Determinandum

Posted on Wed Nov 11th, 2026 @ 7:11pm by Josiah Martin & Alaric Thane

4,701 words; about a 24 minute read

Mission: Episode 8: Shadows Over Avalon
Location: Mansion and Grounds

It was still late morning, around what most people would consider brunch, and Alaric had made some rounds through the mansion. He wasn't really checking on anything specific, just walking. Most times it was an encouragement to the students to see him just walking around. For Alaric though, it wasn't about being visible or checking things out. He was protecting them, making sure they were all okay and doing well with what they were doing. He'd made promises and he intended on keeping them. 

However, today he'd planned to just escape for a while. Stay on the grounds, yes, but find some time away from the hustle that was the mansion. He stopped in the kitchen for a snack to take with him and found a bag of beef jerky. It was an Earth treat that he'd come to enjoy over the last year, among many others. But it also seemed a practical food to the warrior sorcerer. He stood near the kitchen doorway as he opened the bag and removed a strip to take a bite. Any liquid refreshment he would just conjure up.

Joey came into the kitchen with a statistics book tucked under one arm, a pencil behind his ear, and the harried, distracted expression of someone who had recently decided that mathematics, living systems, and small children had no business being superimposed on one another.

Through the open doorway, several of the school’s younger children could be seen traipsing into the mansion on their way to the toilets before heading off to their next supervisor. Joey paused long enough to count them and groused, “Jeremiah Brandt, no sticks in the house!” before turning back toward the kitchen.

He looked at Alaric, then at the jerky, and finally toward the grounds outside the window.

“You plottin’ escape too?” he asked.

He set the book down on the counter and opened the refrigerator, searching out an apple and a block of cheddar. The children's noise faded without any screams, which was a good sign.

“I’m allegedly studyin’ and somehow got roped into makin’ sure nobody died during morning recess,” he said by way of explanation. “So far, I still ain’t figured out quite how to calculate a z-score for the number of concussions, but I reckon zero occurring is good enough.”

He jerked his head toward the door. “I’m plannin’ on headin’ out onto the grounds before somebody ropes me into music class or whatever comes after that. Wanna come?”

"Yes," Alaric agreed. "Escape is exactly the word I'd use, too."

He watched Joey retrieve an apple and a block of cheddar from the fridge. The combination struck him as odd. Then again, there had been a time when he'd thought peanut butter and jelly was a questionable pairing. Earth had a way of surprising him, and he'd long since stopped judging other people's tastes.

He nodded, "Anywhere on the grounds sounds good." He glanced toward the hallway where the last of the younger students had disappeared. "Especially if it means avoiding music class. I'm fairly certain Jean wouldn't appreciate my contribution to that particular lesson."

Joey caught the brief look Alaric gave the apple and cheese and paused on his way to retrieve a towel and knife. “What?” he asked. “Protein and fruit sugar. You ain’t never had cheese and fruit before?”

The question came with a tone of slight amusement, as if Alaric had just declared he had never seen rain, despite the atrocious New York weather. He picked up a dish towel and used it to wrap the apple, cheese, and a paring knife he pulled from a drawer before reclaiming his statistics book.

“There’s a crick out past the barn that runs down to the lake,” he said. “Should be quiet this time of day, long as nobody’s decided to test exploding trees or extradimensional summoning.”

He started toward the door and then glanced back. “And your singin’ weren’t half bad, but probably best to keep the hellfire outta music class. Youngins are a bit young for a ‘Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God’ lesson.”

He nodded toward the towel. "Not together like that. Not in the last year or so. I didn't grow up with much fruit, though. And even if there had been anything to milk...you certainly wouldn't have tried," Alaric added with dry humor.

He wasn't entirely sure what a crick was, but since Joey said it ran to the lake, he assumed he meant the creek. Joey's speech was different from the others, but it rarely took Alaric long to piece together what he meant.

He had started following Joey out the door when the comment about his singing brought back memories of karaoke night. A quiet chuckle escaped him. Low and smooth, it carried a richness that often surprised people accustomed to his composed demeanor.

"Yeah, they wouldn't appreciate that. Jean least of all. But I have some good ones about hellfire and damnation," he said with a smirk. He smiled to himself before continuing. "At any rate, a quiet creek sounds peaceful enough. Certainly cooler than the greenhouse I usually end up in. Do you spend a lot of free time at the creek?"

Joey faltered slightly at Alaric’s laugh. It wasn’t what he expected from the usually composed sorcerer, though he wasn’t sure why he had expected anything different. He already had the sneaking suspicion that Alaric played up some of the calm and mystery after the karaoke portal incident. He adjusted the book beneath his arm as he kept going.

“Whatever there might be to milk in Limbo, reckon we oughta be grateful nobody tried,” he said with an amused lilt. “Just sayin’ that out loud gives me more questions, and I don’t want none of ’em answered.”

Outside, the air was cooler and quieter than the mansion. The teenager drew in a long breath as they started across the lawn, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. The grounds—and the woods, for that matter—weren’t empty, but trees, horses, and squirrels were less demanding than children, even if he did feel slightly bad about thinking it.

“I come out here often enough,” he said, then shrugged. “It ain’t the river, and the lake ain’t Powell, but it’s the closest there is around here to home. Sometimes I go farther into the woods. Easier to think when everybody around me ain’t thinking back.”

He glanced over at the man and realised he probably needed to explain that better.

“I ain’t Mrs. Summers. No telepathy. Just… livin’ things all have voices and feelings of their own to me. It’s dead useful a lot of the time, but in the mansion, especially when everybody’s crowded together, it can be hard. Like tryin’ to follow one conversation in a room with fifty happenin’. Crick’s quieter, so long as Rahne ain’t about.”

He glanced toward the greenhouse. Seemed kind of on point for the part-demon to like the heat.

A light smirk crossed his face. “You actually like the greenhouse, or is it just where everybody’s learned to leave you alone?”

"I actually like it," he said.

The greenhouse wasn't just 'a nice place.' It represented almost everything Limbo wasn't. There was life without struggle. Precious little in Limbo ever simply grew. Life existed because it was strong enough to survive. It was also silence that wasn't dangerous. If it was quiet in Limbo, something was either hunting or waiting.

Alaric likes the greenhouse because, after twenty years of surviving, his nervous system has finally found somewhere it doesn't have to stay on high alert. Even within the walls of the Mansion, a certain level of watchfulness was required.

"Nothing fights to live in there. It simply exists instead of enduring." He continued walking alongside Joey.

"That's quite the ability you have," he said. "Does sensing living things include plants and animals or is it only humans? Or mutants, as the case may be."

Joey considered Alaric's words as they passed the barn and edged into the trees, as his expression took a less amused aspect.

"Nothing livin' gets entirely outta struggling," he said after a moment. "Plants still crowd each other for light, roots fight over the water, bugs eat holes through anything soft enough. But I reckon there's a difference between havin' to work at livin' and everything actively tryin' to kill you."

He glanced over. The explanation made the greenhouse less a preference for infernal temperature and more like something the teenager understood: a place where the world could be quiet without wondering if that just meant the danger had learned to be subtle. "Can see why you'd like it though."

He thought a little longer about how to answer. "It's... more complicated, but less?" He said after a moment. "I can feel things that aren't alive too when they're part of life, like the land and the water. Like knowin' where it is, movement, whether it's stable, and sometimes it even echoes. But plants, animals, people, those are a bit easier."

He paused again. "Most of it ain't words. Rats can give me pictures, feelings, smells if I listen for 'em, but the rest is more like..." he had to search for a minute for how to phrase it without sounding like he oughta be committed. "Knowin' the horse is sick before it starts limpin' or that there's somethin' frightened in the brush even if you can't see it." He shrugged. "Mutants ain't really separate neither, most of the time. You and Mrs Jean are the most obvious ones to me. The Phoenix, it ain't alive and it ain't dead. It violates the way things oughta be and gives me a headache just bein' around it for too long."

He glanced at Alaric again.

And you, well, it ain't exactly like you smell of brimstone or anything like that, but if I focus on you, I can tell a difference."

"You describe your gift almost like you're listening to the world itself rather than the creatures living in it." Then he considered that for a moment. "Seeing a forest is one thing. Sensing the relationships that bind it together is another entirely."

At Joey's final comment about him, Alaric raised an eyebrow. "I suspected you noticed something. Someone with your abilities would be remiss if they didn't pick up on it." There was no offense in his tone, only quiet acceptance. "Limbo leaves its mark on the soul."

He looked ahead once more. "You called me different, not evil. That's a distinction more people should learn to make." Alaric could tell the heaviness in his last few comments and decided to turn the conversation back to friendly and relaxed.

"So which creature has proven the most interesting conversationalist? I have a difficult time believing rats are your only source of entertainment," he said, grinning.

Joey was quiet for a few steps. He felt he needed to be careful about how he responded to that idea.

Different, not evil.

It was the conclusion he wanted to stick to, but that didn’t make it easy. A non-evil demon didn’t really seem real, but then reality had put the evidence in front of him. He had to remind himself again: We believe all that God has revealed, all that He does now reveal, and we believe that He will yet reveal many great and important things...

Still, updating a lifetime of sermons wasn’t easy, no matter how hard he tried.

He looked back at Alaric.

“They have become free forever, knowing good from evil; to act for themselves and not to be acted upon, save it be by the punishment of the law and the great and last day, according to the commandments which God hath given,” he recited.

He looked down.

“My faith says you weren’t born evil any more’n me and should be judged by what you do. Not that hearin’ I was doin’ country karaoke with a literal prince of Limbo, a place the Church denies exists, wasn’t a loop.”

That was just about more honesty than Joey had meant to offer when they’d left the kitchen, but Alaric had been fairly direct with him. Seemed wrong not to return some of it himself. Still, the change in subject was most welcome.

“Conversationalist might be oversellin’ it a bit,” Joey said. “Rats are different. I reckon it’s ’cause turnin’ into one gives me a closer perspective to make sense of what they can do. Pictures, smells, feelings. Sometimes enough together that it’s pretty close to talkin’. They certainly got opinions.”

He carefully stepped over a root, picking his path.

“Most rodents are still pretty understandable, just not as clear. Can usually figure out what most mammals are feelin’, at least. Horses here have some rather strong thoughts on the quality of the feed, and who they like and who they don’t.”

He chuckled slightly.

“What about you? I reckon all magic ain’t the same neither.”

Alaric listened without interrupting. Joey's words about faith were not ones he expected to hear, and certainly not ones he intended to dismiss. There was something oddly reassuring about them, even if Alaric wasn't entirely sure what to do with that feeling. "I appreciate that," he said simply. "More than you probably realize." He let that sit as they walked a few more steps. "And no. Magic isn't all the same."

His expression became a little more thoughtful. "Some magic is learned. Some is inherited. Some comes from a place, or from something that grants its power to you. Some magic, like the infernal arts, takes something from you in exchange for what it gives."

He lifted one hand slightly, letting his fingers turn palm-up as though considering the distinction. "My own is...complicated. Though that's probably the least surprising thing I've said today." He lowered his hand again. "The magic of Limbo isn't well suited to this realm; it responds differently here. Some of it doesn't work at all. But that's because the aether of Limbo is different than here. And I'm not the lord of this realm."

He looked back toward Joey. "The Soulsword is different. It's a piece of myself...of my soul...more than a weapon. It also designates me as the ruler of Limbo. And the Shadow Gates are my mutant power, not magic. Though, they are corrupted because I am." He had come to accept that and the darkness years ago. "But the important thing is that magic is a tool. And like any tool, what matters is the hand that wields it."

He looked forward again. "You know, I've seen Kennedy in riding gear and Casey riding. I imagine you do as well." He chuckled a little. "What are the horses' thoughts about you three? Since you brought them up. I promise I won't say a word. I might laugh a little the next time I see someone riding, but I won't say anything."

Joey nodded along as Alaric explained the distinctions in magic, filing most of it away for later. Learned, inherited, granted, places having their own aether, the Soulsword apparently being an actual piece of the man's soul—

There were several places in there Joey could have asked questions. And he had more than a few. But he kept his mouth shut. The bit about tools hit a little too close to home on how he felt about rodent claws and teeth. He really didn't want to go down a road that led to talking about what corpses tasted like after toothpaste. Some subjects a man was better off not touching.

Thankfully, right about then, as they came upon Joey's favourite spot, Alaric opted to give him a clear way out, and he wasn't about to look that gift horse, pun absolutely intended, in the mouth. He plopped himself down in his spot, a small crook made from tree roots along the bank that seemed to fit him a bit more perfectly than was natural. A real grin came to his face.

"Yeah, I can ride when I've a mind or need to," he said. "Not the kind of competition ridin' those two do though. And yep, horses absolutely have thoughts on riders, mostly the same way folks got opinions about drivers, just without the anatomy to, uh, make the rude hand gestures."

He laughed lightly as he thought about it and set the book down. "They mostly trust Kennedy. She knows how to ride, and use the tack without botherin' 'em. They think she's bossy as hell, though, and real demandin'. Horses here ain't used to dressage. They'll do what she asks, 'cause they know she knows what she's doin' but that don't mean they ain't complainin' about it. Titan's her favourite, and he knows it."

"Casey," he said. "Now he came with Smokey. He's done decided the man belongs to 'im and feels some kinda way about him. Not really much objective thought goin' on there. One of the others though, Mille," he added, mouth twitching. "She likes Casey. Mostly 'cause it takes him a good minute longer'n Kennedy to notice she's gone off to the nice edible stuff instead of walking along the trails." He snorted. "Horse thinks Casey's trainable."

"As for me. Mixed reviews. They ain't too fond of me knowin' when they're bluffin' about bein' tired, scared, or developin' mysterious ailments that just demand stopping at the good patch of clover. Don't work that great on me. On the other hand, they ain't complaining when I know a kid's yankin' too hard on the reins, sittin' wrong in the saddle, or makin' do somethin' that actually hurts. They like it real well when I make folk behave and bring the good treats."

He paused a second. "Seems the consensus is I'm an aggravatin' SoB, unless there's kids around, and then I'm suddenly their favourite."

Alaric watched as Joey quite literally found his niche and took a seat. He removed his leather overcoat and draped it over a low hanging branch before finding a place on the grass. This really was a nice spot. He opened the bag of jerky and took a piece out to chew on while Joey continued.

Alaric listened and began to slowly grin, replacing the more thoughtful expression he'd had a moment ago. He chuckled at the horse's thoughts about Kennedy. And then again at Casey. "So the horses have effectively appointed themselves judges of character," he said. "And apparently Casey is the easiest of the three to train."

He paused and shook his head.

He then glanced toward Joey, one eyebrow raised. "Though I suspect 'aggravating SoB' is not the worst reputation to have among horses. At least they know they can't get away with things with you."

He took a smaller piece of jerky and looked at it for a moment. "Now I'm curious what they think of me. I don't ride and I've never really been near them. Still..." His expression remained perfectly serious for a moment before the corner of his mouth tucked upward.

"Though maybe I shouldn't ask. I have enough enemies without learning that the horses have formed an alliance against me," he added. He grinned and picked up a small pebble nearby and tossed it into the creek.

"Ain't got enough data on that one yet. You're the fellow that walks past the barns sometimes. Don't think that really registers with 'em much." Joey started unwrapping his apple and cheese. "Could try introducin' you sometime. Titan'd judge you, but he judges everybody. Though, think of it, I don't reckon I really know much about what you do when you ain't workin' either.

The boy gave a glance at the knife in his packet before pulling his own pocket knife out of his pocket and started cutting. "What do you actually do for fun? And I mean not involvin' swords, magic, interdimensional royalty, and convincin' Jean we have to add 'don't change the lyrics' to the karaoke rule list."

Alaric thought for a moment before answering. "Well, you took all the fun things out of play," he said with a grin. "Limbo was constant survival. When I arrived here on Earth, I was learning an entirely new way to live while discovering entirely new things. Even in the last year, I haven't really taken up anything specifically fun. Unless you count flying around the property as DarkFang."

He shrugged, chewing on another piece of jerky. "So the most honest answer is probably... I don't know. Outside of sorcery, I don't know what I'd do for fun."

His expression became a little more thoughtful. "I'm still figuring out what people do when they don't need me to be something."

Joey stopped cutting the apple for a second. The greenhouse was starting to make more sense. Same reason Joey frequented his spot. "That's why this is my spot. Nobody needs to be much of anything out here, other'n not an idiot." He took another look at the creek and where the pebble Alaric had thrown had disappeared with a plunk. "Terrible throw, by the way. You know how to skip rocks?" He frowned at his own question. "Though I guess I should warn you, I ain't much at it neither. Home didn't exactly lend itself to practicin' much," he said as he picked up a pebble of his own and tried a toss, only to see it unceremoniously plonk as well.

Alaric watched Joey's pebble disappear beneath the water with just as much as Grace his. He looked from the creek to Joey, then down at another stone near his foot. He bent to pick up the stone, turning it between his fingers as though examining an unfamiliar magical artifact. Then he tossed it a few times into the air as if gauging the weight.

"I have no idea what that means, to skip rocks," he said. Then he grinned, as his dry humor resurfaced. "Limbo has many useful skills to teach a person. Apparently this was not considered one of them."

He gave the pebble a nice, underhanded lob at the creek. It landed with a plonk and then sank. Alaric stared at the water for a moment. "...I believe I'm beginning to understand why this is not considered a sport in this realm."

Then he glanced sideways at Joey, "Were there not many creeks at your home for you to practice?" He picked up another one and tossed it while reaching for another piece of jerky.

Joey looked at Alaric as if the man had asked him if he had tried having purple skin. "Alaric," he said drily. "I'm from Arizona."

The teenager paused for a minute because, surely, that answered everything. Then he remembered who he was talking to. "Right, sorry. That probably doesn't mean much to you," he said.

He took another moment to consider how to answer, since he was fairly sure Alaric hadn't meant to ask him for a lesson on desert ecology, legal systems, and sovereignty disputes. "No," he finally settled on. "Not many cricks, at least not like this. Mostly just washes, which're dry until the three days a year it rains, and then even Hayden would drown. We got springs too, but those are too precious. And then there's the Colorado and Powell. You don't sit in the Colorado casually throwin' rocks unless you're either the Almighty or have some real strange ambitions concernin' Nevada. Assumin' you even got that far, considerin' all the rules a bunch of dead white men with no sense decided should apply."

Alaric paused, looking at Joey with mild confusion. "I believe I understand the difference now. This is a creek. Arizona has...occasionally wet ravines and contentious rivers capable of transporting me to Nevada." He smirked, "Earth landscape is unnecessarily aggressive and complicated."

"So it's normally dry and hot. That I can understand," said Alaric. He casually picked up another pebble and threw it in. "But why do you call a dry ravine a wash?"

Joey stopped with a piece of apple halfway to his mouth. He kept forgetting Alaric didn't have a normal frame of reference. He shook his head. "I thought 'wash' was being the friendly word. Where I'm from, we'd usually say bikoo or maybe coulee. But doesn't really matter. It's all about the land," he said.

"When it rains in the desert, it ain't like here. The ground is dry an' hard so it can't soak it up well. But water still has to go somewhere. It goes downhill and collects in the little valleys and channels. But when it rains at home, it rains hard and the water moves fast and picks up everything in its way. Doesn't even have to be near you. It's called a wash because once the water's gone, the little valley you were lookin' at's been scoured clean, and anyone dumb enough to have been in it ain't never gonna be found."

Joey ate his piece of apple before getting a sly grin. "Has anyone explained to you why people laugh when you declare yourself the Lord of Limbo?"

Alaric knew perfectly well that his title sounded ridiculous without context or to those who had no idea that the realm even existed. If the last year had taught him anything, it was that context mattered. A title that commanded respect in one realm could sound absurd in another.

He stared at Joey for a moment.

"...No."

Then his eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm beginning to suspect this explanation is going to be at my expense. Proceed."

Joey kept the sly smirk. "You're learnin'," he said. "Limbo is a game. You play by settin' up a broom or stick, and the players gotta walk under it bendin' backwards. If you touch the bar or the ground, you're out. After each round, you lower the bar." He paused for a minute. "I suppose being the 'Lord' of it would mean you're mighty flexible, but not really terrifyin'."

Alaric stared at Joey in silence for several seconds. "That is profoundly disappointing." The corners of his mouth turned upwards.

"So all this time, I've been carrying a title that, in this realm, apparently makes me the supreme authority on bending backward beneath a broom." He chuckled as he looked at Joey. "You do realize that your explanation is going to make my introductions more difficult now."

“It could be worse. Least now you know what it is they're laughin' at. And it makes my daddy less likely to spend half a day demandin' you answer increasingly pointed questions about theology.”

"This is true," he said. "Maybe I'll turn them into goblin children." Alaric gave Joey a sidelong glance, his expression still carrying the dry wit before returning to normal.

"Though I suppose I should be grateful for the misunderstanding after all," he said. "I don't think I'm the right person to answer theology questions. From your father or anyone else's. I mean, I could open a Shadow Gate to Limbo and let him look through. That might answer them."


Joey stared at him for a second. “Absolutely not.”

He pointed the pocket knife at Alaric for emphasis before using it to cut another piece of cheese.

“My daddy does not need visual aids for that conversation. He gets enough mileage outta questions as it is.”

He finished off the last of the apple, wrapped the knife and remaining cheese back in the towel, and reached for his statistics book.

“Besides, I actually do gotta get some of this done before somebody remembers I’m available for child wranglin’ again.”

He glanced toward the creek, then back at Alaric. “Thanks for comin’ out here.”

"It was not a problem," said Alaric. "Thank you for the invitation and showing me this spot on the property. If I ever decide to relax here rather than the greenhouse, I'll give it a flyover and make sure it isn't occupied first."

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