"So, I died," Ruth said, coming too. "But why Laura? Why not Andrew, or Wilson? Why?"
"I don't have the answers for you. But either she was a traitor from the start, or someone offered her a deal she couldn't resist. I'd bet on the first, as you seemed close," Kinson said.
Ruth's soul shuddered. "Why did you come here? How am I still... Alive?"
"You're not. I entered your deathdream, your final moments. It's been over a decade since that day, though," Kinson explained.
She gasped. "A decade?"
"Yeah. Mars… is gone. Destroyed by the creatures these Shadow Eaters worship. Almost everyone was killed when they invaded."
"Impossible. Not everyone. They can't all be dead!"
Kinson's own soul dimmed a bit as sorrow surged within him. "I was there. I survived the horror. That's why I need to know. What did they steal that was so important that your friend betrayed you?"
Ruth was quiet for some time, and Kinson began to be anxious. Her soul was starting to break up. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind.
"It was a method to project a psionic's soul into the psionic dimension. With psionic tech just being developed, we don't know much about the psionic dimension it's based on. Is it more than a limitless source of energy? What dangers might it hold? These are the questions we are supposed to answer."
"It's more dangerous than you can possibly know," Kinson said bitterly.
"Where did they bury me?" Ruth suddenly asked.
"Titan," Kinson said, confused at the sudden look of relief on her face.
"Then my family got me. I wonder if they know what happened?"
"Would you like me to tell them?" Kinson asked tentatively.
She shook her head. "No, it's enough you know my story. Please, find Laura. Tell her I forgive her."
"I will," Kinson pledged.
"Thank you." she sighed.
And with that, Ruth ruptured into energy, sending it scattering through the soulspace. Kinson gasped as the wave washed over him, filling him with energy. He was much more in tune with his soul and was able to feel the change occurring within. As the surge passed through him, he absorbed some of its power, soul growing brighter in the process. Soon, it was over, and Kinson was ejected from the collapsing soul space.
In the graveyard, Kinson fell over, lying on the ground, panting. The experience this time had been so intense and vivid. Not just the events in the soulspace, but everything that had happened last night. As he collected himself and stood, he finally noticed his exhaustion. He swayed, and staggered over to a nearby bench before collapsing on it. Darkness closed over him, but the warmth of his hope burned brightly within. Although he had no way to verify, Kinson was certain he had reached class 4.
He drifted through sleep until a rough hand roused him. He opened heavy eyes and saw an unfamiliar man shaking him, face laced with concern. Kinson pushed the man's hand off him and tried standing. His leg gave way under him, unable to support his weight. Kinson closed his eyes, prepared for impact, when strong hands caught him.
"Are you alright?" the man asked, voice thick with worry.
"I-yes, I am," Kinson stuttered. His tongue felt thick and lazy.
"What happened to you?"
"I just tired myself out too much. Going on a run, I mean," Kinson fibbed.
Although the man's expression showed his skepticism, he said, "If you say so. Can I help you get somewhere?"
Kinson leaned back and peered at him. The man had long dark hair, which fell to his shoulders in curly waves. His piercing brown eyes contained nothing but kindness, yet heavy wrinkles creased his brow. He wore a freshly pressed business suit that had been in style several decades ago.
"I think I'll be okay. Just need a minute to collect myself," Kinson said.
"I'll wait with you for a moment. Do you have a name?" the stranger asked.
"Kinson."
"Pleasure to meet you. You can call me Rennen," he replied.
"Rennen," Kinson rolled the unusual name around in his mouth before asking: "What brings you to a graveyard?"
Rennen let out a short laugh, and half-carried Kinson to a nearby bench. "I usually cut through here on my way to work. Shaves off about five minutes, or so."
Kinson groaned as his sore body pressed against the hard bench. Why was he so sore? After he recovered, he decided to learn more about this mysterious helper.
"Thanks. What do you do for work?"
Rennen brushed the issue aside. "I've got a simple desk job. Pay the bills, I guess."
They chatted about insignificant matters for a few more minutes. Kinson told him about his life at the university, but stayed away from his work at the BPI, and about deathdreaming. That might raise a few more questions about why he was at the graveyard. Deathdreaming was uncommon enough it might be taken like graverobbing or something.
"I think I feel better now. Thanks for talking with me. I've been a little lonely after my friends left for the summer." Kinson said, standing on weak legs.
"No worries. I enjoyed it too, after all," Rennen chuckled. "I don't get out much, and my life isn't such that others want to talk to me."
"But you're such a nice guy!" Kinson protested. "I bet people love you!"
A dark shadow crossed over Rennen's face. "Life isn't that simple, unfortunately. Most people would disagree with you on that."
"Maybe. But you were nice to me, and that's all that matters right now," Kinson said.
"A child's logic. But still, it does hold true," Rennen admitted.
Kinson felt a little offended. It wasn't a child's logic! Rennen smiled again at his expression. "Work hard, and I'm sure you'll accomplish great things in life. Until we meet again."
Kinson waved goodbye to Rennen as the nicely dressed man disappeared into a nearby passage. His slow walk home left him plenty of time to ponder the conversation, but nothing about it made sense. What was Rennen trying to tell him?
Thoughts of the encounter left his mind as he arrived at the BPI. He pulled out his phone to check the time, then froze. Notifications spammed his screen in unending numbers. He instantly regretted putting his phone on silent, but nothing could be done. As he sorted through the texts and missed calls, the story started to unfold. Apparently, his mom had reached out to his friends, and even the BPI was in a panic after he didn't respond. There were over 20 texts from her alone, and at least 5 missed calls. Trevor had gotten in on the action, although his texts conveyed more confusion than his mother's frantic worry. Andres had sent him an email, but it was more of a formal check-up. Countless contacts from other people only added to the confusion.
Several hours later, Kinson wearily put down his phone and rested his head on his hands on the table. After arriving home, he had spent no small amount of time convincing his mother everything was fine, and he had simply been feeling sentimental. She only relented after he promised to visit next week and spend a few days at home. Everyone else was sorted with relatively little effort, but it still consumed time. Now, the clock showed it was early afternoon, long past the time he should have reported to the BPI.
Kinson quickly texted Griffon and then Andres, saying he couldn't come in. Then, he crashed into his bed and succumbed to the exhaustion which had continually sought to overwhelm him.
***
"You did what?" Andres stared at him in disbelief.
Kinson ducked his head. "I went and walked in a few deathdreams. Because of that, I've successfully reached class 4."
"I heard you the first time. But why would you go and do something so reckless? I thought this was your chance to finally prove your restraint and self-control, but you've gone ahead and done the opposite," Andres fumed.
Kinson's heart fell. "That's not it at all," he protested, " I found a way to do what you required, and did it. I carefully studied the deathdreams I went in and didn't walk until I was confident I could survive. Also, I think I acquired valuable research results, which I recorded here, right after I left the deathdreams. I think I know why my soul can get stronger in the deathdream."
Andres shook his head, his expression unrelenting. "This happens every time. First, you take a great risk, then somehow gain something valuable, and get off without punishment. You can't keep doing this. Bah. What did you find," he asked finally.
Kinson held up his phone and scrolled through his notes. "It's all here, sir. But you're wrong. I haven't been let off easy. It's been months since you banned me from going into a deathdream. That's hardly a light consequence, from my perspective."
"Yet you did it anyway," Anders said sharply.
"But not for the BPI. This was on my own time, and not with the BPI's resources. I made sure there wasn't any sort of liability that can be pinned on you. Unlike last time, no one else would have to be dragged into my choices," Kinson explained confidently.
"You don't get it do you," Andres's expression softened. "It's not about the legal or official matters. I don't care less about paperwork or lawsuits. It's about you, Kinson. We care about you. I was the one that started you on this path. Griffon, Kael, Rachel, and even Luthier have invested a lot into helping you get where you are now. How could we want you to just throw all that away?"
"I hadn't thought of it like that," Kinson said softly. "But what good is a bird's wings if they don't fly?"
"I hadn't thought your wings were prepared," Andres sat back, "But perhaps I was wrong. Type those notes into a formal report, then I'll consider reinstating your position. Also, stop by Rachel to make sure you've broken through, and that your soul is good."
Kinson leaped to his feet. "Right away! And thanks, Andres."
Andres smiled and waved him away. "Don't make me regret it."
He found Rachel sitting behind a desk, leaning back in her chair with her eyes closed. Kinson approached, but her eyes only opened when his shadow fell across her face.
"Rachel, I need a soul evaluation. Do you have time?" Kinson asked anxiously,
Rachel yawned and got to her feet. "Sure, why not. Naps can be had at any time, after all."
"Is that what you're always doing back here?" Luthier's voice cut through from the door, "And here I thought you were hard at work, like the rest of us."
"Youth these days," Rachel grumbled, "have no idea the suffering our generation endured. If they did, they wouldn't complain that we seek joy in our brief moments of respite."
Luthier laughed and walked over to them. "What's this I hear about an evaluation? Don't tell me you reached class 4?"
Kinson nodded proudly. "Finally. But we're going to check right now. Want to join us?"
"And watch that old crone… ow!" Luthier yelped and Rachel calmly rubbed her hand. Kinson suppressed a chuckle at the bright red handprint on Luthier's cheek.
"That's it, I'm out. I'd hate to be arrested for assaulting an old woman, testy as she may be" Luthier grumbled, pivoting and stalking out of the room.
This time, Kinson's laugh was unrestrained, but Luthier pretended not to hear it. Rachel smiled and placed her hands on him. A second later, the familiar sensation of Rachel's soul pressed against his.
"Indeed, you've reached class four. Congratulations, I hadn't thought it possible," Rachel said after a moment.
"I knew it!" Kinson pumped his fist in the air and cheered.
"How'd you do it?" she asked curiously.
Her curiosity turned to satisfaction as he explained his efforts and the deathdreams he worked in. "Just as I thought. Why didn't you try that first?"
Kinson froze, then looked at her intently. "Wait, you thought of that, and didn't tell me?"
Rachel chuckled and sat back down. "Of course. If you get stronger from deathdreaming, then why not just deathdream?"
"..." Kinson took several deep breaths but didn't manage to calm down.
"Hey, Kinson, how'd it go?" Andres poked his head around the corner expectantly.
"..."
"He reached class 4," Rachel answered for him.
"Just as we thought. There's a mission tomorrow, but we still don't have the details. Make sure you're both in top shape," Andres said, then his head disappeared back to wherever he had come from.
'Hear that Kinson? A chance to prove yourself. Don't mess up this time, or there won't likely be another," Rachel said, prodding him on the chest with a bony finger.
"I know," Kinson released his pent-up breath. "I'll at least watch it with everyone a few times before even bringing up walking."
"Is that so? Do you need to bring it up at all? I feel your ice is thin enough without lighting a fire, no?"
Kinson nodded. "Even so, if my theories are correct, the world of deathdreaming will change forever. Progress requires risk, right?"
Rachel nodded slowly, her agreement barely more than a dip of the head. "So it seems."