Meditations used to soothe Xarx. They were quiet, calm. An escape from reality, his realm of safety and relaxation from the hullabub of daily expectations. No one could ever disturb his peace, especially when no one knew where to find him.

Although, he wondered if anyone truly sought out Xarx Atwood - according to Markl and nearly everyone else he knew, he was a classic hermit.

Today was different though. Actually, the last few weeks had increasingly disturbed Xarx's spirit and interrupted his daily meditations. His mind was hardly the strict line of focus he had trained himself to abide by and was rather more consumed by the eerie disappearance of his student.

Xarx adjusted his seating position repeatedly and directed his attention to his breath. Slow, steady, smooth. Instead of these, his breathing was irregular and curt, not at all how meditation was meant to be executed. His mind reeled of all the things he knew and even more so all the things he did not.

He knew why Markl left; that was as obvious as daylight. There was no mistaking how hurt the boy was each and every day. Years of fading into the background, forced in the shadow of a younger child, had taken too much of a toll on him. It was only a matter of time before he broke.

The only real question - why now?

Why not when Morgan was first starting to gain Howl's love and affection? Why not after their first horrific training session where Markl nearly blew Xarx to bits with the spell he had just taught him? Why not the moment he knew it was a lost cause to become a true Pendragon in Howl's eyes?

Xarx knew a lot about the boy - and sometimes he felt he knew him better than Markl himself because he took emotions out of the picture. Markl was painstakingly blinded by intense feelings that he allowed those portions of anger and hate to consume him. After much time and practice, Xarx had all but locked those flittering emotions in a tight restriction, his mind more stoic and pragmatic.

Yet still, there were puzzle pieces missing from the last month that Xarx could not fill, even through his intensive, emotionless concentration.

Five days he tried meditating. Five days nonstop in the same spot, in the same mindset, in the same conundrum. Five days since he walked out of the Pendragon household completely sure that the house was full of recklessness and the inability to own up to their consequences. One issue after another it seemed, and they were more concerned with their own petty secrets than the dire situation present.

This had been a solitary concern when Markl was the only disappearance. Now with three others missing as well, something kept screaming inside of Xarx that there was an association.

He just didn't know what.

So for five days, he attempted to meditate on these questions. Yet with each possible answer, he was deflected to another problem that circumvented his mind to other quite likely connections. His mind was a labyrinth of doorways and deadends, gateways to nothing and highways of endless possibilities. It was as if Markl had left with the purpose of never being found, and the others simply got mixed up in a tragic turn of events.

No matter the others, Xarx thought. If he found them, fine, but it didn't really matter. They weren't his students; they weren't his responsibility. Markl was his true focus. He was his obligation. Truth be told, Xarx had not uttered aloud his actual fears to anyone about why Markl's disappearance could wreak a devastating havoc on multiple worlds.

Markl was a strong magician - probably the strongest Xarx had ever known and undeniably stronger than himself - and such power was dangerous without proper channeling. Finding the boy was of highest priority and he would not rest until something answered the questions in his mind.

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Markl stared at the new world he was not prepared to witness. His shoulders slumped as he sulked along the sidewalk, mouth crocked to the side. He was expecting a place out of the ordinary, somewhere exotic and fascinating, or at least somewhat charming. Rather, he felt as if he'd teleported to the same world he had left minus the magic and wizardry.

This was the world of Wales, he thought. Markl understood completely why the flamboyant Wizard Howl Pendragon would escape to the mystical land of Ingary in a heartbeat. It was exactly a mirror image of Ingary without the magic and wonder of spells and enchantments. Its aura inhabited none of the brilliance and charm of those who partook in sorcery.

It truly was a land without magic.

As he set on his path guided by the hidden letter - a thin light beamed from within his satchel, shining directly toward his final destination - he was quite taken by the beautiful architecture. Stone buildings and exquisite features lined the streets, no room between them except for the jagged roads that vehicles flew down. They were not unlike the vehicles he'd seen and used in Ingary, however this flare was rather dull and consistent. He was always impressed by the unique designs and delightful features of Ingarian transportations.

The only real sense of magic came from these strange boxes. Markl walked past one in a window shop for a brief moment before spinning around and staring at the box. A few younger children stood in front of him, not even half his height, as they pointed and voiced awing sounds of the wonders they saw on the little screen.

Markl leaned closer - the pictures were moving. How strange, he thought, that a simple box would have such control over people or objects. They were tiny people and objects by comparison, but he couldn't help but stare at its ability to manipulate and change their actions, almost as if it had cast a spell on them. The man in the box held his hand out toward the lady, to which she smiled from ear to ear and joined him in a miniature dance.

Markl smiled as well. There was some magic in this world after all.

"Get on, cachgi." Markl only dared to remove his focus from the moving pictures when a boy slammed into the window next to the one that encased the magic box. The window vibrated from the blow, though barely earned a scratch. Although, he could not say the same for the boy.

Markl watched as he wiped his nose, red droplets covering his pale hand. He used his back to keep steady against the window, but his legs wobbled like he was about to collapse at any second. His eyes bore a mixture of anger and terror as they stared far beyond Markl toward a small group standing behind.

It took Markl a moment to turn his head. Four teenagers, all boys somewhat younger than himself. He'd expected they would be about the proper age for an apprenticeship in Ingary - a real one, not the aimless and unstructured learning he'd received from Howl before his proper time. They, even the boy clutching to the window, all wore the same blue suit coat and trousers like a uniform of sorts.

Only one had shaggy red hair like Markl's own, the others blond or darkhaired. The boy who cowered against the window, probably wishing he could melt himself through it and disappear if he had magical skill, sniffed his bloodied nose as they pointed their mocking laughter at him.

"You just prove me right every time," the blond boy snorted, "worthless cachgi."

Markl didn't need to know what the word meant to know that the distressed boy was offended by it. He looked the boys up and down, examining them like an experiment. Markl never got the experience of traditional school or socializing with kids his age. Not surprisingly, he was surrounded by adults well above his years his entire life. Maybe that was why he felt these boys held such presences of immaturity. He'd abandoned his own childish antics much earlier than them.

It was the redhead who noticed his prolonged staring first. "Hey, pervert. We're busy here."

"Oh really?" Markl said, continuing his examination, "It seemed to me like the four of you were just leaving." He could've been a show-off and used hand gestures for this spell, but in a world without magic that would have been too obvious. A tilt of his head up and down or left to right was all he needed. As if they were trained soldiers, the four boys slammed their feet together in unison. Their arms pressed into their sides as they lined up in uniform fashion.

"What the hell is this?" The blond said amidst their steady marching. "I can't stop it." Their voices faded into the distance, becoming mere echoes as bystanders stared at them with worrisome confusion. Markl's smile grew wider and wider as their voices faded further and further away.

He let out a quick chuckle. That was the most fun he'd had in ages.

When they had rounded a corner out of sight, Markl turned to the boy with the bloodied nose. His mouth dropped like a weight had held it down, and he was no longer shaking in fear. Instead, he was more firm in his posture and far more ecstatic.

The boy whispered, "You're a wizard."

Markl tried not to react. Howl had always said when people accused him of wizardry in Wales, he kept his composure and steered them away from the topic. He never admitted to anything he had done and merely made them pretend they had imagined whatever spell he'd cast. Maybe even the tilting of his head was too obvious to this teenage kid.

But then again, he'd whispered it. The boy had not pointed nor shouted nor tried to oust him to those who walked by. His voice was not even loud enough to the little kids who had been standing there, mesmerized by the moving picture box instead of the real-life event that happened right next to them.

It was almost as if this boy knew it was a secret worth keeping.

Markl whispered back. "I didn't think this wor- uh, place, had magic." Specific word choice. Very matter of fact, no admission of guilt, and his composure was intact. For the most part. Markl still found it strange that a human kid would not react in the slightest amount of fear toward someone with magic. To be frank, however, he wasn't that much younger than Markl.

But the boy only smiled. "Well, I've only known of one other who could do something like that. And don't worry, I won't say anything to anyone. They'd think I was crazy for believing it, anyway."

Trust had been hard to come by for Markl, yet an instinctual feeling provoked him to believe the kid. If what he said was true about already knowing a wizard, that explained his lack of surprise when Markl barely demonstrated a routine spell. Maybe he was familiar with the wizard who sent the letter.

Or worse, maybe he knew Howl.

"Not many of us come from a place like this," Markl said, "Must be hard to find witches and wizards in Wales."

"Yeah, well, it's also hard to ignore them when they're related to you."

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They joined each other for a walk away from as many public faces as possible. His name was Neil Parry, a young high schooler who lived not too far down the road where the skirmish with his classmates occurred. Markl introduced himself as Michael minus a surname, figuring now was as good a time as any to begin rebranding himself. Wizard Ben Sullivan made a valid point back at his shop, and his alias was already in the process.

The name Parry hadn't sounded familiar to Markl. Howl's surname before entering Ingary had been Jenkins, and he had no name for this mystery sender of the letter. Either way, it appeared that Neil himself had no magical ability and he didn't seem to mind that Markl did.

The light still shone through the letter, and Markl worried that he would ask questions about his quest. There wouldn't be many answers, though, and Neil seemed to be oblivious to it. Possibly only the receiver of the letter could view its magical properties? Regardless, they happened to be walking in the very direction that it shone and Markl enjoyed the social company.

"The way you got those idiots to just line up like little puppets," Neil pushed his hands to his side and pretended to walk like he was being strung along. He laughed wholeheartedly, which made Markl join in the fun. "It was hilarious! They're the real cachgis."

Markl tilted his head. The resurgence of that word reignited his curiosity from earlier. "That word... what does that mean?"

Neil dropped his act. His shoulder slumped and his smile vanished all at the swoop of a simple question. "It's a nothing word. It's stupid."

"It almost sounded like an insult."

"Because it is." Neil said, deadpanned. He inhaled quickly, exhaling slowly through gritting teeth. "It means shit-dog, or better yet a coward." He paused for a moment, both of them walking in awkward silence, before he continued. "I'm just an easy target to them. All because I can't do amazing things like my uncle. Everyone knew about him, a great rugby player who won medal after medal. The legend whose nephew could never match his skill."

Markl kept his gaze forward, hands in his pockets. "I understand what it's like to live in the shadow of someone you admire."

"I don't admire him. I hate him."

"I can relate to that as well."

Neil looked up to Markl, though the young magician kept moving forward. They really weren't too different from each other. Each with their own struggles, a conflict they couldn't entirely ward off from. It always came back, biting them in words or hurt, never to be held at bay. Never to give them a break or moment of release.

"Your uncle," Markl said, prying further than he truly wanted, "wouldn't happen to be the other wizard you know?"

Neil nodded. "I told you he was amazing, though no one here knew he had magic. Only my family, and it's only cursed us."

"He cursed you?"

"He may as well have. Growing up, he'd pop in every now and again for random visits. He'd go to his Rugby Reunions, even though he never actually attended the school. Another reason why he was such a legend to those dimwits. He never visited too long, and always asked for favors from my mom. And he loved hitting on her friends, single or not."

Markl let out an exasperated sigh. All signs pointed directly to - "Howl Pendragon?"

Neil turned to him. "Howell Jenkins."

Markl nodded. "That figures." The whole time, he had been walking the streets with Howl's nephew. Was it a coincidence or irony? Maybe fate trying to remind him that he could never escape Howl no matter how many worlds he traveled. Though he didn't blame the kid, it definitely added a level of disdain to the conversation.

For the both of them, it seemed. "Ah, seems like you know him. Doesn't surprise me that he changed his name. He always liked going by different aliases to seem more slick. Guess you have about the same feelings toward him as I do."

For the remainder of the walk, neither uttered a word. Nothing needed to be said about the man that had tainted both of their lives. Two teenagers inflicted by the memory of a man who popped in when it was convenient for him, not once realizing how his selfish acts affected others.

Markl wished it didn't bother him. He hoped that coming to a new world would mean dissolving the one he had once known, along with everyone he had known with it. Though it pained him to think he had to leave Sophie and Morgan, Gwenda and Calcifer, everyone else he loved, it only took one person to outweigh them. Howl's presence was enough to force Markl away from Ingary permanently.

To Neil, Howl was a leech - an absent-minded, soul-sucking leech. To Markl, he was a phantom of paternal greatness, and he failed to ever become real.

The light shone left as Neil began heading right. "My house is down this street. You're welcome to come over for dinner. Mom makes a killer scouse."

Markl looked back at the direction of the light. He couldn't lose focus when he was so close. His answers were right there, begging to reveal themselves at long last. His temptation for truth was far too strong to put on hold again.

And he doubted Neil's mother would want any more association with her brother.

"Maybe another time." Markl said as he turned away. "I'll remember you if I ever stop by, Neil Parry."

"I have a favor if you don't mind." The boy called back once more. Markl looked over his shoulder. "It might be a longshot, especially since it sounds like you hate him almost as much as I do, but I'd appreciate if you gave my uncle a message."

Markl paused, then nodded.

"Tell him that my mom really does miss him. I mean, she used to say they fought like crazy when they were kids, and always on those rare moments when he'd visit out of the blue, but I can tell she really misses her brother and hopes that he's at least doing better for himself."

Markl fully faced Neil. "Anything you wish to say to him yourself?"

Neil laughed. "Yeah, to give me back my homework assignment from the fifth grade. It flew in through one of the doors he created to our house and I never got it back. My teacher was pissed, but it's not like I could exactly tell her why."

Markl tried wracking his brain to remember an event like that happening in the Pendragon household. Howl probably had it somewhere deep in his pile of miscellaneous spells, thinking nothing of it. "I'll do my best to give him your message. You deserve that much."

"Thanks." Neil said with gratitude. "Hopefully I'll see ya another time, Michael."

The teenagers parted ways, rushing down their sides of the street. Markl fixated on the thin stream of light that guided his path, and he was never more certain that he had made the right choice.