Mapping Truth to Fiction

“It was a long time ago, when both us were undergoing similar, yet distinct changes. Your kind calls it the Tempest, we thought it was damnation. We didn’t know each other then, but as like stretches out toward like, we met in a grove outside of school. He didn’t call himself Caid back then…”

The Judge nodded but stayed quiet. The truth was like water, it flowed and could be shaped or diverted. One wrong word and it would dry up entirely. All he could do was stay alert and keep watch for clues or inconsistencies.

Charles went on. “Back then he was known as Jacob, but I don’t think that was his real name either. That grove was a place where time did not exist. It was a place of power and a place of peace. It was my last true home- at least on this side. What else did you want to know?”

“Did you have a name for it?”

“We called it the Hidden Fortress, after an old movie we saw together.” Charles smiled at the memory.

A scrap of paper was thrust in front of his face. “Might it have looked like this?”

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