He needs to get out of here. This is all too much.

  Bee started out this morning thinking, yeah, okay. They’ll walk around Brindle, maybe they’ll find a guy. Some old healer or scholar or something who knows a lot about flowers and magic. They’ll finally figure out what is going on with Mino’s head and maybe even how to fix it. But nothing can ever go smoothly, can it? Now his da— this guy is here and telling Mino that she has magic so what was even the point of sending her away in the first place, and the Soulless have Souls and people have been lied to and now they’re all shut up Underground for no stars-damned reason?

  Did this guy fucking know that Bee wouldn’t have believed him any other way than if he showed Bee his own soul, light blazing out into the air like that? Did he know how much of a punch to the gut it would be? Bee has long since given up hope on any kind of grace, redemption, whatever, none of it mattered. The stars abandoned him like all the others, condemned him to this lightless life for possessing stolen magic. He had accepted that he was some husk of a creature, destined to die with no hope of anything coming next. Alone, worthless, nothing. And now there’s this soul inside of him, this thing with weight and warmth that has always been there but he’s never been able to see. What does this mean? What is he supposed to do? Why does nobody fucking know about this?

  Bee shoves the magiscan away from his body and walks out the damn door.

  Bee watched his father fall apart when Mom died.

  For the first year or two, things were actually okay. Dad was doing a reasonable job of looking after the two of them. But keeping up with his work as a scholar, maintaining a household, and watching over two boys, even if they were (mostly) well-behaved, began to take its toll. Dad began to falter. At first, it was only a day or two that would go by. He would get sucked into his work and forget to check on them. Bee started learning how to cook—no need to bother Dad, he was already stressed enough. Eight years old was a good age to start helping out with chores, and Bee never minded taking care of his baby brother.

  But then, two days became four. Four easily became seven, and Bee was always so scared that one day, Dad would walk from his bedroom into the basement workshop and never come back out. The only evidence Bee had that his Dad was still alive in there was that the meals set outside his door kept disappearing, and that he always slept in his own room.

  But those were only the bad days. Sooner or later, Dad always came out of the workshop and gathered Bee and Wilder in a big hug. He would squeeze them tighter and tighter like he never wanted to let them go, and Bee would feel like all was finally right in the world.

  One day, he asked his Dad why he stayed in there working so much. Dad’s eyes looked very far away, and all he said was, “It helps me forget.”

  Bee didn’t want to forget Mom. He didn’t understand.

  One day, when Dad had been in the workshop for thirteen days, Bee realized they had run out of some food, the kinds that they didn’t grow in their own garden. Beans and flour, mostly. Important things that they would need. Bee wasn’t sure when Dad would be out again. So he took some money from Dad’s bedside drawer, carefully tied Wilder to his back like a backpack, and left the home to go buy some.

  Elna, their neighbor, was a sweet woman. She also sold flour and baked goods while her husband Marco prepared dough for the next day. Even she frowned when she saw Bee and Wilder, alone. Bee tried to tell her not to go in the workshop, but she didn’t listen. She shouted at Dad, then lowered her voice so Bee couldn’t tell what they were talking about.

  Dad did better after that, for a little while. He started doing more around the house and cooking more. But he made more mistakes, too. Accidentally nicking himself with a knife, dropping things, pulling vegetables before they were ready.

  When Bee was nine, Dad went back into the workshop. And he didn’t come out.

  It was bedtime. Was Dad working late? Bee didn’t like when he did that, but he could be patient.

  It was getting darker and darker. Bee probably shouldn’t leave the fire going, Dad would be out any minute.

  It was so dark, and so cold. Bee kept his eyes trained on the light under the basement door. Any moment now.

  Everything was dark.

  Bee woke up early the next morning and the first thing he saw was the closed basement door. He ran to Dad’s bedroom. He wasn’t there. Bee returned to the workshop door.

  When he finally worked up the courage to open it, there was no one inside.

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  When Bee starts thinking again, when he starts seeing what’s around him, he sees a little girl. No, two little girls. And a boy. What… is this.

  They’re looking up at him, curious. Where is he? Ah. For some reason, he’s on top of a really tall cupboard in a kitchen. Is he still in… Chat’s home? Must be. He had so many dang kids running around. They aren’t all his, right? These aren’t his siblings, right!?

  Mino.

  Bee can feel her nearby. How can he feel her? He’s never been able to feel her magic before. Is it possible that just by now knowing that she has magic, she’s already more connected to it? That’s so soon for such a big change—but he wouldn’t put it past her.

  Today is too much.

  “Mister Marco, I can’t find my Dad, I can’t find him, I don’t—”

  “Bee… son, I’m sorry. Your father had to go somewhere. He asked us to look after you for a little while.”

  “No. No! He can’t leave! He can’t leave he can’t leave he can’t leave!”

  Bee fell to the ground and pounded his fists into the dirt. Tears fell, landing with little plops that darkened soil. The world began to shake around him and he screamed, letting all of his fear and rage and betrayal sink into the earth.

  The day Bee’s father left, his magic manifested. And they called him Earthshaker.

  Bee shakes himself. What is he doing? This has never happened to him before. He’s never felt so disoriented. Is he dreaming? Can’t be.

  “Brother?”

  Wilder. What has Bee done to Wilder. Did he hurt him? He barely keeps a wince off his face as he searches for Wilder’s face in the room. He’s leaning against the entrance to the room a few feet away. His brother looks tired, worried. Bee needs to get a better handle on himself. He can’t keep doing this shit to his baby bro.

  “Rough day,” Bee manages. Wilder nods and approaches him. Really weird to be looking down at his brother, for once. He gets his height from—

  Bee inhales.

  “Are you okay,” Bee says. Wilder nods again.

  “And Mino?”

  “She’s entertaining some of the little ones,” Wilder says. “It seems that Chat runs some kind of orphanage, here.”

  “Great,” Bee mutters. Runs a damn orphanage instead of taking care of his own sons. “Where is he.”

  Wilder hesitates, but then says, “Our father is outside.”

  Bee slides over the edge of the tall cupboard and carefully drops to the ground. He looks at Wilder again, assessing him. Wilder is stressed, uncertain, worried about him. He’s biting his lip, wants to say something. His hair is messy. That doesn’t happen unless things get pretty bad.

  “I need to talk to him,” Bee says. “You have every right to listen, but you might not want to.”

  Wilder just nods.

  “Mino can’t hear,” Bee adds. Wilder nods again. What isn’t he saying? Bee narrows his eyes.

  Wilder avoids his eyes. “Can we see him again?” he asks. “After today, after this?”

  Bee huffs a humorless laugh. Is that all? “You can see him whenever you want, Wild.” He reaches up and touches his brother’s shoulder as he passes him. Bee heads to the front door.

  Chat is sitting in the dirt. Picking at the few clumps of grass there are to be seen. He looks small, like this. Almost like a child himself.

  “What did that grass ever do to you?” Bee asks, a little joke to set the mood. This one’s gonna be a killer.

  Chat looks up, his form glitching out slightly. Mino’s magic stabilizes him, apparently. Good thing. Otherwise Bee wouldn’t be taking this approach, and he really, really wants to.

  “Nothing, I suppose,” Chat says, a tentative smile on his face.

  “That so,” Bee says. His own smile drops.

  “Kinda like your kids, right?” They never did anything, but you destroyed their lives anyways. He stares Chat down as the man’s face drops like he’s been shot.

  “And then.” Bee continues. “You came out here and collected, oh, I don’t know, twenty more, because you felt bad, was it? Tell me, was it worth it? Did they sate your fatherly needs? Did you tuck them into bed at night, telling them you loved them because you were too much of a coward to say it to us?”

  “That’s enough,” Chat stresses, standing. Bee won’t let him get another word in.

  “Enough of this, enough of you,” Bee says. “I’ve had enough. If you think I’m going to forgive you for what you did, you’d better think again, Chat. An experiment on your own magic? What kind of father would be so reckless?”

  If nothing else, this conversation will inspire Bee to take a long, hard look at how he acts with Wilder and Mino from now on. No matter how much he hates himself… he won’t do to them what his father did to him.

  “I wanted to protect you,” Chat insists.

  “Are you listening?” Bee asks. “I don’t care.”

  Chat stares at him, frustrated. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Nothing,” Bee says, lying through his teeth. “Nothing at all.”

  Chat shakes his head. “Then what do you want from me?”

  A sharp burst of anger flares within Bee. The ground shakes just a little.

  “I want you to pay attention to Wilder,” he says. “I want you to watch him with your eyes wide open and give him everything he wants. I want you to follow his lead and interact with him on his terms. If Mino likes you, same deal. But you watch yourself with her. With both of them,” Bee warns. “If I don’t like how you treat them, I’m gonna make it your problem.”

  “And if I don’t like your behavior?” Chat challenges.

  Bee shrugs. “You’re not my dad,” he says, loving how it feels to watch that line hit. “I don’t care what you think about me.”

  Bee goes back inside.

  The sooner they get out of here, the better.