Training Begins

    Aaron lay flat on his bed, eye wide, staring at nothing, feeling nothing but his own pain. Everything in his body hurt, his veins popped and glowed rhythmically, pulsating with red light every time his heart tolled its steady beat. Looking into nothingness, Aaron’s mind screamed for relief, his eyes aching with light that he knew wasn’t there, arms and legs throbbing with the power within. He had shown is mom the burn on his hand, but she hadn’t been able to see it, the same for his dad. Only Emma could see the burn, but she couldn’t see the glowing red lines that swirled over his entire body, waiting for their chance to burst out from under his skin. Aaron knew that he either needed to die, or he needed to find a way to control this pain, control the power of the LifeRose.
    The LifeRose. That was what had caused him so much pain, so much agony and stress.  It had bonded with him, making him its guardian, keeping him alive with its own life, keeping him in the agony he was in, the power both torturing him and making sure he stayed alive. The only person he knew who could see the pain he was in was Belle, his best friend, the one he had used the LifeRose to save, keeping her from dying by pressing the burn on his hand to her head, willing life be given back to her in full. She had made a full recovery and since he had discovered his power to travel through space and time, simply by walking through doors, he had visited her several times. The Rose was his life, his power, and his curse, giving him the power to travel through doors, power of roses, and the curse that kept him alive in such pain.
    Finally Aaron sat up, forcing his eyes and mind to come back to the present. Swaying where he sat, Aaron looked at the wall of drawings which were his best work. He started shaking violently with cold that didn’t exist, then he fell backwards, almost unconscious.  His family had taken him to the best doctors in the state, but none of them had been able to find anything wrong with him, other than rather high blood pressure, proscribing him with staying in bed to get over his sickness that his parents saw in him. He had also been taken to psychiatrists, trying to help him get over his mental state of near madness. He had been laid on the bed and told to relate what happened, but the Rose had kept him silent, only allowing him to say yes and no to questions unrelated to his state.  In the end the psychiatrists were forced to diagnose him into madness and told to keep him in his room, keeping the door locked, the window bolted shut. That wasn’t a problem for Aaron. He could travel anywhere he wanted to by concentrating on either someone or somewhere and walking through his closet door.
    A knock at the door pulled him back to consciousness. He looked at the door as in slowly opened. Emma’s head popped through the doorway and smiled weakly at him. He smiled back, forcing the pain in his muscles down. He also had to concentrate on keeping the vomit down. Emma looked nervously back through the door and stepped inside and closed it gently behind her, clutching the key in her fist.
    “I’m not supposed to be in here.” She said quietly. Aaron nodded.
    “It’s just so hard without you being part of the family anymore.” She continued, twisting her hands in agitation. “Mom and dad are trying to act like you’re fine; like you’re just up here drawing like you used to. They call to you when it’s time to eat, then they bring it up as if they were disgusted that you don’t come. It’s awful to be a part of that. They act like it’s your fault that you’re crazy, and they do it cuz’ they’re scared. I want you to be good again.” She said, finally breaking down and sobbing horribly. Aaron got off the bed, still forcing down vomit, and pulled her to him in a big hug. She cried onto his shoulder for a long time. Aaron felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks.
    “I will get better.” He said, making sure he spoke English. “I will find a way.” He felt her nod, then pull away from his arms. She pulled a sleeve across her eyes and let a small smile and a fluttering wave escape her before she turned, opened the door and left without looking back. Aaron heard the lock click back into the locked position. Aaron looked at the closet door. “I will get better.” He repeated himself.
Over the next few days, Aaron slipped in and out of consciousness, visited three times a day by either his mom or dad with food. He never spoke, never even acknowledged their presence as he had done even before Emma had visited him, only now he did it out of a spiteful heart. How could they do that to his sister, their only daughter?  He felt a terrible separation growing between himself and his parents, but he found that he didn’t miss them as much as he should. It was Emma he missed most. She had always been so sweet to him, even when she was angry. How could he have been such a horrible older brother?
The next day, Emma visited him again, however when she opened the door, he saw that she was already crying, her eyes and nose bright red, tear streaks staining her face. Aaron sat up again, mush slower than the first time. She came and sat at his feet, looking mournfully into his eyes. He was sure they were bloodshot. He could feel the blood rushing into the iris. Emma didn’t say anything for a long time, just looking up at him. Finally she spoke.
“I’m being taken away from here.” She whispered, he head moving as her jaw stayed still on his knee. “They’re sending me to gramma’s house. They don’t think it’s safe for me here anymore.” Aaron’s eyes filled with tears, and instantly he regretted it. Emma started crying when she saw Aaron start to cry. He quickly brought his hand up and wiped his eyes, trying to stop the water from spilling over his cheeks.  Slowly, painfully, he knelt next to her. She leaned on his shoulder again, and eventually stopped crying. They sat still for a long time, Aaron’s heartbeat the only sound he could hear.  Emma sighed and stood. “Goodbye, Aaron.” She said quietly. “I’ll miss you.” With that she left the room for the last time. Finally the tears spilled freely over Aaron’s face. He knelt beside his bed for a long time, weeping heavily, his aching muscles quivering with each sob.  Finally he stood and looked at the blank wall and began shouting words that he didn’t know at it. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone, and he hoped the words he spoke meant something to that effect.  Then he started yelling in general, some words in English and others in the strange language the Rose had given to him. Yelling at the top of his lungs, he hoped his parents could hear him and be frightened. They should be. His veins flowed with the blood of the LifeRose. He was more powerful than the ancient demigods of Greece, more powerful than the elements. The only thing holding him back was that he didn’t know how to use his power. He would find someone somewhere to help him find out what had happened to him, what he could do to contain his power. Without knowing what he was doing, Aaron continued to yell, but he grabbed the foot of his bed and hurled it across the room, overturning a table with pencils and papers. He threw his bedside table at the bed and grabbed a fallen pencil. He began to draw on the wall he had just cleared. Strange shapes, letters, and objects began to fill the wall, the black lead leaving gouges in the white drywall where he pressed the pencil. Hours passed as he filled every inch with designs and words comprised of the strange runes and letters. Finally he passed out, completely spent from all the yelling and violent movement he had used to draw on the wall.
When his mom came up to give him his breakfast the next morning, she saw the bed overturned on the wrong side of the room, papers and pencils scattered around the room, broken leads along the floorboard where his bed and table had been at one time. Looking in awe at the wall, his mom set the tray of food on the floor and gazed amazed at the strange patterns that covered the wall. Then she looked at Aaron, sprawled out on the floor, completely spread eagle, arms and legs perfectly straight. His head looked straight to the ceiling, unseeing eyes focused on some place no one knew even existed. She shook her head sadly, tears beginning to stream down her face. She turned and left the room, locking the door behind her. Hours later, Aaron awoke. He looked at the wall, covered with lead swirls and lines and wondered when he had done that. Slowly standing, Aaron pulled the bed away from the wall where he had thrown it and began to clean up the mess. His head ached, but he knew what he was doing. Finally the closet door was free to open. He thought of Belle, hoping that she was alone somewhere. Then he remembered to put a shirt on. After he had thrown a white zip-up hoodie on, he opened the door and saw a swirling image of Belle. He stepped through the door.
Belle looked up as Aaron stepped through her door into her room.  He looked terrible, his face haggard and worn. She noticed that his tousled hair was a complete mess. She smiled at him, and swung her legs around off the bed. Standing, she held out her hand for Aaron to take. He did and walked unsteadily over to the bed and sat down, his face blanching everywhere but where the glowing red veins throbbed. Aaron sat shakily and looked into her mismatching eyes. She smiled lightly at him. Aaron’s eyes closed as he finally relaxed slightly. It seemed as if he could only relax when he was around Belle. Then he remembered what he had come for.
“I’m going to find out what is happening to me.” He said, matter-of-factly. She nodded her head. She had known this was coming.
“I’ll pray for you.” She said. She desperately wanted to go with him, but she knew that he wouldn’t let her. Gently squeezing his hand, she stood and left the room. Aaron knew that it was time to go. He walked back through the door into his own room. He prepared the door by thinking hard about someone who could help him. He didn’t know who the door would take him to see, and he hoped it wasn’t anyone too terrible. Then he opened his bottom drawer and pulled all the clothes out. He stuffed a few items of clothing into a bag and then pulled out the beautiful sword he had received from the skeleton of the man who had previously owned it. He strapped it to the back of the backpack that held his clothed and then pulled the on the hilt, drawing the beautiful blade. He walked to the window and pulled back his arm and struck the window with the hilt of the sword, instantly smashing the glass. He quickly sheathed the sword and walked through his closet into the unknown place beyond.

Stumbling through the door, Aaron found himself in a dimly lit room, the only light coming from a fire on the other side of a large, high backed armchair. Aaron stumbled around a table laden with books, scrolls, and ancient tomes. The room felt old, the smell of old books and paper filling the air. Aaron’s vision swam as he stumbled around to the front of the chair and fell on the red rug in front of the fire. He looked up into the chair and saw what looked to be a man crouching with his nose buried deep in a book. The man, or what Aaron thought was a man, was covered in living armor, what Aaron took to be a fungus of some kind, bonded to the man over an extended period of time. Aaron could feel its life. Waiting for the man to speak, Aaron sat still, enjoying the warmth of the fire on his back. He waited for a long time. Finally he cleared his throat, forced his eyes to focus on where he thought the man’s eyes would appear over the edge of the book, and spoke.
“What’s happening to me?” he asked breathlessly.
“I don’t know.” Came a muffled voice, heavily accented with what Aaron took to be Scottish. “You tell me.” Aaron sat up straight. He had expected the man to be surprised at his presence.
“An interesting entrance, by the way,” continued the man. “I have only met one person who knows how to travel by doors. It takes quite the amount of magic.” At this, the man lowered his book, revealing a face covered in a greenish pink fungus that moved with his face as he moved. His eyes seemed to glow orange.
“I… I don’t know… what you’re talking about. I came to find out what is happening to me. I came to someone… or something- who can tell me what is happening to me.” The man leaned forward, dropping the big book onto the floor beside the chair.
“You tell me.” He said evenly, almost threateningly. Aaron blew hard through his mouth, his vision swimming.
“I don’t know… I… A Rose did this to me.” He said, not knowing what else to say. The man in front of him grunted acknowledgement.  Aaron began searching for words. How could he explain what happened? Then without knowing what he was saying, he began speaking in the odd, flowing language of the Rose. The fungus man listened intently, nodding every once in a while, grunting here and there, and at the end of Aaron’s foreign narrative, he stood. 
“Yes…” thought the man, pacing back and forth in front of the chair. Aaron watched helplessly.  The man continued, “I remember this happening before… hm…  I believe I documented it. Where would I have put that.” He asked of no one in particular. He walked over to one of the many bookshelves that lined the stone walls. Aaron noticed for the first time the glowing runes and letters on the shelves and walls. Walking deftly to one of the shelves, the odd, fungus covered man began running his thumb over the bindings of the ancient tomes, mumbling their titles to himself. Eventually he chose one and drew it from its place. He began thumbing through the leaves and found what he was looking for. Aaron’s head hurt. He closed his eyes, but continued seeing. Finally he fell back and stared into the nothingness of the dark ceiling. When he closed his eyes, he see through the roof and through massive amounts of stone into a clear blue sky. A quick call from the fungus man woke him from his reverie. Slowly sitting up, Aaron’s eyes wandered to the green covered man who stood at one of the shelves with three books held out in his hand, waiting for Aaron to take them. Groaning, Aaron stood and forced his aching limbs to move. Fungus man handed him the books, inciting him not to fall, considering it would probably hurt. Aaron set the books down on the floor, unable to hold them for long. Aaron closed his eyes again and saw Belle looking at him through a mirror. He forced a smile, also forcing down vomit. Belle looked at him, very concerned. She reached out and touched the mirror, willing herself to him. Reaching out his hand, Aaron touched where he thought the other side of the mirror should be, just behind Belle’s fingertips. She smiled gently. Aaron wished he could just die. His body ached everywhere, every vein bulging with energy, glowing with the Rose. The image of Belle vanished and Aaron opened his eyes. The fungus man was watching him, orange eyes narrowed.
“Intriguing.” He murmured, then continued searching through books. Aaron let his head fall back on the hard stone floor. Finally the sweet relief of sleep came to him, easing the pain slightly. The sleep was a restless sleep, filled with images of Belle, head slumped against her shoulder, dead, and Aaron could do nothing to help her.
He woke up to light shaking on his shoulder. Glowing orange eyes squinted at him. For a moment, Aaron tried to remember where he was, after remembering, Aaron sat up and felt a fungus covered hand on his back, holding him up.
“I found it.” Said the man, softly. Aaron looked at the small book in the fungus hand. He squinted, trying to make his eyes focus. They refused, so he just nodded. The man placed it in Aaron’s hand and told him to read it. Aaron tried to explain.
“My eyes won’t focus… I can’t read it.” He said, dejected. The man snorted.
“Can you not see with closed eyes? You can see they sky through them, you can see the girl with wrong eyes with them, can you not read with them?” Aaron shrugged, not wanting to read. His head hurt. Sighing, the man in fungus armor took the book and began to read in the language Aaron had been speaking in. Aaron couldn’t understand the words, but he felt a bit better after hearing them.
“You see, you simply need to learn how to control your power!” exclaimed the man, expecting Aaron to have caught each deep thought expressed in the words he had spoken. Aaron shook his head.
“I already knew that…” he said.
“Then why have you not learned to restrain the power within? If you know what you need to accomplish, why have you not achieved it?”
“Because I don’t know HOW!” Aaron yelled the last word, trying to get it through the fungus in the man’s ears. Orange eyes squinted at him. “Hm…” said the man. “You’d expect some knowledge from children these days.” He snorted. “Very well. I will teach you to control. Watch this.” The man took a teapot from the rack and began pouring the steaming liquid into a teacup. Aaron watched, totally lost. Stopping the flow of tea, the fungus man set the pot back on the tray and sipped from the cup through fungus crusted lips. Smacking his lips together, the man sighed.
“Not that hard really. That’s good tea.” He said. Aaron blinked, continuing to see the man even when his eyes were closed.
“I need to drink tea?” he asked, totally confused. The man rolled his orange eyes.
“It’s not WHAT you do, it’s HOW you do it. You are full of life, your veins flow with Roseblood, the life of a rose. The Rose. It has bonded with you, therefore making you its guardian. It has control over you, just as you have control over it, you are now one, and your body has not yet accepted that. I can help it learn to accept the Rose; or you can stay in the miserable pain you are in and continue to glow with power you don’t know how to use, and eventually die.”
Aaron’s eyes hurt. He closed them to the world, wishing he could stop the inner sight. He could still see the man, sitting cross legged in front of him. Sighing, he nodded.
“Teach me.” He said, firmly.

Climbing the face of the mountain, Aaron breathed heavily, feeling another round of dry heaving coming from his stomach. He had already emptied his aching stomach several times, the exertion and pain driving him to a fever of desperation to reach the top. The fungus man was far ahead, turning at rock outcroppings and watching Aaron with his orange eyes. As Aaron stopped yet again to heave the nothingness from his stomach, the fungus man lifted his glowing eyes to the sky.
“Rain is coming,” he muttered to himself, pulling the crusty visor of his wide-brimmed hat down over his eyes. He had made several journeys with several people, the most recent of which had been a young man searching to heal the air of this world. Smiling at the memory, the fungus man took a deep breath of the rich air. The young man had finished his quest, but only after great loss of life. Now he was leading another young man to the man who had brought life back into the air.  Mathias would be able to help Aaron much better than he could, considering Mathias had been through a time much like what Aaron was going through. It had been many centuries since the fungus man had seen Mathias. He wondered how the demigod was doing.
Aaron wheezed as he came level with the fungus covered figure, standing deep in thought, smiling slightly. Falling to his knees, Aaron felt his mind going into a relapse of near madness. He thought of Belle, but the girl wasn’t where he could see her. He called out to her in the flowing language of the Rose, beckoning her to the place where he could see her best: through a mirror. She didn’t come. Aaron moaned and fell to the earth, his right hand landing on a patch of dirt. The fungus man called to him, inciting him to action again, but when Aaron tried to stand, he found that his hand was tangled in a bush of roses where it had fallen. Pulling on the thorns that trapped his hand, Aaron found that the thorns did not penetrate his skin. Surprised by the lack of pain, Aaron wrenched his hand free and looked up to the fungus man. Orange eyes narrowed, the man was watching the roses writhe, filled with life.
“This boy is powerful,” he said to himself, “very powerful.”
Continuing up the face of the mountain, Aaron looked back down the steep slope into the green land below. The air was growing thin, but no less rich than it had been when they had come out of the cave that was the fungus man’s home. It had been the first thing Aaron had noticed when he stepped through the large wooden doors into the cave that served as the porch of the fungus man’s cave.  Aaron took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill as they had never filled before. Closing his eyes, Aaron felt tendrils of roses wrap around his legs and begin to lift him up the face of the mountain. They carried him quickly, his inner sight watching the rocks and outcroppings swing by. When he reached the fungus man, he reached out his hand and took the extended fungus covered hand. Aaron liked the feel of the living armor. It was smooth and hard, the fungus that showed no trace of rot that usually let other mushrooms and fungus thrive. This was a healthy fungus, a sign of the abundance of life beneath. Aaron found himself smiling as the rich air of this strange world rushed over his face and through his tangled and matted hair.  When they reached the top, Aaron stopped the flow of roses and let then vines set them gently on the top of the mountain. Turning, Aaron saw the long path of roses, a green and red sweep up the side of the grey rock. He had also noticed that as he let the power surge from him into the surrounding area, he had not felt any pain whatsoever, the energy no longer being held in his unready body. It had felt good to spread life rather than hold it in. Again Aaron turned and looked in the direction they had been travelling. In front of them stretched a vast expanse of lush green. With his inner sight, Aaron could see trees and grass, living simultaneously in peace and harmony. The trees ended at the walls of a large city, the grey stone walls decorated at every point with beautiful arches and terraces, all carved with intricate designs, dominated by the figure of a man with light shooting from his body in long rays of beautifully carved stone. The stone face was carved masterfully, the long hair flying back from it in a strong wind. Aaron liked the man, even though he had never met him.
“That is the healer of the air,” came the voice of the fungus man, softly. “I am taking you to him. He can teach you better than I can.” Aaron opened his eyes and looked at the orange eyes playing over his face. Aaron nodded. It hadn’t seemed odd that this man had known what he had been looking at. He seemed to know things, even things that seemed impossible. He was very wise.
As they worked their way down the face of the mountain toward the city, Aaron felt the same life flowing from him as he had felt on the way up the other side, only this time it flowed slower. Looking back the way they had come, Aaron saw rose bushes growing on the mountain between rocks and in crannies. When they finally reached the city, Aaron looked around for a gate, but there was none in sight. The fungus man looked up at the top of the wall and said a word that Aaron didn’t recognize. In a moment, the city disappeared, leaving an enormous flat space where it had been. In the center of the open space was a single tree, massive compared to the trees that had surrounded the city. It was gnarled and old, still budding with life, every inch of it alive to overflowing. At the base of the trunk, a large crack reached u[ from the ground. Aaron focused on this with his inner sight and saw that it was a staircase leading down into the ground. Aaron could also see the tripwire that stretched across the ground in front of the crack and the crossbow pointing at the door from one of the branches.
“It looks like someone doesn’t want to be disturbed.” Aaron said reverently. The fungus man shrugged and began walking briskly to the tree. Reaching his right hand into the air, a blue staff covered in bright yellow fungus appeared in the outstretched hand. The head of the staff curved back on itself in a large semi-circle. Walking to the tree, he stepped lightly over the trip wire and began his descent. Aaron followed, more reluctantly than the fungus man had. On reaching the top of the stairs, Aaron noticed how steep the stairs were, so steep in fact that it might as well have been a spiral slide on a playground. Aaron held firmly to the inside of the tree as he began the treacherous walk down the stairs.
The fungus man came down from the stairs into a clean, well lit room, decorated and furnished simply, but the furniture was obviously well made, and was quite expensive in appearance. On a couch at the far end of the room sat a rather short stocky man, his black hair pulled back in a queue that held the rest of his hair tightly to his scalp. A full black beard reached down to the middle of his throat, neatly trimmed and combed. His eyes had no pupils and no whites; they were simply varying colors of purple, dark at the edges and almost white in the center. Eyes that seemed to penetrate right to the soul. The man was dressed in armor that reminded the fungus man of a bird. Covering much of his armor was a fringed fabric wrap, covering everything from the ribs up. A helmet that looked like a bird’s head sat beside him on the couch, looking at the fungus man. The black haired man spoke, his voice deep and rich.
“It has been a long time since you visited me, Merf.” He said, addressing the fungus man. “What brings you away from your books?”
“As always, Mathias, it’s a pleasure to see you too. Have you any tea on the stove?” replied the fungus man, jesting.
“You know I don’t drink tea. I did expect a visit from you at some point however, and have a supply that you can brew for yourself.”
“Very well, however I didn’t come for tea, I came for help-“
“I can’t see what the trouble is, the cups are above the stove, the pot is in the cupboard over yonder and the tea is in the cellar, why would you need my help for that?” he asked, smiling slightly as he remembered the first time he had met The Merf. He had been greeted in much the same way as he had greeted The Merf now. The fungus man, who was in fact The Merf, grinned a fungus covered grin, glad Mathias had his sense of humor still, yet, and again. It was at this point that Aaron stumbled into the room, collapsing in exhaustion and pain. Mathias’ face grew grim.
“This is what I need help with.” Said The Merf, firmly. Aaron groaned and writhed as pain wracked his body. Mathias stood, his purple eyes searching the body of the fallen youth.
“He has red images and symbols hovering everywhere on his body. What has happened to him?” asked the stocky man, kneeling beside the pain wracked boy. He ran expert fingers, once broken and crooked as The Merf remembered, over the pale skin of Aaron. The Merf drew the small notebook he had read to Aaron in his cave from a concealed pouch in the fungus armor. He handed it to Mathias. Scanning the page, Mathias’ face grew grave. He placed the book beside the writhing body and unzipped the white hoodie. Red light swirled and melded together over the entire length of the torso. Veins stood out over every muscle, coursing with glowing red blood. Quickly, Mathias strode across the room and took a small vial from a shelf unit that hung from the wall. Taking Aaron’s head in his hands, Mathias wrenched the vial’s cork out and poured its contents partially on Aaron’s chest and then after wrestling with the locked jaw, poured the rest into the boy’s mouth. Mathias plugged Aaron’s nose, forcing him to swallow and then breathe through his mouth. After the liquid had been swallowed, Mathias put a piece of tightly rolled cloth in between the clenching teeth to make sure Aaron didn’t damage himself too badly in his spasm. As the potion took effect, Mathias picked Aaron up off the floor and laid him on the table. The Merf had been leaning on his staff the entire time, watching with pleasure as Mathias applied himself to what he loved best. Because Mathias had started his life being trained as a healer, he was now the most renowned herbalist and healer in the world. He had been responsible for healing the air and making it fully breathable.
Mathias looked back at The Merf. “Tell me everything you know about this boy.” He said. The Merf nodded and gestured to the couch that Mathias’s helmet still rested on. As they sat, The Merf described how Aaron had entered their world, through a door and in search of help. He had come to the Merf and asked for his assistance. Now The Merf had brought him here for Mathias to train; for Mathias to mentor in controlling his power. The Merf then walked to Aaron’s backpack where it lay and pulled the sword from its sheath. Mathias reached out his hand for the sword. As he swung it, he realized that he would not be able to teach Aaron in the use of this tool. He would need the help of an old friend for that, but he could teach Aaron to restrain his power and withstand the energy of the Rose.
“I will help him with holding in his power, Merf.” He said. “But I can’t teach him to use this sword. I need Vulgaris for that.” The Merf was already nodding.
“I was planning on going north to find him and bring him down while you teach Aaron hos to use his power correctly. He has a lot of it, and if he uses it too much before he knows how, it will likely consume him.” Mathias nodded, knowing what Aaron was going through. He had gone through something much like this, as The Merf had recalled on his decision to bring Aaron to Mathias.
“He has other powers than that of travelling through doors, and of roses.” Said The Merf, “He can see things too, even with his eyes closed. I would say that his eyes are more powerful when he can’t see with them than when they are open. He can look into other worlds, through space and time and see things that are yet to come, or have happened long ago. He can see his friends from his home world.”
Mathias looked up sharply at The Merf’s last statement.
“Which world is he from?” he asked. “His clothes look much like Gunther’s, the young man I met while empowering my Pendant.” The Merf shook his head.
“He is from the world of the white soldier who attacked Gunther’s group while you stayed in the cottage by the sea.” Mathias nodded his head in understanding. The Merf continued: “Aaron is from several centuries earlier, however, so he will not know who Rhodes is. Do not mention him.” Mathias nodded, knowing the consequences of   what could happen if someone knew of another who came after one’s own time.

Aaron stirred on the table. He felt different from when he had first fell at the foot of the stairs. Rather, he couldn’t feel. His entire body was numb. He couldn’t feel anything, even when he rubbed his fingers together, he couldn’t even feel that he was moving. Trying to sit up, Aaron over balanced and fell to the other side of vertical, landing heavily on his side. He couldn’t feel that he had bruised his side.
“Do not move again,” came a deep voice from beside him. Aaron closed his eyes and looked around to where the voice came from. He saw the stocky man sitting in a chair near the table. Aaron opened his eyes, finding that he was looking at the ceiling. “Okay,” he said, not knowing what else to do or say. The man walked over to his side and looked at Aaron’s side, shaking his head.
“You bruised yourself.” He said, regretfully. “That is only going to make matters worse for you. My name is Mathias, and I am your new master. I will teach you how to control your power and guide you on how to use it correctly. I hope you weren’t hoping for a few magic words, and then your pain would be gone. It will not be so.
“Take this blindfold and put it on. It will block out your inner sight and hopefully minimize the amount of power that escapes you. Also put on this glove. It should be able to contain the energy from the burn. I will not allow you to use your powers until you can control them.” Aaron took the glove and slid it on his hand, making sure the fingers slid in the right places, since he couldn’t feel where his fingers were. Pulling on the blind fold, he began fumbling with numb fingers to try to tie the knot behind his head. Closing his eyes, Aaron tried to see with his inner sight. All he could see was the inside of his eyelids, just as he had before the Rose had imbued him with itself.
“How will I see with this on?” Aaron asked, confused.
“You won’t.” Replied Mathias, flatly. “You will be completely blind.”
Aaron shrugged mentally. Feeling the sensation of his head being pulled back and his jaw opened, Aaron knew that Mathias was administering him with another potion. He felt a warm trickle of feeling slide down his throat as he swallowed the liquid and instantly felt the pain returning. An arm wrapped itself around his waist and pulled him to a standing position.
“You will begin your training today,” said Mathias. “Now let’s go outside.” And so saying, he picked up his eagle-head shaped helmet and walked up the stairs to the outside world. Aaron stood helpless and blind, wishing he could see, wishing Belle was here to guide his feet to the stairs.  Shuffling his feet along the floor, Aaron came in contact with a wall and felt his way along it to his left where he had heard Mathias begin his ascent. Leaning heavily on the wall, he wasn’t expecting the doorway when it came, leaning on empty space where he believed the wall should be. Collapsed on the bottom stairs, Aaron moaned as he came to realize that he had found the stairs. Slowly he rolled onto his stomach and began crawling up the incredibly steep stairs. When he reached the top, he remembered about the tripwire and gently felt around the grassy doorstep for the fine thread. Finally after what seemed like an age, he found the thin wire, stretched taught. Ducking, he tripped it, hearing a thud in the wood behind him. He grimaced as he thought of the bolt that had struck the wood of the tree behind him. It would have easily penetrated any armor that he could have thought up. Standing, Aaron began to shuffle his feet through tall grass, feeling the sun on his face: right up until he ran into a stone wall. When he pulled his face away from the stone, wondering how it had gotten there so quickly. Then he remembered that there had been a city here before The Merf had sent it back to another place. Now Mathias had brought it back to its rightful place in this world, surrounding his tree home in the very center of the city.
With so many streets, walls and buildings in his way, how would he ever find his way through this strange place and find Mathias. He began feeling his way along, taking larger steps than what he thought were safe, and began his long trek through a strange city while he was blind.  At least his eyes didn’t hurt. As felt past barrels and wagons, porches and wells, Aaron began to wonder where The Merf had gone. Had he left Aaron alone with a strange man who claimed to know what to do about Aaron’s situation? Hadn’t the door brought him to someone who could help him? Rubbing his blind eyes, Aaron continued through the city, wishing for his sight to come back, wishing Mathias hadn’t left him. Then a thought came to him:
“Mathias… are you right behind me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Have you been there for the entire time?”
“I have.”
“Oh…”
Aaron felt totally embarrassed. He should have known Mathias was behind him. Aaron felt for somewhere to sit, and he felt strong hands take hold of his arm and lead him to a bench. Mathias leaned forward and sighed.
“You made good progress,” commented Mathias, thoughtfully. “I am surprised at how fast you can move while blind. You also found me quite quickly.”
“But you were there the whole time… how did I find you?” A confused Aaron asked.
“It really was you who found me, not vice versa. You are blind, so if I had hidden myself, you would have never found me. The thought of my being right behind you was so obvious; most people would have overlooked it as an option. You didn’t. I think you will do quite well.”
Aaron tried to feel proud of his accomplishment, but it didn’t happen. He was too tired for pride, and it just didn’t seem to fit the moment. Leaning back against the wall of the building, Aaron felt a warm sense of purpose as he knew that he was doing something to help with his condition. He would learn to contain the Rose and never give up until it either consumed him or he had it mastered. They might have become one, but he was still in charge, and he would control the Rose, and it would have little or no control over him. He was master, it was servant, and it would do what he wanted it to do.
As Mathias taught him over the next few days, Aaron became much better at “seeing” without his eyes. He began to feel the world moving beneath him, the wind coming from the west, the grass and leaves rustling in the soft breeze. He was never allowed near a mirror, and he was not allowed to remove the glove or blindfold. He began to actually see, nothing much, just little wisps of white outlines where an object was, less from actually seeing it as it was from knowing it was there, but eventually he was able to make pictures form in his head of the city, the grassy forest and even in the distance, the mountains, their rocky faces illuminated in white wisps that fluttered and swayed in his mental wind.
The pain of the Rose flowing through his veins also diminished, though it never disappeared completely. He wondered if it ever would leave him completely. It didn’t seem likely, but it was far less than it had been at first, and it was bearable now. He could walk freely without a headache constantly pounding at the inside of his skull, and he could run without the blood in his body feeling like it would burst through his skin, the energy escaping into the air while his blood fell to the ground. Now he was able to sit still in the fields with his eyes totally blind, seeing the white in his head, feeling the wind on his face. He felt a sense of accomplishment that the pain was gone, but he knew he had a long ways to go before he had the Rose under his control. Mathias had taken away the sword and stashed it somewhere he could never find, especially when he was blind. Knowing he would be taught in its use, Aaron was at peace about it, though he did wonder where it was sometimes. It was comforting to hold the intricate hilt in his hand and let his fingers play over the engraved surface.  He compared it to the drawing he had made on his wall, the vines and symbols intertwining and writhing in between and around each other. The drawing and the engraving looked almost exactly the same.
Envisioning the sword, the white wisps following the tracks and grooves in the blade, hilt, and pommel, he moved the vision over and saw the white wisps of his wall. He would need to compare exactly how accurate the two were when he went back to his room and his correct world. However, now he had training to attend. Sitting out in the field, Aaron waited for the inevitable coming of Mathias, knowing the stocky young man would come quietly as a cat, his soft green boots making no sound on the soft turf. As he sat and waited, Aaron listened to the rustling grass, trying to pick out the sound of a foot, pressing the grass down in place, making only the slightest sound. He waited for a long time, but no sound came. He began to wonder if Mathias would even come today when he heard a whistling and then a thunk it the ground beside him, moving his head to the side, he saw the white outlines of an arrow, buried deep in the soft soil. Instantly Aaron rolled to the side, just moments before another struck the ground where he had been. Rolling to his feet, Aaron looked back from the direction of where the arrows had come from. His vision sketched out the land, the white grass rolling in the slight breeze, then the trees became visible, and finally the mountains on the other side of the valley. In the undergrowth crouched Mathias, his bow already nocked and ready, pulled back to full draw.
“Defend yourself!” he cried, and released the arrow. Aaron rolled to the side again, listening as the arrow sped over his head. When he came up, there was already another on the way. Aaron had watched archery on TV back home, and each shot had taken many seconds to be nocked, aimed, and finally released. Mathias’ shooting came from years of nonstop practice, every day spent in the fields, and in recent years there had been a blindfold involved, Mathias’ muscle memory knowing exactly what to do to reach his target. Each shot only took a fraction of a second to be nocked, and instinctively aimed, and then fired, his arm already on the journey to his belt for another arrow from his quiver.
Aaron jumped forward, ducking under one arrow and over another, finally rolling to avoid the third. Aaron looked at the sketched figure of Mathias standing in the trees, firing rapidly. Aaron calculated the distance between them.
“Take off the glove!” called Mathias, releasing the next arrow. Aaron whipped the glove off, the burn on his hand shining red through the blindfold, the strange symbol writhing in the familiar way it always had. Raising his hand, Aaron sent a mental command to the Rose. Instantly, vines shot from the burn into the air, wrapping themselves around the incoming arrow. Another command and a tendril of vine shot from the ground beneath Aaron’s foot, launching him into the air, spinning through a volley of arrows. He landed and punched the ground, making sure no roses appeared where his burn hit. He rolled under an arrow and then, propelled by the momentum of his roll, leaped through the air and crashed into Mathias’s chest, knocking the stocky man to his buttocks.  Aaron rolled to his feet, and held out his hand, his face completely calm as tendrils of thornless vines wrapped around Mathias’ legs and arms, pinning them to his torso. Aaron clenched his fist and brought it near to his face, bringing the rose vines holding Mathias up, carrying Mathias to face Aaron, their faces nearly touching. Aaron raised his eyebrow under the blindfold. Mathias nodded his approval, and Aaron released him, the rose vines sinking back into the ground from whence they had come. Aaron could control the Rose, even if it wasn’t complete subjugation yet. Aaron brought his hand up and hand a tendril of rose bring the leather glove to him, he then sent the rose vines he had summoned back into the ground, returning the field back to its peaceful, rose-free state from before. Aaron then slipped the glove back on over his burn, containing the power, and hiding the glowing burn once more. Grinning, Mathias led the way back to his tree house, making sure to unhook the trip wire to Aaron wouldn’t need to step over it. When they came down the stairs, there was a visitor. Aaron recognized Belle’s life, and his mind instantly sketched the brown haired girl.  Her face was sad.
“Aaron,” she said, her voice betraying that she had been crying. “I’m so sorry… I had to come and tell you… your parents are dead.”

Aaron stood for a moment, not sure how to react. He felt like he should be devastated, but he also didn’t want to be. He felt like he had seen this coming, but it came as a complete shock.
“They got in a car crash… both of them died.” Belle said, breaking down once more. “I’m so sorry.” Aaron walked over to her and put his arms around her wanting both to comfort her, and to be comforted at the same time. He felt her clutch at his shirt on his back, her body quaking with sadness.
“Where is Emma?” he asked quietly, not sure how he should be reacting.
“She’s still at your grandmother’s house,” Belle replied, “They are putting her in their care because they think you’re missing and insane.” Aaron nodded, thinking. He looked at Mathias, standing back in the doorway, feeling that the young man had lost his family too. Mathias nodded slightly and walked forward, putting his hand on his apprentice’s shoulder. Aaron liked the feel of Belle’s arms around him, and Mathias’ hand on his shoulder.
“I need to bring my sister here.” Said Aaron, resolved in what he needed to do. Mathias nodded, knowing that Aaron was all that the little girl had now. He would be able to convince his sister that Aaron was not in fact crazy, and the girl would be able to live here with them for a while. Mathias just hoped that Vulgaris brought his daughter with him.
“I think that’s good,” Said Mathias, “I will get a door ready for you.” Aaron nodded his thanks and sat down on the couch as the sticky man left the room. Aaron held Belle for a long time, then he let her go as Mathias came back, holding the sword in his hand.
“Take off the mask and the glove.” Mathias said, gravely. “You will need every bit of power to get her, as she will likely be surrounded by guards and interviewers. I have been in worlds like yours, and they take everything to the maximum of publicity that they can give it.” Aaron nodded his head, and removed the glove. When he took off the blindfold, even the dim light of the burrow in the roots of the tree was almost too bright. He squinted his eyes and took the sword from Mathias. Looking through his drawers in his room, Aaron pulled out the white hoodie he had worn when he first came to The Merf and pulled it on over his T-shirt. Strapping the sword to his hip, Aaron looked at the blindfold on the floor. He pulled it back on over his eyes, watching the white sketches of the room around him form. Then he turned and exited the room, walking to the door that Mathias had prepared for him to travel through. He thought of Emma and opened the door. A swirling image of his sister appeared, her nose and eyes red from crying, and a big, foam covered microphone shoved in her face as reporters urged her to talk about what she was experiencing. Aaron barged through the portal-door and came out in a dark parking lot, caution tape wrapped around poles set up in a line in front of a building that Aaron recognized as the courthouse in his town. A gang of reporters and police officers stood around as cameras flashed and voices yelled to be heard over each other. Finally one took the upper hand and asked of a person Aaron couldn’t see.
“What are you feeling, with your parents gone and your brother missing?” Aaron heard his sister’s small voice reply:
“I just want my brother to come find me.” Aaron’s mind snapped and he shoved his way through the crowd of people and saw his sister standing in the middle, her shoulders up in a defensive position with a police officer’s arm wrapped around her.
“Emma!” he called, forcing his voice out in its full strength. Emma looked up and her face lit with joy as she rushed forward into Aaron’s outstretched arms. They stood still for a moment and then Aaron said in a loud voice, “I am taking custody of my sister, and I would like to see anyone debate it.” An attorney came forward, raising his hand. “We have just given her into the custody of her grandparents. I’m sorry, but it’s just not safe for her to be with you. You are to be put into an asylum where you will live from now on.” Aaron squared his shoulders and raised his eyebrows under the blindfold. He drew the sword and said in the same loud voice as before, “Come and take her, then. I dare you.”
A command for the Rose sent tendrils of rose vines soaring high into the air around the attorney, swallowing him whole. Another command drew the rose vines tight around the man’s torso, leaving his arms and legs flailing. Aaron laughed out loud for the first time in a long time. He turned and opened the already prepared door and walked with Emma back into Mathias’ tree burrow. He quickly closed the door and turned, looking into Belle’s mis-matching eyes. He smiled and removed the blindfold.
“I think I have made myself a wanted man.” He said, not caring a smidgen for what his home world thought of him.