After Tori, submerged in a bath mixed with water from the Lazarus Pit, recovered thanks to the insight of my X-ray vision, I hurried back home. I could witness firsthand how the source magically healed all of Tori's wounds, completely renewing her body. Examining it in details inaccessible even to the most advanced instruments, I couldn't help but marvel at the magical properties of the source. Watching a wound simply close up, with energy seemingly coming from nowhere, was extraordinary. I understood little—magic remained beyond my comprehension—but I noticed how the fragments disappeared, as if absorbed into her body. They slowly but surely merged with it and dissolved without a trace, and Tori's quickening breath told me that if I didn't hurry, I might face awkward questions.
For a whole month after her miraculous recovery, she remained in the clinic. There were countless discussions with doctors and examinations, but no one could figure out how a girl, predicted to remain disabled for life, became perfectly healthy before her checkup. Her entire body was renewed, and even her hair, which she took such pride in, shone brighter with a pure light. Doctors and those around her, including the press, which somehow sniffed out the story, buzzed about it for another two weeks. Headlines grew louder. But throughout that month, no one could explain what had happened. It was simply dubbed a miracle. After Tori's wondrous recovery through this healing, we were brought to Germany along with Grandma, Tori's mother. A tearful reunion was filled with feminine joy mixed with sorrow, and the embrace of the rejuvenated girl, who looked younger than her years, warmed my soul for a long time.
If only Kyle were here with us…
"Careful, Mom, don't slip," I said, holding Tori's hand and trying to show her all my support. She still felt unsteady and was subdued. A light drizzle fell, and the sky was overcast. Grayness and darkness accompanied us that day.
We were leaving the airport, with another hour or hour and a half of travel ahead. A taxi was waiting for us, and Uncle and Aunt were already at the cemetery. At first, none of the relatives wanted her to visit that place: after all she'd been through, it was best to spare her nerves. But Tori was adamant and firmly declared to everyone that she would meet her husband.
So, a few hours of travel, holding Tori in silence, passed quickly. Stepping out of the taxi at the cemetery entrance, we met Noah and Meryl. The rain didn't stop.
"Sweetie, oh, I'm so sorry…" Meryl sobbed, waving her handkerchief and trying to stifle her tears.
"It's okay, it's okay," Tori replied, hugging Meryl, nodding to Noah, who was smoking, and, taking me by the hand with quick steps, headed toward Kyle's grave. The two relatives closest to our family stayed behind.
The funeral was brief: no one could dwell much on the dead while worrying about the living, and only a few attended the ceremony—neighbors, family friends, and relatives. He was buried with all honors, but the most important person could only visit his grave a month later.
Three hundred twenty-seven steps—I counted them, and we were there. We stood at Kyle's grave—Tori and I, side by side. It was as if the world around us ceased to exist. Silence pressed down like a leaden cloud, and my head spun, unable to focus on anything else. There was no one here to offer support, no words anyone else could say. We were alone in a place devoid of life—only earth, consuming all that was once alive. I stared at the stone, a simple gravestone with his name—Kyle. He was young, with bright eyes, laughing with Mom just yesterday, it seemed; he was strong, confident, ready to fight anything. But now… now that was gone. He was gone. All that remained was a stone with his birth and death dates, which, like everything I knew about him, meant nothing anymore.
Mom stood silently, her hands clenched into fists, her eyes glistening, but she didn't cry. Strange. I thought she'd be sobbing like everyone else. But no, Mom was… different. I realized she wasn't the same as before. She'd become confident, cold. Her face lacked the softness and warmth I remembered. Instead, there was an emptiness. I couldn't understand what was wrong with her, why she couldn't just say something to me.
I stood beside her, and my eyes began to water. I didn't want to cry, but in that moment, something heavy pressed on my chest. I didn't want Mom to see, but I couldn't hold back. Anger surged within me: why did it happen this way? Why couldn't it have been different? Why did Kyle, my friend and father, leave so soon? Why didn't he see me grow up? Why isn't he here anymore? It's my fault.
"Mom…" I said softly, as if the word could change anything.
She didn't answer right away. She stood as if she hadn't heard. Then she turned slightly and placed a hand on my shoulder. It was strange—her hand felt cold. I sensed she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Only a deep sigh.
"You remember him, don't you?" she asked, as if she needed the answer herself.
I nodded because I did remember. Vividly. His laugh, his eyes, his voice. They'd stay with me, even if years passed. Maybe millennia. Those memories were still the brightest, the most real. At first, I thought it was all a figment of my sick imagination, that I was lying somewhere under rubble or burned in a hospital, a vegetable. But no, this was reality. Parents I never had.
Mom suddenly hugged me. It was unexpected. I never thought she could feel so fragile. Her embrace was like the last comfort in a world that had collapsed. I felt her body tremble. She was alone. And so was I. We'd both lost something irreplaceable.
"Why aren't you crying, Mom?" I asked, wiping tears from my face.
She was silent. Then she whispered:
"I don't know, son. I think I've already cried it all out."
Her words were so quiet, so heavy. They pierced my heart. I saw her face contort as she tried to pull herself together, but it was clear she hadn't forgiven herself for what happened. Neither had I. As we stood at the grave, time lost all meaning. It felt like a few minutes, but glancing at my phone's clock, I realized we'd stood there for nearly two hours. We didn't move, didn't speak, just stared at the earth beneath which lay someone who once loved us, was by our side, and now was part of that earth.
I couldn't believe he was gone. I wanted to walk into the house and see him sitting on the couch, smiling as always. But it was impossible. And perhaps that was the true weight of it all.
"Mom, did you love him?" I asked suddenly. The thought came out of nowhere, and I couldn't hold it back.
Mom was silent for a long time. She lowered her head and finally answered:
"Yes, son. I loved him. But… some things can't be changed. He's gone."
Her voice trembled, and I realized she couldn't say more. In that moment, I understood we all grieved this loss differently. Mom tried to hide her feelings, while I couldn't contain mine. Each of us was trying to cope with the pain in our own way. But deep down, I knew we'd both lost what we loved most. I lost stability, Mom lost her husband and beloved. Nothing would ever be as familiar as before.
As we left, I turned back, looking at Kyle's grave. I knew I had a long road ahead to learn to live without this reckless but worthy man. And Mom, likely, too. But this moment mattered. I felt that perhaps this was the moment we began learning to let go. Maybe I need to let it all go.
Mom took my hand, and we walked away, leaving behind the quiet, cold earth.
"Sorry, Kyle."
---
Time has a way of picking up speed—blink, and it races by like light. Just yesterday, Tori and I visited Kyle's grave, and today I'm turning thirteen. A year flew by like a swift stroke, and I was busy every day. Heroics, which I didn't abandon, helping Tori around the house, and earning money online—it all filled my free time.
The first month was like a nightmare. Constant thoughts about the people I left behind, the heroes, and their planet. I berated myself for cowardice but couldn't find the courage to return. I was like a mouse, endlessly running in the wheel of my emotions. It was a quiet horror mixed with regret.
But reality kept me distracted.
Time. Yesterday, I stood with Tori at Kyle's grave, and today I'm thirteen. A whole year passed like a single day. Nothing seemed to change, but looking closer, everything was different. I was different. This year was packed for me. Every day was filled with tasks, leaving no time for rest. But it didn't tire me—on the contrary, I liked it. It distracted me. I loved being busy and dove into countless tasks. Tori and I, as always, helped each other: she with the house, me wherever I could. But the main thing was my online earnings. Time was tight, but I learned to juggle everything: helping at home, studying, and working. Kyle's loss still lingered, and debts and loans needed to be paid off. To help Mom, I started looking for honest ways to earn. After everything I'd been through, I didn't want to get dirty. I felt different—not bad enough to kill for money, not good, just different.
At first, I took on simple freelance gigs—it was the first thing that came to mind. Small tasks: translating texts, writing short articles, editing errors. Initially, it was easy and quick. I learned to adapt my knowledge to various orders, gaining experience in areas like SEO optimization and copywriting. But that was just the start—with my abilities, I could do more.
Each order brought a small but steady income. I began to understand the importance of not just completing a task but doing it well so clients would return. If a task was complex, I wasn't afraid to dive into the topic, researching articles, watching tutorials, and absorbing it all quickly. Some orders required specific skills, like creating logos or graphics. Clients were impressed with my pace, and my phone was replaced with a basic laptop that could barely keep up with me.
After mastering text work, I turned to design. I'd always loved drawing and was good at it, so I decided to try graphic design. I started with simple programs. It took time, but I learned to create sleek, effective logos, banners, and even small animations. I realized there was a huge market for these services, and I started earning more than with texts. My clients were thrilled with what I could offer. With my hands and brain, creating masterpieces was quick and easy. Tori, noticing the incoming money at first, thought it was something shady, but after a few evenings of showing her it was honest work, she calmed down.
A few months after visiting the cemetery, after tears in the evenings and nights when she thought I couldn't hear, Tori settled down a bit. She couldn't fully let go of Kyle, but she managed to temper her grief and move forward—with dignity. My achievements brought her joy, giving her more strength. At least, that's what I thought.
When I got the hang of graphics, I grew curious about website creation. I went on YouTube, watched HTML and CSS tutorials, and within a couple of weeks, I was trying to build simple pages. It wasn't hard, and I found it engaging. I created sites for small projects, like personal blogs or business cards for small companies. Over time, I tackled more complex tasks: building online stores, adaptive design. My web development skills became in demand, and I started earning decent money. About four thousand dollars a month for a twelve-year-old was impressive, especially in our town, and Tori could breathe easier, no longer overworking herself as she had before. Quitting her second job, she began working calmly on our farm, selling homegrown produce at seasonal markets and beyond. The debts were slowly shrinking.
She loved tending the garden, and I saw it brought her peace. Sometimes she'd pause with a trowel in hand, staring into the air as if seeing someone nearby. Those moments made me tense, but after the second time, when she cried and spoke of Kyle, I relaxed a bit. It was a shame, but loss remained loss, and time only dulled the pain, not healed it.
With each month, I grew more experienced. I realized I didn't have to work for small change—I could earn much more with different approaches. So, I started studying traffic arbitrage. It was a new and challenging experience, but I wasn't afraid of difficulties. I learned how to earn through affiliate programs, working with social media ads and various platforms. It involved creating ads and driving traffic to sites where people bought products or signed up for services. Each successful ad campaign brought good income. Now, I sometimes just sat, staring at my new laptop's screen, doing nothing. Everything was automated and calculated, and a makeshift neural network—a primitive AI—helped with small tasks. Sometimes, I thought about doing something grand, but something always held me back.
Maybe take over the planet? Nah, forget it, dumb idea…
Looking back now, it feels like the year flew by in an instant. I'm earning decent money, working on multiple projects at once, and all this knowledge came from the internet and self-learning. Sure, I'm not a millionaire yet, but for a thirteen-year-old, it's not bad. This year, I felt time wasn't wasted, that I didn't stand still. Instead of sitting idle, I used every minute to grow.
It helped drown out thoughts of the world where the heroes remained. Regrets didn't vanish, but I proved stronger than my impulses.
My superhero life, amidst all these changes, no longer felt so vibrant. I still helped during disasters, sometimes saving entire cities and regions, but I didn't feel like a hero. Sitting on a skyscraper or floating in the clouds, I wondered: how are Bruce, Barry, and the others doing? Did they stop the apocalypse on their planet? Did the heroes defeat Darkseid?
Friends…
Sometimes, I had a strong urge to use the spell and return, but looking at Tori's back as she lovingly cooked my breakfast, I knew I couldn't abandon her. The guilt gnawed at me less each day, and Kyle's loss didn't sting as sharply. But even for a second, entertaining the thought of her losing me, her son, felt blasphemous.
Heroes, how are you holding up?
This year after returning was strange. Absurd, sometimes wrong thoughts crept into my mind. A year full of turmoil and extremes. I wanted to run, fly, kill, and help. My thoughts tangled, turning into mush.
As if I wasn't myself.
A strange feeling engulfed me a month after returning to my world. Tori was just starting to recover, and I suddenly became paranoid. What if this? What if that? I was like a madman, a soldier back from a long war.
And that war wouldn't let me go.
In breaks between saving another liner or plane, I watched Tori for hours. I feared she'd slip and break her neck. That the knife in her hand would cut a vein. That this whole world wanted to harm her. I wanted to destroy this world. I was like a lunatic.
In those days, my head ached with a strange pain pulsing in my temples. I never figured out the cause, and only six months after returning did it stop. It was as if I found a voice of reason, and the strange thoughts ceased tormenting me. I chalked it up to the spell. Perhaps magic was the cause…
---
"Caitlin, enough!" I said, pretending to struggle to hold the girl, urging her to get off. "You're heavy."
"Hey, Brandon, watch your words!" She smacked the top of my head. "It's good for you, it'll help you bulk up. Look how skinny you are."
She poked my thin shoulders, settling in more comfortably and pressing against my head. Ugh, what a restless girl! A walk after school. Same as always—noisy mall, familiar faces, the faint smell of popcorn and burgers, people rushing to catch the last bus. I was almost tired of this mall, but what can you do—our town has no alternatives. Caitlin and I often came here, just wandering, nothing special. I tried to free myself from her grip, but she held on tight, like she was glued to me. In response to my attempts to escape, she only huffed loudly and clung even closer. Oh, Caitlin—this girl has no sense of boundaries. But honestly, I'd long grown used to her quirky antics. We were those kinds of friends, always nearby, and it was actually fine. I wasn't too sociable, while she was always rushing somewhere, doing something. Maybe that's why we clicked.
"Isn't it heavy for you?" she asked with a smile as I kept trying to break free. "Or are you used to it?"
I turned to her, squinting.
"I'm not exactly used to it, I'm just worried I don't have the strength to shake you off," I replied, ignoring her laughter. "Come on, let go, it's really uncomfortable!"
She didn't answer, just leaned even lower, throwing me off balance. Pretending to be a weak kid with my body, which grew tall but not broad, wasn't hard. If only I could bulk up, but I had no idea how. I didn't know any trainers for beings with strength to move planets, and my attempts to lift weights led nowhere. Yeah, I even tried bulking up by moving a planet, but it was pointless. Pure idiocy, but in my case, madness is a frequent companion.
So we kept walking through the crowd, oblivious to those around us. I always felt awkward in places like this, especially with someone nearby. Everyone seemed so fragile, I was afraid I'd break something. Caitlin didn't take my shyness seriously—fine by me. As long as no one bothered us, and we didn't bother them.
We reached the spot with the arcade machines, and, as usual, Caitlin lit up. I don't even know what she loved so much about those useless things. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a couple of coins.
"What, you're gonna blow all your money on this junk again?" I asked, glancing at the flashing screens and sounds blaring from the machines.
"Yup, don't be jealous," she replied with a sly grin, snatching my last coin.
"You're gonna say you'll win something next," I said, raising my eyebrows with mock disdain, but she didn't back off, sliding the coin into a machine.
Then I was back in my usual spot—watching her mess around with the games, thinking about how she always managed to find a way out of any situation, despite her habit of losing money.
As always, Caitlin burst out laughing when she pulled something from the machine—a toy shaped like some weird monster. I looked at her and felt embarrassed by her childish glee but didn't say anything.
"Wow!" She grinned, holding up the toy. "See, I told you I'd win!"
"You always win when I can't," I grumbled.
"What, wanna try?" she offered with a playful look.
Maybe I didn't like the mall or these games, but with her, it was… fun in its own way. I usually didn't show I was interested, but somehow, I felt a bit lighter. Maybe it was just Caitlin's knack for finding positivity in the most ordinary moments. We kept wandering the mall, and after a couple of minutes, I realized it wasn't so bad being around someone who could always lift your mood. Even if she dragged you through every store and treated you to pastries with your own money.
Usually, after these walks, I felt strange, like something was unfinished, but Caitlin was never one to care about closure. Everything was always in progress. And though I wouldn't say her behavior fully suited me, I still felt this odd friendship mattered.
"Listen, you sure you don't wanna try?" Caitlin turned to me again, grabbing my hand when I looked away. "Game for the monster!"
"Are you kidding?" I said, not even thinking about it. But she locked her eyes on mine.
"Can you at least snap out of that gloomy mood for a minute? Or are you gonna mope all day about how awful life is?" She pouted, and I knew it was better to agree. She was right.
I nodded. Quickly slipped in a coin and watched the screen flash. Honestly, I had no idea what was going on in these games, but Caitlin said it was simple—just watch the symbols and try to guess. I doubt I'd win anything, but at least I felt like I should try.
When the screen lit up a bit, I glanced at her. She stood with an encouraging smile. And then I realized—maybe these moments weren't so silly after all.
Her childlike spontaneity and constant positivity had pulled me out of my gloom countless times this year. Thoughts of the superhero world and guilt were muted, and her cheerful laughter gave me a breath of fresh air.
After the mall, grabbing hot dogs, we wandered our town a bit until sunset. After walking her to her house on the other side of town, I flew home. Blurring into speed near a small forest, the clouds greeted me as always. Flying never got old, and letting go of all feelings except Tori's calm heartbeat, I surrendered to the flight. I closed my eyes and sank into silence. In that moment, the world vanished, but the sensation of flying grew sharper, more real. Every movement, every twist of my body—it was as if I sank inward, then soared skyward. Time and space lost their usual forms.
Weightlessness, as if I didn't exist in this body, feeling no weight, only the stream of air wrapping around me like an invisible river. My chest expanded, air flowing through my lungs without resistance. Higher and higher, yet losing all sense of direction. No horizon, just the feeling of piercing the heavens. The air thickened, not pressing but letting me glide through it, light and free. Sometimes, pushing off air currents, I gained speed, each surge landing me somewhere new—no need to open my eyes to know I was far from where I started. My body moved as one, every gesture, every shift intuitively precise. No effort required. I felt part of the energy, the force coursing through the universe. When I accelerated, the wind seemed to slice space, but I remained at the center of this storm, untouchable. The space I crossed felt boundless, yet I knew it was under control. Every maneuver—exact, every movement—natural. Though my eyes were closed, I sensed everything around me. A feeling of complete unity with a world without borders or limits.
After five minutes of slow flight, as always precise, I arrived home, descending from the forest near the road. Adjusting my backpack, I walked, whistling a tune I'd heard. The evening air was fresh and pleasant, with insects joining my melody, adding their unforgettable sounds.
There was the farm, appearing around the bend, but I noticed something odd that shouldn't have been there. A car, new, like it rolled off the assembly line, and expensive, was parked in front of the house. Tension flooded my body, and my eyes glowed. A quick dash, nearly tearing the door off its hinges, and I looked at the frozen people inside.
Tori was fine, pouring tea for our guest. The guest drew all my attention. An ordinary, beautiful brunette. But her face…
I remembered her. She was there when I saved that passenger plane crashing off the eastern coast, back when I started heroics.
But what was she doing here? How did she find me? And why did she have a gun?
Did she come to kill Tori? I won't let her.
---