SWNOVELS Chapter I'm a Jedi, It's how I know.
Sunday afternoon, Rafael headed out to meet Maddox and Poppina to explore a little further before dinner. As he made his way through the corridors, he reflected on his stay at Centisom.
He was amazed by how engaging life could be when he had friends at his side and the gaming station was out of reach. His mum would be so proud to learn he hadn’t touched an electronic device for two days – no, make that six days. He blew a heavy breath and quickened his pace.
He was also proud of himself for putting his unaccustomed free time to good use, squeezing in an extra Manifestation training session. He was flabbergasted at how he could make small and big objects appear and disappear at his whim.
The dragon in him wriggled in delightful approval whenever he used his gift. It was amazing magic indeed, and he wondered how it worked. The atoms must come from somewhere. Maybe Manifestation power attracted free matter floating around and gave it form. That seemed to align with a conversation he once had with his mum.
“Where do we come from, Mum?”
“I’m French, and your Dad is German. So, you’re both.”
“No, I mean, where do humans come from?”
“Oh, I see. Well, we’re all made from dust, borrowed from the stars.”
“You’re not funny, Mum.”
Now he realized she hadn’t been joking after all, and it made him think of Manifestation with fresh eyes.
As he continued to make his way through the maze of corridors, he realized his theory explained why complex objects were more difficult to manifest and why he couldn’t create living things. Furthermore, if he didn’t know how things worked, he couldn’t produce them. He smiled as he recalled his attempt at creating a chicken. He ended up with piles of chicken nuggets instead. Of course, he was fine with chicken nuggets, so no problem there. But that exhausting training session had made clear that if he wanted to excel, he’d need to train. A lot.
He shrugged and made his way toward the exit. It probably wasn’t worth focusing on it too much, since he planned to escape as soon as he could.
An unbidden thought crossed his mind. He saw himself laughing with Poppina and Maddox, playing soccer with his new friends. He pushed the imagery down, summoning the face of his brother instead. But...
Maybe Dreamland wasn’t all that bad.
He met Maddox and Poppina outside. They were leaning on one of the mansion’s massive walls, waving their ice cream cones back and forth, in sync with their arguments.
“Magic doesn’t exist, Maddox.”
“Then how do you explain all this?” he said as he motioned at their surroundings. The ball of ice cream atop his cone threatened to fall, and he took a hasty lick to right it.
“I can’t. But that’s beside the point. People of the future will figure it out and say: It wasn’t magic but just physical principles. They were all so dumb, calling it magic!”
Maddox snorted. “Maybe, but for now, I say it’s magic.”
“I don’t believe it, you just called yourself dumb.”
Rafael snickered, and their heads swiveled in his direction. He held his hands up, still smiling. “It’s funny that you argue about magic while you eat magic ice cream cones.” Seeing Poppina’s glare, he hurried to add, “Uh, sorry. I’ll go get one as well.”
“Wait!”
He looked back at Poppina’s now guilt-ridden face.
“Um, we might have told Centisom the ice cream was for you,” she confessed, holding up her cone.
“We asked, and asked, but nada. Then we said it was for you, and presto. Centisom has a soft spot for you.”
Maddox was right. Rafael could get his own ice cream anytime. Besides, he didn’t mind sharing. “All right. Next time, make it three, though.”
Their easy banter was comforting, and their friendship eased the heartache of finding himself a prisoner in a strange place, far away from his family.
While they took a leisure stroll in companionable silence, Rafael’s mind wandered back to escape.
“Poppina, how do we travel back and forth between Dreamland and Earth, after we’ve graduated?”
She halted in her tracks and gulped down the last of her ice cream. “I don’t know. But I sure hope we’ll continue to train together.”
A metallic clang reverberated all around them and cut off whatever Maddox was about to say. They hastened down a path to investigate what was causing the cacophony of noises, shouts, and grunts. When they reached a wide clearing, Rafael’s mouth dropped open in bewilderment.
Mr. Demetriu and Mr. Dowotski appeared to be trying to slay each other. They clashed with ferocity, using their swords, fists, and legs with dizzying combative power and precision.
Rafael jumped when a hand squeezed his shoulder.
“Relax, they’re only sparring,” Maddox said. “Boy, you don’t react well to violence, huh?” he whispered from the corner of his mouth. “You should at least try not to freeze up. Otherwise, attackers will always have an advantage over you.”
Poppina, eyes glued on the fighters, shifted until her arm brushed against Rafael’s. His face heated in embarrassment, but he was thankful for her tacit support.
Calming down a bit, he noticed the loose circle of teens and adults around the cobbled area. Judging by their cheerful encouragements, shouts of advice, and – at least to him – foul expletives, they were enjoying the show.
“Who are they?” he asked Maddox, referring to the onlookers.
“They’re Guardians, I heard. The Headmaster lets them enter Centisom on the weekends.”
Rafael’s mood brightened. If Mr. Demetriu opened a way to the Earth plane each weekend, his chances of escaping were improving. “How do the Guardians come in, then?”
Poppina shrugged. “I don’t know.”
There were also others he recognized, and he picked out Ms. Pepper by her colorful skirt. Her eyes were fixed on the sparring partners, and she winced every time there was another impact. It seemed he wasn’t the only one who was averse to brute force.
It was no ordinary fight, though. At random intervals, one of them uttered a word, and they parted, breathing hard. Their weapons disappeared and were replaced by new ones. Both men were grinning like maniacs and taunted each other before attacking again.
The trio stood still, observing the furious dance of agility and power.
“They’ve got mad skills,” Maddox murmured in awe.
“This is just scary,” Rafael muttered.
“He’s so... handsome,” Poppina said with a dreamy sigh.
Just then, Mr. Dowotski lost his footing. What would have been a glancing punch from the Headmaster caught him square in the face, sending him sprawling to the ground.
Blood gushed from his nose and painted his shirt in red splotches. Rafael recoiled and looked the other way, while some of the spectators – Poppina first – rushed forward to help.
... or gawk, who knows.
While most observed the unfolding scene with various degrees of sympathy on their faces, Rafael’s gaze roamed over the surroundings. He couldn’t look at the blood nor understand people’s fascination with gore.
A flicker of movement in the woods caught his attention, prompting him to turn fully and look. Strange. Dark shapes were creeping through the foliage, and… before he could even blink, enormous black beasts sprang from the shadowed areas and converged with great leaps on the unsuspecting group.
Their progress was silent. No sound escaped their wide-open jaws, no noise rose from their thick paws pounding the ground. Terror seized Rafael when he realized they were identical to the ugly, ferocious creatures from the video game. Although he was paralyzed at the sight of their vicious fangs and the malice in their yellow eyes, he somehow managed to let out a half-choked yell, which caught the attention of Maddox.
Maddox’s eyes widened when he noticed the approaching danger and shouted a warning. Some heads turned, but too late. The monsters were almost in striking distance. They would tear the group to pieces in all but a moment.
There was no time to react and nowhere to flee. The dragon in him raged at the wrongness, the injustice of the situation, and sent a single order to his petrified mind.
Protect.
In reaction, Rafael’s magic took over, and bubble-like energy swelled in his chest. When it exploded outward, his knees buckled from sudden exhaustion, and he felt a burning sensation on his hip.
With clenched teeth, he watched as the first creature gathered itself to pounce on the group. His heart sank as he realized his effort had been for naught. But just when all seemed lost, the beast smashed mid-flight into an invisible barrier and burst into a shower of black dots and blue-white sparks.
Another followed, and another.
Relieved and giddy from his success, Rafael looked back to his people – since when were they his people? – in time to see a terrified Poppina skid to a halt a few paces from him. She was saying something, her finger pointing to her left. He shook his head in incomprehension. Something was wrong with his hearing because he couldn’t discern a single word.
He looked in the direction she was pointing and wished he hadn’t. A few creatures had escaped their fellow’s fate and were prowling alongside an almost-translucent dome that enclosed his friends, the teachers, and the others into a safe zone, all the while snarling at the electric blue charges that arced over its surface.
Rafael’s pride swelled, and his dragon swayed in contentment when he realized that he had saved his friends by giving them time to regroup.
The creatures’ progress was matched by the Guardians from the inside of the bubble he had manifested. They probed the shield with their weapons, eager to go through and eliminate the creatures. A burly guy yelped when the tip of his spear caught an electric charge. The creatures flinched in response, but, alas, didn’t retreat. The wall of supercharged air held steady. There was no going through. Rafael smiled despite his fatigue.
When the monsters fixed their yellow eyes on him, a fresh wave of anxiety propelled him to his feet. But as he started to move toward Poppina, she motioned him to stop. With tears streaking down her cheeks, she pointed to the shield and shook her head.
And it finally dawned on him: He stood outside the protective shield. Alone. Spent. With three big black – and crazy – lupine creatures about to devour him.
Maddox had joined Poppina and was making frantic “cut-it-out” gestures at Rafael, probably suggesting he should disengage the wall. Or run. Both options were useless, as a surge of dizziness overtook him.
His legs caved again, and everything went dark.
A soft hand brushed over his forehead. He waited with bated breath for the light caress of his mum’s finger, a trail of tenderness from his brow line to the tip of his nose. But when it never came, he realized he wasn’t home.
Again.
He quelled his sadness and steeled himself to face whatever disaster he had stumbled into this time.
Again.
That routine was getting old fast.
Sighing, he willed his eyes to open.
The face that came into focus didn’t look right. The nose was painted an angry purple that spread to the cheeks, the eyes were bloodshot, and the mouth was pressed into a thin line.
“Ah, there you are, Rafael. Welcome back.”
“Mr. Dowotski? What happened to your face?”
The battered teacher threw his head back and howled in a fit of pained laughter. “Direct to a fault. That’s my young Padawan.”
A soft giggle brought Rafael’s attention to Ms. Pepper, who also sat at his bedside. She winked at him.
“Don’t worry, Rafael. Mr. Dowotski will be fine in no time. My stubborn colleague refused treatment until you awoke.”
She helped Rafael to a sitting position, fluffing the pillows with expertise, and continuing to chat without missing a beat. “His ego is more bruised than his face. He should know better than to fight for recreation.”
“But, my dear, it’s training!”
She straightened to face him. “Don’t “dear” me. How often do you – or for that matter, Medeor – need my healing after another one of your little training bouts?” Her voice could cut glass.
His eyes darted to Rafael. “We need to stay sharp. Madlen, you know–”
She cut him off, not ready to relent. “You were so engrossed in the fun that you left a child alone to fend off a serious threat.” Her voice rose in volume. “We’re supposed to protect our trainees, not the other way around!”
Turning back to Rafael, she made a visible effort to calm down. “You’ll be fine, Rafael. You slept over two hours, probably due to the overuse of your gift. Otherwise, your vitals are all good. Please don’t exert yourself for the rest of the day. I want you to eat... a lot. I’ll tell your friends they can see you as soon as Mr. Dowotski leaves.”
She patted his hand and went to the door, her back stiff. “Now I’m off to get Medeor. He wants to see you both.”
Out in the corridor, Madlen brought the small crowd of trainees waiting for Rafael up to speed before she made her way to Medeor’s office.
As she walked, she remembered a time when the mansion was filled with joy and fun. She worried about Medeor. The weight of responsibility was wearing him down. Shaking her head in a futile attempt to brush off the familiar frustration, she thought about her anger at Niklas.
Yes, she had been harsh with him. Of course, he was right: The Guardians needed to stay in shape, and sparring was an essential part of their discipline, not to mention how they blew off steam. She didn’t need to like it – only accept it – she reminded herself. Still, they had been careless, and she couldn’t let it go.
Her steps slowed, and she took a shuddering breath as she recalled the terrified and then resigned expression on Rafael’s face as he realized he was standing outside his incredible protection dome next to the ferocious, evil-looking creatures.
Thank goodness his odd-looking diving suit had protected him when he fell against the barrier. She marveled at his abilities. The amount of power he demonstrated by creating the dome, the willpower behind his innocent facade, left her breathless. She had been sure he was a goner, but to her shock, and utter relief the creatures exploded when they tried to bite him.
Nevertheless, her heart was still reeling from all the trauma. And she was irked that her colleagues hadn’t informed her of the true extent of his gift.
“She likes you.”
The teacher’s skin turned to an indescribable shade of purple red.
“How do you figure? It sure doesn’t feel like it, young Padawan.”
“I’m no Padawan, Mr. Dowotski, I’m a Jedi. That’s how I know.” Rafael couldn’t quite hide his smile.
“Then enlighten me, Jedi-to-be,” the teacher said with a wink.
“Well, she doesn’t like violence.” Rafael raised a finger. “She especially hates it when you’re involved.” He held up one more digit. “And she winced every time Mr. Demetriu landed a blow.”
“Of course, you noticed,” the teacher murmured, shifting in his seat.
Rafael fidgeted with the bed linen. “I’m like her. I can’t stand to see people hurt. And I get dizzy at the sight of blood. So, I look at something else.”
Understanding dawned on the teacher’s face. “I see. So that’s how you noticed...”
Rafael looked away, not ready to talk about the ugly beasts.
Sighing in defeat, Mr. Dowotski stood up. “I’ll get your friends now; they have been camping outside the door the whole time.”
Before he could leave, Rafael cleared his throat, still staring at the white-washed wall. “Maybe you should tell her you’re sorry...”
The door clicked, and a few seconds later, an exuberant Poppina was hugging him while a gloomy Maddox greeted him with a fist-bump.
Kiano was not far behind. “I heard about what happened. How did you manage to handle that much power in a pinch?”
Rafael swung his legs to the side and patted the bed in invitation. “I have no idea. And it put me in the infirmary, so I don’t recommend it.” As they settled around him, he noticed rings under Kiano’s eyes. “What’s going on? You look worse than I feel.”
Kiano’s shrug was slow and weary. “I haven’t been able to sleep much since... you know... the game...”
“You mean the T.P.O.D. game?” Poppina’s voice was filled with worry.
At Kiano’s nod, they fell silent for a second.
“Do you think maybe... would it be possible that the beasts...” Maddox cut himself short.
“They looked the same, didn’t they?” Poppina observed, chewing on her lip.
“But how could they get out of the simulation? That’s crazy!” Rafael objected.
Maddox’s shoulders slumped. “Do you have another explanation?”
“They could have snuck in from outside, right?”
Maddox shook his head. “Impossible, Rafael. The time freeze alone would prevent that. Besides, Centisom wouldn’t allow this kind of threat. At the very least, it would alert Mr. Demetriu. Something isn’t right.”
“We need to find out more about T.P.O.D.,” Poppina declared, “then we can decide if there’s a connection. Until then...” She put a finger to her lips.
Rafael nodded in agreement. Nobody would believe them if they couldn’t prove their theory.
Due to the late hour, they agreed to meet the next day in Media Room. It was time to inspect the T.P.O.D. tablet.
A short knock announced Mr. Dowotski, who arrived with enough food to satisfy a small elephant.
Soon, Mr. Demetriu, Ms. Pepper, and Ms. Renvoizé joined. Mr. Zhou entered the room a beat later, downgrading the place from crowded to uncomfortable. Their collective bleak mood was palpable.
Rafael – his appetite gone – was thankful his friends were at his side, and even more so when Mr. Demetriu proceeded to grill him about the attack.
Focusing on Mr. Dowotski’s encouraging smile and multicolored cheeks, he recounted the events without hinting at any previous knowledge of the creatures. No need to put himself under even more scrutiny.
“So, I saw shadows moving in the foliage, they attacked, and I reacted,” he resumed, his thin voice resounding in the silence.
Ms. Renvoizé was pale with anger that she – the Head of Nurture, responsible for monitoring all living things in Dreamland – hadn’t detected the invaders. “They can’t be real,” she insisted. “But they were right there. And those were no Nightterrors either. What were they?”
Judging by the rigidity of Mr. Demetriu’s demeanor, he felt the same. “Centisom didn’t detect the threat either. We don’t know how they entered the premise.”
“Which brings us to a fascinating point,” Mr. Zhou’s interjected, his beady eyes fixed on Rafael. “Tell us, how did you know electricity would foil the creatures... if you weren’t the one who created them?”
A giant hand squeezed Rafael’s chest.
Ms. Pepper, bless her kind heart, rushed to voice her outrage against the unexpected accusation. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Chen. You should have seen Rafael’s suit. The creatures punctured holes in it!”
Holes? Holy snabarca...
“He wouldn’t be the first one to attempt a bid for attention,” Mr. Zhou rebuked her in an icy tone.
Mr. Dowotski’s brows shot up. “Manifestation doesn’t work like that. You know we can’t create life. Even considering Rafael’s natural talent, he can’t manifest a complex automaton yet, let alone a whole pack… if they were automatons in the first place.”
Rafael’s heart was pounding in his chest. The silent support from his friends at his back was the sole thing that stopped him from bolting.
Help came from an unexpected person. “Something or someone was controlling those creatures. It was an orchestrated attack,” Ms. Renvoizé stated. “Rafael couldn’t do it. I’m afraid we need to investigate other avenues.”
“Still,” Mr. Demetriu said, turning to Rafael, “Mr. Zhou raised an interesting issue. How did you know to use an electrified force field?”
“I was scared – I didn’t think. I wanted a strong protection. Like a fence. High-security fences are electrified, aren’t they? That’s all I can remember.”
He strained to produce a tiny smile for Mr. Dowotski. “I guess I watched Star Wars too many times.”
Mr. Dowotski’s hearty laugh eased some of the tension in the room. Rafael noticed Mr. Zhou depart with a scowl on his face. Knowledge class wasn’t about to get any easier, he guessed. But that was better than letting the petty man pin the blame on him or his friends.
“He lied.”
Niklas glanced at Medeor’s worried mien as they made their way back to his office. “No, he just left a few things out.”
“So, you were aware of it?”
Niklas’s chest deflated. He didn’t know if he should feel insulted or relieved at Rafael’s omission.
He felt exposed beneath Medeor’s appraising gaze. “Our jousting match mishap disturbed him. He doesn’t do well with blood and looked away. That’s why he spotted the creatures. At any rate, he also observed a person’s behavior and didn’t talk about it to spare their feelings. That’s all.”
“All right.”
That was good enough for Niklas. His stomach somersaulted when he recalled what Rafael told him about Ms. Pepper’s behavior. He always had a soft spot for the charming Ms. Pepper but never acted on it in fear of a rejection. Maybe he should have.
Medeor interrupted his inner dialog. “I know you were a bit stunned after our – how did you put it? – nose-busting mishap,” he said, offering a quick, but honest grin, “but why did we have to wait for a trainee’s shield to dissolve by itself, instead of you putting it down?”
Niklas had hoped to dodge this bullet. Then again, Medeor seldom missed anything.
“I tried,” he answered in truth, “but some foreign elements were locking it in place.” He stopped and faced Medeor. “Rafael meshed both of his powers. I think the life and death situation ignited a spark of his other power. But I don’t think he realized that he was beginning to create a pocket dimension.”
“Are you telling me he didn’t actually create a shield but shifted us outside of Centisom?” After a thoughtful pause, he shook his head. “I’ll be frank with you. There is great potential there, but he also presents the kind of complication we should avoid at all costs, especially considering our current situation.”
Niklas staggered back. “Medeor, you can’t send him back! Not yet. It’s too early. He deserves a chance to train!”
“Which you’ll provide, my friend. But don’t you forget what kind of havoc a wild card like him can wreak. The last batch of trainees taught us a hard lesson.”
They both fell silent, remembering the heart-breaking decision to send a former trainee named Henry Pierce back to Earth after a Nightterror bit him during a mission. The injury hadn’t been life-threatening, but he never recovered from the trauma.
Instead, the promising, outgoing teenager withdrew into himself, and no amount of counseling from Ms. Pepper could help him recover his balance. He had, unbeknownst to them, drifted into a world of his own fantasy.
One day, Henry disappeared into Dreamland. His girlfriend, also a trainee, left an explanatory note and went after him. That was the last they ever heard from Rahima.
They found Henry a week later in a remote sector, raving about “sentinels and dark knights,” and how he had been appointed their ruler. He couldn’t, or wouldn’t, disclose anything concerning his bizarre hiatus, or whether his girlfriend ever found him.
So, they were forced to do the sad – albeit necessary – thing. Centisom erased his memory and sent him back home, with the hope that deleting the trauma would enable him to heal, or at least to function.
Both losses were grave blows to Guardian morale.
Now, Centisom was facing new threats and Medeor was loath to expose trainees to any sort of risk. Niklas understood his position. In his shoes, he would also be reluctant to wait and see how Rafael developed. But that boy was vital to Centisom’s future.
Medeor paused at his office with his hand on the doorknob.
“How’s your research on the boy’s ancestry coming along?”
Niklas grimaced. “No luck there. According to Centisom’s records, that’s a dead end.”
Medeor heaved a weary sigh. “Fine. Right now, we need to concentrate on the biggest issues: the shifting planes, and now, an evil new species… as though we didn’t have enough stress with the regular ones.” His compact body sagged a fraction against the doorframe. “There are a lot of changes underway, and I don’t like the way things are looking. I need you to have my back.” He closed his eyes and seemed to come to a decision. “The boy could be of use,” he conceded with a sigh, “as long as you keep him on a short leash.”
Niklas inclined his head in a solemn nod. Of course, he would support his oldest friend.
Happily, their goals aligned. For now.
Medeor braced himself.
The attack had upset Centisom, and the otherwise peaceful entity had taken its anger out on Medeor’s office. He wasn’t looking forward to tidying up the mess by himself. When he went in, however, nothing indicated the previous fit of temper.
A sigh escaped him as he spotted the past Headmasters’ pictures aligned on the wall. Their faces seemed to smirk at his inadequacy, and their eyes challenged him to answer to the question that worried him most: How long before Dreamland broke for good under his leadership?
He fixed his eyes on the black-and-white photo depicting the man who had damaged Dreamland beyond repair in a desperate bid to save Earth. “You saved so many lives, André, but nobody could have foreseen the consequences. Why do I have to be responsible for righting the wrong?”
The average looking man’s framed likeness didn’t answer. Nobody had any answers these days. He wondered if the boy named Rafael was a godsend or another catastrophe waiting to happen.
He meandered around his sleek office while he pondered his own questions, and picked up, for the hundredth time, a small wooden case. He ran his finger along its smooth lines and wondered if he, someday, would figure out how to open it.
He stilled. Even if Centisom hadn’t turned out to be the future he pictured for himself when he was a child, the son of an olive plantation farmer in Greece, it was a worthy and fulfilling life.
Indeed, as a Maintainer in Dreamland, and as a farmer on Earth, he nurtured the earth on both planes. It was an excellent life for a nature lover like him. But now he was a lonely bachelor saddled with a bunch of children and confronted with a hopeless situation. Still, he loved both of his duties.
Enough. He berated himself for such unproductive thinking and put the mysterious wooden box back on the shelf.
What was next? He mused as he went to his desk.
Under his leadership, overworked Guardians on both sides were trying to save the unraveling connection between Reality and Dreamland.
Nightterrors were appearing at random.
A mysterious door was forming within Centisom. Salvation or more trouble?
A new species of creatures was infiltrating their sanctuary.
A young, clueless boy was harnessing dangerous powers without even trying.
And he still had no clue what to do about any of it.
He sighed. One step at a time, that’s all one can sometimes do.
He sat and placed his inked fingertip on his temple. The tattoo that had appeared overnight when Centisom chose him as the new Headmaster ignited at his touch, and he was immediately linked up with the entity, its powerful but gentle energy boosting his mood.
“Centisom, please reinsert yourself into the standard time and space. Send a notification to all Guardians about the new species of creatures, then ask for volunteers to guard the mansion.” He glanced at the clock and, mindful of the trainees’ limited time, added, “Inform them we’ll shift out of time in one hour the latest.”
Satisfied that he had, at least, taken the first step to contain the new threat, his mind turned back to the problems at hand, until a knock on the door broke him out of his depressing train of thought.
“You wanted to see me?” Chen Zhou walked in on rigid legs.
Why Centisom had chosen the insecure, standoffish man to be its Head of Knowledge was a mystery. To be sure, he was a gem when it came to managing Infinite Library, but more often than not, he inspired nothing but gleeful defiance on the part of his trainees.
“I take it you want to know if the creatures were able to slip in through the new doorway.”
Medeor nodded and leaned on his desk.
“I just inspected it. There is no physical opening, not even a fissure.”
“Well, it’s a relief. The two things aren’t connected.”
Good. Relief was in short supply these days.