocks and stuff.” Kori showed him the cover of a geology book and another about archaeology.

“Rocks and stuff, huh? All I know about rocks is how to skip ‘em across water. Looks intriguing, though.”

“Gonna start readin’ after my homework.”

Tarik started the engine and drove out of the parking area. “You up for a quick trip to the old house?”

Kori’s arms sagged. “Aww, really? I’m gonna miss my cartoons.”

“Come on, sport, I gotta clear out some more junk. I got an offer to view the house.”

“Huh? Someone’s gonna buy it?”

“Well, hopefully, but I have to get the rest of Niko’s stuff outta there. We’ll grab some hot dogs on the way.”

Kori shrugged. “Sure.”

He opened his archaeology book and started skimming through it. After stopping at the gas station, the two Sandoris’ got situated back in the car, sipping on cold sodas. Kori perched the bag of hot dogs between the middle compartment between the seats.

“Careful, I got some papers in there,” Tarik said.

“Like what?”

“For one, the documents the realtor gave me. Can’t have ‘em covered in mustard.”

Kori pulled the bag on his lap. “Heh, sorry. So that’s the guy who’s coming?”

“Right. If no one buys the place I’ll have to sell it to Senigot City.”

“What’ll they do with it?”

Tarik grunted. “Probably scrap the hunk of junk. Least if I sell it I can make some money.”

“Oh hey, can we go to the museum this weekend?”

“Again?”

“Yeah, I wanna play with Janine! She’s fun.”

Tarik shrugged. “I’m workin’ this weekend, buddy.”

“Can I stay at the museum?”

Tarik chortled. “You’re gonna sleep in a museum?”

“Yeah, pizza guys come there, too,” chomping his hot dog.

He jostled Kori’s shoulder. “Man, if your daddy could see you now. Wait, you wanna go there just to see Janine?”

“Why not? We’re friends, right?”

“I guess.”

“She gave you her number, right?”

Tarik’s hot dog slipped unexpectedly, smearing mustard on his cheek. “How’d you know about that?”

Kori giggled. “You guys were talkin’ like forever. I was in line gettin’ a brownie when I heard you.”

Tarik wiped his sleeve over his cheek. “Damn you’re a sneak, aren’t ya. Ya know if you put that kinda brainpower into your training you could run circles around me.”

Kori’s eyes rolled. “Training’s boring.”

“You mean more boring than rocks? Anyway, I don’t think I’m gonna call her.”

“How come?”

“Man, for a smart kid you ask a lotta questions. You remember Auntie Verna?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Good. Don’t ever forget her.”

“Huh?”

Tarik checked the rearview. “Just read your book.”

As the truck rode down the highways, Kori stuck his head out the window, the wind whipping his bristly, brown hair. He admired the passing trees and occasional fields beyond the roads. He always felt something nostalgic whenever they visited their old stomping grounds. After taking the Senigot City exit, they whirled around a looping road surrounding a small body of water beneath a hilly incline. Kori could never forget the cool mountain air. They finally pulled off the road and drove through the fields toward the house. Tarik gathered his folder and walked across the grass up to the porch ramp.

“Enjoy it while you can, kid. Might be the last time we ever come up here.”

Seemingly disconcerted, Kori tromped down the porch, clinging to the rail. “Hey, can I explore for a bit?”

“What? We gotta get this…ah, never mind. That’s fine, just don’t go too far.”

Kori excitedly hopped down the rail and crunched through the grass. With a sigh, Tarik pulled out his cell phone. “Let’s find out where Mr. Kenners is.” He waited for the call to go through. From behind the house, he could faintly hear a pleasant melody. “What the hell?” Tarik stepped down the ramp and walked to the left side of the house. He heard it for a few more seconds, then it stopped. He hung up and tried calling a second time. The musical chime sounded again, and Tarik walked tensely around to the rear of the house. By the old well, an odd mass slumped over in the grass, the same area where the noise came from. “Oh my God…”