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someone could sneak a note into one of them was if they had my lock combination—which, as far as I know, nobody does—or they snuck it in when I had it opened, but surely I would’ve noticed in that case?”

“So how did it end up there then?” asked Sarah. “Magic?”

“Why is it so hard to believe a note magically appeared in my locker,” said Max. “When every day we’re confronted by a freaking tower that appeared out of nowhere?”

This was the curious and frustrating question that every citizen of Zestiris who lived in the outer-rim had to confront day after day. How did one go about their daily life—full of all of its mundane activities—while unexplainable magic loomed over them and stared them right in the face in the form of a tower that had appeared out of thin air?

The tower had first appeared forty years ago in 2045. It emerged in the middle of nowhere on the northeastern coast of the United States, between Concord, New Hampshire and Boston, Massachusetts.

A decade later, a city with walls and rules had been erected around the tower, and that city came to be known as Zestiris.

The reasons for the tower’s appearance remained a mystery to this day.

“Yeah, that’s a good point,” said Sarah, pushing him along. “But how are you going to find your sister in the tower? Even people in the outer-rim can’t enter the tower-zone?”

“You mean most people,” said Max. “Some people can enter. The mayor. Politicians. Scholars. Archaeologists. People do get access to the tower. So that’s my goal. Study as hard as I can so I can get a job like that and get my way one step closer to the tower.”

“But what about all the monsters that exist in the tower-zone and the tower itself?” said Sarah. “Only climbers who can wield magic can survive in such a dangerous area. That’s why they have the walls in the first place.”

Two walls surrounded the city of Zestiris. There was the wall that surrounded the tower-zone and its inhabitants and then a greater second wall that encompassed both the tower-zone and the outer-rim.

“I’m not afraid of any of that,” said Max. “If Elle needs my help. I’ll go wherever I have to.”

Sarah went quiet behind him.

“That’s amazing, Max, really,” she said. “I wish I had a goal like that. A dream to pursue. All I think about is growing up and getting out of our orphanage. Away from Mr. Grimes.”

“Is he still looking at you weirdly?” said Max.

Sarah shuddered behind him. “He never stops.”

Their conversation soon moved onto lighter topics such as homework and random gossip from the students in Sarah’s year. Fifteen minutes later, they arrived back at the orphanage.

Sarah sighed. “Home sweet home.”

They were back in the foyer of the orphanage for less than thirty seconds when a horrible voice emerged.

“Look who’s come home? Useless,” said the voice.

That was Mr. Grime’s nickname for Max. Useless.

The group home manager appeared in the hallway. He was a slimy man with nostrils full of prickly nose hairs.

Mr. Grimes resented Max because his disability meant more paperwork and regulations to follow for the running of the group home.

The man came over and grabbed Max by the arm. He squeezed down right on Max’s bruises. The boy winced in pain.

“I received a phone call from your school today. You were bringing up the tower in class!? Talking about outer-rim citizens entering the tower-zone!?”

Max shrugged. He had asked a question during history class. He hadn’t thought it was a big deal.

“Are you crazy? If you weren’t in high school, the government would arrest you for that kind of talk.”

“I guess I’m lucky that I’m in high school then,” said Max. “Why aren’t we allowed to talk about the tower? It’s right in front of all of us. It’s crazy that we don’t talk about it.”

“Useless, Useless, Useless,” said Mr. Grimes, wiping his sweaty forehead with an already damp handkerchief. “I can’t talk to you any more. There’s work for you in the kitchen. Go.”

Max turned to wave goodbye to Sarah and made his way to the kitchen. When he got there, he found loads of dirty pots and pans to wash.

Mr. Grimes always gave Max work to do. “You have to work for your privilege to live here,” he always said.

There was no arguing with him. Mr. Grimes had power over his whole life. He could send him back to one of the larger orphanages, which were even more horrible. Or make a false claim of assault and have him sent to a juvenile center, which was no worse than a jail for teenagers.

So Max had to do Mr. Grimes’ bidding, unless he wanted to trade his crappy life for an even crappier one.

Max sighed and got to work on the dishes.

Two hours later when he finished all the chores, he could hear stomping sounds in another part of the group home.

“Sarah...” slurred a voice.

Uh oh.

It was Mr. Grimes. He was drunk and stumbling around the group home.

All the residents knew to avoid Mr. Grimes when he got intoxicated like this, and Max probably would have done the same, if it weren’t for the fact that the man was slurring the name of his only friend.

Max made his way to the end of one hall to get a better idea of what Mr. Grimes was up to.

The older sweaty man was leaning against a door, knocking against it.

It was the door to Sarah’s room.

“Sarah...” slurred Mr. Grimes. “I need to speak with you...”

Max did not like what he was seeing.

He accepted the blackmail Mr. Grimes lorded over him and the horrible tasks he made him do. A pile of dirty dishes was not something worth fighting over, but what if the group home manager made a similar threat to Sarah? But instead of dishes, he forced her to do something far worse...

Max had to stop this before it went even further.

“Hey!” he said, rolling into the hallway. “Leave Sarah alone!”

Mr. Grimes’ tilted his

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