So, today is my birthday, and I decided you all should have a gift.

Also, I felt bad keeping it from you all for so long. Thank you for being patient!

Without further ado, I present 'Rising Sun'.

-LinkNotZelda

The dream he'd been having shredded itself to pieces as he shot awake, gasping for air and reaching for-

For something. Something he couldn't remember, but was so damn important and it burned that he couldn't remember. Matthew pulled himself into an upright position, not really sitting because sitting implied holding oneself up using nothing but their own power, and Matthew was mostly staying upright because of the headboard he was leaning against. He attempted to raise a hand to wipe the sweat off his face before deciding it was a lost cause and let it drop limply to his side.

He was tired. He'd just woken up, and he was so bone-deep tired it vaguely terrified him. He wasn't supposed to be exhausted after eight hours of sleeping. Yet here he was, weary and sore and tired, as if he'd spent the last eight hours fighting for his life instead of safe in his bed.

Sunlight began creeping in through his window, and Matthew held back a groan when he registered the universal wake-up call. He didn't want to wake up; even though it was hardly doing him any good, Matthew just wanted to sleep. But if he wasn't downstairs in a few minutes, his mother would come upstairs to get him, and more likely than not she'd bring a bucket of water with her. Matthew did not have the energy necessary to fend off a bucket of water, and so reluctantly rolled out of bed. And let out a yelp muffled by the rug on the floor when his legs failed to catch him and he landed face first, sending waves of pain down his chest and arms.

"Ow," he hissed, trying to push himself to his feet and giving up when his left wrist sent a message to not do that. So he lay on the floor and just breathed. Oddly enough, even breathing hurt. He finally pulled himself to his feet using the bedpost, hissing in pain the entire time he was moving. He was very annoyed at the pain, as he had no idea where the hell it was coming from; he hadn't sparred at all yesterday, focused instead on quickening his Psynergy cast time. So why did it feel like he was covered in bruises?

Struggling out of the shirt he'd labeled as his sleep wear, he found his answer. It was because he was covered in bruises. Starting from just beneath his collarbone, a blotchy patchwork of reds and purples and yellows spread all over his torso, stomach and what felt like his lower back, ending at his hips. There were a few on his forearms as well, and they all stung like a bitch. For a moment, he wondered if maybe he'd mixed up his days and he had been sparring yesterday, before dismissing that idea. Tyrell wasn't good enough to get past his guard this many times, and his dad wouldn't have hit him quite this much, even if he was able to.

And then his dad walked into his room, holding a cup of water Matthew was sure his mother had forced on him.

The cup shattered against the floor, water sloshing over Isaac's bare feet. His dad didn't notice, and Matthew didn't really expect him to. He was sure he made quite a sight, standing shirtless next to his bed, covered in bruises and completely confused as to how they got there. For a few seconds, they just stared at each other.

Isaac was at his side the next instant, gingerly holding his shoulders and trying not to aggravate the old bruises or give him new ones, which was very thoughtful of him. "Matthew, what happened?" There was concern and panic in his eyes as he ran his hands down Matthew's arms, coating them in Venus Psynergy.

Matthew could only stare up at his dad, eyes the same blue shade as Isaac's wide as he said, "I don't know." Well, he tried to, anyways. He'd barely gotten the 'I' out before his throat rebelled and set him coughing. It hurt, like someone had tried to choke him. Seeing the barely restrained murder in Isaac's eyes when he glanced at his neck, Matthew wondered if it looked like it too.

His dad pulled him out of his bedroom, barely avoiding the glass shards of the broken cup on the way downstairs. "Jenna!" Isaac hollered, and Matthew figured that whatever the hell was going on was serious, if it was making his dad yell.

Jenna padded out of the kitchen, a bemused smile on her face, and for a split second Matthew was struck by the feeling that it was odd to see both his parents in the same place before he shook it off. Where else would his parents be but home? "What's the rush?" Then his mom actually saw them, and she shrieked. "Matthew! Mars, what happened? No, don't speak," she ordered as he opened his mouth, noticing his throat. So there must be bruises there. That was nice to know.

Isaac continued to pull his son into the living room, making him sit on the couch. He hadn't stopped applying Cure to the bruises, and coupled with his mom's usage of Aura, Matthew knew he should be feeling significantly better than he actually was. "Isaac, something's wrong," Jenna muttered, and Matthew realized he wasn't just imagining it. But he was more than happy to just close his eyes and slump against the couch, letting his parents take care of things. He'd had enough of the decision making, problem solving stuff back when-

When what?

Matthew frowned, squirming in discomfort when a bruise on the left side of his chest started throbbing, and tried to remember when, exactly, he'd ever been in charge of making decisions. That weren't telling Tyrell no, he wasn't going to make the earth spongy so he could jump off the roof. But that was common sense.

The throbbing spread, and Matthew let out a choked gasp when it reached his stomach and it felt like being stabbed over and over. "Matthew?" His dad sounded like he was at the far end of a long tunnel, and Matthew forced his eyes open. His mom was nowhere in the room but he thought he heard her in the kitchen, and Isaac's hands were still glowing with Psynergy. Oddly enough, they were right over the fierce pain-

He moved them to the right, and painpainpain.

Matthew screamed, tearing his throat up even more but that didn't matter because it hurt and he needed his dad to stop whatever it was he was doing that was causing the pain. Thankfully, he did the second Matthew started screaming, jumping to his feet and grabbing his shoulders again. "Matthew!"

Jenna came barreling in from the direction of the kitchen. "What is it?" she demanded. "Isaac what happened?"

Matthew felt his head roll back since it was no longer supported by the couch. "I don't know," Isaac stammered. "I was using Cure, but with the way he started screaming you'd have thought I'd stabbed him with Ragnarök."

Not Ragnarök, Matthew thought hazily. It was that stupid Bl-

His mom used Aura, this time on his throat, and he screamed as well as he was able to through the sensation of having his windpipe crushed. Jenna withdrew her hand instantly, but the damage was already done. Matthew tore himself from his dad's grip and flipped over the back of the couch, pressing himself into a corner. The logical part of his mind recognized that his mom had just been trying to help, but it was being drowned in adrenaline and the memory of-

-when that bitch had tossed him around and crushed his throat, but he had to move, he had to, they needed to-

Who?

His dad was in front of him, trying to get his attention. "Matthew, is our Psynergy hurting you?" Isaac sounded incredulous, like such a thing was impossible when they were trying to heal. He looked absolutely devastated when Matthew nodded. "How?"

I don't know! Matthew wanted to wail. After the last time he'd tried to speak though, he decided not to risk it, especially since he'd screamed so loudly earlier, and settled for letting tears well up in his eyes. Jenna kneeled next to Isaac, her hands fluttering around him but not actually touching him, as if she wasn't sure she was allowed to anymore. He leaned into her, needing a hug, one which she gave gladly, if gingerly. It sparked something in his mind, something about danger and light and-

-she was soft and warm against him, but all he could focus on was that she was crying into his shoulder, and he hated that but he couldn't do anything about it. He was surprised she was even letting him touch her, considering he was the one who had-

Had what?

"Matthew," Isaac said quietly, running a soothing hand down his back. "Matthew, if our Psynergy isn't working I need to go get some ice. Can you get back to bed by yourself, or do you need help?" Offended, Matthew went to stand, and whimpered when his wrist reminded him that it was probably sprained.

"I'll help, baby," Jenna instantly offered, helping him to his feet. Matthew hurt too much to even want to refuse, and as his mom guided him up the stairs with one arm wrapped gently around his waist, he stared at his wrist. He had no idea how he could've sprained his wrist, unless it had happened when-

-he was thrown off again, landing badly, but he pushed himself to his feet again, ignoring the twinges in his wrist. No one else could even move. He was the only one who could-

Matthew was getting annoyed at his thought's tendency to cut off right before the important part.

Jenna pushed him into his bed, tucking him in as if he was six again. Thankfully, she didn't bother him into trying to put his shirt back on. He wasn't sure he could manage it. "Try to sleep," she said softly. "We'll figure this all out later, alright?"

Matthew nodded, suddenly, inexplicably tired. He should have never gotten out of bed this morning. He closed his eyes, hearing his mom cleaning up the broken glass as he tried to breathe shallowly so he didn't aggravate the bruised ribs he'd been given when-

-he got knocked to the side with all the force of a battering ram, hitting a pillar and thanking Venus that he had, instead of being tossed off the edge of the mountain, except now his ribs and his back hurt and he wasn't sure how much use against this thing he would be-

Sleep dragged him under, and he'd never been so grateful, until the dream started up. Even though he'd forgotten it, he could tell it was the same one he'd been having that morning, the one that had shredded itself to pieces as if it had needed to be forgotten by everything.

It started in a large open space, unnaturally bright, so bright it seemed to burn unless he was standing underneath the protective umbrella of darkness cast by one of the eight companions he had with him. They were blurry, faceless, but they were important, he knew. They walked around, looking for something. Some sort of key.

One of his group let out a yell and pointed forward, and suddenly they were standing in front of a pedestal. Stuck in that pedestal was a large golden sword that seemed to call to him, and written in the base of the stone was a cryptic line about keys and locks and light and darkness that wasn't in Standard Angaran but he could understand anyways. He grasped the hilt of the sword and it slid out smoothly, feeling like the sun had solidified itself into this perfect-for-wielding weapon. Then the door appeared.

Big and gray and made of something that wasn't stone, there was a stylized sun covering most if the door. A slot in the center looked like it was made for a key, and without hesitating Matthew plunged the sword he was carrying into the crack. A groaning noise came from the door as it opened, revealing a room with four pillars. As if he'd done it a million times, he strode over to the western one and placed a hand on it, glancing around and seeing three of his companions at the others, and the other four standing off to the side.

With a nod, all four of them shoved Psynergy into the pillars. Each pillar glowed in the color of their respective elements before channeling that energy through the roof. There was a grinding noise from above as something shifted, and then the world around him shifted and he found himself at the base of a ladder that led to the brightest part of where they were.

There was something in the way, something big and cloaked in shadow, something with three faces and a large sword and a clawed arm. He was still breathless from when that bitch had tossed him around and crushed his throat, but he had to move, he had to, they needed to take this thing down now, before the dark spread over the entirety of Weyard. He forced himself to his feet, holding the gold sword out in front of him, a wordless challenge issued to the beast.

It's clawed arm slammed into his ribs, and he got knocked to the side with all the force of a battering ram, hitting a pillar and thanking Venus that he had, instead of being tossed off the edge of the mountain, except now his ribs and his back hurt and he wasn't sure how much use against this thing he would be, but he got up anyways. He couldn't sit still, not while they needed him. It turned to glare at him, six eyes cutting through to his soul, and somehow the glare from the middle face hurt more than being tossed around like a chew toy.

He got the oddest feeling he should know who it was.

I'm sorry, he had whispered to it later, when he was kneeling at the base of the ladder, bruised, battered, and holding a crying female to his chest. It was in front of him, and it was smiling like he'd handed it the world, and he didn't understand how it could be so happy when he was so miserable, because he had known exactly what it was and he had ended its life anyways.

And she was soft and warm against him, but all he could focus on was that she was crying into his shoulder, and he hated that but he couldn't do anything about it. He was surprised she was even letting him touch her, considering he was the one who had killed him, he was dead because of Matthew.

Someone was taunting him. He couldn't hear the words, but he knew they were taunting him. Taunting them. He might not know who they are, but the people surrounding him are his friends, and they were trying to do something so important, and they weren't going to fail even if it killed him. He reluctantly released the crying girl, something inside him hating himself for doing so, and she stared up at him with bright green eyes that were surprisingly clear considering the blurry facial features everyone else sported.

Then he climbed the ladder. He hadn't been prepared for the light at the top to hit him with the force of a cyclone, knocking him to the ground and raising cries of worry and alarm from his friends. He shook it off, climbing again, prepared for the physical force this time, and yet he was thrown off again, landing badly, but he pushed himself to his feet again, ignoring the twinges in his wrist. No one else could even move. He was the only one who could reach the top, the only one of them who could activate the lens, and he had to stop it. He had to fix his mistake, he had to, and if that cost his life, well, it was only fair.

But then she put a hand on his shoulder. She asked him for a favor. He granted it, and suddenly he was watching her climb the ladder instead. But at the same time, he was climbing it with her, and they reached the top and pulled themselves over the edge and the light barely tingled; she'd brought the dark with them somehow.

The split view vanished, and he was standing at the top alone. He couldn't see her, nor feel her even though he knew he was standing with her. Out of morbid curiosity, he leaned over the edge, seeing everyone else sitting where they had fallen, attempting to piece themselves back together. He was down there too, absolutely still and looking like a corpse. The image made him shudder, and he turned away.

The statue looming in front of him was dark and ominous, but if it could fix his mistake he would worship it for the rest of his life, however short that may be. He reached out towards it—that wasn't his hand—and concentrated his Psynergy—that wasn't the gentle fierceness of Venus Psynergy—on the statue. Light washed over everything, scorching his retinas and causing more than one person to scream.

Matthew was still reaching out when he woke up.

Someone next to him startled, and Matthew would've jumped if he'd had any energy. "Matthew?" came a worried voice. "Are you awake or are you doing that weird sleep-moving thing again?"

Tyrell. Matthew relaxed, dropping his arm, before replaying what his best friend had said and frowning. "Again?" he croaked out, causing Tyrell to fall off the chair he must've dragged into Matthew's room.

"You are awake!" he blurted out, ignoring Matthew's question. "Are you okay man?! You're covered in bruises and Isaac said that Cure wasn't working and we're all freaking out here!" Tyrell was suddenly in his face, sea-green eyes blown wide and red hair unnaturally droopy. "And when I got here your room was covered in plants! How was your room covered in plants?!"

"What?" Matthew whispered, trying not to cough. "What are you talking about?"

"Your room," Tyrell repeated. "It was covered in plants. Those ridiculous climbing vines that somehow get everywhere. They were all over your room and your mom flipped out. And you were moving around like you were awake, but you weren't, and you were using your Psynergy for something but we couldn't find out what, and you kept apologizing." Tyrell looked at him funny. "What were you sorry for?"

What had he been sorry for? He could sort of remember. He'd killed it. But it had been trying to kill him and that girl and the others, so that was only fair, wasn't it? Except it hadn't been, it hadn't, he'd been in the wrong and he apologized for it, but why? "I don't know," he answered, and he was starting to hate those three words. It seemed they were all he'd been saying lately. "I'm tired," he admitted, and Tyrell looked surprised.

"You just woke up from a five hour nap," he said.

"But I'm still so tired," Matthew muttered. "I don't want to sleep anymore, but I'm so tired."

Against his will, his eyes slid closed, and Tyrell lightly slapped his cheek. "Hey, don't go to sleep on me. I've been bored all morning because you were napping. As my best friend, you have the sacred duty of entertaining me. Also, me being bored was your fault, so now you have to make it up to me."

With a grunt, Matthew forced his eyes open again. Tyrell looked more relieved than anything else. "Sorry," he still said. Then, because he was curious, he asked, "Where are my parents?"

"Jenna's getting more ice," Tyrell told him, "and Isaac's up at the Sanctum talking to the Great Healer."

"Do they..?" Matthew didn't finish the question, but Tyrell guessed what it was pretty accurately.

His best friend grimaced and said, "Last I heard, he had no clue what was going on. The Great Healer wondered if the Wise One would know and tried to speak with him, but that was an hour ago and I haven't heard anything since, so who knows." Matthew turned his head to stare out the window, doubtful. He doubted even the tiny priestess' Third Eye would-

Wait, what?

Grimacing, Matthew forced himself to sit up, ignoring Tyrell's exclamation of "Hey! Matthew what the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"Going out," he grunted, swinging his legs out of bed, staring down at the floor. Tyrell was pushing on his shoulders, trying to get him to lay back down. "Things to do, people to speak with." Remembering his last failed attempt at standing, he resolved to take it slow.

"You are not going anywhere," Tyrell demanded. "You are not getting out of bed. You are going to lay back down and stay there until I come back with Isaac."

Matthew stared up at his best friend with such intensity Tyrell started fidgeting. "And how are you going to make me." It wasn't a question, because he knew Tyrell wouldn't have an answer. Tyrell shifted again.

"Matty," he pleaded, and Matthew could tell he was serious because he'd reverted back to the childish nickname he hadn't used in years. "Look, just, just lay down, okay? Your dad said you had trouble moving earlier. I'll go get him, it'll take like, five minutes. Just please, please don't go off anywhere."

Gods damnit. "Fine," he huffed out, letting Tyrell shove him backwards until he was once again under the covers, but he refused to lie down, stubbornly remaining sitting. "But I'm bored."

"I'll be back in five minutes!" Tyrell called back, already halfway down the stairs. Probably falling down the rest of them, if the startled yelp was any indication.

"You'd better be," Matthew mumbled to himself, his eyes slipping closed again, opened only through sheer force of will. "Because I don't know how much longer I can stay awake."

Which was ridiculous. He'd had almost thirteen hours of barely interrupted sleep; he should be bouncing off the walls with all the stored energy he had, but all he felt was this lethargic sort of, I'm only moving because I have to kind of thing. It was awful and he hated it but he was tired, and he'd wake up when Tyrell got back. Probably. A nap would be good. Maybe even helpful, because he wouldn't be deep enough into sleep to dream. Yeah, a nap wouldn't hurt anyone.

His plans were interrupted by an ominous rumble from the ground, and Matthew was up on his feet in a flash, halfway out the door before he could even think about what he was doing. There was something very not right with this quake, not right at all. He shoved open the door to the outside, stumbling as a particularly violent tremor rocked the earth.

Matthew was a Venus Adept. That meant he had more than just a passing connection to the ground, and he gasped as he heard the rock beneath his feet shrieking as it scraped against itself. That was not good. Neither was the feeling of several man-sized boulders hitting the earth not too far to the south of him, near the town square. Where the hell had those even come from?

He looked up, and got his answer.

Smoke and fire painted the sky dark and red, ominous and foreboding. As he watched, more spewed from the top of Mt. Aleph, which was apparently a volcano that had lain dormant for centuries. A boulder landed very close to him and he didn't even flinch, too enthralled by the sight in front of him to care much that he'd almost been flattened.

However, his dad seemed to take personal offense to that idea. "Matthew, what are you doing out here!?" Matthew turned to his dad, still slightly dazed from the sight of destruction in front of him. Isaac looked…slightly singed. Like he'd been close to the fire and explosions. He looked guilty too, like said fire and explosions were his fault.

"Looking for you," Matthew says, and it wasn't even a lie. He'd freaked the instant he'd felt the eruption starting, and his instinct was Dad can make it better.

Something glittery, like stardust, flew across the sky and Matthew found himself tracking it. And then losing track of it as several more joined the first, and they were shooting across the dark noon sky like shooting stars free of gravity and with minds of their own.

"Come on." Isaac tugged on his arm to get him moving, stopped, and scooped Matthew up when he realized he wasn't wearing shoes. "Everyone's gathering in the town square to take stock of what the initial explosion damaged."

That seemed odd to Matthew. "Dad? I'm not an expert or anything, but shouldn't we get further away from the exploding mountain than that?"

His dad grimaced, face twisting like he'd just eaten something sour. "The Wise One is stopping the volcano; it shouldn't erupt for more than a minute now."

"Oh," Matthew said, relaxing and staring back up at the sky. "Did he give you an answer?" he asked, because Tyrell had told him that his dad and the Great Healer had gone to try and speak with him.

His father's face was grave when he answered. "No, and now something even bigger is going on. I don't like it," he admitted.

"Me either," Matthew mumbled, staring as the slowly gushing smoke and lava began to cool and dissipate. He should've been more terrified of the disaster that had been Mt. Aleph, but all he could think was that it had been beautiful up close and not viewed through a telescope. Far more so than he had expected.

Matthew lay awake in his bed, the air still smelling slightly of smoke. He had no idea why his parents expected him to be able to sleep after everything that had happened. There were so many thoughts running through his head, plus, all that extra sleep was working against him here.

Sol Sanctum had been robbed. His dad hadn't been forthcoming on all the details, but the fact that the Sanctum had been robbed when Isaac and the Great Healer had entered it was all over the village. Curious neighbors had crowded around the house for hours trying to find out what had happened, and if it had anything to do with the volcano erupting, because that was too much of a coincidence for it to be chance.

Vale had been completely shaken by the occurrence, but only the Great Healer, Isaac, and Garet knew the whole story. Garet had been told only because he was Vale's mayor. Well, and Isaac's best friend. Mostly because of the mayor thing though. And because Garet was the mayor, he couldn't go after the thieves with Isaac. Because his dad was going after the thieves.

His dad was leaving.

Matthew screwed his eyes shut, trying to get rid of the bad taste in his mouth that thought gave him. His dad shouldn't leave. He had things to do, yes, but those things were here, not haring across the world, alone, on some quest given to him by the Wise One. It wasn't even his dad's fault.

Isaac had told Garet that the Wise One was sending him on this quest because he'd led the way to the inner sanctum and the thieves had followed him and the Great Healer. So, naturally, Tyrell and Matthew had been eavesdropping, and Matthew had instantly felt guilty, because Isaac had only done that because something weird was going on with Matthew.

It was Matthew's fault his dad had to leave.

Isaac was nearing fifty, and the world was dangerous outside their protective sanctuary of Vale; Matthew knew if his dad left the village, he wouldn't be coming back. Ever.

It was that thought that propelled him out of bed and down the stairs without a sound, creeping into the kitchen. Sitting on the table, completely innocent looking, was a bag, filled to the brim with adventuring necessities. He glared at it for a moment, needing something to take his anger out on, even if it was an inanimate object. Then he opened it, withdrawing from it a roll of parchment. A map of Weyard.

Despite himself, Matthew felt a tiny thrill of excitement run down his spine. He'd never seen a map of Weyard before. He found himself wondering how large the world was, and if he'd ever see it all. He wanted to, he realized. He wanted to see everything. He eagerly unfolded the map, spreading it out across the table. The first thing that struck him was that the shape was all wrong. Gondowan was too close to Angara, and shouldn't Izumo be further east? And Gaia Falls was way too close to…everything, actually.

And then he wondered why he thought that, because he'd never seen a map of Weyard before, had never left Vale, and none of the landmasses on this map were marked so how did he know which ones were which?

And here, in the center of Angara, that was Mt. Aleph. So Vale must be around here, and it looked like the nearest town was Vault, just a bit to the south and east. Nodding to himself, Matthew refolded the map and placed it back in the bag, heading back upstairs to change.

He threw on a sturdy pair of pants and struggled into a long sleeved shirt, mindful of the still healing bruises. His own Psynergy didn't cause excruciating pain when he healed himself, but he didn't have the reserves to do it often, so he was still stuck with them. At least his wrist was no longer sprained. He dug out the jacket Tyrell had gotten him for his last birthday, the short sleeved one that went down to his ribcage and had lots of inside pockets, and put that on as well, before grabbing his sword. Then he went back downstairs, strides full of purpose.

He stopped short just inside the kitchen, staring at his parents sitting at the table, Jenna fixing a lunch box and Isaac sipping a cup of what smelled like coffee. "Mom? Dad?" Matthew was bewildered. He'd been sure they were asleep.

"Good morning Matthew," Jenna smiled, acting as though the sun was up and dancing through the sky instead of the moon. "I take it you didn't sleep at all. Neither did we." She was either really oblivious or purposely ignoring the fact that he was dressed to leave.

Isaac was not. "Going somewhere, son?" He stared at Matthew over the rim of his coffee cup, and Matthew fought the urge to fidget. He was not a child anymore, hadn't been since he'd stopped-

Ever since he'd made that stupid mistake-

He wasn't a child anymore.

So he looked his dad straight in the eyes and said, "Yes." Try and stop me, he dared.

To his surprise, his dad didn't even pretend to try. He just slid the bag closer to Matthew. "You're going to need this," he said, and Jenna burst into tears. She leapt from her chair and pulled him into a rib crushing hug that really, really hurt, but he ignored that because who knew the next time he'd get a hug from her?

"Mom, I," Matthew hesitated, staring down at his mom and getting a sense of vertigo. Since when had he been taller than her? "Dad, how did you know?"

Isaac stood and joined the hug, sandwiching Matthew between the two of them. "You and Tyrell aren't that sneaky," he chuckled. "And you're far too much like me to do anything else once you'd heard what had happened."

"And you're just…okay with it?"

Jenna clutched him tighter, and Isaac shook his head. "No," he said, tightening his own hold. "But could we really stop you?"

"No," Matthew echoed, wrapping his own arms around the two of them. And it was true. They wouldn't be able to guilt him into staying, because his guilt about what had happened at the Sanctum because of him was stronger. They couldn't order him to stay, because he wasn't a child anymore. And they couldn't force him to stay, because age was catching up to them and he was quicker at casting Psynergy than his mom and already as good as his father when it came to swordsmanship. Another reason for it to be him.

Jenna finally pulled away, handing him the lunch she'd been packing. "Be safe Matthew," she said. "And come home."

And Matthew looked at her straight in the eyes, knowing he couldn't lie even if it was to make her feel better. "I'll do my best." She cried again, but there wasn't anything Matthew could do about that except hate the fact that he was causing it.

One arm still wrapped around Matthew's shoulder and the other holding the bag that he'd packed – packed for Matthew, because Isaac knew what was going to happen before even Matthew did – Isaac led Matthew to the door. "You should leave before the villagers start asking questions," he whispered.

Matthew nodded but didn't open the door; just stared at it while he leaned into his dad, soaking up the affection while it was there. All too soon, his dad's arm withdrew, and Jenna wrapped something soft around his neck. Surprised, he glanced down. "Mom?" He wondered why his mom had wrapped his dad's scarf around his neck. "What are you-?"

"You need to keep warm," Jenna instructed, as if that explained everything. He fingered the edge of the yellow cloth, faded after so many years of love and use, and found both of his parents name's embroidered there. His dad had done that after they'd gotten married, because Isaac was better at needlework that Jenna was. He looked up at his dad, and Isaac nodded, opening the door.

"It's cold out," he justified. It wasn't. Spring in Vale was always hot, and the eruption earlier had only intensified that.

And for what felt like a lifetime, Matthew stood in front of the open door, his parents behind him. He'd passed through this door just about every day of his life, but it was different tonight. And if he ever came home, he wouldn't be the same. A warm breeze floated in through the door, promising adventure and bringing danger, and he felt that same thrill he'd felt looking at the map earlier. Isaac placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ready to go?"

Matthew nodded, and Isaac squeezed his shoulder lightly before propelling him gently through the doorway-

-"Talk about pushing us out of the nest!"-

-and Matthew started walking. He only looked back once, when he was far enough into the shadows cast by Luna that he was sure they couldn't see him. They were standing in the still open doorway, light spilling out behind them and leaving only their silhouettes visible. He wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Jenna wave.

He turned back around, heading for the village gates. A little ways past the village cemetery, Tyrell fell into step beside him. "You didn't really think I was letting you go alone, did you?" And that was the end of that.

"You tell your dad?" Matthew asked instead.

Tyrell shook his head. "Didn't have to. He packed my bag for me. And I already said good-bye to Mom," he said, gesturing back to the cemetery.

"Okay," Matthew answered. And that was the end of that.