Dear Ace,
My boy. We were hoping you’d never have to read this, but it seems we left the two of you behind.
You’ve always been more than we could’ve asked for. We hope we got to see the man you became — the life you built, the things you accomplished.
But we have to be selfish one last time.
Please take care of him.
We know you never wanted children. But he’s alone now, and all he has is his big brother.
We’re sorry for asking this of you.
You were always such a good kid, so we hope you'll listen to our final request.
Help us one last time?
We love you both.
Mom and Dad
I closed my eyes.
How could I say no to that?
When I opened them, my brother was crouched near the ground, fingers digging into the concrete. He rose with a handful of it, kneading it like clay. The material shifted, reshaped — hardened.
He tossed it from hand to hand.
The brighter it glowed, the harder it became.
By the time he slipped it over his fist, it had formed a glove.
He punched a nearby tree and laughed at the cracked imprint left behind.
I can’t do this.
I don’t know how to be a father.
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And this kid doesn’t listen.
He’s too creative.
“Let’s go,” he said, bouncing on his feet. “We’ve gotta get food for the week, right?”
I swallowed the panic rising in my chest.
I’m twenty-six.
I’m dragging around a six-year-old who can reshape matter.
Why couldn’t they just stay a little longer?
“It’s this way,” I said.
For reasons I still didn’t understand, I could see through the perspective of other things — living or not. A hawk had shown me a stash of preserved goods hidden beneath collapsed beams. It should still be untouched.
As long as we were quick.
We reached the spot.
“Fill your bag,” I said, pushing his hands away from twisting roots and reshaping stones. “Fast.”
The air felt wrong.
Too still.
I closed my eyes and slipped into the hawk’s vision.
Movement.
Too much movement.
We were surrounded.
The first hit came before I could warn him.
A sharp, crushing force slammed into the sides of my face. The world tilted. Dirt filled my mouth.
“Ace! Help!”
I tried to stand.
Blurry shapes. Boots. Hands.
My brother rolled across the ground, colors flashing across his skin as panic overtook him.
They were on him in seconds.
Rope. Too much rope.
When my vision cleared, I was on my knees, arms bound behind me. My brother was tied tighter than livestock.
A group parted.
A man stepped forward.
Twelve. Maybe thirteen of them.
“This one’s got potential,” the man said, smiling wide. “What is he? Eight?”
He crouched in front of me.
“And you? The dad? Little young for that, aren’t you?”
I said nothing.
My brother’s crying cut through the air.
“What do you want?” I forced out.
He laughed.
“You can’t tell? We want the boy.”
My brother screamed.
A fist smashed into my jaw.
Silence.
“That’s better,” the man said softly. “You stay quiet, he stays safe. Understand?”
My brother obeyed.
The man stood.
“Ya see I'm building something. A collection. A pack? Either way, Power rules now. And that boy?” He grinned. “He’s powerful. I want it.”
He leaned closer.
“So choose. Hand him over. Or die here — and I’ll take him anyway.”
“No,” I said.
It hurt to speak.
It didn’t matter.
He studied me.
“Interesting. We saw you ya know? Before? You barely seemed to like the brat at all. Why fight now?”
I struggled.
He grabbed my collar and dragged me closer to my brother.
“Take them both,” he ordered.
A man stepped forward. “Boss, he’s not—”
The protest ended mid-sentence.
The man froze.
Then collapsed.
Dead.
Silence fell heavy over the clearing.
“That works,” the leader said calmly. “You can take his spot.”
No one argued again.
We were lifted, carried like cargo.
My brother’s face was pale. His eyes distant.
Terrified.
As my vision dimmed, I held onto one thing.
We were still together.
I just hoped I could keep it that way.