Paramythi I: City of Glass

After the first aircraft had flown down to the church below, Psykhe had been unable to keep her eyes off of the holy construction’s outlines from her spot in the base, by one of its many windows. The sun was glinting brightly across the waves in bright, yellow sparkles along each stroke of water lapping against Emvolo’s border. Alas, it was not the sunset or the glittering ocean Psykhe was focused upon. Instead, she was pondering her brain for possibilities and making assumptions as to how Alexis would act during the mission, whether she would portray a sensible approach with tactics and thought-out plans, or simply head in with her guns ablaze and battle cry raging from her lungs.

Alexis was, in Psykhe’s opinion, rather unpredictable. Even after staying up until the early hours of the morning the previous night with Alexis, doing nothing but snacking from the gift basket and talking about their families, Psykhe still felt as though she did not know the woman. Thinking back on it now, Psykhe supposed Alexis had been the one to talk less. She served as a great listener, nonetheless, and helped Psykhe to express and pinpoint her feelings and resentment towards her brother.

As odd as it seemed, after speaking with Kane and Enzo, Psykhe found a relieving pressure escape from her chest whenever she spoke about Merine and their, or rather her, estate. It made the whole scenario feel less like a burden and more like what it truly was; the past.

Alexis had said, “everyone has different opinions on things, especially family. I think everyone’s entitled to different kinds of views on their parents, siblings and distant relatives, even if it isn’t true.”

When Psykhe replied with, “so, what’s your opinion on your family?” Alexis had merely smirked and snatched a snack from the basket to munch on, then changed the subject with charisma so subtle, Psykhe was unable to pick up on the discomfort until the fifth time Alexis averted the conversation away from her own family.

At one point, the pair had grown so fatigued during their conversation, they had ended up tangled in the thick duvet upon Psykhe’s mattress. The bed was large enough for both, yet they still managed to end up in awkward positions; Psykhe slumped over her own pillows with a leg dangling over the edge of her bed, and Alexis curled up at the foot of the bed with the duvet pulled over the top half of her body.

When a knock came at the door and Psykhe groggily shifted to answer it, she came face-to-face with Enzo who unloaded the news and explained the plans for the mission on the church. After that, they gathered for the briefing and got split into teams.

Now Psykhe stood with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the large window frame as her eyes paid close attention to the aircraft as it floated down and landed just outside the church, at the foot of the small hill.

“You got no faith,” Enzo chirped up as he approached Psykhe. “You look like it’s the end of the world or something.”

“I call it ′concern.’” Psykhe replied, refusing to take her eyes away from the window. “We have no clue if the prophets are being killed by one individual or a whole gang, yet we’ve devised a plan to send our people in blindly, hoping that we come out victorious nonetheless.”

“Fairly put,” Enzo shrugged and leant against the window frame, opposite from Psykhe. His own eyes glanced downward, following the small blurs of figures approaching the church. “But, hey, Tovi’s little brother’s down there right now, and you don’t see Tovi panicking.”

Psykhe pursed her lips and glanced over her shoulder, aware that Tovi was nearby. She found him perched upon a collection of crates labelled ‘AMMO’ and paid close attention to the way he stared downward, examining the bow laying in his lap as if it were the most important thing in the world.

“It’s part of his species, I suppose,” Psykhe commented bluntly. She turned her head back to the window and pressed her cheek against the golden frame, sighing hard enough to cause a cloud of condensation to form over the glass, blurring out the church. “They don’t sympathise as easily as we do, even to their own kind.”

Enzo’s brows rose. “You knew? I mean, you were able to tell, just like that?”

Psykhe took note of the way Enzo lowered his voice as he spoke and she spared a short glance towards him, head tilting. “I had no idea his identity was such a secret. I mean, I figured out he was a Guardian from Hera the moment we met. Guardians have a way of taking a vow of silence in dire situations, and he has never really engaged in long conversations while in my presence. I guess it was mere speculation, on my part. But I think your reaction kinda cleared things up.”

Gritting his teeth together, Enzo turned back to the view below. In a low tone of voice, he spoke up, “Tovi has a complicated past. A lot of it revolves around Hera’s Guardians and the way their Queen hunkered down and closed the Kingdom and its land up from the rest of the world. Tovi was against the Queen’s desires and he was banished from Hera,” pausing, the man assured himself that Tovi was not listening to them. He probably was. He always listened. “Tovi was young at the time of his banishment. After Hera’s Guardians exiled him, he fled the Kingdom with Ares, who was only small, and they crossed the borders of Dioscuri, Minoas, and eventually made it to Emvolo. Tovi lied upon the border, claiming that he and his little brother were human. Since then, Tovi’s not been one for speaking and, well, I guess Ares has no clue about his real identity…”

“Here in Emvolo, we had another word for the Guardians of Hera,” Psykhe said, somewhat at ease with the information Enzo had shared. “They would often visit my dreams and turn them into nightmares. The servants of the Trezla estate adored telling horror stories.”

Enzo nodded. “Yeah, Guardians are scary creatures, if they choose to be.” He frowned, “though I don’t think I ever heard of this second name. Is it solely Emvolo-dialect?”

Psykhe shrugged, “I don’t actually know where it derived from, but the citizens of Emvolo have always called them by their second name, rather than Guardians.”

“And what is their second name?”

Psykhe looked up towards Enzo. “Faeries.”

Theo stood in the corner of Ciiria’s grand lounge. He rarely set foot within the grand exterior, mainly since he could never understand the Chairwoman’s taste in gold and porcelain, especially when it resembled Capitol decor.

The floor stretched and curved in a large, circular design and the centre of the polished floorboards was covered with a thick layered velvet carpet. Atop the carpet was a low coffee table with a glass surface, granting permission to see right through. There was a large bookshelf tucked away against the wall to the left of the door and a dark green couch with polished wooden legs and arms tucked beneath the plush pillows and cushions neatly placed upon the furniture; which was precisely where Neriah Kiska sat, hands folded over her lap and posture upright with a perfection that made Theo grimace from the corner of the room.

“…Do you want something to drink?” The suggestion had been the only words offered within the last half hour, and Theo had been struggling to say it for the last ten minutes.

“No, thank you.” Replied Neriah. Her back was kept to Theo and her chin was raised; thus modelling her reputation for being utterly at ease with her surroundings, even after displaying such a weakness in her character earlier in front of the man behind her. “Your hospitality here is quite refreshing enough.”

Theo found himself irritable at such a remark, even if it was meant to be delivered without harm or offence. He supposed he would always find himself detested at the tone of voice Neriah used, the way she sat, the way she held herself above others. It made his stomach turn.

Another silence dragged on, possibly for another ten or fifteen minutes, before someone else stepped inside. Theo was unable to hold back his relief when the air shifted and someone else’s voice began bouncing off the hallways and filled his ears, rather than listening to his own thoughts and resist the urge to go mad.

“The captain would like a report on today’s activities,” Quincy said, stepping inside with a small smile. He resisted the urge to stare in Neriah’s direction and pulled out a small envelope from the pile of paper and documents stored under his arm. “He also wanted me to give you this.”

Theo frowned, arms staying down at his sides. He made no advance to take the envelope and turned his nose up to it. “What is it?”

Quincy rolled a shoulder, “I’m not really sure. I think it might be something like a list? I dunno, I wasn’t there to ask questions, just to bring the message along to you.” With a smile, the man slapped the envelope against Theo’s chest and held his lips in an upright position until Theo took it.

“I hate your optimism,” Theo grunted and ripped the envelope open with resentment.

“I wouldn’t call it optimism, per se.” Quincy laughed. “I would call it strong-will, I think.”

“Just get out of here.” Theo scoffed. A smirk tugged at his lips, despite the harshness to his voice, and he pulled a slip of paper out of the envelope in his hands. His eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” Quincy perked up and stepped to the right, neck craning to see whether he could catch sight of the paper’s contents.

“I thought you were simply delivering a message? I had no clue you were interested in the details.” Theo snickered and kept the envelope and slip of paper out of Quincy’s reach and sight. “Now, get going. You look like you’ve got a lot of homework to do.”

Quincy sighed and gave a small glance towards the papers tucked under his arm. “Yes, well, this shouldn’t take too long. I actually have a feeling that tonight will be rather quiet.”

“I hope so,” Theo mumbled. He offered Quincy a half-hearted wave as the man turned away and started towards the door. His eyes drifted elsewhere and began reading over Kane’s instructions. The Captain always had the worst handwriting.

Five minutes passed by before Theo’s MDU began buzzing in his pocket, numbing his right thigh until he fished it out and answered the call coming through. “Go,” the man grunted, not overly focused on the device until he heard the response loud and clear in his ear.

“There’s something happening at the church. Get Lady Kiska away from the windows.”

Riyo Midas was, to say the least, not a patient soul.

They hand remained bedridden for far too long, in their opinion, and now that they were able to move around freely without Neoma catching them skulking out of the infirmary, they were quick to take their advantage and scurry through the corridor linking their dorm rooms.

They paused, coming closer to Helios’ dorm. The guy always kept his door open a jar; perhaps to enthuse his casual welcoming for others to visit or come by and talk. He had nothing to hide, after all. Riyo found it difficult to understand, yet was unable to sneak a peek inside the room.

Helios lay in bed, brown locks of hair ruffled against his pillow. He was fast asleep with one arm lazily draped over his stomach. He was likely still in some kind of pain; although he did not seem to let it bother him and he appeared calm in his sleep.

Riyo froze when the young man shifted. For a moment, it seemed the jig was up and Helios would no doubt rise to inquire why Riyo was sneaking around and then likely tell them to go back and rest up, just as Neoma suggested. Alas, such a foresight did not come true and Helios turned over to lay on his side. His back was turned on Riyo, thus causing the faint lines of hideous marred scars to creep up down his spine from the spot his shirt had risen and where the collar had ruffled around his neck.

Riyo did not spare any more time staring and stepped back. Open door or not, they supposed even someone like Helios had secrets to hide. Just like everyone else.

Inhaling deeply, Riyo palmed the aching spot against their shoulder, right above the dressed wound from Twyla’s magick, and they stepped forward, continuing their pursuit through the Rebellion’s base. They had no destination in mind and were only scouting the large area for an idea of its layout and for another taste of freedom before they could be bedridden again. They were not prisoners here, it was a statement Riyo had trouble reminding themselves about.

The evening seemed quiet with very little commotion taking place. Riyo had made it to the end of the corridor and had taken the elevator down to the lowest point of the base where the mechanics worked long hours keeping the aircraft afloat in the sky. It was hot in the first room; hot and dark. There were crates piled up in the corners and a dim glow of orangy-red flickering behind the high piles of wood and necessities. Riyo was sceptical to approach it, yet curious at the same time.

Once they peered around the corner of crates, there was no way they could turn back without stirring commotion, not after a small collection of faces had turned their heads to look back –likely upon hearing the elevator open — and were staring the redhead down with wide eyes.

Riyo scoffed and stepped out of the darkness in the room and squinted their eyes at the change in colour. Behind the crates was bright due to the flames flickering within the small boilers built into the stern, metallic walls of the room. Flames licked at the coal settled within the womb of each little boiler, causing long shadows to outstretch along the hard ground.

But Riyo was not squinting their eyes at the flames, their eyes were straining due to the horizon spreading outward from the large window built within the wall, taking up most of its surface like the other windows within the base.

“What’s happening out there?” Riyo murmured and stepped forward, ignoring the possible queries hanging in the air from the mechanics kneeling by the flames and staring out towards the horizon. “Is that…the church?”

One of the mechanics cleared their throat and pushed themselves up from the ground to join Riyo’s side, crossing their strong arms over their chest. “That’s the church. Cap’n ordered us to keep the flames steady, so’s that we get to being nearby. Recruits be down there right now, poor bastards.” They explained, accent thick against their choice of words.

Riyo could understand fine and grit their teeth, hands extending to press their palms flat against the cold exterior of the windows. From their perspective, it almost looked like they were shielding the church from the horrible light that was being fired from its roof and into the dim, evening sky. It looked like a volcano had erupted within its walls and was wrecking mayhem in a mocking manner towards Emvolo’s followers; as if Emvolo’s glorious God was striking down its own house before the innocent.

“Who’s down there…?” Riyo said, hoping their level of voice would not betray them as they eased the nerves from their throat. Their voice still cracked, nonetheless.

“We dunno,” one of the other mechanics grunted and stood up. “I hear most of them were our greatest units.”

Riyo ignored the horrendous shudder that ran down their spine at the word ’were.’ “Greatest units, huh…?” Pressing their lips together, Riyo retreated their hand from the glass window and began to palm at their dressed wound yet again through the surface of their shirt. “Then I guess we shouldn’t have to worry so much, right? I mean, the greater the unit, the stronger the succession.”

Most of the mechanics mimicked glances and exchanged looks of concern. Riyo could feel their uneasy tension roll from their auras like droplets of rain off tree leaves in the early spring. These people should at least put some ounce of faith into their comrades, even when the situation looked as dire and endgame as it did in this moment. Light continued to spur from the church like a beacon to emanate whatever tragedies were happening inside.

Riyo parted their lips, wanting so say something. Their throat seemed hesitant on the command and closed around any words which tried to escape. Their tongue felt dry. They could do nothing but watch; watch with big eyes and mentally prepare themselves for the news they might hear over the speakers in the base upon the investigation, if any, which might commence after the church looked less dangerous and more inviting to scout for survivors.

As the sun became nothing more than a faint glow of purple across the ocean waves, Riyo could not help but wonder if Psykhe was down there among the group of Rebels risking their lives.

An hour had passed by, ensuring the Rebels a quiet and easy beginning to the night, before the church erupted with a shower of golden light. It became a beacon of distress – almost literally — for the Rebels, which only urged more distress when Reidonn’s voice came in through Ciiria’s MDU, cracking and unlevel as she reported the situation. Alas, only one sentence was audible through the havoc reigning in the background, a clear cry of her voice mingled with agony, something which alerted the third team to pile into an aircraft and address whatever danger was unfolding below.

“We need back-up!”

Tovi had bolted first, wasting no time as he pounced onto the side of an aircraft waiting in standby and slung himself inside the driver’s seat. He motioned for Neoma to follow and Enzo was soon rushing over with Damara and Psykhe not far behind. The aircraft had already been filled with medical supplies and ammunition, utterly prepped for this kind of situation, and the craft was lifting from the grounds of the hanger bay before the hanger doors had opened.

Ciiria’s voice came through the speakers within the craft shortly before their descension. “As the back-up team, you will be responsible for tending to any wounds and cover the former team whilst they fall back. If things are too dire to address, you are expected to retreat with the others and return to base. Do not stay out there longer than necessary, I repeat, do not stay out there longer than necessary.”

“You got it, ma’am.” Enzo chirped, perhaps offering a little too much enthusiasm to the situation than needed. He could have sworn he saw Tovi’s lips curl upward, even if just for a second. “We’ll keep you updated on the whole thing. Enzo, out.”

Tovi urged the acceleration of the aircraft and they descended with brilliant speed. It took no more than five minutes to land at the speed Tovi flew at, and he circled the church at a fair distance, trying to identify the happenings within.

“There’s no point in surveying the area,” Enzo said. His face was inches from the glass window, eyes scanning every corner of the area. “Can’t see anything. We’re just gonna have to land and head inside.”

Nodding, Tovi urged the aircraft over the ocean as the sun finally set and lifted the craft upwards, over the cliff edges of Emvolo and into the church’s yard. He lowered it carefully beside the other aircraft which Reidonn had used and killed the engine before turning to Enzo with serious eyes.

“We need a course of action,” Neoma spoke up from the back of the aircraft and walked up to Enzo and Tovi’s chairs, head sticking between them to glance up and offer them a smile. “I mean, Damara and I aren’t exactly ‘fighty’, so the rest of you are gonna have to scout ahead and we’ll be hanging back with our medical supplies until you give the all-clear.”

Tovi nodded and looked back at Enzo.

Eyes flickered to the back of the craft and Enzo chewed his lip, calculating the plan in his head with the best approachable decision he could muster. His eyes turned back to Tovi and Neoma, “Psykhe and I will take the front. I need Tovi hanging back since he’s a long-ranged fighter. If things get heavy, you can send a warning shot or something to startle the enemy so Psykhe and I can have a chance at catching them all off guard.” His finger flexed, directed at the woman peering up at them between their chairs, “Neoma, I need you and Damara to stay close, maybe just on the other side of the doors. Damara’s abilities as a Feral could come in handy, even if she isn’t necessarily a fighter, her senses are better than humans’.”

“You got it,” Neoma saluted her companion and grinned, showing off white teeth in her goofy smile. “Let’s get to it!”

Enzo smirked and reached across the dashboard on Tovi’s side to drop the aircraft’s ramp. “You hear all that, Trezla?” He called, popping open his own door.

“Yes, sir,” Psykhe replied. She stood up and attached her scythe against her back, keeping its handle out at an accessible position in case of the need for a quick draw. As the ramp opened, she took a step forward, yet was unable to descend when Damara’s hand fell upon her shoulder, halting her from advancing any further.

“I must ask before we leave, how do you feel about Alexis?” Damara blurted and stood in front of Psykhe, eyes wide and expression concerned. It was a drastic change in character after having been so quiet until now. “Because I know how she feels about you, Psykhe Trezla.”

Psykhe, dumbfounded, was unable to say anything for a collection of seconds. She allowed the hurried voice of Damara’s to sink in and said nothing until Neoma walked past them and stepped down the ramp to join Enzo and Tovi below. Her eyes flickered up to meet Damara’s and she frowned, hand reaching up to touch the young woman’s wrist and pull her hand away from her shoulder. The contact was burning.

“You’re a Feral,” Psykhe said. She bit her lip, recognising the possibility of offence to such a statement. “I’m sorry, I mean…”

“I am a Feral, yes.” Damara lowered her hands and clasped them behind her back, head tilting to the side. “My kin are often capable of manipulating minds, though we prefer to simply…feel the emotions and thoughts displayed by the people around us. It helps when I tend to the wounded; I’m able to understand their pain and where the real agony lies upon them without having to ask. Alas…when I look at you, I cannot seem to feel the emotions or feelings which can be found in my teammates. Ares is often fuelled by irritation, Calix is calm, Alexis is determined, but you…are something else.”

Psykhe swallowed down the dry nerves bundling in her throat. Yet again, she was rendered speechless. It took a minute and a hefty clear of her throat before she parted her lips, “I’m just…concerned. Concerned for the Rebels in the church, concerned for the revolution, concerned for, well, my estate. I suppose I am just a very concerned individual, Damara. Given the current situation, this shouldn’t be so shocking, right?”

Damara’s lips pursed together and her wide eyes shifted from side to side. She leant forward, invading Psykhe’s personal space enough to make her step away, then pulled back. “So strange. It’s like you are empty inside.” Whispering softly did not make the sentence any clearer than needed and she stepped away, albeit pausing to say one thing before joining the others. “You avoided my question about Alexis, you know.”

Psykhe inhaled deeply, chest expanding. No, she was not empty inside. The time to dwell further on Damara’s analogy would have to wait, Psykhe decided. Other things, far more serious things, were being thrown their way and she hardly needed to engage with her inner self to pick and pull at her past and make sense of it all. There was hardly any time for something like that. With another deep inhale, Psykhe stepped forward and joined her comrades.

Enzo went over the planned procedure once more before advancing upwards. Neoma and Damara snuck around the church and Enzo crouched low against the curve of the church’s hill. Psykhe was close in stride, practically crawling along the grassy green slope as they pursued the church. Up close, the light which poured forth from the top of the church could be identified as small particles of dust, specific dust which only belonged to certain races, particularly Hera’s race.

“A Guardian?” Enzo gasped. His eyes went wide and he stood up, ready to dash forward when he was beaten to the door by Tovi. “No! Tovi, fall back! You shouldn’t break formation!”

Whether Tovi heard Enzo or not, it hardly affected him as he yanked the doors to the church open with a force that could have pulled them off their hinges. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light seeping out of the church and, for the first time in a long time, he conjured up the strength in his vocal cords to yell one word into the piercing glow.

“Ares!!”

“Tovi, get back!” Enzo called out. He took a step forward to yank the other man away from the doorway. His hands were inches from coming down on Tovi’s shoulders when the church abruptly turned dark, returning to normal with no particles of Guardian dust drifting through the atmosphere. “Wait, wait…don’t go in…” Enzo whispered, hands firmly placed upon Tovi’s shoulders. He could feel the tension in the other man’s muscles, knowing he was ready to spring forth without a thought if not for the restrain holding him in place.

“If Ares has awoken his powers…I should be in there with him!” Tovi growled lowly, his voice a scratchy tone, filled with breaks and unease. The accent which accompanied it was borderline exotic, in Enzo’s opinion. “There are things he needs to understand…!” Tovi hissed, breaking free of Enzo’s hold by jamming his elbow into the other man’s gut.

Psykhe dashed up the rest of hill and cursed, pressing a hand against Enzo’s back as Tovi dashed into the darkness of the church. Her eyes glinted with fury, suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread to this whole layout. Would there ever be a time in their lives as Rebels where things did not have to turn out so horribly?

“Tovi!” Enzo snapped. He pushed up from the ground and ducked into the church. His hand grasped Psykhe’s wrist and he pulled the young woman inside. “Tovi!”

Tovi stood only a few feet away. He had not proceeded too far down the aisle of the church and stood in its centre, head tilting upwards towards the statue looming over the altar. He was frozen in place, hands hanging at his sides; fingers shaking from the sight displayed before him.

“Oh, Gods above…” Enzo whispered lowly.

Psykhe broke free from Enzo’s grasp on her wrist and stepped forward, her eyes travelling upwards to the body strung up and tied to the statue of Emvolo’s God. “…It’s Calix.”

Tovi wavered in his stance and lowered his gaze, “...it wouldn’t have been Ares…he would never do that to Calix…it wasn’t—”

“Toviah Thrax, you are just as smart as I recall…” A low, lilting voice echoed around the church, followed by the sharpest of footsteps along the church floor. A flicker of dust sparkled in the corner, just behind the statue where Calix was strung up like a doll. “I often wondered how you managed to join arms with the Rebellion, but then you would always remind me, huh...”

Enzo stepped forward, half-shielding Tovi from the mysterious man who stepped out to face them. “Wait…I’ve seen you before,” narrowing his eyes, Enzo cocked his head and examined the man, recognising the outfit and the cruel scowl. “I can’t think where or when…”

The mysterious man chuckled and skipped forth, taking his spot at the end of the aisle, directly across from Tovi and Enzo. “Why, yes, I believe we met on the day of your partner’s execution, seven years ago. You, Vincent, made a fool of my master, Sir Merine Trezla, and Toviah here killed my wife, Alyx.”

“Seriously?!” Enzo scoffed. “The fucking butler did it?! What the hell do you get out of killing prophets left and right?”

“Well, I figured you Rebel chaps were more, how do I put it…educated. After all, it should not surprise you that a Guardian of Hera was behind all of this! Or did it not click? I mean, the first prophet to be killed off was the young Lady Clio Neoteros, the youngest prophet in all of Galaxis, or more specifically…Hera’s Prophet.”

Enzo threw his arm in the air, a display of frustration, when in actuality he was merely redirecting Psykhe into checking out the church while they stalled the Guardian. “That makes no sense! You’re supposed to be loyal! It’s your duty to follow your master’s commands and protect Hera!”

“No, it is not,” scoffing, the man whirled on his heel and tossed a knife out of thin air. The sharp object impaled Psykhe’s thigh, ceasing her advance to inspect the church. “Good day, Miss Trezla.”

“Dammit, Karnya, this is low, even for a servant of my brother’s…” Gritting her teeth, Psykhe pressed her hand over the knife and yanked it out, blood spurting as a result. “This is all Merine’s doing, isn’t it?”

“My master, sadly, is in jail,” Karnya sighed, hands fluttering up to his face. “He gave me plans, you see, and I followed them with precise attention. I was…unfit within Hera’s walls, yet they let me back in after my master was sent to jail. Then I waited…and now,”

Tovi shoved Enzo to the ground, foreseeing the enemy’s furious attack. In response to the wave of flames pouring from Karnya‘s hand, Tovi raised his own and sent a stream of ice from his palm, glazing the flames in conflict against one another.

Karnya‘s eyes widened in fury and he stepped forward. The sounds of his shirt tearing apart could be heard over the sounds of flame and ice clashing, followed by the horrid sounds of bones breaking before transparent wings spurted forth from his back, expanding high and causing shadows to curl forward. “…now you’ve ruined everything!!!”