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“I still can't believe any of this is actually happening,” she sighed, slowly shaking her head, but with a small, guilty little smile on her lips as she did. “But... I'm glad it is.”“Me too, Mom!” I sighed with relief, hugging her tighter. “Me, too!”

Mrs. B. was a great teacher for 10th grade English. Funny, engaging, personable—and a bit flirty. She was in her late-20s, just a couple years out of The University of Michigan, cute, nice body and flaming red hair that cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She knew the boys all lusted after her and she did nothing to discourage our interest. Students even gave her a nickname, “Bubbles.” The administration was not pleased, but Mrs. B. didn’t seem to mind. She liked the attention. Oh, and I think that we actually learned a lot of English Lit between the horsing around.

Then, I would help him with his alchemy, and the things I learned amaze me to this day. To see the world in its smallest shards, it changes you. Before I met him, I lived in a tent in the grasslands, and now I’m being taught how the universe works and how to turn worthless dirt into priceless gems. It’s both humbling and encouraging. And when he wasn’t fighting the Profane, he was helping Welindar advance in farming, mining, and sanitation, almost rebuilding it from the ground up. For him to know so much, this man who was recognized by the spirits, it was awe-inspiring. I wanted to entrust everything to him, to follow him forever, because I knew whichever direction he went was the right one.”