I met him when I was twelve years old. I didn’t think there was anything unusual about him, other than he talked to me like I was an adult instead of a little kid. It wasn’t until I was almost seventeen that I realized he always seem to guess what was on your mind. I remember once after I’d stolen something from a friend of ours, and we were all in a room with the person who’d been the victim of the theft was interrogating everybody. Most of us expressed great outrage at being accused, but he just nodded his head, giving the impression he understood something nobody else did. Eventually he looked at me and said, “don’t you think you should confess that you’re the thief.” I looked at him in utter disbelief. How did he know it was me? That’s what it was like to be around him. So it came as no surprise when I found out he was actually the Mystic of Cascadia. Only a mystic truly talented in the truthing could of figured out I was the thief. I made a vow that I would never lie while he was around. Afterward, he’d said to me, out of the blue,. “good choice not to lie while I’m around, chances are I’ll bust you.” I just stared at him in disbelief, feeling thankful I’d vowed to never lie again in his presence.