Rafael & the magic DarKNight

"Please, have a seat.”

Rafael remembered the voice from when he first woke up in Centisom. Given its deep, gravelly sound, he had pictured a hulking, bearded man in a long robe. After his first glimpse of the man, however, he was unsure if he should be relieved or scared. Maybe both.

Medeor Demetriu, Centisom’s Headmaster, looked like a cross between Popeye the Sailor and a sleek executive. A popcutive, Rafael thought, pleased with himself. It lessened his anxieties when he gave scary things funny names.

He reined in his overactive mind and shifted in his seat, trying to concentrate on the man standing in front of him. He had decided to see how far the bizarre dream would lead since it seemed he couldn’t wake up.

The perspective offered him an unobscured view of the Headmaster’s black tribal tattoos, which snaked all the way from his right temple down to his fingertip, his short-sleeved shirt hiding a portion of it. The art appeared to be alive, given the way it seemed to hover over the man’s skin. Rafael blinked in astonishment and lifted his gaze to the silver goatee, avoiding the man’s deep black eyes.

Despite his strange appearance, the Headmaster commanded attention, and Rafael felt dwarfed by his presence.

“You had quite an eventful start, young man. Your transition wasn’t easy,” Mr. Demetriu said, pushing away from his desk. “And I’ve heard about an ice cream party.”

Rafael cringed. “It wasn’t intentional.”

The Headmaster chuckled, the mirth softening his stern expression. “No harm was done, Rafael. I’m just sorry I wasn’t able to join you for a few bites.” He sobered and clasped his hands together. “Helping you through the transition took a great deal of... expertise. How are you doing today?”

Rafael didn’t want to reflect on his situation, but the question nudged his mind in that direction. He remembered the initial sensation of pleasant weightlessness, followed by the sense of urgency that jarred him awake. But he wasn’t fully awake, was he? He was caught somewhere in between. His body felt familiar, but – at least according to Mr. Dowotski – it wasn’t his physical body. Furthermore, while his real body was in a coma, his “astral self” had been recruited to train as a Guardian in a magical place called Centisom. And because these people claimed that time had stopped on Earth, there was no way to escape.

How was he supposed to feel?

He settled for an “I’m okay, I guess.”

“I’m sure my respected colleagues covered the basics with you. You are, without a doubt, a powerful young man. The question we’d like to answer now is: Which are your unique gifts?”

Rafael’s chin jutted out, and his eyes slid to Mr. Dowotski, who was leaning on the far wall.

“Tell me, young Padawan,” Mr. Dowotski said, crossing the room to join them, “what do you believe happens when you sleep?”

In reaction to the unsolicited moniker, Rafael narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice to a disinterested monotone. “I guess your body rests, and well, you dream.”

As he spoke, he recalled the many nightmares when he couldn’t cope with his classmates’ harassment anymore. They were so bad that he had rebelled against sleep with all of his might. His mum had held him most nights until he grew exhausted and finally drifted off into sweet nothingness. “You’re the boss of your mind,” she had coached him. “You alone decide what happens in your dreams.”

He wondered what she would say about Centisom.

“Well, that’s a start,” the Headmaster replied in a flat voice. “Tell me, have you ever asked yourself how dreams come about?”

Outraged by the overwhelming sense of helplessness and upset about the strange conversation, the dragon in Rafael’s guts roared. Something snapped in him, and he went for the most provocative theory he could think of.

“Maybe it’s a computer simulation, like in the Matrix movie?”

To his astonishment, Mr. Demetriu pursed his lips as though it was a legitimate answer.

“You’re not too far off,” he replied. “The truth is, Dreamland is on another plane of existence altogether, where the non-physical part of you – we call it the astral body – goes when you sleep. You could indeed call it an inverted matrix.”

Rafael didn’t know if he should give himself a high-five or run away screaming.

Mr. Demetriu grabbed a chair, whipped it around with a sharp twist of his wrist, plopped down on it, and leveled his black eyes with Rafael’s. “But instead of being a place of enslavement, it’s a place of healing and knowledge.” He stroked his goatee and flashed a smile. “Without Dreamland, humanity would still be back in the stone age, rubbing sticks together to make fire.”

Rafael pressed his spine into his chair. The Headmaster’s intensity was frightening. “Okay,” he managed to stammer.

When the Headmaster leaned back a bit, there was more room to breathe, and Rafael relaxed a bit.

“Every astral body that enters Dreamland needs protection, Rafael. Our mission here is: Protect, Nurture, Heal.” Each word swelled with pride.

The dragon shook with laughter, and Rafael’s anger turned to disbelief. This whole Dreamland story was beyond ridiculous. The stress from the past years must have caught up to him, and now his mind was pulling a prank. He gave himself points for his fantastic imagination and pressed his trembling hands together.

“You won’t miss anything in your Earth life,” Mr. Demetriu continued, unaware of Rafael’s growing unrest, “because though Centisom is on the dream plane, it exists outside Reality and Dreamland – like a floating island, an extra dimension with its own space and time. When Centisom shifts out of time, time is halted on both planes. Do you understand me?”

There was that time thing again. “How is that even possible?”

Mr. Dowotski jumped in. “There are some interesting theories, but the bottom line is: We don’t know. In any case, Centisom’s ability to create its own dimension gives us the time and space to train Guardians.”

Rafael startled when a hand squeezed his shoulder, and the jolt was like a lightning bolt striking him. His mind went blank for a second, and when it snapped back to attention, the truth was suddenly crystal clear. What he experienced was too complex, detailed, and tactile to come from his own limited imagination.

He looked at Mr. Dowotski’s elegant hand resting on his shoulder and tried to process the emerging fact that he wasn’t crazy after all. And he couldn’t deny the terrifying truth anymore: He was really in Centisom. A Guardian. Far away from his family. Cut off from every possible escape.

He shifted his gaze to Mr. Demetriu’s deep-set eyes. “Okay, I see,” he said, tasting bile on his tongue. “But why me?”

The Headmaster dismissed his question with a wave of his hand. “You’ll get the answers you’re seeking during training.” He stood and removed an object from an inlaid wooden box. “The Guardian’s gifts reveal themselves throughout the training. However, you’ll feel more comfortable if you start your specialized training right away.”

Rafael squinted at the palm-sized slat of mineral the Headmaster was holding up. Its bright splashes of red and blue with veins of gold were mesmerizing.

“This stone is called a Power Lens. Stare straight ahead, as though you’re trying to look through it. We’ll see which symbols appear in your eyes.”

“My eyes?” Rafael was sure his eyes were only dull brown, with no symbols to be found in them. He opened his mouth to ask about the symbols, but the Headmaster cut him off.

“Ready?” he asked, a hint of impatience in his voice.

At Rafael’s compliant shrug, Mr. Demetriu touched the snaking tattoo on his temple with his inked fingertip, bringing the tattoo into a triangular shape. The ink began to glow and emitted a tremendous bass frequency that warbled through the room, rocking Rafael’s chair.

When the Headmaster held the flat stone in front of his face, Rafael glared at it, trying to ignore the strange tingling sensation on his skin and what felt like increasing pressure filling his body.

He jerked when the tension drained out of him with a muffled pop, and the walls in the room quaked.

“What?!” the men shouted in alarm.

The last thing Rafael saw as he slid sideways off the chair was the white around the Headmaster’s black iris.

“Two primary gifts?” Medeor said in alarm.

“Did you feel that?”

The words collided and reverberated as Niklas scooped up Rafael and deposited him on the leather sofa.

Medeor joined them, assessing the unconscious boy in silence. Rafael’s slender build was deceptive; the boy possessed great constructive and destructive power.

He massaged his temples. “This is a troubling development. But Centisom called him, so Dreamland needs him.” He sat down and let his head fall back on the backrest. “Frankly, I don’t need more complications,” he confided in his best friend.

Niklas inclined his head in silent agreement.

Medeor didn’t bother with diplomacy. “Given yesterday’s event, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Manifestation is one of his gifts. However, it will take time for him to grow into such big shoes. Are you up to training him?”

“Of course, you know I love challenges,” Niklas said with a smile, “I positively look forward to it.”

Medeor sighed. “Very well. As for the second gift, it’s unfortunate, and we’ll have to leave it be.”

Hearing Niklas’s surprised intake of breath, he added, “It’s for the best we keep it between us. The boy will have enough on his plate without struggling to develop such a dangerous power. It shouldn’t be a problem because that gift is all but extinct.”

“But an untrained power is a recipe for catastrophe!”

Medeor studied his oldest pal. They had trained together many years ago when he was a scrawny Greek with an attitude, and Niklas was the golden boy, straight from the cold hearth of Russia. How they ever bonded was a mystery, and a miracle he treasured.

“No, my dear Niklas, it would only be a catastrophe if he used the gift without proper guidance. Do I need to remind you of its destructive potential?” He shook his head with trepidation. “Besides, who could teach him? There is no one left. No, you will concentrate on developing his gift of Manifestation, and we’ll hope it inhibits the growth of the other one.”

Despite Medeor’s outward confidence, he felt a new knot of tension take root deep in his upper back. Things might not go as smooth as he hoped, but he was reluctant to send Rafael back to Reality so soon – he needed each and every one of his Guardians.

“I see,” Niklas conceded. “Intensive training should do the trick.”

The easy agreement allayed most of Medeor’s concerns, but something was still bothering him. “Would you please do some discreet inquiries into Rafael’s bloodline? I want to know how we overlooked the survival of that gift.”

Niklas nodded as the boy stirred.

He had been floating somewhere warm and bright. Rumbling voices had disturbed his peace like distant thunder in the bluest sky. He had discerned a few words, but as the haze lifted, their meaning faded. If he ever wanted to make it out of Centisom, he had to keep his head in the game. Therefore, he took an extra second to collect his thoughts before fixing an accusing glare on the two adults.

“You never said it would hurt.”

Mr. Demetriu glossed over his accusation with a shrug. “It was a small glitch. As we assumed, you are gifted with the power of Manifestation. Congratulations.”

He leaned toward the low table and tapped his finger on a symbol etched into its ancient wood.

Rafael moved closer and studied the circle, which was crossed by an infinity marker. It looked sleek and interesting but didn’t call to mind anything. Other symbols were alongside it, six in total. “What are the other ones?”

Mr. Dowotski took the explanation over from the Headmaster with an eager smile and pointed to the first symbol, a hand inside a six-point star. “This is Healing, led by Ms. Pepper.” He moved to the one depicting parchment and a quill. “This is Knowledge, headed by Mr. Zhou.” The next was a tree with massive roots, surrounded by sun rays. “This is Maintain, the Headmaster’s science.” Next, he pointed to an inverted heart with small rounded shapes inside it. “That would be Nurture, in the capable hands of Ms. Renvoizé.”

With their smooth lines and inlaid gold shapes, the engravings were beautiful, except for the last one, which was tarnished. It was a straight line interlaced with a wave.

“What about this one?” he asked, pointing to the vaguely familiar design.

“It is out of use since an eternity.” The Headmaster’s tone suggested the matter wasn’t up for discussion. “Well, I’ll leave you to your training. Good luck,” he said, stood up, and returned to his desk, indicating they were dismissed.

Rafael rose with Mr. Dowotski, who was smiling in apparent satisfaction, and wondered why Mr. Demetriu’s smile had, in contrast to it, looked forced, even uncomfortable.

Rafael made use of his time with Mr. Dowotski to pepper him with more questions. The teacher seemed pleased by his sudden enthusiasm, but that was of no concern to Rafael. He desperately needed answers, and the teacher was providing them.

According to Mr. Dowotski, a spacious park surrounded Centisom’s main building. The facility also featured an extensive sports area, and the thought of kicking a soccer ball soon boosted his mood. As for Guardian training, well, he might as well make use of his time until he could go back home. All the better if he could avoid a repeat of yesterday’s ice cream disaster, including the resulting negative attention.

As they approached his bedroom door – which now sported a duplicate of his favorite nameplate – they encountered the freckle-faced girl who had intervened in the kitchen.

“Hey, Rafael, do you remember me? It’s Poppina! I was searching for you. We’ve got a Nurture class in fifteen minutes. Come on.”

She beamed with exuberance and talked fast. Her blue eyes glittered, and her ponytail whipped in sync with her bouncing steps. How could someone so tiny exude so much energy?

“Okay then, I’ll leave you to it,” Mr. Dowotski said. “By the way, Rafael, I’m the Head of Manifestation. You’ll begin your lessons with me today. Be at Manifestation Hall at five p.m. sharp,” he added with a wink before he left.

“Oh my gosh! You get one-on-one time with Mr. Dowotski! He is so, soooo, super-duper!”

Rafael tried to ignore Poppina’s wistfulness. Girls were weird like that. “Hi, Poppina. Do you think you could show me to the kitchen first? I missed breakfast. I need to grab something to eat real quick.”

“Sure. I know just the right thing, and it’s even faster. Follow me. Didn’t you get a tour when you arrived? It’s awesome here. If you don’t mind, I’ll point out some basics right now, and I’ll show you around some more tonight.” She shot a sly look at him from under her lashes. “And you can tell me all about Mr. Dowotski.”

Ah – girls. But a tour would be grand. Rafael nodded his assent, and they were on their way.

Poppina was a well of knowledge about Centisom. Given her insights, one would think she’d been there for months instead of days. Precious information flowed from her mouth as they navigated the corridor, and Rafael sponged up every drop.

“Centisom is shaped like a snowflake. And it’s huge. It also grows new rooms and removes unused ones – on its own. My bedroom is cool, and I find new stuff every day. It looks exactly like home. Anyway, if you want to go somewhere on your own, you’ll get lost in a hurry.” She stopped at the next archway. “It wouldn’t do much good to lose trainees, would it? Here’s how to find your way around. You see these brass plates?”

He peeked closer at the small, circular fixtures. They were maps. “Yeah. Let me guess: The small light shows our location?”

She lifted her thumb in approval and bounced on her feet. “Yep. But that’s not all. The incredible thing? It’s a dynamic map. Let me show you.” She put her hand on the plate. “Please lead me to the next kitchen nook.”

He waited. Nothing happened.

She took a dance-like step aside and said, “Now, you. Do it.”

Feeling like an idiot, he stared at the plate and whispered the same sentence. “It’s not work– Whoa! What’s that?” he asked, pointing down the corridor.

She smiled in triumph. “Isn’t that incredible? Now, follow the arrows. Only you can see them.”

Following the arrows which were – somehow – superimposed in his vision, they reached an ornate food nook within a short time.

“There are food nooks everywhere in the building, so you don’t have to walk the whole way to the kitchen for a snack. Mind you, no food is allowed in our rooms. Eating together helps to form a community,” she said, dragging him to a nearby lounge area.

She must have sensed his uncertainty because she stopped in her tracks and looked at him. “Don’t worry, you didn’t miss much. We arrived only five days ago. After the tour, the scary-looking Headmaster gave us a welcome speech about how we should be dutiful little Guardians-to-be and follow the training to the letter.” She cocked her head and frowned. “It’s all sort of crazy, but in a good way, I think. It’s not as if we could do anything else while we’re in a coma.” She flashed an upbeat smile at him. “Don’t worry, you’ll catch up in no time, you’ll see.”

At a loss for words, he spoke the first thought that crossed his mind. “It sucks, the coma thing. But we’ve got real magic! How cool is that?”

“You’re right.” She sighed. “But I still miss my family.”

“Ditto.” He shrugged a little. “We’ll get through it.” Somehow.

“Together,” she chimed in, her voice ringing with determination. “I’ll help you to get up to speed with the others.”

The first real smile since he awoke in this strange world appeared on his face. “That’d be great. Tell me about this training thing.”

“You’re lucky to know your primary gift so soon. Manifestation,” she sighed with stars in her eyes, “is Mr. Dowotski’s expertise...”

“Primary gift?” he asked, brushing aside her affection for Mr. Prince Charming. “We have more than one gift?”

“Of course. You’re supposed to have two gifts: a primary gift and a secondary one. Some kids’ parents are Guardians. They boast about it to no end... how special they are and so on. Especially Bobby. Blah-blah. You can imagine.”

Strange, as far as Rafael knew, he only had one gift. The thought that he was once again the odd one was depressing, and he was glad Poppina talked non-stop as she led him to his first class in Centisom. The sandwich he ordered wasn’t appetizing anymore, but he forced it down.

He had to stay strong.

“Poppina, how kind of you to show Rafael to class, please come in and take your places. Good morning, and welcome, Rafael.”

“Good morning,” Rafael answered with a half-smile, baffled by the cheerful woman’s resemblance to his aunt – if his taunt wore a camouflage suit.

Her cheekbones were sharp, her nose pointed, her eyebrows straight, all of which was softened by a thin but warm smile and kind cacao-brown eyes.

They joined a loose circle of teenagers sitting on the smooth wooden floor. Some of the trainees were upbeat, while the rest radiated the enthusiasm of wet noodles. He estimated their number around four dozen, with an even gender distribution. Many different ethnicities were represented. The murmur of casual conversation passed him by while his eyes roamed the airy space for something – anything – familiar.

He frowned. Something was odd.

“Poppina,” he said, leaning toward her, “do you also understand everything they say?”

“Yes. We’re from all over the world, but in Centisom, we speak the universal language of Dreamland.”

He’d name that language ULD, or even better: Unilad, he mused, and said, “That’s a neat trick.”

“Indeed, Rafael.”

He winced. The teacher, who-was-not-his-aunt, had caught him daydreaming. Now she was crouching in front of him, offering him her hand.

“I’m Elvina Renvoizé. Nice to meet you.”

He blushed. “Uh, nice to– same here.”

She glossed over his awkward greeting and grinned. “I realize you’ll need to catch up. Don’t worry. I’ll start today with a review of the last lesson. If you have any questions, just ask, I’m sure your classmates will rise to the challenge.”

Considering their less-than-enthusiastic side glances, he wasn’t so sure.

When she returned to the middle of the room, Rafael noticed a fluffy ball in her hand. He froze in utter wonderment when its pearly fur rippled, and two iridescent eyes peeked out. The tiny creature was the embodiment of cuteness, and his hands itched to pet it. As though answering his fascination, the furball made a soft humming sound, and his eyes closed in delight while he listened to the gentle melody of bells and whistles wrapped in a peaceful summer breeze.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome back to Nurture. Who would like to recite our mission and credo?” the teacher asked.

Rafael’s eyes popped back open. He sighed in disappointment when he realized the little creature was gone.

A few hands shot up, coming of course from the chirpy trainees – Poppina included.

“Yes, Kiano.”

A guy with a giant smile against an ebony complexion sprang up and reported, “We nurture: We respect, we care. In sleep, our spirit shall find peace, inspiration, and wisdom.”

“Don’t forget the fun part,” a few voices chimed in.

“Very well. Someone care to expand?” the teacher asked.

The same hands went up again. This time Ms. Renvoizé chose a girl with straight, blue-black shimmering hair.

She recited the words in a clipped, precise tone. “The most important part of our life resides in sleep. There, our spirit is free from constant monitoring and response to our environment. Our body is deeply relaxed. During some phases, even movements are inhibited. The spirit is then truly able to rest or assess, classify, memorize. Without sleep, our mind would not be able to mend, learn, or be creative.”

“Excellent, Jennifer. And what about dreaming?”

A few more hands shot up. At the teacher’s nod, a gangly guy in loose pants stood up.

“Dreams are the fun part, aren’t they? Don’t do drugs, do dreams!”

They all laughed, and Rafael relaxed a little. This crowd seemed okay. The only problem was, many of them had begun to bond, and he was – once again – an outsider.

He felt disconnected, lost in an alien fantasy. His heart replied to his thoughts with a painful flutter. It whispered to him that Centisom was unreal and that he would wake up soon and be home with his mum, dad, and Lennart.

A sharp jab in his side accompanied by an irritated whisper interrupted his reflection. “Pay attention. The sooner you learn, the quicker we’re out of here.”

He turned to his left with a rebuttal at the ready but stopped when he saw his own sadness reflected in the pale gray eyes next to him. He relented. “Sorry.”

While the blond-haired boy listened intently to Ms. Renvoizé’s monologue, Rafael studied him, intrigued by the unexpected feeling of kinship.

Sensing Rafael’s scrutiny, the boy cracked a tiny smile. “Rafael, focus.”

Rafael turned back to the teacher just as she wrapped up a lengthy explanation of sleep stages, which he had not missed, by the way. Sleep happened in four sequential phases: light sleep, deep sleep, REM sleep, and, surprise, being awake. With most people, the cycle repeated five to six times per night. Got it.

“A deep understanding of sleep is necessary to appreciate the delicacy of your future tasks,” Ms. Renvoizé said. “For that reason, I’d like you to use some of your free time to deepen your knowledge. We’ll review the fruits of your research on Monday.”

She dismissed the class with a cheerful wave of her hand. “Now go, find a library, explore, and don’t forget to have fun!”

Rafael was flabbergasted. Homework!

Even in his dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream, he had homework.

He didn’t have time to catch up with the blond guy because Poppina had grabbed him as soon as they exited the classroom, insisting on a quick jaunt before heading to the next class. What class? He didn’t have a clue because no one gave the new guy a schedule.

Now they were navigating the maze of corridors at breakneck speed.

He jerked to a halt. “Hold on! Where are you leading me?”

She tugged at his hand. “Come on. We don’t have much time. You must see it as soon as possible.”

Intrigued, he proceeded. “Okay, but I hate being late. You’d better hurry.”

“Almost... there...” she panted.

They took another turn, and she braked to a full stop in the middle of a junction. Rafael shot past her to avoid a collision.

She pointed upward. “See.” Pant. “This picture?”

He looked up at the ornate glass dome. Etched into its surface was a full-color image of a boy with dirty blond hair and light brown eyes holding what appeared to be a miniature vortex in his hand. Behind him was a gorgeous night sky with twinkling stars.

“What should I see?”

“Look harder,” she insisted. “Don’t you recognize the guy?”

He squinted. “No.”

“Well, he looks awfully similar to you. And he wasn’t there two days ago.”

“No way!”

“Way! And…” Her voice trailed off as she pivoted and looked around the junction. “You know, there were only five doors here before, now I count six. That one is new.”

He glanced in the direction she was pointing. “That’s not a door, Poppina. Just a decoration.”

They drew nearer to inspect the door-like embossment on the wall. It was made of stone, and the top of it arched like an inverted V. Its surface was warm to the touch, and when he trailed his fingers over it, he felt small bumps, though they weren’t visible to the eye.

He frowned at Poppina. “It doesn’t look finished. And I don’t understand why you’re so wound up about it.”

She slapped a fist into her palm. “Can’t you connect the dots, Rafael? The door thing materialized when you arrived…” She pointed to the dome again. “… as did your face up there.”

“Timing’s weird, I’ll give you that. But nope. That’s not me.” He wasn’t ready to add another level of crazy to his life.

Her face fell, and she took off, hissing a hard “Whatever!”

Rafael cursed himself. Great. Now his only acquaintance was mad at him. Why did she have to notice the stupid dome and the door thing? Worse, he didn’t know the way to the next class. Thanks to the silly, noisy girl, he would be late. Way to go, Rafael.

He glanced at the wheel-sized clock on the opposite wall. Something was off because it couldn’t be two o’clock already. Stepping closer, he noticed the clock face was divided into thirty sectors instead of the usual twelve, and the lone hand was pointing to the number five. From twenty-five onward, the figures were colored red. It wasn’t a standard clock. Oh well. Another mystery he didn’t plan to investigate.

Signing in resignation, he walked in the same direction Poppina had sped away. As he approached the next archway, he had an idea. Holding his breath, he slapped his hand on the brass map and thought, Show me the way to Poppina.

Soon, elation replaced anger as his feet were racing ahead.

Running was freedom. When he ran, he had control – if not over his life, then at least over his body. His heart and his lungs worked with the efficiency of a well-trained athlete as he blazed through the archways. He lost himself in the rhythm. Chasing the arrows as though they were soccer balls, he evaded imaginary opponents. A cut to the left, a juke to the right, soon, the storm of emotions that had been building settled down.

His sprint ended as he clipped someone with his shoulder and stumbled to a halt. Regaining his footing, he found himself face to face with the angry stare of a bigger boy.

“Watch out!”

They squared off. Rafael, rubbing the pain from his arm, realized it was the guy with the sad eyes. His gaze jumped to the number seven emblazoned on the guy’s jersey. Sweet.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I took the corner a bit wide,” Rafael offered in a conciliatory tone. “You’re a fan?” he added with a jerk of his chin toward the Christiano Ronaldo jersey.

The boy’s glare cleared behind his frameless glasses.

“Yeah. You?”

“He’s great. I’ll be even greater.”

That earned him a dubious frown. “Humble much? I guess we’ll have to settle this on the field, then.”

“Sure.”

“Actually, I was looking for you. The next period starts in five.” The boy lifted his fist. “I’m Maddox, by the way. We need to chat – later.”

Rafael bumped fists with him, opened his hand, and wiggled his fingers. Maddox tilted his head as though it was a curious thing to do. Whatever.

“Who the master of the ball is, we shall see,” Rafael said in his best imitation of Yoda.

They cracked up.