Donovan Talinat had been a [Telepath] for many years now. As an S-ranked Gifted, he had dedicated the use of the skills to the occupation of becoming a Delver. He supported some of the greatest minds, even finding himself with the occasional opportunities to work with SS-rank Delvers. At least one or two.

If there was one thing that he could say, it was that the complexity of a mind had nothing to do with the rank of the Gifted. All in all, all minds were relatively the same, the difficulty was in getting access to them.

There were two types of minds that he had experienced in his life. The first were the simple minds. These minds were annoying because when he walked into them, there was nothing. He had to take the data of the mind and arrange them into something comprehensible. As stressful as it often was, it did make him feel like a connoisseur of the arts every now and again.

The second type of mind were the ones that he liked. The owners were very visual, much like Ark Lockwood. When he found himself inside them, he had all the information he needed at his fingertips, actual visual memories that he could just walk through. It was easier.

Ark's mind was a bit more overactive, so Donovan had been forced to work to keep the memories from switching when he didn't want them to switch.

Melmarc, on the other hand, was… wrong.

For starters, Donovan's skill allowed him to have one eye in the real world while he had another in the minds of his target or targets. It was like being a part of a conversation while thinking about something else entirely. It certainly helped when the target was in the same conversation.

All the criteria had been met. Deborah had Melmarc focused on the conversation at hand. So, why was he having a very difficult time.

For one, he found himself standing on the outskirts of darkness. It was like standing on the shores. Everything you wanted was right in front of you, the sea staring at you in your face. All Donovan had to do was step into it and all his answers would be there for the taking.

But experience told him that it was not that easy. As calm as the darkness before him seemed, there was more to it than just that. So, he strolled, watching, trusting his instincts as he hovered on the edge of a sixteen-year-old boy's mind.

Each time Deborah asked a question, the darkness seemed to swirl, concealing things hidden within. He was inside Melmarc's mind, yet he waited at the precipice of it.

The owner of the house has opened the door, Donovan told himself, stop standing at the porch and go in.

But it was easier said than done. His mind was, for reasons he could not understand, not ready.

In reality, Deborah asked the boy a question about jumping off the plane. It was in a video they had seen, a recent update on the files of the boy and his brother. The boy seemed unbothered by the question, but the words he used to answer the question seemed, annoyed. The boy was a walking contradiction in this session.

Even Callum was looking at him funny.

Here goes. Donovan reached a mental arm into the darkness. When he touched it, it felt as if a wave threatened to carry him away. He heard sounds, felt things. There was nothing but chaos. It was a feeling he had gotten from a few minds before. A feeling that he did not like.

Deborah said something and looked at him. Donovan ignored her. Now was not the time to be distracted. With a force of will, he withdrew his hand from the mind.

Impossible, he thought, piecing a few things together. He had felt minds almost similar to this.

"One final question," Deborah said in the waking world.

Donovan cradled his mental arm. It felt as if someone had bitten a portion of his mind simply because they could.

You have navigated a mind like this before, he told himself, preparing himself for what was to happen.

He was here right now because Fallen High did not joke with their students. He was the best [Telepath] on their payroll, and they spared nothing but the best on their admission process. The least he could do was put on his big boy pants and get this over with.

Personally, he disliked Melmarc's type of mind. It always left him feeling tired. But there was something sorrowful about the realization of the type of mind that Melmarc had. Minds like his did not last long.

It was sad to see it in the possession of a boy with so much ahead of him.

That's why you have to go in and find out what the problem is.

"The portal," he heard Deborah say, "how did you get out?"

The darkness in front of Donovan didn't just swirl at her question, it moved. It trembled like a sea preparing itself for a tsunami.

Donovan took an instinctive step back.

He stared at the darkness in front of him, stopping himself from fleeing as his instincts screamed at him to. He had to see what he could do to save the boy before it was too late. What was the point of being a [Telepath] if you could not help a young boy have his future.

After all, what kind of future would Melmarc Lockwood have if he left his mind like this. There were two types of minds. But, in truth, there was a third—a type Melmarc's mind was beginning to feel akin to. Donovan had come across them during his studies in trying to advance his understanding of the human mind. It was a type of mind he found only in the mental asylums.

A mind he found only among the insane.

That Melmarc was still functioning properly meant that there was still a chance to fix his mind, a chance to help him.

"Honorless one."

Donovan turned suddenly. The words had echoed through the darkness, slipping through his connection to invade his mind.

No, he thought, asserting control over his mind. His mental stats were high enough that he never feared mental intrusions. How had the voice slipped through.

Something ran Donovan through the chest, and he staggered, falling to his knee. He touched his chest, but his hand came away without blood. He had not been injured.

Donovan's eyes widened when he realized what was happening. He had been infected. Whatever was eating away at Melmarc's mind had slipped into his own.

What did he bring back from the portal with him? He thought in horror.

A massive wave blasted out of the darkness, pushing through Donovan. His mental form fizzled slightly, almost coming undone. He held it back in place with a sheer force of will, refusing to be undone.

Save the child, he told himself, stepping towards the darkness. Save the child.

His hand reached out while Melmarc Lockwood spoke about how he did not like to speak about what had happened to him in the portal.

It's driving him crazy, traumatizing him, Donovan thought. He had seen it happen to a few Delvers. But there was nothing to worry about. It could be fixed if caught early enough.

Before Donovan could finally plunge into the darkness, Deborah turned to look at him. Donovan had the gist of it all. Melmarc had refused to talk about his experience in the portal but was willing to allow Donovan to look into his mind for what had happened.

Donovan wondered what Deborah would say if she found out that he had not been confirming the validity of the pieces of information Melmarc had been giving her. The boy could've been lying through his teeth, and they would not have any idea of what was happening.

This is why his brother thinks he is strong, Donovan thought before looking at Deborah.

"Just a moment," he told her, answering a question he could not remember her asking. "Let's see what we can—"

The darkness parted right in front of him, like a veil revealing the secrets within. It forced him to take his attention from the present world and prepare himself for what was about to happen.

He barely saw anything inside when a massive hand reached out and seized him by the neck. In the blink of an eye, he was drawn into the veil. Darkness did not consume him. Instead there was nothing but light.

Donovan knew in this moment a truth most people did not. There are far worse things hidden in the light, than there are evils lurking in the dark.

Honorless one.

The voice slithered into his mind with the smell of death and decadence. Donovan forgot his mother's favorite color. Something breathed down his neck, warm and moist, as the square root of eleven clashed divisions with the word 'corpulent.'

Donovan gasped for air and the sea bit into his spleen. He felt his muscles grow stiff as his mind broke under the weight of it all.

Fight, he begged himself, tears streaming down his cheeks. Please… he cried, please… fight.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I don't want to die.

A hand slithered into his mouth. It tasted like numbers covered in the blood of their multiplications. Nothing made any sense, yet it made all the sense. All was gospel.

Donovan choked, his mind coming undone.

He forgot his daughter's name.

Wide eyed, he stared at the nothingness above him. The darkness was gone. Now, the light had abandoned him. He was left at the mercy of a mind that had no right existing. He knew, in this moment, that there was only one truth.

This, the mind of Melmarc Lockwood, was his grave.

Tell my family, a voice whispered into his ears, that I love them.

The last bit of air left his lungs, as a desiccated face, malnourished of water and supposed to be dead, reached into his mind. In his final moments, Donovan felt his body relaxed.

You are without Honor.

At least he died trying to save a child. He died doing the right—

[You are lost]

[You are trapped]

…

[Wait patiently, your owner has been informed of your situation]

Donovan had no owner, but he would belong to anybody if it would save him. He would be property to survive this. He could feel himself losing his mind, and insanity was no way to go.

A single voice pierced through everything a moment later.

What the hell? It said, visibly confused.

Then, just like that, everything happened at once.

Donovan Talinat was expelled from insanity.

…

Melmarc's interface stared him in the face.

[Donovan Talinat is lost in your mind]

[Donovan Talinat is trapped in your mind]

[Would you like to release Donovan Talinat?]

[Y/N]

What the hell?

Why was Donovan trapped inside his mind? In front of him, Deborah was panicking over the [Telepath]'s body while Mr. Callum held the man by the forehead while screaming about needing another [Telepath] or a [Healer].

Melmarc could still feel the pain Donovan was exuding reduce. For every reduction, however, the muffled pain that Mr. Callum was suppressing increased.

Deborah released Donovan and moved to rush off into one of the walls.

Yes, Melmarc thought, answering his interface. Release him.

[Donovan Talinat has been released from your mind]

[Would you like to terminate access granted to Donovan Talinat to your mind?]

[Y/N]

Yes, he replied, after a moment of hesitation.

Donovan sucked in the deepest breath Melmarc had ever heard someone suck in before. It was a very vocal and loud sound. Then the man gasped for more, drinking it in like a man who'd walked through a desert and finally gotten access to water.

You would think it's the breath of life, Melmarc thought.

He took a tentative step forward but stopped when Deborah rushed away from the wall, moving past him in a hurry. Donovan was wide-eyed when she got to him. She fawned over him, asking questions about how he was feeling.

While she did so, Mr. Callum stepped away from them.

"What happened?" Deborah asked the [Telepath]. "What did you see?"

Donovan took a moment to answer. He placed a hand to his head as if stalling a headache and one to his chest as it trying to calm his racing heart while he tried to pull his breathing back under his control.

"I need…" he panted a little more, cutting his own words short. "I need water."

Mr. Callum held out a cup of water gotten from nowhere.

"Here," he said, handing it over.

Donovan snatched the cup from him. He turned and spilled the water all over the ground. With the cup empty, he placed it on his head, taking his time to balance it before letting out a sigh of relief.

Just like that, his breathing began to calm. Deborah gave him an odd look. There was worry in it. Donovan returned the look as if she was the odd one.

Melmarc on the other hand, could tell that the man wasn't calm enough. The man was simply confused in this moment. It showed in his breathing. While it had calmed down, it was not back to normal.

The cup's all wrong, he thought. With that in mind, he walked up to the group.

Mr. Callum spotted his approach first but said nothing.

"Why did you pour the water away?" Deborah was asking Donovan as Melmarc got to them.

Donovan paused, stared at the doctor in confusion. "What?"

"I thought you wanted a glass of water."

"I did," Donovan nodded.

Deborah pointed at the ground where the small puddle of water was. "Why did you pour it away?"

"Why?" Donovan asked, confused. He was staring at the puddle now, eyes narrowed as he tried to make heads and tails of what was happening. His head remained still, however, making sure that the cup did not fall off.

Deborah reached up to touch his forehead and Donovan froze.

"Watch the cup," he chided her, forcing her hand to stop before it reached him.

"Doctor Donovan," she said tentatively. "Are you alright? You're beginning to hyperventilate again."

Everyone could see it. The doctor was panicking again.

Makes sense, Melmarc thought as he moved to stand beside the doctor. The cup almost fell off.

To Melmarc, it was like looking at a drawing with the eye in the wrong position. He could correct it. He wanted to correct it.

He reached for the cup. Deborah's hand snatched out to stop him and he withdrew his hand before she touched him. Ignoring her, Melmarc moved again, snatching the cup from Donovan's head.

Its position had been bugging Melmarc for so long.

Donovan turned to him with a smile. "Thank you."

It was so out of place considering the fact that his hyperventilation was now getting worse. Melmarc forced himself to ignore the man's growing panic as he tapped the cup three times with his finger then placed it upside down on Donovan's head.

Throughout the entire process, Deborah stared at him as if he was the impossible happening. Mr. Callum simply stared with curiosity.

"There you go," Melmarc told the [Telepath] after balancing the cup on his head.

Donovan let out another sigh of relief. This time, his breathing slowed until it became a steady rhythm. Donovan relaxed gently into his chair.

"Thank you," he muttered one more time.

There was no one in the room that did not notice how soaked in sweat the man was. But, for the moment, he seemed to have achieved some level of peace and calm.

Dani, Melmarc thought, the word coming from that part of his mind he knew was nothing but instinct.

He placed a gentle hand on Donovan's. The middle-aged [Telepath] looked at him, tears slowly beginning to roll down his cheeks.

"Dani," Melmarc told him with some level of uncertainty. All he knew was that the information did not belong to him.

To him, it was like finding something out of place in your home just after a guest had taken their leave.

Donovan's lips twitched in a small smile. He moved to hold Melmarc's hand with his other hand and paused when the cup moved on his head.

Melmarc gave him a small smile as he felt the man's gratitude like a blanket over him.

"You're welcome," he told him. Then he turned to Deborah who was slack jawed in confusion. "He poured the water away because the ground was dry, someone couldn't have slipped on it." He paused. "If that makes sense."

A slight worry slipped into Melmarc's mind. Not only was he going insane because of the aspect of madness, but it seemed like he was beginning to understand insanity, too.

He was beginning to understand actions that were supposed to be dissonant.

Is the Madness growing?

Just then, a new thought came to mind, and he snapped his finger in discovery.

His daughter, he thought out of nowhere. Dani is his daughter's name.

Deborah watched him now, studied him. Melmarc couldn't blame her. He, too, would be bothered if someone suddenly started acting in a way that did not make any sense.

"Melmarc Lockwood," Deborah said very carefully.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mr. Callum was suddenly standing next to Melmarc, a contemplative look on his face. Melmarc didn't feel as if he was in any trouble, though.

"I have a question to ask you," Deborah continued, making sure to keep her voice gentle. "Did you do this? Was this the reason you didn't want to talk about what happened in the portal?"

Mr. Callum looked up at Melmarc now, waiting patiently.

Melmarc shook his head. "I didn't talk about what happened in the portal because I don't like talking about it. It… bothers me when I do."

"What about—"

Donovan's hand on Deborah's arm stopped her next question. She turned to look at him, and the man shook his head very slowly, dissuading her.

Then he turned to Melmarc.

"This portion of the test is over," he told him. "You may proceed to the next portion."

Melmarc nodded, then turned to leave. He found Mr. Callum standing in his way. With the pained frown on his face, he looked like a man spoiling for a fight with someone he didn't like. It took Melmarc only a moment to see what the man wanted.

The man held a hand out for a handshake.

"Thank you," he said. "For what you did for the doctor."

Melmarc nodded. "It was my pleasure."

Then he shook his hand.

[You have met one of your Oaths]

[You have met your Oath of Pain]

Melmarc felt a tingle on the nape of his neck, another of Uncle Dorthna's spell had come alive. Uncle Dorthna had promised to cast a spell to prevent other Oaths from finding out he was the [August Intruder], and Melmarc found himself hoping that it had worked.

His eyes grew wide, and he stared into the man's eyes. Something pricked him in the lung. Then his lung collapsed. He felt the sudden urge to gasp for air through collapsed lungs while Mr. Callum sucked in a deep and sudden breath.

Mr. Callum's eyes were a perfect imitation of Melmarc's, wide as saucers. The only difference between them was that while Melmarc's were wide with shock and pain and discomfort, Mr. Callum's possessed shock and sudden relief.

Melmarc snatched his hand away, sucking in more air, pleased to find his lungs functioning properly and completely painless once more.

He took a step away from Mr. Callum. There had been so much pain, enough to make his legs tremble.

"That way," Deborah said, gesturing to one of the walls. "It's an illusion. You can just walk through it."

Mr. Callum continued to stare at his arm in confusion, eyes still wide.

As for Melmarc, he nodded absently in response to Deborah and made his way to the wall. He counted his steps, doing his best to keep himself from falling.

The Oath of Pain, he thought as he walked through the wall.

This was going to be a problem. Uncle Dorthna had said that not all the Oaths were on his side, which meant that he could not trust them all. And his mother clearly didn't want him associating with the Oaths.

Now he was in a school where the Oath of Pain was supervising the tests.

I have to tell Ark.

As he walked down the hallway, he found himself in, another thought came to mind.

I have to call mom.

…

Callum stared at his hand as he breathed through lungs that hurt terribly. He just stared. It was all he could do.

What had just happened?

He'd shook hands with the boy and the impossible had taken place. He had felt relief. The child had taken away some of his pain.

Callum looked at the wall where the boy had disappeared into. What did this mean?

There was only one possible conclusion he could come to when faced with this impossible. Yet, even he knew that the conclusion was a stretch.

Was it possible to tell if a person was going to become an Oath? He knew that there could not be more than one Oath, but what if the boy was next in line? If he died, what were the chances that the boy would become the next Oath?

"Mr. Callum?"

Pain looked at Deborah but wasn't really paying attention. There were more important things on his mind.

If he had just met the next in line to the Oath of Pain, then he needed to do something, anything.

"Doctor Deborah," he said without paying his own words much attention. "What did you say the boy's name was?"

"Melmarc Lockwood," she answered.

"Melmarc Lockwood." Donovan repeated the name as if it meant the world to him. "Melmarc. Lockwood."

Deborah looked from Callum to Donovan. She was beginning to get very worried. Callum could not blame her. But he had something more important than her worry to think about.

"Is he on a scholarship like his brother?" he asked.

Deborah shook her head.

"And high ranking Delvers are allowed to sponsor children of their choice through their stay in this school?" he continued. "That is actually a thing."

"Yes," Deborah answered.

Callum nodded very slowly and turned away. He had lost all interest in this section of the tests. He had only one goal in Fallen High now.

As he walked away, he had one last question for the doctor. "Who do I talk to about sponsoring a child?"

Deborah's jaw dropped. "You want to sponsor him?"

Of course, Callum thought as he slipped into the wall and out into another room. He would sponsor him, then scout him, then train him.

After all, only a fool would not do everything in his ability to grow his potential successor.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.