Free The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) by Aron Sethlen

of person he was—being able to do that and all. And he said he was marked by the light and that he’s a seeros and not to ask any more question or speak of it to anyone. And so that’s it, that’s all I know.”
    “That doesn’t tell me much. But I guess that’s more than I knew yesterday.”
    Miles laughs. “So what does it feel like when you shoot your light and zap the crap out of something?”
    Pard squints, still unsure if the light was really him or not. He still blocks out what he did in the west wing as an anomaly and not part of him. “I don’t know what it feels like.”
    “What do you mean you don’t know? How can’t you know? You zapped the cat in Nox’s arms, right?”
    “Yes,” Pard says without thinking, and then he flinches and clams up, realizing he just admitted to killing Nero and shooting electricity out of his fingers and chest.
    “Dang, professor, that’s so cool. That you can do that thing with the light, but not killing Nero the cat of course.” Miles shrugs. “Honestly, I liked that cat, surprising really, considering it was Yitch’s—guess pets can’t choose their owners, eh?”
    Pard stands up straight and defensive. “Look, I didn’t mean to hurt the cat. I don’t even know how or why it happened. It was only the second time I saw the light, and I was so out of it I don’t even remember how it felt. All I know is I was mad, and it happened, and once I realized what was going on, I was scared and that was it, no more light, and Nero dead.”
    “Hey, professor, it’s all good, no need to get all riled up. I’m sure you didn’t mean to fry kitty. But it’s nothing to be scared or ashamed of—embrace the badass within you and let it all out.”
    Pard cringes. “Embrace the badass, seriously ? What does that even mean?”
    “It means you got some seriously scary, powerful shit going on inside of you right now and you should accept it as a gift and use it.” Miles’s right eyebrow slowly rises. “For good that is, and once you can control it, and definitely don’t use the light on me, like ever.”
    “All right, so let’s say I have this gift. It sure didn’t seem like I could control it the other night. How are you so sure I won’t accidentally zap you if you piss me off?”
    In deep thought, Miles tilts his head to the side for a second then inches away from Pard. “Right, so we can figure that out later after advanced mathematics.”

HINER’S FORMULAIC PHYLUM

    After ten more minutes of battling the wind, Pard opens the gilded doors leading into the warm, well-lit sanctuary of the Greysin Library.
    Like everything else in Greysin, the library is opulent, fit for only the most wealthy and privileged that may want a book or quiet place to read or gather. Greysin, a sleepy town within a days travel of the capital city of Wellingtin in the province by the same name, is also home to the second residences of many of Bastin’s elite who spend their summers lounging and partying and scheming by the lake. Pard, clearly not of the upper echelon of Bastin society, at least in wealth or pedigree, is usually taken for a worker, and he goes unnoticed as he mingles among his betters, taking pleasure in overhearing their dirty little secrets and political maneuvering and schemes. Of course, that is, until they want something from him, like a glass of wine, or water, or a towel, or directions to their rooms, then it quickly gets awkward. But most of the time it’s as if he doesn’t exist, which is fine by him. Now during the off season, winter, the town is empty except for the locals. And the library is a place Pard uses as a sanctuary away from Fairstone and Yitch and his other nemesis’ whenever he can escape the school grounds. Though with all the detentions he’s been getting lately, it’s been two weeks since he’s been in town.
    “So where do you want to sit?” Miles says.
    Pard nods toward the far end of the library near the history section, his favorite