Aidric was bored out of his mind. For two weeks, all he did was lie in bed, immobile, his gaze fixated on the wall, observing the shadows morph with each passing sunrise and sunset. Ada juggled her responsibilities on the farm and in the forge, but still found time to visit him as much as possible. Jacque made it a point to return three times a day, tending to the bandages and carefully inspecting the healing progress. Neal, on the other hand, still hadn’t shown up, not even to say hello. Honestly, that hurt more than his wounds itched. The one thing that being stuck inside for two weeks had done was to allow him to think.

A little too much. Rolling through the scenarios of what could happen when he became Marked, when would he become Marked, what would he do, blah blah blah. The real question was, did he want to? Did he have a choice or was it just guarantied? After all his thinking and brainstorming, he came to the realization that the one truth that truly mattered was keeping it a secret. Just as Jacque had told him yesterday, ‘the more people that know, the more danger we’re all in.’ 

Gods, what he wouldn’t have given for a proper bath. Aidric’s hair was a matted, greasy mess of knotted curls, with body odor pungent enough to scare off any potential predators. Aside from the daily spot bath to keep his back clean, he simply lay there, surrounded by his own filth. Eating the same bland porridge three times a day became a monotonous routine. 

His line of thought was abruptly interrupted by the echoing sound of heavy footsteps, causing his heart to race in anticipation of who was coming. The door swung open to reveal his father. Finally came to see the son he beat the shit out of two-weeks ago. It was clear to Aidric that he had brought the discipline upon himself and there was no arguing with that fact. If someone steals, they will be punished. He had deserved that, but he had also deserved a father who took responsibility for his role as a parent. Instead, he ended up with the town’s notorious drunkard.

“Hey, Aidric.” Neal said, his voice devoid of emotion, as if he had only come here to appease his wife rather than out of genuine concern. 

“Morning, Neal.” His father’s face twitched with a wince, secretly bringing him a hint of satisfaction. His father had lost access to niceties a week and a half ago. 

“Alright, I deserved that.” Just like that, Aidric’s anger faltered. Unless Aidric had been mistaken, there was an unmistakable tone of genuine guilt in their voice. Neal’s jaw clenched, and he stepped into the room, the sound of the door closing echoing in the silence. “I know I haven’t been the best Dad to you.” That was an understatement. Jacque Tillmane was higher in the running for the best father award than Neal was, despite not having any children to call his own.

Yet, the closer Neal got, the more it appeared like he’d put an honest effort into being here. He groomed his beard, took a morning bath, and, most importantly, his breath lacked any trace of ale.

“I don’t know what I can do to make it right,” His father kneeled down next to Aidric’s bed to be eye level with him. “But I’m going to put in the work to be someone you can be proud of again.”

Aidric’s eyes filled with tears as his father’s rough hand gently caressed his cheek. He had a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside him - anger, the urge to scream, the desire to run away, to make his father experience the pain he’d set upon his son - but above all, he simply wanted his father back. Aidric’s lip quivered, and the world blurred through tear-filled eyes.

“Where were you? I needed you, and you weren’t here.” Aidric said. Neal’s mouth hung open, but no sound escaped his lips. Aidric’s tears flowed down his face, his hands shaking as he tried to wipe them away, while his father’s eyes misted over as well. 

“I’m sorry.” Neal’s head drooped and his shoulders trembled. “I’m so sorry. Do you think you can forgive me?” As he stared at the man before him, Aidric felt a sharp ache in his chest. He wanted to. He wanted to tell his father they could go back to how it used to be, but they both knew deep down their relationship would never be what it once was. 

“No... not yet.” Aidric took a few shaky breaths, his nose slightly congested, as he tried to regain his composure. “I’m not angry that you did what you did.” His attempt to keep his voice calm and composed failed, and the rage leaked through his words. “I’m angry that you never showed up!” Neal’s face was streaked with tears as he finally looked up at his son. With a feverish nod, he affectionately tousled his son’s hair, a gesture filled with love and pride. 

“You have every right to be.” Neal wiped his face and tried to hold eye contact with Aidric to no avail, his gaze falling off to the wayside. “Your Dad, when he was in the infantry, did some terrible things he’s not proud of. I know your mom and I don’t talk a lot about it, but I put that pain and guilt on you, especially after we lost Madison, and that wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” 

Aidric’s body could only handle so much, but they stayed there, holding each other tightly. Aidric took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the invigorating scent of the charcoal his father had used as a deodorizer. It was at that moment that he truly understood how much he had yearned for it. Their sobs came to an end, coinciding with the sun’s gradual descent behind the hills.

Neal pulled away. The smile that he’d been wearing vanished as his son flinched, shrinking from the gentle touch of his hand on his shoulder. “You saw the unfairness in town and had the ability to make it right. To your own detriment, but you did it anyway. I want you to know I’m proud of you.” Aidric’s face brightened with a smile, the first one since his father had entered the room. Achieving a new normal for the two of them would pose a challenging and arduous journey, but Aidric believed this marked a promising beginning filled with hope and determination.

“I love you, Dad.” As he stood up, Neal’s smile widened and he gave his son a tender pat on the cheek, his sturdy frame radiating a newfound vitality. 

“I love you too, bud.” With a sigh of relief, Neal headed for the door. “Get better, so I don’t have to water all the crops by hand anymore.” Aidric basked in the fact his father was in better spirits, and let out a giggle.

“I’m doing my best.” Neal hesitated, his hand lingering on the doorknob, as he cast a final glance into Aidric’s room, savoring the familiar sights and memories.

“I know you are.” He knocked once on the doorframe before walking down the hallway. “You always have.” Well, that had gone much better than either of them thought it would. It should have happened sooner, but beggars can’t be choosers.

"By the way," Aidric’s ears perked up as he heard his father holler from downstairs. “I pushed the spring festival out two-weeks. So that way you can walk around and enjoy it. I already sent letters with Ira to the capital to tell the merchants.” The main door to the house closed, and Aidric was alone again. A heart felt apology and moving the festival out so he could attend? Now his father wasn’t playing fair.

The next two weeks went by much faster than the first. Daily visits from both of his parents, and he could even move around a bit. Although he still couldn’t take a bath, the simple joy of being able to move his arms, sit up, stretch his legs, and read a book made it feel like a dream. There’s only so many times he could count how many nails were holding his room together before wanting to shove one in his eye socket. 

The history books Dr. Tillmane brought were written by Camden authors and focused on the Marked, dating back to before the unification. It was discovered that Jacque had a connection with a book binder in Inrora who switched the covers on the books in the past. This allowed him, and now Aidric, to read the books in public without arousing suspicion. Aidric found it amusing that Marked possessed scales in an array of colors, each representing something unique. Nevertheless, the one common experience they shared was being targeted with open hostility.

However, nobody noted anything about their transformation. During their interviews, the authors offered utterly unhelpful write-ups, with each consisting of two vague sentences. A burst of energy came over Marked, and that was the end of it. Aidric found it puzzling that the authors featured on Marked were exclusively from Camden, since their main concern should have been eliminating Marked, not interviewing them for biographies. 

Aidric’s reading was abruptly interrupted by a forceful knock on the door, causing him to slam the book shut with a resounding thud. “Come in!” Aidric said. As Mr. Patel entered the room, the scent of his sage cologne filled the air. He tossed a bag across the room, which landed on Aidric’s bed with a gentle thud that made the thin brown blanket flutter. 

“You’re finally up and about huh, lazy bones?” Ira asked.

“I don’t know that I’d call sitting up and walking around a little, up and about, but sure. I’m just ready to get out of this Gods’ forsaken house. Been stuck in these same for walls for a month.” Aidric rummaged through the bag and was astonished when he found a set of fresh, vibrant clothes dyed in the town’s colors. Brown pants paired with a green shirt. “How did you get these?”

“You weren’t around when we talked about it at the town council meeting, but the Ascended are holding their own festival in a couple of weeks at the capital. That’s not common knowledge though, so keep it on the low.” Aidric gave a nod, but his questioning gaze still bored through the man, only for Ira to realize he’d never really answered the question. With a shrug that pushed his curly black hair aside, Ira’s face lit up with a cunning smile.

“Our harvest sold like hotcakes cause we’re the only ones in the region who had a fruitful fall harvest. Charged a bit more for ‘em, and voila, cotton threads for everyone.” Aidric was at a loss for words. The only sets of clothes they’d gotten over the years had been itchy wool or rough, crinkled linen. “Those’re only for special events, got it? If I see you wearing ‘em in the field, you’ll be the fertilizer.” Aidric chuckled and gave the man an appreciative smile.

“I got it, I got it. Thank you very much, Sir.” With a nonchalant wave of his hand, the handsome merchant beamed with a wide smile.

“Don’t thank me, kid. You guys put in all the hard work in the fields and stables. I just sell it better. Highborn are easy to sell to when you know all the right buzzwords. One of the very few perks of growing up in Inrora.” With a playful smile and a sly wink, Ira gracefully exited the room. “Take it easy.” He stood in the doorway for a moment, mumbling under his breath, and a faint, ethereal shimmer materialized in front of the door. Aidric blinked repeatedly, doubting his own eyes, but the shimmer and Ira Patel had disappeared with the door closed. Was that another vision, or was he hallucinating from the remnants of the sleeping tincture Jacque had given him the day before? 

Aidric made a conscious effort to keep his torso steady as he folded up the clothes and tucked them into his dresser. Aidric glanced around the room, before he cautiously waved his hand in front of the closed door. However, there was no visible reaction. Interesting.

Aidric leaned in closer to the door, straining to catch any hint of footsteps outside his room. He had barely placed his ear against it when heavy stomps came from right outside his door, and had to jerk himself back a few steps as quick as his wounded back would allow. Aidric’s surprise grew as he backed up into the room. Dr. Tillmane stood in the doorway, and to his amazement, the door hinges didn’t groan with their usual protests.

“Yeah sure, hey Doc, come on in.” Aidric said. Jacque stood in the doorway with an even bigger smile than Ira. Like with every one of his visits, he confidently stepped into the room, and swiftly closed the door behind him, ignoring Aidric’s protests.

“That Ira never ceases to impress me.” Jacque waved his hand in front of the door like he was expecting something enchanting to occur. Aidric felt the dull ache in his chest intensifying and noticed a faint glimmer of light at the corner of his vision. A whimper drew Tillmane’s gaze to Aidric. “Are you alright, boy?” Aidric’s heart pounded in his chest, each beat feeling like a relentless hammer striking his sternum. His breath hitched, and the light in his eyes intensified until it blinded him entirely. Aidric’s body trembled in agony, his knees buckling beneath him before he crashed onto the hard floor.