Surviving A Novel I Don't Remember: A Tutor's Guide To Staying Alive

Theo stayed still for a while. Hold the child? He couldn’t see himself doing it, but he swallowed hard, the stone in his gut turning over.

He looked at the boy’s small, pale legs shaking against the mat. For the first time, he tried to imagine that Theo was Maya. He had been with her through all her fears and tears. So, he understood what this child was feeling, and it... hurt his heart.

Slowly, the large man shifted off the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor beside Alias. His massive, calloused hands hesitated in the air for a fraction of a second before he closed the distance.

Theo reached out and wrapped his arms completely around both Alias and the boy, pulling them flush against his broad, solid chest.

His large arms covered Kael’s back entirely, his massive frame acting as a physical shield against the window and the flashing sky.

The moment Theo’s warmth surrounded him, Kael’s violent tremors began to slow. He didn’t let go of Alias, but his small head shifted slightly, his cheek resting against the heavy, coarse fabric of Theo’s shirt.

He could hear the deep, thunderous rhythm of his father’s heart beating steady and strong beneath his ear—a sound louder than the storm outside.

"I’ve got you," Theo whispered, his voice a rough, low rumble that vibrated directly into the boy’s bones. He was acting as he would do to Maya when she was scared.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to be a father. It was that he was scared of being a father to this one.

Theo didn’t look at Kael’s face, but his grip tightened, possessive and fiercely protective. "The roof isn’t breaking. I built it. It’s not going anywhere."

Alias rested his head against Theo’s shoulder, his fingers interlacing with Theo’s larger ones over the boy’s back.

In the dark, wet warmth of the room, the space between the father and the son finally began to close, the music of their shared breathing drowning out the noise of the desert night.

From that day onward, the relationship between the two of them changed.

Theo did not just open his heart like it was nothing. It took time. And Alias acted as the strongest string to pull them together.

When they were plucking fruits in the yard, he made Theo lift the boy up. When they were sitting to make mud craft, Alias sat Theo down so they could use his large hands as the carrier board.

He made sure Theo was there whenever he played with the boy, so they would get closer, and they did.

Theo’s eyes were no longer cold, and Kael no longer hesitated to touch his father’s hand.

Everything was once again getting on track, and at night, Alias came into Theo’s embrace. Not just so they could sleep warmly, but so their bodies and souls would be connected.

They made love and moaned into each other’s mouths on nights when Kael slept in Maya’s room.

Their connection grew, and the days went by, and in no time, a month had passed since Kael joined them.

And that was when disaster struck.

One morning, everyone was just about idle. They lay on the grass under the shade of the palm fronds, simply enjoying the quiet, when Alias heard a voice in his head.

"Alias," It was Norx trying to communicate with him.

Alias got up, startled, and Theo, resting by his side, lifted his head.

"What is it?" Theo asked, and Alias smiled.

"It’s nothing. I just need to check something behind the house. I’ll be back." He got up and walked away. Theo and Kael watched him, wondering what he was suddenly up to.

Behind the house, Maya was working on her numbers and counting stones, so he couldn’t be there either. He smiled at her and continued walking, further into the oasis.

Alias walked deeper into the thick grove of the oasis, the soft grass damp beneath his bare feet.

The vibrant life he had called out of the barren earth—the rustling palm fronds, the gentle hum of the insects, the sweet scent of ripening figs—usually filled him with deep, grounding peace. But right now, the persistent vibration of Norx’s voice inside his head was like a sharp needle tearing through the canvas of his quiet morning.

​Once he was far enough that the house was hidden behind the dense green canopy, Alias stopped. He stood near a small cluster of wild white lilies by the water’s edge and closed his eyes.

​"Norx," Alias called out into the private channels of his mind. "I am here. Speak."

​The space around him didn’t physically warp, but his consciousness was instantly pulled into a cold, sterile projectile space—a pocket of divine observation suspended far above the physical realm.

The vibrant colors of the oasis faded into a dull mist, replaced by the endless, shimmering expanse of the celestial halls.

​Norx stood there, leaning against a crystalline pillar. His long robes caught the distant light of cold stars, and his deep red eyes burned with a mixture of bitter disgust and mocking amusement.

​"Look at you," Norx sneered, his voice echoing in the hollow dimension. "An Architect of the world, a being who used to measure the weight of constellations, sitting in the mud. How long do you intend to play house, Alias? More than a month has passed in the world down below, hasn’t it? You’ve washed their dirt, you’ve eaten their dough, and you’ve let that mortal use your body to satisfy your ’curiosity.’ Have you completely forgotten what you are?"

​Alias stood straight, his expression remarkably calm despite the coldness of the space. "I have not forgotten anything, Norx. I am learning. What you call ’playing house’ is a life. It is lived, it is real, and it has a rhythm that the stars never had."

​"A rhythm?" Norx let out a sharp, harsh laugh that sounded like cracking ice. "You call the stuttering, fragile beating of human hearts music? You are fooling yourself. You think you’ve woven them together, that you’ve patched up the holes in that bastard’s life. You actually believe he is capable of the unconditional devotion you keep giving him."

​"Theo loves me," Alias said, his voice dropping into a firm, unyielding tone. "He made a mistake in his past, yes. He carried shame, and he hid it because he was afraid. But I have seen his soul, Norx. I have felt it shake against mine. He is not the monster you wish he was. He has opened his heart to his sister, to me, and now to his son. They are good people."

​Norx’s face darkened, the mocking amusement vanishing, replaced by a terrifying, dangerous finality. He stepped closer, his red eyes boring into Alias’s silver ones.

​"They are bugs, Alias. And when a bug is stepped on, it doesn’t think about the colony—it crawls blindly to save its own skin. You want to defend him? You want to stay in the mud? Fine." Norx raised a hand, his fingers twitching with a cruel, satisfied energy. "But you should be prepared because fooling around comes with a price. What you are about to see next, you will not like. Do not come crying to the heavens when the true, selfish nature of humans is laid bare before you."

​"Norx, what do you...? Wait—"

​Before Alias could finish his sentence, Norx violently cut the connection.

​The projectile space shattered like brittle glass. The cold starlight snapped away, and with a sudden, jarring thud, Alias’s consciousness was slammed back into his physical body.

He gasped, his silver eyes flying open as the warm air of the oasis rushed back into his lungs. He was standing by the white lilies again.

​His heart was hammering against his ribs. He didn’t fully understand what Norx’s words meant, but a terrible instinct told him to run. Vigilance. He needed to be vigilant. He had to get back to the clearing.

Theo, Maya, and Kael were waiting for him. They were safe. They had to be safe... right?

Norx threat made him uneasy, and so Alias ran.

He tore through the thick bush, his usual graceful, unhurried steps turning into a desperate, chaotic sprint. The palm fronds whipped against his face, and the grass felt slick and cold beneath his feet.

​As he neared the edge of the grove, the heavy scent of jasmine and ripening fruit was suddenly completely obliterated. The air grew thick, metallic, and foul. It smelled of iron, smoke, and violence... death.

​Alias burst through the final layer of trees into the clearing, and the world he had spent more than a month building froze into a horrific nightmare.

​The crystal-clear water of the oasis was no longer pure; it was stained with dark, spreading clouds of deep crimson, contaminating the very source of their life.

Scattered across the grass near the bank lay four dead bodies—strange, heavily scarred men in tattered leather clothes, their weapons dropped in the dirt. Bandits.