Into the Blue Beam

SIX - FIVE YEARS AGO

Keefe Sencen was a delinquent. It was a title given to him by Dame Alina and adopted by his willingness to fit the role.

In his defense, however, he hadn't used to be. At least, skipping classes had been the thing he and his friend, Fitzy, dreamed about but never did.

That had been before Keefe manifested as an Empath.

After that, everything changed. Beyond the nauseating gymnastics routines his feelings seemed to do, and the devastating revelation that he was right about his parents not really caring about him, he had Empathy classes.

And who was the teacher?

Lord Stinking Cassius.

The first week, Keefe had put on a "brave face" and acted like everything was normal.

By the next Monday, he was skipping classes. And from then on, skipping was a breeze.

But after getting assigned a goblin bodyguard, he had to attend his session.

Not that he wasn't brainstorming ways to get rid of said bodyguard.

He was thinking something to do with gulons...

"Mr. Sencen," the bodyguard, whose name Keefe hadn't bothered to learn (it was only temporary anyway), said in that pretentious way of hers. Keefe didn't think goblins meant to be pretentious; they just were, with all there "misters" and "missuses." It was exhausting to keep up with-though he did like having a title in front of his name. Ole Daddio wouldn't like that.

The thing was, Keefe wanted to annoy his father. But at the same time, it was like his whole existence revolved around that. It was this constant loop of self-destruction that ultimately led to delinquency.

Which Keefe was fine with.

Since he liked annoying his dad.

It was all about priorities-what he sacrificed for what he got.

And he was fine with sacrificing perfect test scores.

But still. Was there more to life than this?

Keefe grimaced when a headache spiked. Nope. Keefe Sencen didn't do deep psychological philosophies. He did spontaneity-and right now, right here, he was ready to be as difficult as possible.

"Mr. Sencen," his bodyguard repeated.

Keefe snapped out of his daze, and that was when he realized they were standing in front of the Empathy classroom. The silver door with the brass knocker would forever leave a sour taste in Keefe's mouth. It looked despondent in the blue hallway, as if his father's aura had leaked into the physical properties of the areas he resided in.

Keefe swallowed.

"Mr. Sencen, you are nearly tardy."

Just then, the bells rang.

Keefe's stomach turned with each ping, and he waited until they were all done before finally opening the door and stepping forward.

The room seemed to darken with his mood-or maybe that was due to Lord Cassius shutting the curtains. The delicately-styled swoosh of Cassius' hair jiggled a little as he swung around so hard his cape jerked off-kilter. The sharp features of Keefe's father hardened when his eyes landed on his son-and it only gave the whole experience more fun-torturey vibes as he growled, "You're late."

Keefe felt his shoulders sliding up on their own accord, somehow protecting him from the next two hours.

But there was something else that arose, this time inside of him, and it forced him to face his dad square-on with as snarky a smirk as he could muster. "What can you do about it?"

His bodyguard groaned softly.

On Lord Cassius' part, he didn't look nearly as murderous as Keefe would have expected. "Nothing, it seems. But since you are here, and I planned a lesson for today, that is what we will be doing."

Keefe clenched his fists. He tried not to let it bother him, but his father not falling for the bait was infuriating. "I don't learn anything in here."

"You will today," Cassius shot back, swishing his cape back as he sat at his desk. "You don't learn anything because you don't apply."

"Maybe that's because you never stop lecturing!"

"I'll stop lecturing when you listen to what I have to say. Today, I've decided the lesson will be about consequences."

Keefe groaned. He knew all about consequences and "personal responsibility," thanks to Dame Alina. To hear it from his dad, too, and at school, was his worst nightmare.

Cassius pressed on, unfazed. "The world is inherently organized. It does not welcome chaos, yet chaos enters when we make our mark on it."

"Is there a point to this?" interrupted Keefe. He was still standing, tapping his toes. Running away would have been preferable, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to get away with it since his bodyguard was hovering directly behind him.

"The point is that nature has rules. Our abilities have rules. Telepaths cannot enter someone's mind without permission. Inflictors may not inflict save for defense, or with express permission also. But if you have Empathy, you can't only affect others, but yourself."

"And let me guess: there are rules for that too?" Keefe scoffed. Part of him was frustrated that he was actually listening, but another accepted this was unavoidable. He might as well make this as hard for Ole Daddio as possible.

But Cassius only smiled, that oily smile he got when he thought he was a genius. "Yes. See, you are learning, much to my surprise. To be completely honest, what I'm about to tell you next is a result of my own experimentation and studies, and has nothing to do with already-proven facts. But I find it interesting nonetheless, and it is a term I have coined, 'Overload.'"

Overload. Keefe turned that term around in his head. He'd never heard of it before.

"It is a principle of Empathy, one I, in fact, am writing about in my book."

Keefe didn't give a reaction to this, even though he knew his dad wanted one.

Cassius' smile grew thinner. "The principle is based off of my studies of newly-manifested Empaths. The emotions are much stronger, no? So strong you don't even have to touch someone to read them? That is Overload-and it is your body's natural way of defending yourself from being overwhelmed.

"See, the enhanced Empathy only occurs for the first few days after manifestation, perhaps a week at most, but then your ability rests into what it will likely become for a long period of time, until you start to train it. The Overload overstimulates your mind for a short period of time, but only to train it quickly, so you can cope with this new function your body has suddenly discovered. Do you understand?"

Keefe's shoulder jerked forward, and his bodyguard hissed, "Mr. Sencen, wake up!"

His first instinct was to shout back that he hadn't been sleeping, but he was too busy wiping away the drool that had gathered in the corner of his mouth.

Drool! As if he'd been listening!
If he hadn't been experiencing an existential crisis before, he certainly was now.

Lord Cassius continued to lecture, but Keefe forcibly tuned him out this time, intent on playing the delinquent he had committed to being. And when the bells chimed at the end of class, he launched out of that dark, oppressive classroom with so much speed even his personal goblin couldn't catch up to him.

For a moment... things hadn't been as bad as they used to be.

But that was a moment, and if Keefe knew anything about those with his parents, he knew it was short-lived.

So after a breath in which he let dreams run wild in his brain, he shut them down again.

Back to the old Keefe.

And gulons. Something about them just felt right.

Besides, all that time to think had given him some great ideas...