It was somewhat surreal having Cale back in our lives. Really, ever since he arrived, I felt like I was floating on cloud nine. Having my grandson return after almost ten years was almost a dream come true, and also a nightmare in the processing.

  “Ma’am, I should let you know,” Captain Aidan had said when he first spoke to me about Cale coming home, “your grandson has lived a tough life.”

  “Tough life, Captain?” I had asked. “Please elaborate.”

  “The Wastes is the most hostile environment in Known Space,” he said. “It’s vast, savage, and almost completely unmapped. It’s unbelievably dangerous. A lot of people do a lot of bad things there just to survive.”

  I considered that.

  “What exactly are you saying, Captain?”

  “I’m saying that your grandson has been in survival mode for the better part of a decade,” he replied. “He has very few memories of his life before. He’s been dealing with death and danger for that entire time. He’s not the boy who left when he was eight, and you should know that. And you should also know that anyone who survives ten years in the Wastes is… extraordinary.”

  I considered that too.

  “Captain,” I said carefully, “what is it that you aren’t telling me?”

  He hesitated. “There are things that you’re going to need directly from Cale. But let me say this—Cale’s going to come home and he won’t know much about living in the Upper Planes, especially somewhere like Valecis Isle. He’s going to need time to adjust. Don’t be surprised if he disappears for long periods. It’s… habit.”

  I let out a sigh. “How does an eight-year-old boy grow up in the Wastes and come back at all?”

  “Strategically,” Captain Vanta continued, “and with a lot of grit and determination. You should also know that his Expressions are… advanced.”

  “Advanced?” I asked. “What do you mean by advanced? How advanced?”

  “It means he won’t struggle at a place like Arclight,” he said. “My understanding is that you work there?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’ve been with the Education Bureau for twenty years, and at Arclight for the last couple. My granddaughter, Cale’s sister, attends there now.”

  The Captain went quiet.

  “That’s right,” he said finally. “I saw the dossier. He has a little sister.”

  I heard him take a deep breath.

  “Don’t be surprised if Cale comes home with a glamour.”

  I raised an eyebrow, even though he couldn’t see me. “Why would he do that?”

  “All for perfectly understandable reasons, and some less so. For secrecy, protection, and suspicion, to start,” he said. “Those are survival traits in the Wastes. He learned them the hard way.”

  “Good Lord,” I whispered. “What has my boy been doing for the last ten years?”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “The other reasons are less obvious. And I don’t mean to scare you, Miss Arcanus,” he said gently. “Cale is one of the bravest men I’ve ever met, and he is a man. You don’t survive the Wastes that long and remain a child. Give him time. Help him remember. He gets flashes. But I don’t know where the memory loss comes from exactly, but I have noticed that his persona becomes… softer as he remembers his life before the Wastes.”

  “Do you know what actually happened to him when their transport was attacked?”

  Captain Vanta hesitated. “He was injured badly in the crash that took the rest of your family.”

  “Captain,” I asked, “how did you come across Cale after all this time?”

  He chuckled softly. “Let’s just say my colleagues and I were in a hard place. Cale was one of the people who got us out. I owe your grandson my life.”

  “Well,” I said, “I’m glad you made it home.”

  Then, with a small smile, I said, “Did I hear you’re getting married?”

  “Yes,” Aidan laughed. “I’d like to invite Cale, actually. Though I don’t want to bring him exposure he doesn’t need.”

  “Why would that expose him?”

  “It’s complicated… but never mind that for now,” he said quickly. “If you need anything, Miss Arcanus—and I mean anything—you let us know. My family, my men, and I will bend over backward. And if things get too much, Cale can always come to the Vanta household. Please remember that.”

  “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Rest up,” he said. “In a few days, your grandson comes home.”

  That was weeks ago now.

  And I still haven’t quite adjusted.

  When Cale arrived wearing a glamour, dull and nondescript, I was surprised. Then I remembered what the Captain had said and decided not to comment. He’d show us when he was ready.

  It didn’t take long.

  The teachers at Arclight Academy are exceptional. Some are retired military. Some are saint-level talents. Some are former private-sector specialists. Some are noble-born. Some are from beyond the Dominion altogether. Arclight gathers both elites and non-elites in a way that at least tries to be meaningful. And one of the teachers saw through the glamour. I was glad he was brave enough not to fight the reveal.

  In the time afterward, we developed a rhythm, but a few things worry me.

  Cale had a habit of disappearing without explanation, as Master Vanta said. It was horrible for my heart. But I reminded myself he was an adult. He’d lived on his own for years.

  I wanted to ask him about the Wastes. About what he’d seen. About whether he remembered. About whether a Saint Saniato user might help him remember and transition. But I didn’t want to push, didn’t want to hound, didn’t want him to feel like we weren’t okay with him how he was. I must admit, the thoughts kept me up at night.

  The good news is some things hadn’t changed.

  He still loved chocolate.

  Watching him eat Dominion dip, molten milk chocolate over mana-infused strawberries, was the best moment I’d had all year. He looked like his father then. Like a boy again, not someone forged by secrecy and survival.

  Elara interrupted my thoughts.

  “Gran,” she said, “have you seen Cale?”

  I shook my head. “No, Elara. You ask every time he’s gone more than a few hours.”

  “It drives me crazy,” she said, arms crossed. “He just disappears.”

  “Oh, child,” I said gently. “Give your brother time. I scolded him just the other night. He said he was playing games. We should be glad he’s making friends.”

  Then the breaking news came on.

  Something about the Kagourian Preserve. A staging area. A possible attack.

  I saw Elara’s face pale.

  “Gran,” she whispered, “what’s going on up north?”

  Then we saw them.

  Knights in full battle armor, the kind you only see in skirmishes or Dominion-level conflict. They held massive swords, and their suits glowed with Technica. It was terrifying.

  “Gran,” Elara said softly, “is that what I think it is?”

  The reveal through the smoke of battle was dramatic and slightly shaky. The projection showed a man in a dark cloak, wind whipping around him, holding a child. A long black matte sword rested at his side. He wore a skull mask.

  But his eyes—

  They glowed crimson.

  “The Ghost of the Wastes,” the reporter said.

  My blood went cold.

  “What is that?” Elara asked. “Who is he? Why is he holding a child?”

  The comments scrolled endlessly.

  A mercenary legend, someone so dangerous that governments and armies were supposed to avoid him.

  I couldn’t stop staring at the eyes behind the mask.

  Elara looked at me, her face pale. “Gran… what do you know about the Ghost of the Wastes?”

  “Very little,” I said.

  I swallowed.

  “I think it’s time we learned.”