Everything he had been told was a lie.
Since the day he was born, he was told that he was normal (if normal meant extraordinarily special). He was bright, clever and witty and had a great penchant for reading novellas. Despite the fact that he had always been told he was exceptionally brilliant, and crafty even, deep down he knew something about him didn’t make sense. Why was he so isolated? Why had he never met (or could even prove the existence of) the dynamic characters in his books? Where in the hell was everyone else?
He also knew that there was something very, very wrong with Kandar. His only link to the “outside world” was through the screen of a closed circuit television to a man that never seemed real. Sure, he could move his mouth with his words alright, but even when speaking to Landon in animated excitement, Kandar’s voice rang hollow. Landon knew something was off about him. His eyes were empty, his soul was blank. Or maybe the words had the soul and it was only his face missing it. But Kandar being all he had, he suffered this without comment, knowing someday he would know the truth.