I relaxed for the first time in days as I walked through the grove.
 

Through my years of exploring, I’ve learned to walk silently because I see so much I'd miss otherwise. I see baby birds in the trees, and I get to see deer and rabbits on the ground.
 

But that day my silent approach didn't make any difference about what I saw. Looking through the trees ahead, I saw two people—a man and a boy. The man had bright red hair. He was at least a foot taller than me and extremely, skinny like all the other phantom people I'd seen. But he looked like he could break me in half without trying. His face was odd, with high cheekbones and eyebrows that arched high up on his forehead. He had a long, thin nose and a pointed chin. He was wearing a black robe of some kind with pants underneath, with worn out sandals. He looked like a hippie.

​

When I got closer, I saw that the other one wasn’t a boy. Her clothes were like the man’s except she wasn't wearing pants and her robe fell past her knees like a dress. It was a light blue. She had long, sun streaked brown hair. I couldn't see her face real well because she was bent over, looking at something on the ground.
 

The girl was working on some kind of pattern that spread across the ground, and the man was bent over watching what she was doing. Whatever they were working on was made of sticks and rocks and pieces of colored string. She was adding branches and colored feathers. It was about the size of my bed, and it was incredibly detailed and looked ancient. There were layers of old, dried sticks and faded feathers. It was like something you would see in a museum, but with new pieces mixed in.
 

I reached them as the man picked up a stone and set it into the pattern. Then the girl looked up at the man and said something. She had the same thin face and sharp features as the man, but on her, they were beautiful.
After she stopped talking, she looked back at the picture on the ground and I followed her eyes, examining it more closely. I wondered what it meant and why my mind had invented it and them. That's when I saw that half of the pattern wasn’t actually there—it was here. It was a mixture of a real pattern, and the rest was another of my hallucinations.
 

The other people I've imagined never seemed quite right. Their colors were a little washed out, and something always said they weren't real. But here, they look so solid it’ was hard to tell they weren't real. Maybe it was me—maybe I was getting worse.
 

The man was pointing out something in our part of the picture to the girl. I looked at the stone he put down a minute before and moved my hand toward it. I knew it wasn’t real, but suddenly I needed to know how it felt. As my hand passed through it, I feel a painful tingle like my hand was being poked by hundreds of tiny needles. It felt like when my foot falls asleep except it was a lot worse.
 

I jerked my hand back. But a second later, I was reaching for the stone again. There wasn't anything special about it. It was just a round, grey stone. It looked a little bit rough, and there was a band of lighter, almost white running through it. It was about the size of a softball except flatter. I don’t know why it grabbed me, but it did. I reached out to it again, thinking about touching it, thinking about holding it.
 

Then I felt its rough surface under my hand. It wasn’t as heavy as it looked, and my hand moved it a couple of inches. They both stared, and the man reached out to put it back into place.
 

I fell to my knees. I was sweating and all my muscles ached. I could barely breathe and felt like I'd just finished an hour of track practice.
 

That was . . . different.
 

I know I touched it, but how could I? It wasn't real.
 

I was sitting on the ground, trying to get my bearings when I heard a noise behind me. I looked up in time to see an old man leaning on a cane, step into the clearing. I thought he was another one of the ghosts until he spoke.
 

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" His voice sounded rough like he didn't use it very often. 
 

"Huh? I mean I'm sorry. I've got to go." I was already on my feet, but the old man was blocking the path out of the clearing.
 

"Wait a minute boy. I asked who you are."
 

If I answer his question, maybe he'll let me go. "I-I’m Jordan McKee. I was walking in the woods and saw this pattern thing on the ground. Do you know what it is?"
 

He took a step toward me, but I stepped away from him. He seemed weird. I mean, why would anybody wear a long coat in May?
 

"You must go away. This is a sacred place, so be careful not to disturb anything on your way out of the grove."
 

As he said this, he looked at me and then back the way he came. It was like he was making sure that I hadn’t messed up his precious sacred grove, whatever that meant.
 

I was walking past him when I asked the question that changed everything. "Okay, but what’s this pattern on the ground for? It looks really old."



He looked at me and then back the way he came. I think he was hoping I would leave, but when I didn't he replied, "It is something I play with when I come out here." He paused again. "Maybe someday, I will get it filled in so that it is solid."

​

He spoke carefully like English wasn’t his original language. He had a little bit of an accent, but I couldn't tell where he was from.
 

"What do you mean? It looks finished now. I can’t even see the ground through most of it."
 

I've never had anybody in my life stare at me like that. It felt worse than when Coach was mad at me during practice. Oh no, I told him that I can see the part that isn't real.
 

Finally, he spoke. "You can see the sigil? All of it?"
 

All of it? I had to know what he meant. I was nervous and suddenly my forehead felt damp as I told him about what I saw. "Yeah, I can see our part, but you mean you can see the ghost part where the man—"
 

"Is this the first time you have seen both sides of a sigil?"
 

"You mean you can see it too?"
 

He lifted his cane up like he was going to hit me and said, "Answer me boy! This is more important than you can know and I don’t have time to deal with your questions."
 

My heart was pounding and I wanted to run away. I knew I could outrun him, but I needed answers.
 

"Uh, yeah I’ve never even seen one of these before but I have seen-"
 

"How clear is the sigil when you look at it?"
 

"What do you mean?"
 

"How clear are the parts that are in the shadow?"
 

I looked up at the trees blocking the sun and said, "I don't understand, it's all in shadow."
 

"Don't toy with me boy, I want to know if you have ever seen the parts of the sigil that aren't here?
 

"I’m trying to answer, but some of the words you are using don’t make any sense. I’ve spent the last two days thinking I was crazy, and suddenly I find somebody else that can see these phantoms— you called them shadows. But what’s a sigil?"
 

"Sometimes I forget what it was like when my vision first awakened. But before I can answer your questions you must answer mine. Your answers will tell me what I can reveal. The pattern on the ground is a sigil. It tells a story that changes over time. Part of it is here, and the other part is in the shadow."
 

"What is a shadow?" I asked.
 

"I cannot answer that yet," the man said, looking at me curiously. "But I can tell you that it is real and if you can see it, you are very rare and special."
I have to know what he won't tell me. "But how does the shadow part change?"
 

"If you need a name, call me Alwyn. But perhaps you should call me sir. It might be more appropriate than you know." He seemed happy about something.
 

"But Mr. Alwyn-"
 

"Just Alwyn."
 

"Okay Alwyn, what does the sigil tell us?" I asked.
 

"I told you that I won't tell you everything. As a matter of fact, you already know everything that I can tell you today. If you want to learn more, you will have to wait."
 

I was getting frustrated. He knew what was happening to me but wouldn't tell me. "Wait for what? I have to know what’s happening to me."
 

Suddenly Alwyn seemed to draw himself up, and he looked angry. His eyebrows came down and he was squinting at me. He leaned forward and said, "Listen to me boy, you’re not doing too well on your first test. You do what I tell you to do. You tell me what I want to know. If I think you need to know something I will tell you. If you follow my rules, we will get along. If we get along, you’ll get a life beyond anything you have ever imagined. But if you cross me, I’ll pay you back in kind. A small error costs you a little bit of learning. Disobedience will hurt you. Betray me, and you pay for the rest of your life. This gift of yours can be the greatest blessing you will ever receive, or the worst curse, and it’s all up to me."

​

I didn’t know what to do. I had to know what was happening, but he scared me.
 

Then the wind changed and I saw the shadow wind change a few seconds later. At about the same time, the wind delivered the stench of Alwyn to me. My eyes watered and I almost lost my lunch. The smell of old sweat and cheap booze was overwhelming. There were other odors mixed in, but I didn't want to think about what they were. I edged around to get back upwind of him and to move closer to the trail out of the clearing.
 

"I think I better go now. It was interesting to meet you," I told him.
 

"Listen to me boy. Before you do anything rash, let me give you some advice. I told you about what will happen if you don’t do what I want. But if you obey me, then you will get to do things that most people only dream about. You will have as much power as you can earn. And if you work out, I will get another chance."
 

He leaned in close to me, but his breath got there first. I think I preferred the body odor. His breath was a mixture of the same cheap booze I'd smelled before, mixed with something rotten, and looking at his blackened teeth. I had a pretty good idea what it was.
 

"Once I knew that you could see both sides of the sigil it was too late for you to back out. We are both Watchers, and now you are mine. Go home and once I learn what I need to know, you will see me again. Until then, don’t talk to anybody about this. Do you understand me?"
 

He stopped talking and glared at me until I nodded my head.
 

"And don't even think about hiding. There can’t be too many teenagers named Jordan McKee living nearby. And I will bet that Jordan McKee has people he cares about. People he will protect from harm.

​

"I won’t talk to anybody, just leave my family alone," I said.
 

"That’s up to you—now go!" he said.
 

I went.