Despite my misgivings, I place my hand on the page as the Genealogist instructed me to. He murmurs something below his breath, quiet enough that even my improved hearing is unable to determine what he says, and his eyes flash briefly silver. In reaction, the page also flashes silver and, like before, lines begin to spread across the page. This time, the lines are of silver, though they change colour as they expand to different areas.

  My name is the first thing that appears – as it did on Nicholas’ page: Markus Luke Wolfe Titanbend. It’s written in an ornate calligraphy, the ink changing to black.

  Lines of black text begin to write themselves underneath my name, but the sentences are mostly covered by my hands. At the same time, wiggly worms of gold form my crest in the top left hand side of the page.

  It only takes a few seconds before the page completes itself. I know it’s finished when the silver light imbuing the page dies away. The Genealogist’s impatient prompting is another clue.

  “Take your hand away now, would you? Let us have a look.”

  I do so slowly, not sure about whether I’m more eager or nervous about what the book might say about me.

  “Hm, quite a number of entries already, for one so young,” the Genealogist murmurs in clear surprise. He and Nicholas both lean closer, presumably to read them. My eye is drawn elsewhere, however: to the crest.

  It’s a perfect circle – that makes it immediately different from the one I saw on Nicholas’ page which had been an oval. I didn’t have the chance to look very closely at his, but I saw enough to see that it was very different from the Titanbend symbol, and different again from what I now have before my eyes.

  The border of the circle seems to be made at first glance by Celtic knotwork, but when I look more closely I see that in fact it’s formed of the branches and roots of a tree, the trunk of which goes right through the centre of the crest. And right in the centre of the tree trunk, and of the crest itself, is a hand with its palm facing me in a ‘stop’ sign. The hand has several lines radiating away from it, as if it’s glowing, or perhaps about to deal some magic. I can’t help but wonder whether the hand is meant to symbolise peace as it might do on Earth, or a threat, as it would be more likely to do here. Perhaps it’s a combination of both, I reflect. A fusion of my old world and my new one.

  I tilt my head to one side and a chill goes down my spine. Narrowing my eyes, I move my head slowly from side to side. There’s one more element to the ornately-drawn crest. Something that can only be seen when one is looking for it, like an optical illusion: a skull. Its forehead is covered by, or perhaps is the canopy of the tree. Its nose is a lighter patch of the tree’s trunk. Its teeth are made of gaps in the tree’s roots. Its eye sockets are formed of the faintest of lines that mark the space between the tree’s canopy and its roots. But now I’ve seen it, I can’t unsee it.

  “A very interesting crest, young lord,” the Genealogist tells me affably, his voice making me jump. I blink and the skull vanishes, the tree and glowing hand becoming most obvious once more.

  I look over at the old man and see Nicholas frowning beyond him.

  “Is it?”

  “Indeed. A hand of light, a tree of life, and yet surrounded by unbroken chains and with death ever-present. A study of contrasts,” he comments.

  “What does it mean?” I can’t help asking. What even generates crests? It’s clearly something inside me, but what?

  The Genealogist looks at me steadily, and in his eyes I see decades, maybe even centuries of life. He’s tired, I can see that, but stubborn. He will not let death take him without a fight. Perhaps there is more kinship between us than I realised.

  “I cannot tell you that, young heir,” he tells me firmly. Somehow I know that he will not budge on this matter. “The Records uses one’s most influential experiences to generate the crest. What the result means is for you to decide.”

  Once, I would have hated that answer. Once, I would have disdained any suggestion of doing some soul-searching – I had enough of that with therapists over the years.

  Once.

  But these days, I’ve come to understand that soul-searching can be a lot more literal than I ever thought possible. So instead of dismissing the Genealogist’s comments, I instead dip my head respectfully to him.

  “I will.” I promise.

  “Good,” he acknowledges, then stabs at the text that has written itself over the page. “Now, look at that.”

  I look to see what he means and read what the book has generated about me. To my surprise, it doesn’t only talk about events which have happened in this world.

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  Markus Luke Wolfe was magically adopted into the family of Titanbend in CA2995.

  Born to Jakob Rolf Wolfe and Maria Gianna Rossi, Markus lived on a planet his people called ‘Earth’. He was the first known intentional inter-world traveller through a new development called ‘Gateways’ (developed by Nicholas Velnix Listin Titanbend, the lord who adopted Markus into the family of Titanbend) at age 28.

  Markus did not receive his Class until he was 27 years of age, however in the year following this, he achieved several notable deeds. He destroyed a Tier 4 threat (a rapid-spreading, carnivorous, vegetative organism) by controlling an inferno to burn it to ash, unintentionally creating a fire elemental (one of only a few known examples of this feat). He conquered a significant portion of another species, becoming highly influential in their development and winning the respect of many of their existing leaders. He discovered one of the ley lines of the planet he was on and survived contact with it. He influenced and enabled multiple Evolutions, rendering many capable of doing so who would otherwise have failed.

  Markus is currently Heir of House Titanbend.

  “What am I looking at?” I ask with some uncertainty.

  “Am I right in interpreting that several of the deeds which have generated for you here didn’t happen in this world?” the Genealogist asks with drawn brows and flashing eyes – what have I done now?

  “You are,” I confirm hesitantly.

  “Do you realise what this means, young lord?” the old man asks and I now recognise the emotion behind his intensity – excitement.

  “Not really, no,” I admit, relaxing a little now I know he’s not actually angry with me.

  “It proves that the Records is capable of drawing from the person’s soul directly – or how would it know what deeds you had done in another world?” he explains, shifting from foot to foot. If he were younger, he’d probably be dancing on the spot. Given how many piles of parchment surround us, it’s probably a good thing he isn’t actually any more energetic.

  “Right,” I comment, not really following his logic, but assuming that he’s probably right – he no doubt has far more grounding in magical theory than I do. Not that that would be hard. Loren probably knows more magical theory than I do.

  “I take it the records of his morning’s meeting have already been made public?” Nicholas asks with a slight sigh.

  “Not public exactly,” the Genealogist responds briskly. “I might not be the official records keeper of all meetings, but my colleagues know better than to keep anything related to genealogy from me. And considering that you declared in the meeting that the traveller you brought through from the other world is to be your heir, it was very clearly a matter of Genealogy.”

  “I see,” murmurs Nicholas with an air of discontentment. Then he seems to clear his expression intentionally as all emotion vanishes. “Do you see anything to disbar Markus Luke Wolfe Titanbend from being my heir, Genealogist?” he asks formally.

  “I do not, Great Lord Titanbend,” the old man answers, his own tones gaining a stiff formality that matches Nicholas’. “Heir Markus, would you permit me to place your crest on an official writ of nobility?”

  I glance briefly at Nicholas and the man inclines his head fractionally.

  “I do,” I answer simply – the etiquette lessons I received last night didn’t prepare me for this particular situation, but Nicholas doesn’t seem disapproving so I figure that it’s good enough.

  The old man inclines his upper body in a small bow and then shuffles around the table to reach for a piece of parchment from the shelves behind his desk. He places it on top of the page with my information, and concentrates for a moment. The page and the book flash silver and, when it comes away, I see that there is now writing on the previously clean page.

  “Please could you verify that all details on this writ are correct, my lord.” He hands the page over to me and I scan it. I thought that it might have been a photocopy of the page in the book, but it’s not. Instead, it seems to be basically an identity document. It contains my name, my personal crest, the crest I recognise as that of House Titanbend, a brief note of my parents’ names, and the name of my ‘magically adopted parent' – Nicholas. It doesn’t hold any of the other details about my deeds.

  “It all looks fine to me,” I acknowledge, then give the page back to the old man when he holds out his hand for it.

  “For the record, Lord Markus has not noted any errors in the creation of this document,” the Genealogist states loudly, though to whom, I’m not sure. I wonder with a chill whether there are any listening enchantments in this room. I try sending out an Inspect – making sure not to touch either of the other humans in the room – but too many things in this room are haloed in green. My Inspect can’t tell me whether they’re all listening enchantments or, most likely, a mixture of different types of enchantment.

  While I was using Inspect, the Genealogist placed his hand once more on the page and this time it flashes with gold and a number of symbols appear briefly before they fade.

  “Magical protections to prevent the document from being copied or falsified magically,” Nicholas murmurs to me, clearly seeing my curiosity. This must be the magical ID that he talked about prior to my adoption.

  The Genealogist hands the page over to me with a bow.

  “Lord Titanbend, Lord Markus, is there anything else I can do for you today?” he asks, still with a level of formality.

  “No, thank you Ser Delvir for your aid,” Nicholas answers on my behalf.

  “It was my pleasure. Peace and Prosperity be with you in your future business,” the Genealogist – Ser Delvir, apparently – offers, then bows us out of his office with a firmness that makes me think that we wouldn’t have been welcome if we had had other business.

  “An interesting character,” I comment when the door closes behind us.

  “Indeed,” Nicholas agrees, “but someone the palace will much miss when he eventually passes. Though he’s likely to outlive me so perhaps I will not see the chaos that eventuates.” I frown briefly at that, but he moves on before I can ask. “I was intrigued by what was detailed in your Records page,” he comments. “It occurs to me that I have not yet heard the full tale of what you overcame in the other world since our lunch before was interrupted by the messenger. Perhaps I could hear it tonight over dinner?”

  “Sure,” I agree, though I can't help a certain amount of dread from going through me at the thought. He’s now officially made me his heir – he can’t back out now if he decides he doesn’t like what I’ve done with the Class, I tell myself.

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