Paramythi I: City of Glass

Emvolo’s hustle and bustle would always die down around the afternoon, right before six O’clock. Most merchants would excuse themselves from Capitol or Tentrail and venture towards the villages outside of the city or straight through to Minoas rather than stay within the walls where Capitol’s men would be on patrol for Rebels after sundown.

The busy shops stationed in the lower parts of the city towards the inns and pubs would tend to stay open until midnight and the pubs themselves would only shut after four in the morning; which often gave Rebels a low cover whenever they went against Capitol’s wishes and stayed on the ground.

Capitol patrols never had the easiest time scouting in the lower parts of the city, mainly because so many of the lower classed citizens were pro-Rebellion and had special documents and permits which kept patrols out of certain buildings and pubs unless there was a warrant or evidence for the patrols to step foot inside. This had been a prioritised problem for Capitol’s citizens at first and Governor Phobos had arranged for a petition to allow any Capitol member to be able to walk through any threshold without explanation, but her ministers and the head of Emvolo’s council said this was perhaps a step too far and it heavily affected the rights of all citizens of Emvolo’s privacy, whether they live in Capitol or Tentrail.

Knowing the city would begin to die down at this hour was the perfect opportunity for Theo to return Neriah to her church. Gossip had surely been spread by now and news travelled fast despite the enormity of the city. Soon enough Capitol’s banks, spas and courthouses would be whispering about their precious Lady Neriah Kiska and how she allowed the Rebellion to swipe her off her feet and take her to the Rebellion base, despite the attack on the church seven years ago where she almost lost her own head to Rebel hands.

Returning the prophet back to her church would be a great reliever for the Rebellion, in Theo’s opinion. He could not have flown to the surface any quicker than he had, nor could he have been any more enthusiastic to kill the aircraft’s engine and jump out to open Neriah’s door and stand by, allowing the woman to climb out on her own without support.

“I thank you, Dante.” Neriah’s calm tone chimed like bells against the windy current. “The Rebellion will not be listed as unkind in my prayers any longer.”

“As long as your honest,” Theo smirked, elbow lazily supporting his weight against the aircraft. The gusty air swayed the curly white locks around his face and lifted the shawl he had draped around his shoulders, somehow making him look even smaller than that of his usual short, stocky appearance. “So long and all that.”

Neriah clasped her hands over her stomach, clearly resisting the urge to break her composure in order to tuck back the strand of hair swiping against her face. The wind was powerful around the church and always had been, mainly due to the open scene of things and the powerful waves crashing against the bottom of the cliff behind the holy building.

Neriah was used to the powerful feel of salty air nonetheless and actually felt calmer for having been blessed with its presence once again – even if it did affect her visage at times.

“May the Gods above watch over you and your friends, Theo Dante.” With a bow of her head, Neriah turned towards the church and took slow strides up the hill.

Theo followed every inch of the woman’s body with his eye. The way she moved made his skin crawl and the way she spoke made him want to scream. Her purity was nothing to acknowledge and he could never find himself liking her in any kind of aspect, not as a friend, not as an ally, not even as an enemy! He would find no joy in hating her with his guts, in fact it seemed an effort to hold this much disdain for one person alone.

Alas, even amongst his mental notes for hatred, he was still staring after her and had moved his sight downward, watching the sway of her hips and otherwise noting how alluring they were; as if he were staring into a pendulum. His chest tightened when he looked away.

Swallowing down his bundle of conflicting emotions, Theo stepped back, hauled himself into the aircraft and made himself comfortable in the driver’s chair. The urge to flick the engine on and fly back to base was like a strong itch which needed to be scratched, yet Theo was calm and collected as he stayed silent, merely content with the view of a lowering sun over the sea; waiting. The envelope Quincy had given him resting on the dashboard.

The celebration evening being held within the main floor of the Rebellion base was supposed to be a calm and welcoming way to praise Elias and the other youthful Rebels on their graduation. The mood would have been lighter and perhaps filled with cheer if a number of faces were visible among the crowd, including one of the very Rebels this party was being held for; Eris Crysanthe.

Her picture was shining amongst the walls, projected on a hologram offered by Quincy’s techniques and thus her memory was upheld during the celebration along with Alexis Iphigenia – who’s picture was also being shown alongside Eris’ smiling face.

The sun had been setting on the far side of the sea for the past half hour, just behind the church. The orange hues and daylight had been shadowed for the past few hours and the bright lights in the hall shone down over everyone who had chosen to dance, or at least socialise despite the tension among the younger Rebels.

The scene was still pleasant, even for Elias Kara who had stuck himself in a corner beside one of the large windows overlooking the city. His back fit against the cool glass and he shifted now and again upon the window perch he had hoisted himself on to. In his hand was a thick glass with fine detail and Rebellion brands lacing the sides, yet the contents were empty and he could not find the courage to move out from his ‘hiding spot’ to grab himself a refill.

He smiled whenever someone walked by, always making sure to raise his cup to his lips and pretend he was engrossed in his drink to stop himself from making conversation with anyone else. It worked like a charm, that is until Helios strolled over.

“The food is great here, as usual!” With a wide grin of sharp fangs, Helios took the spare perch of the window sill and made himself comfortable. “You enjoying yourself, buddy?”

Elias felt his fingertips tighten around his glass and he lowered it, unable to ignore the Faeman without raising suspicion. He sighed, looking down and stared intently at the polished tips of his shoes. “I guess. I just wish they could have held off on the date and let some people mourn.” Unaware he had spoken his thoughts aloud, Elias jumped when Helios blurted.

“Woah! I never thought you could get so snappy! I mean, yeah, you were acting kinda off back at the infirmary, but I guess it made sense because that woman was your sister and all…” Turning to his own glass, and having been oblivious to Elias’ surprised expression, he began swirling the dark drink lamely, clinking the ice cubes together every so often. “But I get what you mean. Psykhe seems to be taking things pretty badly, I think. She didn’t say anything to me when I went over to her. She just kinda…stared at me with those creepy eyes of hers, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Elias muttered, taking care in his words.

Raising his head, he attempted to scout Psykhe among the crowd and wondered how much glaring would come his way if he attempted to talk to her and ask her about what had happened. He understood that Alexis, the Rebel who had saved him from the Prowler attack at the docks, had died. It was a brief explanation which offered no real insight on what had happened at the church, in Elias’ opinion.

“I think she was close with her, in some way.”

“You mean Psykhe and Eris?” Asked Helios.

“No, not…” Biting his tongue, Elias forced himself to hold back Eris’ name and swallowed down the dry nerves in his throat. Exhaling, he tried again, “...no, not her. Alexis, the Rebel who passed away yesterday.”

“Oh, right.” Helios pressed the lip of his glass to his mouth and when he spoke, the echoes of his words bounced off the glass’ walls. “I guess everything’s caught up with her, y’know? Like, she was close enough to Eris after giving her that speech and snapping her out of her breakdown at Eirini, then she made friends with Alexis and now she’s waiting for her partner to heal up so they can start mission together; maybe she’s afraid of losing someone else so soon.”

Elias pulled his eyes away from the crowd. “Psykhe has a partner?” He felt his lips curve into a smile. “When did that happen?”

Helios’ wide, colourful eyes peered towards Elias. He finished up the contents of his drink and grinned, nudging his friend playfully. “Oh, come on, you didn’t hear? Ri and Psykhe are partners now. Mister and Misses Zyki sent out the message to our MDUs, look!”

Placing his cup down on the sill, Helios pulled out his MDU and signed in. The holographic image of his background came up, displaying a picture of himself, Elias, Psykhe, Riyo and Eris from their Graduation Day a few months ago. His long fingers moved skilfully across the screen, bringing up the messaging service from their superiors and he clicked on the top notification, marked as important. Once opened, Helios swiped his finger across the surface and the image popped out, duplicating itself in the space in front of Elias. Using both hands, Helios expanded it in front of him for Elias to see and grinned, the blue hue from the blown-up screen illuminating the features of his face.

“What has Riyo said about this?” Elias mumbled, reading over the names attached to each other. Sure enough, the duo Trezla Psykhe and Midas Riyo had been connected and their faces were placed beside each other.

“To be honest, we haven’t really spoken much since we were advised by Neoma to get back to our rooms and rest up. I think they keep getting out of bed and strolling around, to be honest.” Helios hummed, scrolling down the message. “Anyways, if you didn’t know about Ri and Psykhe, then you didn’t know about this either, am I right?”

Elias leant forward, reading over the rest of the message and paused. He could not help another smile from creeping onto his lips. In clear formatting read Kara Elias and Artemis Helios with their faces beside each other, displaying their newfound unit.

“I’m your partner, buddy!” Helios laughed, “and you had no idea.”

Elias felt relief and guilt at the same time. Kane must have known Helios was Elias’ new teammate. During their previous conversation, Kane had been referring to Helios when suggesting Elias should talk with his partner in times of need. Such a weight as that being lifted made Elias feel renewed and he glanced towards Helios, a similar grin gracing his own features as that of his partner.

“Sorry for not realising before.”

“No harm done,” Helios clapped his hand against Elias’ back and shut off his MDU. “You wanna go join the party now?”

Elias looked back down to the empty cup in his lap. “Sure.” Hopping off the window sill, while Helios simply moved forward to get to his feet for being so tall, Elias pointed towards the buffet and shook his empty glass. “First I need a drink.”

“Sure thing,” Helios grabbed his own glass from the window and waltzed across the hall. “After your drink, we should try and find Ri. I mean, tonight’s supposed to be for all of us, right?”

Elias looked up from his glass, aware of the blurred motion from the corner of his eye which could only be known as Psykhe. She was moving with determination, just as she always did, and made her way towards one of the large windows where the least people seemed to huddled around. Her back was turned to Helios and Elias, which perhaps meant she had not even noticed the duo among the crowd at all as opposed to her ignoring their presence altogether.

“We should hang out with Psykhe after that. The four of us should be together, even if Eris can’t be part of it.” Suggested Elias. “I know she might not wanna talk to us, but she’s gonna have to deal with our presence; at least for tonight.”

Helios laughed. “Hey, your true colours are showing. It’s kinda funny how aggressive you can get.”

Keeping his lips tight, Elias concentrated on pouring himself a new drink and grabbed himself a paper plate. Helios followed suit and began piling his plate with bread, pickles and various pieces of cheese and meat. Aggressive or not, Elias would make tonight something special; something worth remembering during his time as a Rebel.

Neriah stepped over the threshold of the church with a slow, cautious step.

Her hands had tightened against her stomach, knuckles turning white as she examined the interior of the church and held back the sickness in her stomach. The ceiling was utterly ruined and what remained of it lay upon the ground in a sheet of dust. Emvolo’s grand reminder to its people no longer shone brightly through colour and glass, but instead could be swept off the floor with an eager cleaner and a mop. The most horrifying sight was perhaps the grand statue of Emvolo’s gracious God looming over the altar, covered in blood and riddled with loose chains; chains which Neriah was not foreign to and could recall keeping them locked away in the back room, only to be used on those who were facing the gallows.

Walking down the aisle, Neriah tried her hardest to ignore the blood splattered across the floor and over the numerous benches. She was thankful for the lack of dead bodies and was perhaps even more thankful for her own body not being laid to death here. Guilt would still burden her now, for her own life was spared on account of two lives lost and a handful injured.

“Milady Prophet?”

Neriah turned her head, expression rendering to her usual mask of peace and tranquillity. When her eyes landed upon the youthful faces of two men sitting upon the dusty benches, she smiled and bowed her head, vaguely wondering how she could have missed them. “Greetings, might I be of assistance in these hard times?”

The older of the two men narrowed his hard eyes. “Milady, where were you? Rumour has it you joined arms with the Rebellion and left your people in sorrow.”

The other man nodded and stood up, waving a free hand around him. “The church! Look at what the Rebellion did in your absence, Milady. Surely the Gods will strike them out of the sky for good now.”

“There will be no need for the Gods to trouble themselves with such tasks. The Rebellion mean well, I assure you.” Neriah soothed, her voice gentle and sincere as always. “The Rebellion merely sheltered me during an enemy attack, their intentions were justified and they shall not be labelled as criminals in my thoughts any longer.”

“But Milady Prophet, was it not Sir Trezla who foresaw this type of outcome?” The older spat, also coming to a stand beside their companion. “Did he not say ’Join arms with criminals and the house of Gods would pay’?”

Neriah inwardly sighed. Her patience was unironically that of a saint and she shook her head, hands rising against her chest as if she were reciting a small prayer. “I am afraid to say it was Sir Trezla’s actions which led to the destruction of our church. His man servant was responsible for the slaughter of my fellow prophet sisters and thus led the havoc here to Emvolo.”

The two men exchanged glances, a mix of confusion and possible sorrow filled the watery essence of their eyes. Neriah was comforted with the thought she had gotten through to them and that they would leave without further questioning her disappearance and anything else which might have become suspicious to the city. Alas, their expressions did not remain satisfied for long and they stepped out from the benches, standing tall and broad with fury towards their prophet.

“Milady, could it be that you have been lying to us? To the whole city?” Questioned the man on the left, practically hissing every syllable through his teeth.

The other man stepped forward and balled his fists. “Were your prayers all false? Are you not Blessed, Milady? Or perhaps you are as false as your teachings!”

Neriah was speechless, her eyes wide. She could feel the hammering of her chest rapidly pulsate against her enclosed hands and she stepped back, away from the anger radiating from the men she had been eager to comfort only seconds ago. With every retreating step she took, the two men would only step closer, keeping that horrid aura of anger flowing between them until Neriah stopped, her back brushing against something – someone.

“Here I thought you people talked with the prophet in a respectable manner, never would have guessed otherwise.”

Neriah looked down, recognising the lazy tone of Theo Dante almost as quickly as she had noticed his presence behind her. Without a word, she stepped aside and allowed the Rebel to confront the two civilians, knowing he would not attack them or cause them harm unless given a solid reason.

The men seemed taken aback; one had even taken an abrupt step away from Theo in surprise. Their wide, seeking eyes did not know where to look first, Theo’s curling horns against either side of his head, the white curls of his hair or the Rebellion brand etched into the belt hanging loosely from his wide hips.

“You boys gonna scram now and leave the lady to her, I dunno…mourning?” Waving a hand hopelessly through the air, Theo gave the church a glance and mentally beat himself up over the fact he could not have been here to prevent some of the bloodshed and destruction. He had yet to be given the whole report from Enzo on what had happened to cause this much damage; though he had guessed it had been bad after seeing Tovi on a stretcher being rolled to the infirmary upon arrival. “If you wanna at least remain faithful to something, you best leave, is all I’m trying to say.”

With hard eyes and stiff jaws, the duo walked past Theo and ventured outside of the church. Their glare never seemed to leave Neriah’s skin the whole time they moved and the words they grunted under their breath would perhaps haunt Neriah for the rest of her life;

“Rebel scum, the both of ’em.”

Theo stifled a yawn once he was certain the duo had left for good. He dragged his boots across the dusty ground, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the red splats soaking up the dusty particles across the ground. Everything looked fresh and old at the same time, making it difficult for Theo to analyse the scene clearly.

“Two people died here because of me.” Neriah admitted in a quiet, almost inaudible voice.

“Don’t forget about the man who may never be able to walk again,” Theo commented bluntly. He leant back against the nearest bench and looked up, idly making out the outlines upon the God statue where Calix had been tied up. “Plenty of injured, too.”

Neriah made no remark at first. Theo began to suspect the woman was on the brink of tears again and he sighed, tearing his gaze away from the statue to look at her. Much to his surprise, she was not holding back tears. She was not holding anything back, it seemed. She was praying. Her eyes were closed, her lips were moving with the prompt of silent words and her head was bowed.

“You asking for forgiveness?” Theo muttered, having waited patiently until the woman had finished. As much as he had no regard for prayer and religion like most, he was not cruel enough to torment or intrude on others for their beliefs.

“I am not,” Neriah replied, lowering her hands against her stomach and any from her chest. “I was asking for the Gods above to watch over us and those who did not see the sunrise.”

Theo held his tongue for what felt the longest time in his life. Of all the things he disliked about Neriah, the thing he despised the most would be her knack to prove him wrong about every reason he had to dislike her.

“Let’s go.” Pushing off the bench, Theo straightened up and turned towards the open doors. “It’ll be sundown soon.”

“I belong down here, Dante.” Neriah waved a hand, motioning for the man to walk away without her. “I thank you for the offer but my people need me down here.”

Theo scoffed. “Hate to break it to you, but ‘your people’ are gonna be quick to spread rumours and stories about you. You don’t belong down here anymore, not after being up there,” jabbing a flexed finger through the air, Theo pointed towards the outline of the base hovering low over the city, “you don’t get to come back after being free.”

Neriah’s eyes followed Theo’s finger, chest rising and falling slowly. She pulled her gaze away, “I assume Ruskin had foreseen such a turn of events? This would be why you waited, yes?”

“Sure is,” Theo chuckled and hopped over the threshold. He pulled an envelope from his breast pocket and handed it over. “Kane got Quincy to deliver this while I was chaperoning you up at the base. It’s your base pass as a member of the Rebllion,” he extended his hand. “He’s currently getting a number of his best guard to set up a room for you. You’ll be staying with us indefinitely and we’ll offer full service to fly you down to your church to give speeches, services and whatever else it is you do on holy days here in the church.”

Neriah found herself reaching for the envelope. She was unable to pause in order to question why her legs moved swiftly through the long grass down the hill after the man. “If Ruskin had this planned, then why did you not inform me of this before our departure?” Her voice had raised over the gusts of wind and her hair moved rapidly, swatting her face and neck.

Theo paused and looked back. He shrugged a shoulder, “Kane wanted you to see how Emvolo’s people viewed you after what happened. Sure, you’re always gonna be Blessed, you’re always gonna be a Prophet, but not to them. Not anymore, at least.”

Neriah’s brows knit together, if only for a second. Her pained expression never seemed to last longer than needed and her words would cover up any possible cracks tearing away her picture-perfect mask.

Theo was resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “Come on, we gotta go before—”

“Dante!” Neriah raised her voice an octave higher and extended her hand towards the aircraft swooping down, hovering directly over Theo’s craft, thus making it impossible for them to get away. “Capitol troops,” blue eyes glanced back to the sea, “it’s not even sundown yet.”

Stifling the urge to curse aloud, Theo put a hand on his hip just inches above the knife holster strapped under the darkness of his shawl. “Yeah, but these guys like to get their message across before bedtime.” He winked in Neriah’s direction, easily passing it off as a blink since the shape of his right eye remained covered under his eyepatch. “Things might get hairy, is all.”

“It doesn’t have to be, Dante.” A serious tone escaped Neriah’s throat and she stepped forward, shielding Theo’s shorter body from the Capitol aircraft just as the hatch popped open and a long ramp lowered itself, barely missing the curve of Theo’s craft beneath it by a mere inch. “I am quite acquainted with the Governor’s men, allow me to speak on your behalf.”

A collection of faces appeared from the darkness of the aircraft and a handful of soldiers adorned in gold armour and ruby shields stepped out. Their footsteps were precise and their formation was no doubt practised. Long spears and swords made up their armoury, thus defeating Theo’s idea of stabbing them all with a knife to get to his aircraft. Finally, a tall soldier stepped out from the small crowd and the collective soldiers stepped aside, allowing their commander to walk down the ramp and greet Neriah and Theo.

“Lady Neriah Kiska and Theodore Dante, I never would have imagined the two of you would be in the same presence after the last incident,” a short sigh left the commander, albeit muffled by the cover of their black helmet. It was an interesting contrast between the gold plating their troops wore as opposed to the black armour adorning their visage. “Might I ask why you’re down here, Theodore?”

“Not much, shouldn’t you be babysitting the Gov’s party tonight, Kybele? Why’re you out so late?” Theo skipped around Neriah, a grin on his face. The height difference between himself and the black-armoured solider would have made anyone else cower away – anyone but Theo. “Sun isn’t down yet, champ.”

“The attack on the church last night raised questions from the civilians, they’re blaming the whole thing on your Rebellion, Theodore.” The black-clad soldier raised their hands and untucked the helmet from their head, thus exposing a pale complexion, ebony hair and dark eyes. Their visage was particularly feminine, although questionable in Neriah’s eyes. “Phobos didn’t deploy her men when reports suggested Rebellion aircrafts were parked outside the church. Clearly she didn’t want to get her hands dirty and decided to wait for the outcome on your behalf, now the church – or what is left of it – is in shambles and the bank received a distressed call an hour ago from a local farmer who claimed to have seen you landing outside of the church with the Lady Prophet.”

“So Phobos decided to bring a whole squad down now, when one Rebel steps foot on Emvolo soil, and decides to let her troops go home early yesterday when people were dying and risking their lives for the sake of her city?” Theo flashed his sharp teeth, a dry laugh escaping him. “What a great leader you’ve got there.”

“Do not speak of our Governor like that, Rebellion scum!” One of the golden guards spat, armour-clad hand gripping their spear with intention of fight.

Neriah stepped forward, intervening the possible start of a fight. She clasped her hands across her stomach, as per usual, and bowed her head with a smile. “Greetings. As you are aware, my name is Neriah Kiska, please might you tell me your name and what you intend on doing with my partner here?” Her soft voice and patient composure killed the previous tension and the air seemed clear again.

Clearing their throat, the black-clad soldier offered a bow of their head. Their thin lips pulled back into a grim line when they spoke, “I am the Governor’s advisor and second-hand commander, Phoenix Kybele. Milady, I’m afraid I was only called to investigate the scene with caution, but as Theodore poses no true threat in this light, there will be no charges.”

“In that case, Commander Phoenix, it will be my responsibility to inform you that Dante and I shall be returning to the Rebellion base as soon as you and your troops move your aircraft,” Neriah raised her head. “If you would be so kind as to pass this news along to Governor Phobos?”

“Yes, Milady Prophet.”

“Would you also mention my new location to the Governor? I shall now be within the Rebellion base permanently and shall return to Emvolo soil only to grant the people with any preaching they might be in need of.”

Phoenix raised a dark brow. “Does this mean you are a Rebel now, Milady?”

Neriah nodded. “Indeed, Commander. It does.”

“Very well, Milady.” Phoenix bowed and gestured for the golden-clad troops to head back into the aircraft. A sigh left thin lips and Phoenix reattached their own helmet upon their head. “May the Gods above watch over you, Milady Prophet.”

“May they watch over you, Commander.” Neriah smiled warmly and stepped back, joining Theo’s side. She waited patiently for Phoenix and Capitol’s troops to retreat and for their ramp to withdraw before she turned, her white hair shifting madly against the gust of wind. “You are well acquainted with Commander Phoenix?”

“Oh, yes. Most certainly.” Theo smirked. His hand withdrew from his knife holster and he stepped forward, resisting the mighty urge to flip his middle finger to the sky as the Capitol aircraft flew away. “A few years ago, during the Minoas break-in, a great deal of Capitol soldiers were taken hostage and slaughtered on camera. When the leaks got out, the Governor assumed it was the Rebellion taking it a step too far, but later found out it was actually rogues and brigands who had lost their estates and fortune from Minoas’ depression, so they were going around taking it out on other families and other capitols – which eventually brought them here to Emvolo.”

“And how did you come to meet the commander through that?” Asked Neriah, moving towards the aircraft. “I assume you met due to similar circumstances? Perhaps the Capitol’s troops were sent out to the field and you had to work together in order to address the problem?”

Theo scoffed and hauled himself into the aircraft. “Hardly,” he closed the door behind him and started the engine. After Neriah climbed inside, he began to take off. “Phoenix was one of the soldiers that were taken hostage by the rouges. I saved ’em, but only right after the head of the brigands, Dionysus, decided to castrate Phoenix. Talk about being ’less of a man.’”

Neriah’s pale cheeks turned a deep colour of pink and she looked down, doing her best to uphold her neutral expression and keep her lips from quirking. “Oh…I see.” Unable to find anything else to say, Neriah folded her hands over her lap and decided to remain silent for the rest of the trip.

Enzo had socialised with his fellow Rebels during the first hour of their celebration evening. He had been quick to tie up conversations and move on to something more peaceful, which involved him standing by the window with a plate full of assorted foods in one hand and a cold glass of pineapple juice in the other.

He took great enjoyment watching the sun set over the sea, it was perhaps his second greatest pleasure in life; his first being something he seemed a stranger to ever since Syra was taken from him.

Tugging his eyes away from the window, Enzo looked away. He was ready to venture back into the crowd now that the sun had disappeared for another night and would have done so in a matter of moments if not for Tovi’s abrupt presence.

“Woah, you’re okay to be…moving around?” Enzo blurted. His eyes travelled over the man sitting in a wheelchair, wearing the same motionless face as always – albeit battered and bruised – and felt the urge to step forward and wheel him back to his room for recovery. “Didn’t Neoma say you should take a whole day’s rest before you tried moving?”

Tovi rolled a shoulder, ignoring the pain it must have caused his bandaged neck. “She said it was my choice,” the cracked edge of his accent rang through the air and his bruised face somehow settled with content when he leant back against his chair, hands dangling either side. “I wanted to thank you.”

“Tovi, you’ve got no reason to thank me. I barely helped and you nearly—” Trailing off, Enzo turned his gaze down to his full hands and bit his tongue.

“Died?” Tovi offered. “Yes. Nearly.”

“Geez, man. Take a hint.” Enzo grumbled. He took a hefty swig from his glass and swirled it in his mouth as if to hold back the possibility for him to make further conversation with the other man. “Can I just ask... what made you kill that guy? After the whole fight, you could have destroyed him earlier before things got so intense. Why would you lose your wings like that?”

Tovi’s brows rose; the only attempt he offered as a remark of surprise. Holding back on his reply, Tovi rolled his wheels forward and examined the land below before he offered anything akin to a response. “I did not wish to kill him, for I do not wish to continue blood slaughter for the sake of our own winnings. I had hoped he would change his ways, or perhaps find it in himself to renown himself and surrender.” Green eyes flickered up towards Enzo’s face and Tovi nodded. “My hopes put you in danger, Vincent. I put my own brother in danger due to my hopes. In order to save you all, I had to put my ideals to rest and ignore all of my senses; other than survival. Mercy was not an option towards the end and my actions cost Alexis’ life.”

“Wait, you can’t possibly be blaming yourself for that!” Enzo grit his teeth. “Karnya was insane and you were just being a good guy for letting him live, even if just for a little longer. But you know what the prophet said; if she hadn’t have died that night, someone else would go in her place. The Gods above had already decided Alexis’ fate that night before she stepped foot in the church, it wasn’t because of you.”

Tovi looked taken aback. “I did not think you were a religious man, Vincent.” Rolling back, Tovi turned towards the crowd and searched the numerous faces with little interest. “I thank you.”

“There’s nothing to thank me for…” Enzo trailed off, shaking his head. He swallowed up the rest of his drink and left his glass on the window, leaving him with a free hand to pluck food from his plate and shovel into his mouth. “Come on. Let’s go find the others. Hey, did I ever mention Kane was cool with our new pet phoenix, we just can’t tell Ciiria, ’kay?”

Tovi smirked and turned his chair towards the crowd. “Okay.”

From across the room, Elias and Helios had located Riyo. The conversation they had engaged themselves with had varied greatly from the quality of the food to the dullness of the party and, finally, to how Psykhe had been acting so distant throughout the evening.

Psykhe was by far the most distant out of the youthful Rebels, yet she would never miss the opportunity to stand among her fellow troops; even if she was not encouraged to offer them a word of recognition.

“Why don’t you go and talk with her, Ri?” Helios finally suggested. “I mean, you and her are like partners now.”

Riyo had been chewing on a cherry stem, having found the fruit bowl on the buffet table long before they started their conversation. When Helios spoke, Riyo scoffed, spitting the useless stem down onto their empty plate. “I don’t even think she knows I’m her partner. It’ll just be awkward if I opened my mouth now.”

“Then we’ll go over there as a group,” Elias said. His large eyes were hopeful. “This night is supposed to be for all of us, it would just be wrong to leave her out of it.”

“Yeah, what Elias said.” Helios grinned and urged Riyo away from the table. “We just won’t mention the church incident, or anything like that, okay?”

“Whatever,” Riyo grunted. They hurriedly stepped away from Helios and Elias, swiftly cutting across the room before anyone could stop them and, without hesitation, tapped Psykhe’s shoulder. “Everyone wants your attention, Trezla.”

Psykhe looked back, her expression a tad baffled. When Riyo’s blunt expression was notified, along with Elias and Helios’ movements closing in behind them, Psykhe stepped back and cocked a brow. “Oh, really? Why is that?”

“I guess it’s all because tonight’s supposed to be for us, so we should act happy together?” Riyo shrugged. “Oh, also, you and I are partners now.” Mumbling, they stepped aside to allow room for their friends.

Psykhe nodded, having received the notification earlier. “Helios, I am glad to see you’re looking well.” Waving a hand towards the young man in question, Psykhe added; “how do you feel?”

“No bad, I guess. The Doc couldn’t really supply me with many elixirs, so I’ve got this scar in the centre of my stomach-” lifting up his shirt with no shame, Helios motioned around the fresh, pink marking just above his bellybutton, “-and I guess my Fae genes have kicked in and mended everything else.”

“You really shouldn’t exploit yourself like that, Helios,” Elias muttered, gingerly tugging Helios’ shirt back down. “We have to represent the Rebellion, after all.”

“It’s fine, man. No-one was looking.”

Psykhe looked away from the two and back to Riyo. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared with her intense gaze. “And you, Midas? Your shoulder was damaged by Twyla’s magick, wasn’t it?”

Riyo shrugged, placing a hand over the spot in question. “S’fine. Anyways, Helios and Elias wanted to spend time with you.”

Elias finally turned his attention onto Psykhe and forced a smile. “I figured it was only right since tonight is supposed to be for us and, well, Eris.”

“Someone’s gotta keep her memory in the Rebellion, right?” Helios’ wide smile tore away the unease growing in the air and closed the space between the four of them. “I wanna do that with smiles though, okay? Enough of this soppy crap.”

Psykhe chuckled and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Agreed.”

“You wanna dance?” Helios’ eyes went wide with hope and he stepped forward, hand extended. “I mean, the music’s kinda not dance-y, but we can make it work.”

“I’m sure it will be fine. Though I should warn you, I haven’t danced in years.” Psykhe admitted, taking Helios’ hand with a light smile. Whether it was false to hide her mourning, the others could never be sure, nor could they gather the courage to question it.

“No worries, I haven’t danced in years either.” Helios flashed a toothy smile and waltzed off with Psykhe on his arm, easily falling into the rhythm of something akin to ballroom dance.

Elias tugged at the collar of his shirt. He was unsure whether to make conversation with Riyo now that Helios and Psykhe had left, or whether to stand in silence and wait for the duo to return. Even to this day, he was unable to read what kind of person Riyo Midas was and seemed even less able to attempt any kind of communication with them without making a fool of themselves or scaring them.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” Riyo sighed, breaking the silence forming between them.

Elias held back a gasp. “I, ugh, don’t actually know how to dance.”

Riyo shrugged, lowering their palm from their shoulder – having been rubbing the spot since Psykhe mentioned it – and stepped out towards the crowd. “Neither do I, but it doesn’t look that hard.” Pale eyes glanced back and they paused, expecting Elias to make the first move. “You can lead.”

A blush crossed Elias’ face. He hoped the burning sensation did not look as obvious as it felt, especially when he stepped closer to Riyo, took their hand and walked out to the dancefloor to start a rhythm beside Psykhe and Helios. Riyo’s blank expression somehow eased Elias and the young Rebel began to forget all of the bad which had occurred during his time at the Rebellion; even if it was for a short while.

The morning after the celebration evening, Elias was not awoken by his own intentions, but rather by the sounds of someone knocking on his door. It was a rapid sound, leaving no room for patience and thus heightened the urgency in Elias to get up and move from his bed and over to the wooden frame.

His hair was tousled and the black shorts he had worn to bed were tugged just a tad higher than they should be from his restless sleep. None of this would matter in the next minute, of course. The moment he opened the door and was confronted with Neoma’s face, he could only think of one thing.

Maxa.

“Kara, I’m sorry,” Neoma inhaled deeply and looked down. “Your sister went into cardiac arrest last night. I used all of my resources and worked for thirty minutes to bring her back. I’m afraid her wounds were too severe and she…passed away.”

It was perhaps the worst moment of Elias Kara’s life to be told that everything he had been striving to fight for could not even be saved.