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

Alias turned his head slowly, his silver hair spilling over his shoulder as he watched Maya approach.

She looked tiny against the vast backdrop of the dunes, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest as if she were trying to hold herself together against the chill. Her tanned face looked slightly pale, and the dark circles beneath her eyes were visible even in the dim moonlight.

​"The air is heavy tonight," Alias murmured, shifting slightly to give her space on the grass. "The structure of the sky is changing."

​Maya didn’t look at the sky. She sank onto the grass beside him, her knees tucked tightly against her body. She stared down at her own palms, flexing her fingers slowly, her jaw tight.

​"I tried," she whispered, her voice trembling as she spoke into the empty air. "I closed my eyes, but... every time the room goes dark, the smell comes back. That bloody smell. And my hands..." She gripped her own wrists, her knuckles turning white. "I can still feel how hot it was. His blood. It just kept spilling through my fingers, Alias. No matter how hard I pressed, it wouldn’t stop. If you hadn’t come back..."

​She choked on the words, a dry, pained sob catching in her throat. The shock of the afternoon had worn off, leaving behind the raw, jagged reality of her own helplessness. She had spent years in the slums watching people die in the dirt, but seeing her brother—the only anchor she had ever known—turn into a ghostly, bloodless frame on the grass had broken something vital inside her.

​Alias watched her, his expression softening into a profound, aching empathy. He didn’t reach out to comfort her or even attempt to wipe the memory away; he knew that the pain she was feeling was part of the very clay Norx had molded.

It was the price of human attachment. And the price for growth.

​"The blood has stopped, Maya," Alias said softly, his voice a grounding anchor in the dark. "Theo is inside. His heart is slow, steady, and whole. He is holding his son."

​"I know," Maya choked out, a single, heavy tear finally escaping her lashes and tracking down her pale cheek. "I saw what you did. I know it’s gone. But my mind won’t list the data the way yours does. It just keeps looping. It feels like the house is still broken, even though I can see the beams are whole."

​She turned her head, her eyes wide and searching as she looked at his profile.

"How do you do it? You saw it too. You saw the bodies, the blood, and the danger to Kael. But your eyes are so clear. Doesn’t it... doesn’t it leave a mark on you?"

​Alias looked back out at the lake, watching a silver fish break the surface, creating a ripple that dissolved into the dark.

​"It leaves a different kind of mark," Alias whispered. "When I am up there, everything is a number. A trajectory. A weight. But down here, the mud catches the light. I feel the ache in my chest when you scream, Maya. I feel the restriction of this body when I try to run. It is not clear in my head. It is very loud."

​He turned his palm upward on the grass between them, an open invitation. "Norx created the feelings you are fighting right now. He gave you the capacity to feel horror because he wanted to measure how long you could endure it before you turned selfish. But he doesn’t understand that the horror only exists because the love is so great. You only scream because Theo matters... isn’t it?"

​Maya looked at his hand, then slowly reached out, her small, trembling fingers sliding into his cool palm.

The moment their skin met, the frantic, looping terror in her mind slowed, anchored by the steady, unearthly peace that lived within his vessel.

​"Thank you," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder, her breathing finally evening out against the quiet rhythm of the oasis.

​Alias held her hand tightly, his gaze returning to the high, dark sky. The stars were flickering out, one by one, swallowed by a creeping, black malice that was slowly descending toward the ridge.

Norx was fashioning his response to their music, but as Alias felt the small, warm weight of Maya’s hand in his, he knew he would fight through whatever dark the heavens threw at them.

Because he had too much, he wanted to protect. Too much he couldn’t afford to lose.

He closed his eyes.

The next morning, life went on as it usually did, but Theo had started a new construction project.

"Fences," he said. "We need at least the minimum of barricades so we know when someone is approaching the house."

Alias nodded, seeing the reasoning behind it, and asked if Theo could leave it to him.

Theo paused, a heavy wooden post resting against his bare shoulder. The sweat on his skin caught the sharp morning light, and for a fraction of a second, his blue eyes flickered with a quiet, protective intensity as he looked down at Alias.

He knew what Alias was capable of now. He had seen the yard rebuild itself with a simple movement of a hand, after all.

If Alias wanted to, he could probably raise a wall of solid bedrock around the entire ridge without breaking a sweat. It would be perfect, unyielding, and completely impenetrable to any bandit in the wastes.

But Theo slowly lowered the post into the dirt, leaning heavily against it as he shook his head.

"No," he said, his voice a low, grounded rumble. "I know you can do it with a thought, Alias. But I need to do this with my own hands. If I don’t build it, it doesn’t feel real. I need to know the exact weight of the wood that’s keeping my sister and my son safe. And you too."

Alias looked at the post, then at the stubborn, fierce line of Theo’s jaw. The human mind was so strange, always needing to touch, to sweat, and to labor over the things it wanted to claim as secure. Yet, it was exactly that stubbornness that made the mud catch the light.

"I understand," Alias murmured, stepping closer until he was standing right beside the massive mortal. "Then let me help you lift them. My hands may not be as large, but I can hold the alignment while you drive them into the sand."

Theo’s expression softened, a small, weary but genuine smile breaking through his features. He did not want to get Alias’s hands dirty, but he had a feeling Alias would keep pestering, so he gave in and assigned the simplest job.

"Alright. Grab the mallet from the porch. You’ll help me with whatever I need, okay?"

"Yes!" Alias answered, looking extremely excited as he ran off to get the mallet.

Theo watched, a small smile playing on his lips.

By midday, the yard was a noisy symphony of physical labor. Maya had brought Kael out under the shade of the broad palm fronds, sitting with him on a woven mat to sort wild seeds.

The boy’s eyes were still quiet, but he wasn’t shrinking away anymore. Every time Theo’s heavy mallet struck the top of a wooden post with a dull, echoing thud, Kael would flinch slightly, then look at Alias, who would offer a small, reassuring nod from across the yard.

The physical labor was a distraction they all desperately needed. It forced the heavy, iron scent of the previous day out of their lungs, replacing it with the sharp, clean smell of sawdust and turned earth.

But while their arms were busy with the wood, Alias could still feel the invisible pressure building in the upper atmosphere.

The air within the oasis remained crisp and sweet, but at the very edge of his divine perception—just past the high ridge where the desert sand met his borders—the heat felt wrong. It wasn’t the clean, baking sun of the wastes.

It was a stagnant, heavy friction, like something foul was being pressed against a glass ceiling, waiting for a crack to appear.

Norx wasn’t looking at the scrolls anymore. Alias could feel it. His partner’s presence in the higher realms had gone completely silent, a terrifying, absolute absence that meant his focus had narrowed entirely to the dark work below the celestial foundations.

"Alias," Theo called out, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. "You’re staring at the horizon again. Is something coming?"

Alias blinked, pulling his gaze away from the shimmering edge of the dunes. He looked at Theo, then back at Kael, who had managed to find a smooth pebble and was carefully sliding it across the mat toward Maya.

"Not yet," Alias said softly, his fingers tightening around the rough bark of the fence post.

He forced his face into a calm, steady expression so Theo wouldn’t see the flicker of anxiety in his silver eyes. "We have time to finish the perimeter. Let us secure the eastern side before the sun drops."

He wouldn’t tell Theo about the stuttering stars or the screams vibrating through the void. Not yet. Theo had bled to protect his home, and he deserved this day of simple wood and sweat. Alias would act as the shield, watching the sky while the mortal built the walls.