On its cover was a tangle of thin lines, like a complex maze or a doodle drawn during a very long, boring lecture. Above it were the words The Book of Xarcrax, and I was immediately a little embarrassed for both the author of the book and everyone who’d purchased it. They’d named their god like a goddamned mini-boss in a video game. Bas had the bedroom of a high school jock, but if the dudes on the football team saw this, he’d be saddled with a permanent and shameful nickname within minutes.
