Lightless: Time Rift

By Amanda Heit

The darkness wasn't always a curse. There was a time where its power was used and people fought to keep it a prominent force in Praxiallis. However, those people were banished to other worlds a hundred years ago. In that banishment, they released a madman: a destroyer of time, and families, and memories. That man has finally gotten Floyd's light partner, Tacie, right where he wants her—stuck in time supplying him with the ability to destroy and heal souls.

It is up to Floyd to rescue Tacie and stop the time rifts that are damaging multiple worlds, but he's not the perfect hero that one would expect him to be. He has a large dark side that he's been trying to hide his entire life. He's been a thief and an emotional manipulator. He's even committed an unpardonable crime.

It seems the only way to save Tacie's separated light in the present, is for Floyd to lose his own glow, but in doing so, Floyd can't travel in time to stop the madman. Floyd plunges into the mysteries of the past to heal what has been broken, only to discover that the answer to some puzzles is not what he expected. He has to face not only world leaders, but himself in order to reach Tacie. One of those is a lot harder to face then the other especially when he's lightless.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Amanda Heit
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781949858211

Amanda Heit

Finding meaning in life—feeling like you’re contributing to all of humanity in a good way—is a large undertaking. When I write, it’s the task I take on. Sometimes, that task is daunting. Sometimes, it’s full of laughter, joy, and fear. Reaching the end of a book can put me on top of the world or cause me endless frustration. But I can’t stop myself from trying. I can’t stop the inner clock that ticks and tells me that writing is something I enjoy the heck out of and there is nothing that will stop me from writing for long. As one of the quiet people in the universe, my best joy and flow in life comes when I’m creating new worlds and exploring characters. For me, each book I create finds new friends that share with me the intimate tangles of their lives. They cheer and I cheer. They succeed and I rejoice. They fall and I’m there hoping for that happy ending right along with them. I hope that you can find something in the stories I create that will bring you the same type of thrill. Thanks for sticking to the end!- Amanda Heit

Book preview

Chapter 1

"C ongratulations," the note in his hand read. He had found the piece of paper in his pocket and a strange metal device that had a dial and a clicker. Something in his gut told him not to touch it. It was the only thing he had that might help him remember anything at all. His head hurt and his insides felt all jumbled.

If you are reading this, then you have taken the first step in locating your kidnapped sweetheart. You won’t remember anything, of course. You just faced a nasty event that you (I, we?) had to go through. To sum it up, your name is Floyd Nickle. You need to find Tacie Clancy, but she’s a devil to find because the man who has her in his clutches can alter time. Good news is that you can too. (Or will be able to?) Don’t bother trying to talk to Tacie through your light connection. You won’t find her. It’s bad, pal, but we’ve managed so far. Stop those monsters and then you (I) need to tackle Martin Lumineer whose real name you need to track down. I’d explain more to myself, but this note could be a bad idea in the first place. Destroy this. Then go to the Trinity Bookshop. That will set you (me) right.

Lo, what had he been doing?? It felt like his head had been put between two rocks and crushed a few times. Floyd had read this note no less than seven times and it was only starting to make sense. He was a time traveler and some girl he fancied was in trouble. That’s as far as he was getting.

When he tried to concentrate on the name Tacie Clancy, he could bring up two images. One was a girl (blond hair, green eyes, super adorable) sitting next to him on top of a blue dome with her shoes and socks kicked off. He had the embarrassing thought of wanting to flatten her to the roof and kiss her forever. The second one was equally troublesome. He and Tacie were sitting beside a stairwell flirting. She had just asked him something, but he had no idea what it was because all he wanted to do was grab at her legs and pull her to sit on his lap so he could hold her extra tight and never let her go.

Yup. Whoever this girl was, he was smitten with her. If only he could remember who she was. Or who he was.

Floyd managed to sit up and look around. Bad news. He was in a war zone. To be more exact, he was lying on top of the rubble in a broken building. He put the note back into his pocket because he was certain that he hadn’t gained all the clues he could from it yet and staggered toward the first broken window he saw so he could look outside and hopefully find out that he wasn’t about to be shot with something nasty. A whispering inside his soul told him that there were two kinds of people he needed to watch out for. One kind of person could blast things into charcoal using their hands. The other kind of person could shoot gaping holes through crystal guns. Both means of destruction were equally powerful.

Floyd glanced out the window, noting that it looked peaceful enough. The war had stopped for now. Walkers were crossing the street alone and in pairs. He spotted a few families with children strolling to various locations like nothing was wrong. No one was paying him any attention from the street as if this building breaking was old news and he was simply waking up in it after he had fought someplace else. That made more sense. He had crawled himself to safety and written himself a note. He glanced into the window reflection and had to take a step back.

Okay. Whoa. In his head, he saw that going differently. For some reason, he was under the impression that he was a guy with dark brown hair, blue eyes, and the smile of a hunk. Either that or some old guy with bushy eyebrows who used to be a hunk, or maybe even a guy with a few missing teeth and a lopsided smile. Maybe he was a woman with thick unmanageable hair that he (um she) always kept braided. He had to laugh at himself for his vast exaggerations. He was red-headed. His eyes were blue, but they also had green lining the edges, and his smile at the moment was rather weak and tired. He wasn’t old. Maybe he was in his early twenties.

Nice to meet you, Floyd, he said to himself, rubbing at his chin and examining the stubble. Great, he’d go home, get cleaned up, and gather clues about this other demon he needed to stop. He started to head out of the broken building only to stop himself. He didn’t know where he lived. He had no idea what this demon would look like or how he needed to prepare to face it. Why had he not written himself a better note? He pulled the note back out and read the name of the place he needed to reach. He’d better start there.

Floyd stepped further out into the street, blinking in surprise. When he had looked out the broken window a moment ago, he hadn’t noticed all the really strange people. There were transparent ones that could only be called ghosts that caught his attention. Were these here to haunt him for all the battling he was doing? Sort of like punishment for his tendency to fight. He knew he had been fighting something. Whatever the case, the ghosts didn’t think much of him at all. They kept moving around him. Some even followed him for a time, but it was a listless following, like they were bored.

Floyd poked his head into a trinket shop and asked about the Trinity Bookshop learning that he could find it at 758 Park Lane. To his luck, that was close. He walked down the streets watching with interest the people that rode skateboards to get around and the people that dressed any which way they wanted. It made him wonder if anyone had a single clue what the current style was supposed to be because they were so varied. As he walked, he found himself whistling a happy little tune that felt connected to something really important that he couldn’t quite remember.

His song cut off when he turned the corner and found a remarkably burnt building. The strange part about the fire that had taken the building was that it hadn’t spread anywhere else. To the right of the ashes was a set of white brick walls. To the left was a building with white siding. Neither one had even the smallest hint of being hit by smoke when their white coloring should have shown stains from the destruction that took place beside them. He would think a fire that could destroy an entire building would leave a testimony of the event on the walls next to it. Nothing. Therefore, Floyd had to conclude that it wasn’t fire that had taken the building down.

Completely curious, he walked closer, paying attention to the building numbers.

756 Park Lane. 760. That would put 758 as the burnt building. The place where he was supposed to find additional answers had been blasted to smithereens. This wasn’t fair!  Now what? Without knowing who he was or where he was going, he was a hobo. Floyd shrugged at himself as if he’d been through worse, although part of him knew that he hadn’t. It was a really strange feeling. All the same, he had to plan. He could get a job around here. Watch this building. See if anything suspicious showed up like that ghost that was staring him in the face not two steps away. He would need a fake place to live. Maybe that broken spot he had woken up in.

They’re going to attack Highmore next, a person whispered beside him, causing him to jump and spin around. It was a ghost talking to him, male. The ghost’s height was just below Floyd’s own, and his shoulders were wide and broad. Floyd got the strange sense of knowing this ghost, but when the guy was alive. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Maybe they had worked together. Sort of.

No idea what you’re talking about, Floyd replied.

Whisper, Floyd. The ghost that had been staring at him admonished. You don’t want the whole world knowing that you talk to us.

Okay. He had to assume that he really was Floyd, if these things called him that. He talked to ghosts and seemed to be the only one that could see them too. He was starting to think that he was a little on the strange side until he noticed a guy in a white shirt with black pants veer around one of the ghosts in his way. Floyd couldn’t be the only one who saw them. He might be the only one who talked to them still because no one else was doing that.

What happened to the building, Floyd whispered, pointing to the one he needed to reach for additional answers.

The Order of 20 blew it up two weeks ago, a new ghost told him as it rushed past.

Who are they? Floyd wondered.

His mostly helpful ghost friend stared at him like he had become disconnected from reality. He felt like he had. A really large hint, like instant answers, would be great.  

The Order of 20 is the organization that wants to stop the supremacy of using light energy and return everyone to the time of darkness. The number twenty is the age at which the founder started the regime. They believe that dark power is stronger and more accessible to the general public than light. Once everyone uses the darkness instead of being trampled by the light, we shall all be equal and there will be no single elite ruling class. They are wrong, though. While everyone has felt the darkness, it doesn’t make anyone better at using it. We’ve all felt the light too.

Great, Floyd nodded. That sounded familiar. There was a divide between light and dark, a large stifling one that his gut told him he had breached a time or two.

Who am I?

Stop talking, the ghost snapped, growing frustrated with him. You look like a looney.

He felt like one too. He was some sort of demon battler with a quest to save a girl. Did he work for the Order of 20? He didn’t think so, or this ghost wouldn’t have told him that those guys were wrong. It would all make sense in a bit. He hoped.

Floyd walked closer to the building that had blown up two weeks ago. Right now, the only thing to it was black ash. All around him the buildings were white with blue being the dominant alternating color to relieve eyestrain. Storefronts continued to contrast this with bright colors and fresh flowers sitting in window displays. Perhaps he could locate a note or some message scribbled on a brick among the rubble of the bookshop that would jog a memory.

"Does anyone else ever try to save Tacie Clancy?" Floyd mumbled as he reached the blank area. Not that he could remember why, but it felt like thousands of people had forgotten that she needed help. Or maybe they never knew about her in the first place. He didn’t know what he was doing, but the stirrings in his soul felt just as curious about it all as he was.

Why was Tacie the person that had been kidnapped? Floyd pulled out the note again, trying to remember. The only thing it told him was to not talk to her through a light connection. He couldn’t remember how to use a light connection, but at least this proved that he wasn’t working for the Order of 20. It sounded like he was against it. Or well, maybe not. Something about being against it didn’t sit right with him. Maybe he was a double agent. Yeah. So Tacie was a spy who had learned too much about these monsters Floyd needed to stop. He shoved the note back into his pocket as he knelt to the ground.

Floyd ran his hand through the ashes of what used to be Trinity Bookshop. The lack of destruction beside this place still bothered him. Something more deadly than fire or a crystal gun had imploded this location. The black soot that ran through his fingers felt soft, like down feathers. It had no smell, and when he looked up with the vain hope that he would find a brick with a message, the only thing that stood around him were more ghosts.

Fat ghosts, skinny ghosts. Each one was a blurry outline of golden light. One of them was dancing—a girl. He could tell by the slender form and the way she twirled. This wasn’t so bad. At least some ghosts were not sad and morbid. He wouldn’t be putting up with whining or moaning that only he could hear. The dancer moved across the soot sliding backward. She jumped and twirled over and around.

Are you guys even ghosts? Floyd asked as he focused on the dancer. There was something about her that felt a bit more... solid. Like maybe she wasn’t dead, or at least she wasn’t overtaken by the darkness that the Order of 20 wanted to achieve. This ghost looked oblivious to the languid, bored features of all the others. She spun around again, saw him looking at her, and smiled.

Floyd didn’t think he was the kind of person to be taken in by smiles, but this particular smile on the maybe ghost girl stirred something. Right out of his reach sat a memory that he couldn’t bring to the surface. Floyd took a few steps closer, trying to find it.

The dancer waved at him and pointed down. That’s when he realized that she wasn’t simply dancing. The ghost had given him a message in the soot. An arrow. That was probably the clue he had come here to find. 

Ghost? he asked.

No. The ghost shook her head at him, jumping over to him and giving him a hug that he actually felt. She couldn’t be a ghost if she had a solid physical form. Floyd glanced behind him at the walkers on the street that still paid him no attention, even if he was talking to himself. He wasn’t sure why he was surprised by this hug because his body wasn’t scared even if his head was. His head rang at him warnings that he couldn’t be seen hugging a ghost. His arms disagreed and hugged that ghost for all he was worth.

I am a broken soul, the ghost explained. A different portion of light is currently inhabiting my body, kicking me out of it. With no place to go until I die, I am free to visit you. Them though, the broken soul pointed to the others around them, they don’t have bodies to return to anymore. Their bodies were slaughtered when their light was kicked out to prevent light infestations. The Light Troop was told that human bodies would turn evil without their normal light, so the good guys were killing off their own people and were actually helping the Order of 20 with their plans of light destruction. These broken souls like to stay around you because no one else can see them.

Aha. More clues. How do I stop demons? Floyd asked, trying not to fixate on the first sentence the broken soul had said. She was hanging around waiting for her body to die. That didn’t sound like the best of circumstances. It made him feel uncomfortable, as if there was something he should be able to do about it.

You stop the broken souls from entering the demon by destroying the demon. Floyd, what’s the last thing you remember?

He shrugged. It sounded like he was in the business of getting in the way of broken souls as well as facing demons. He didn’t believe what his head was telling him. The last thing he could remember was watching his very best friend destroy his mortal frame. That couldn’t be right because when he looked down, he had his own body, not the body of the hunk, or the guy with missing teeth, or the crazy woman. Furthermore, all the images of his best friend showed different best friends, as if he couldn’t make up his mind about who had killed him. He wasn’t dead. Unless he was the ghost and everyone else around him wasn’t. Nah. He clearly was the time traveler Floyd Nickle like his note had said, and he couldn’t remember anything because... He didn’t remember that yet.

Do you know my name? the girl asked him.

Floyd had to shake his head. He only knew his name because he had written it down for himself. As he admitted to his lack of coherence, he saw a change come over the broken soul that was talking to him. The pale light that came from it got dimmer, as if she was sad. She looked away from him and wiped at her eyes and then her nose before looking back with a nod. She gave him a large smile—a brave one.

Have you ever seen a demon? Floyd asked her.

Yes. I fought some before on Sellium. They were horrible clawed animals with thick hides and tails that shot poison. They had such quick reflexes that they could avoid crystal gunshots. They were scary.

Sellium... He may have heard of the place before, but he couldn’t quite place it now.

Oh, right. That’s a planet, Floyd. There are four planets that you need to be aware of. You are currently on Praxiallis. This is where all light—

She disappeared.

Hey come back! Floyd screamed looking around trying to find the dancer. He didn’t want her to leave him. As soon as she was gone, he felt a burst of sadness hit him so strong that he literally teared up as if the worst thing in the entire universe was this dancer leaving him. The broken soul had to come back. Floyd needed it like he needed air to breathe or water to live. He hadn’t noticed it when he first saw her, but that particular broken person felt like his entire world, his life, and he could only realize that it was missing at the moment it left. He had to wipe at his eyes and console himself that the broken lady had gone back to her body, although knowing that she was waiting around for her body to die didn’t make him feel any better. Maybe that’s why he was crying.  

Who was that? Floyd asked the talkative ghost man as he wiped his eyes dry. He even remembered to whisper for the guy's benefit.

That was Tacie, the broken soul answered. She used to go by the name Gemmia, but you started calling her Tacie right after she disappeared.

Tacie! He had seen Tacie! That was the girl he needed to rescue, and if she had been using a fake name before, that proved part of his spy theory.

Does this mean that Tacie just died? Floyd croaked.

He might have time to stop demons, but it looked like he had failed to save Tacie. His entire body wanted to burst into a rage. His light, hope, and joy were gone. His very life felt hinged on the idea of Tacie staying alive.

"You said that Tacie can heal herself, so no. Tacie told you that she’s being used to stuff broken souls into demons at some point in time. She is shoved full of broken souls until her light is cast out and she can’t physically hold the other light anymore. Then she has no choice but to release them into a monster. She was rather certain that no one would be able to destroy the monsters she creates without likewise being able to heal themselves. Don’t kill me for this, but can’t you tell her to stop stuffing the demons? If she let herself die, we’d all be safer. I don’t care if she is being held captive, it’s her that’s everyone’s worst enemy at the moment."

Floyd tried to hit the ghost to see if he could destroy something that was already dead, but it disappeared on him. It wasn’t a ghost. This was light. It traveled at a faster pace than he could travel, and he frowned at failing to smack it. How dare the guy tell him that Tacie should die?! This wasn’t her fault. She was captured. She was not the enemy here. That would be Martin Lumineer. It was in his note. Every time Floyd saw his ghost girl, it was really Floyd seeing his sweetheart forcing herself to stay partially alive so she could go see him and help him while she was trapped elsewhere. And to think that she had come at him dancing. That was enough to make a man go mad knowing that she could dance through such pain.

Tacie was creating the monsters he was trying to stop. She was leading him to his death, but he couldn’t feel upset with her. It was quite the opposite. He loved her for it. He loved her for the strength she gave, and he forgave her for when she broke.

Maybe I should find Highmore, Floyd mumbled to himself for where he needed to go next. That was the location that the broken soul had told him was going to have trouble. Floyd glanced down at the arrow danced into the soot. It pointed straight ahead into the back of a white wooden building. He took a few steps forward, only to smash himself directly into a broken soul that suddenly appeared in front of him. Tacie! Floyd tried to hug her again, to soothe the pain of being broken, but she was faster than he was. Tacie brushed over the whole arrow with her hands, avoiding his arms. Then she drew a new arrow.

Sorry about that. Caspian moved. You want to go that way, Floyd.

Did you just die? Floyd asked her. He tried to make out her features other than just glowing yellow light. He could nearly picture her blond hair, which should be smooth, her green eyes that danced joy into him, and her quick smile that came at him when he was feeling down.

Most likely. Tacie gave him a shrug and didn’t sound very concerned. He would be. She gave him a large smile instead and took his hand, leading him away from the destroyed bookstore. He tightened his grip around her fingers, not wanting to let her go.

Don’t worry. From our past examples, our time traveling occurs within the same year. We don’t get nearly as crazy with it as one set of my parents. There are four planets, she took up again. Praxiallis where you are. Then there is Sellium that has some kind of clue that opening the door to Praxiallis is a bad idea. I think it’s a machine that lets them see broken souls better. Maybe something that lets the broken souls talk. I tried to go find it, but time feels distorted when I’m like this. I can’t decide what day it is at all. I can find you anywhere though.

She gave him a smile, one that whispered to his heart that things were going to be alright. He hadn’t realized that he was mentally starting to panic about not remembering anything until that smile hit him. Then he felt part of his stress slide away as the whispers in his mind told him that Tacie in any form could be trusted.

There is Deserva. That’s where I was born, but I was raised on Catonia. If you need help with something, you can always go find my adopted father AJ on Catonia. Be careful though. He wants to kill you for scrambling my brain, which is not something you did, but he doesn’t believe it. Maybe if you told him that you helped deliver the cure to the planet Girland to end the fifteen-year pandemic, he might change his mind. For sure Kim and Sam would like you.

Floyd nodded although he couldn’t remember delivering any cure to a planet, so he didn’t think he could use that as an excuse to see AJ. Also he had no idea who Kim and Sam were, although the answer felt like it hovered at the edge of his thoughts waiting for the right moment to remind him. Floyd had a lot of questions, but in the present, he wasn’t scared about them. He was with Tacie, and he did not want to waste what little time they might have. She was holding his left hand. Dead or not, it had a rather calming effect on him that prevented him from breaking down and falling over on the ground to give up because everything sounded so overwhelming.

They made it back onto the street and turned toward the sun, heading toward a flower shop.

Floyd, Tacie smiled at him. He could almost see those green eyes of hers, even if in this form she had only one color of golden yellow. You made your energy pattern stronger somehow. You didn’t used to be able to touch broken souls. I used to be the only one who could.

Which explained why she was the one who had been kidnapped. He was starting to put the pieces back together. The reason for him not being able to remember things was because he had done something to his energy so he could touch her.

Let me know if those souls start playing tricks on you when they realize they can become physical around you. You’ll have to make sure that none of them do something like this.

They had reached the edge of the flower shop. Tacie stretched up an arm and tipped a hanging pot that had been dripping water. The cold water splashed over Floyd’s shoulder, drenching him through while the liquid went right through Tacie not touching her at all. Tacie laughed over what she had done while he stared at the puddle on the ground and gulped. He could feel her. She could touch the pot, and yet other things couldn’t touch her. This was the strangest thing he had ever seen. How could light touch things but not be touched in return by anything more than his hand?

Tacie, he remarked, reaching his right hand out to confirm that she was solid. He felt her hair completely dry even as the water had gone through her head. Instead of his fingers feeling strands, he felt a warmth like touching a sunbeam. She was looking at his face, maybe at his eyes, enchanted. Floyd felt this moment in time get captured in his soul. If he ever lost his mind again, he was still going to remember Tacie glowing and smiling at him, dead, but more alive than anyone else could ever know.

She vanished on him again, leaving his hand suspended in the air like he was imagining things and going crazy. Like last time, he had to wipe at his eyes to dry them up for missing her. She left and his whole heart, mind, and body screamed. He needed to get her freed so he could see her without all this crying.

With his mission a lot firmer in his mind, Floyd continued down the street giving a few people a nod as they stared at him like he was crazy for talking to himself. Not everyone could see these broken souls. The more he looked around at the ones that followed him and the ones that walked away from him, he started to pick out differences. Some of them were brighter than others, showing that they existed on different wavelengths. All of them were adults. Not one broken soul was a child, which he found to be comforting in a way.

As he continued in the direction of the arrow, Floyd glanced down other streets trying to spot more broken souls. The other streets only had real people in colorful garments with contrasting styles. The only souls here were following him, proving that he was haunted.

When he reached the end of the street, Floyd gulped at the sight of a wall of people in uniform. Both men and women wore white shirts, black pants, and dark shoes. They were all between their twenties and thirties causing Floyd to take a step back confused over his age again. When he’d looked at his reflection, he could probably pass as twenty-something. However, his head told him that he was anywhere from twenty-eight to fifty-two and he couldn’t decide for a moment if he should be a girl or a boy. He shivered over his mental failings. He was male, and he was a red-head. He’d already decided that. Why the quivering opinions?

The army, no, the Light Troop, he remembered the name, widened their stance like they were seizing him up. Some of these people looked at him like he was a criminal. Others looked at him with pity. Floyd recalled that one of these guys had walked around a broken soul earlier, which meant that these guys could see a few of them. They knew he was being followed, and it looked like a very bad thing.

Any last words? he was asked.

Light Troop. Floyd felt like he had belonged to it as he had once stood where these people were standing now fighting to keep light in his body that he had lost right before his best friend killed him. Ugh. Not that again. He wasn’t dead!

Hold your breath! a voice shouted as a smoke bomb was launched into the street, causing people to scream and run into shops. Floyd inhaled sharply just in time. The Light Troop didn’t hold their breath as the thick gas obscured their vision. They started shouting about Caspian being a traitor. Blasts of white light shot outward toward Floyd. He dove out of the way, feeling his lungs burn at him for not breathing. A hand grabbed onto his arm and pulled him to safety.

Chapter 2

I can feel your confusion halfway to Girland, a voice hissed in his ear.

Floyd had to close his eyes next because the smoke was stinging his face. He wanted to run a bucket full of water over his entire head, but he didn’t get the chance. The arm that was dragging him away—it could only belong to Caspian—continued to run him down the streets, avoiding more blasts of white light and tossing more smoke bombs out behind him. Caspian turned silent as he ran except for the small gasps for clean air. Floyd felt noisy as he sputtered and gasped on memories that forced themselves through his brain.

He was a woman who had just burnt dinner. He was a young man who blew up a firework before it should have gone off. He was running from a house fire as a child. He was the older fifty-year-old man throwing the smoke bombs himself to clear the street before a soul attack came created by the Order of 20. These had to be all wrong! He was Floyd Nickle, and he was running away from the Light Troop with Caspian—whoever that was.

Caspian shoved him through a doorway, catching his breath. Floyd was still struggling to sort out his head. He felt like a psycho.

He was being pushed up against a wall for some sort of training test, and he couldn’t figure out how to break out of the hold. He was listening to a door slam as an angry husband stomped away. He was pushing a large rock into the ocean, only it was bad timing because there was a person below him in the way. He was pounding down a door that refused to open.

Floyd! Caspian grabbed at his shoulders as Floyd continued to cough, eyes shut, strangled by his own confusion.

Floyd. You okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you! What happened? 

He had no idea. Saying as much wouldn’t score him any points in the test of life. At the moment, he could hardly remember his own name. Hearing Caspian say it reminded him of his mission. The one he wasn’t going to stop just because his head was screwy. Floyd forced his eyes open and took in the dingy room the man had brought him to.

A trickle of light came through a closed window around a dark gray curtain. Instead of a large dining table, there was a short coffee table that offered a flat surface in the middle of the room. Instead of a sofa, bean bags had been moved into various locations for chairs. People were sitting on them waiting for Floyd’s answer. A brown desk sat by the wall between the junction of this room and the kitchen. Four stuffed bookshelves featuring more than books stood proudly near the back of the room. There were hand-painted headshot pictures on the walls of beautiful people with expressions of searching for something. They were a little disturbing when Floyd was trying to find himself, although he got the feeling that he had studied them all before. His head told him that he was standing in Caspian’s home.

Caspian was both taller and older than Floyd. His hair was blond. He had brown eyes with yellow edges currently making him look and feel like a predator and Floyd the prey. It didn’t seem to matter that Caspian had just saved his life from the Light Troop when the man’s eyes glowed with such a keen gaze. Even in the dark, Floyd could make out a set of words tattooed on Caspian’s neck, although the language was foreign. Caspian was wearing the same uniform of the Light Troop that he had just betrayed. Maybe Caspian was the double agent here. Or that could still be Floyd...

Floyd glanced at the others in the room. There was Chantelle, a hefty girl with frizzy brown hair who didn’t have a light partner (LP) yet. Floyd got the sense that she was here only because she had taken a liking to Tacie earlier. There were Francis and Kinsley, Luke and Sal. These were people he had known from school at Dragon Hall. Well, good. He was starting to remember that much. He had been a student until... something. In any case, it looked like he only had a handful of people on his side against the rest of the Light Troop and the Order of 20 and Martin Lumineer, who he thought were all separate forces. Floyd wondered if his group had a name of its own yet and what they all wanted to achieve, aside from saving Tacie. Unless he was the only one wanting to save Tacie.

Where did you go? Caspian asked him, gaining Floyd’s attention back.

Out. Floyd prickled at the question, although he wasn’t sure why. He looked away from Caspian and his gaze fell across a bookshelf. Something about it... Ah-ha! He had been here before. Floyd clearly remembered putting a note at the top of the bookshelf that he wanted to review later. He had been researching... something... and hadn’t wanted anyone to see the note, so he placed it on the top. What was it?  

Floyd moved to the bookshelf, reached up, and tugged down the strip of paper, trying to recognize his handwriting.

Fact: Martin Lumineer is Tacie’s great-grandfather. He fathered Lynette who is Tacie’s grandmother who married Regis. Regis, the current leader of the Order of 20, is therefore on the birth record of Ciana Clearwater who is Tacie’s mother. Martin helped Lynette breach the door into Praxiallis because Ciana was born here. Martin influenced the betrothal of Ciana to Josiah Clancy after Lynette brought her back to Deserva so that Tacie would be born with her particular characteristics. If Tacie was specially bred by the mad scientists Martin and Regis, and we have the same light and energy, then does that mean that Regis Clearwater had a hand in breeding me while Martin bred Tacie across the divide?

Goosebumps traveled across Floyd’s arms. Wow! That was a deep question. One that he didn’t want to know the answer to because he didn’t want to be a lab rat and it all sounded rather confusing. He read it over a few times, trying to follow the family lines. He guessed that if Tacie was captured and being used that he had started to question if the same thing would happen to him. This was getting creepy. Tacie had been bred by a mad scientist. Floyd was pretty certain that he had a family and a life and a full backstory of his own.

Floyd tore the paper into tiny strips and let it fall to the ground.

What was that? Caspian accused, as if Floyd was destroying his personal property.

Nothing much, Floyd shrugged. Then because he felt like it, he held his left hand out and a stream of white light shot out, turning the shreds into black dust.

He had blasting powers like the Light Troop! It came out of his hand!

Floyd gawked at his hand with amazement. He pinched at his palm and then tested this strange power out on his right. Nope. His right hand wouldn’t do anything, but his left one was good at blowing things up. Bam! His left hand shattered a cup, sending a white liquid spilling out across the floor.

Floyd! Chantelle screamed at him while Caspian jumped across the room and yanked his hand down.

Did you see that? Floyd asked, even if everyone had. I’m like some strange battling blasting God.

Oh no, Caspian moaned. No wonder we couldn’t find you. Something caused you to lose your mind. Do you have any idea what you just did?

Blew up some milk? Floyd guessed.

Caspian kept Floyd’s arm pinned down as he marched him across the room into the kitchen toward a cabinet that he opened. He pulled out two leather strips that were rounded and had gems on them. These went to Floyd’s arms.

What are these? Floyd asked against Caspian’s flustered features.

No one has time to babysit you, Floyd! Caspian shouted at him. You can’t go blasting your light around destroying things. These are bracers. This one will zap you if you try to shoot your light. He pointed to the one on Floyd’s left. This one will zap you for being an idiot. He pointed to one on the right.

Nice! Floyd was in detention. He had some positive friends around here. He probably shouldn’t be laughing at the sight of the bracers, but he couldn’t help it. For some reason, he found these things to be rather funny, as if he got put in detention quite often. It made him feel smug and powerful despite the chastisement.

Do you guys use your hands to shoot stuff? Floyd wanted to know.

"Tell me that Floyd didn’t just ask that," a new girl asked as she rushed into the room, coming in from outside. The sulfur smell of the smoke bombs came in after her. She was also wearing the white and black uniform of the Light Troop. The girl normally had blond hair, but she died the top of her head black and left the tips blond. The more Floyd squinted at her, the more her name and connection came to him. This was Gigi and she was Caspian’s light partner, meaning that they shared