TR: 21

Chapter Twenty-One: Out For Noodles

Kuu stared longingly out the monumental windows of the Sho-Meni Megaplexus, aloof to the millions of sounds, flashing holo-ads, billboards and sea of people around her. From her vantage point in the relatively quiet nook of the poly-tek trapezoidal window frame, she could make out a large swathe of the eastern quarter of the city. In the still of the night, Tansis stirred, the array of blinking lights and rows of aerocraft never succumbing to circadian rhythms. On Tansis, there was always work to be done, places to go. This was all the more emphasized to Kuu by Old Wes punctuating the center of the landscape before her, reminding her of both her past failures and the goal still very much at hand. Had she purposely chosen this window–purposefully placed such that the waste disposal plant was front-and-center–to some greater purpose? Was it her subconscious functions reaching out to tell her something? That she had failed? Or perhaps to keep trying?

Kuu didn’t know. All that she did know was that she had arrived at that spot, on that day, and all her biometrics indicated that she had become depressed. Of course there were workarounds for a cybrid to deal with such existential crises; she could subvert her programming and run a new mood script that could easily supplant the old one, or even manually upregulate her own neurochemistry to give her a much-needed serotonin boost, but there was something imperative about the way she felt. Something…

Primitive.

And the last thing Kuu wanted to do was subvert nature. In fact, it was nature that Kuu wished to embrace as much as she could. As a cybrid, every day there were a multitude of occurrences that reminded her that she wasn’t typical–that she wasn’t natural. This wasn’t to say that cybrids were uncommon, no; they were as much an installation on Tansis as ‘siders were. More so in many districts, in fact. Rather, it was the little things that pointed to her condition that constantly nagged at her, from seeing children under one hundred standard years walking by–reminding her of cybrids’ altered metabolic clocks–to the countless oxygen booths, supplement boutiques and vast array of other distinctly evolution-centric services that littered the concourse, all premised on biological functions that she either did not possess or have a need of. No, Kuu would allow herself that small cold comfort, that tiny window into another life, however fleeting it may have been, if it meant she could feel normal. And if normal hurt, well… at least she was allowed to feel something, and that was better than nothing–better than being a simple mech. And as sad as she was at that moment, staring out on the vast expanse of the unforgiving city that denied her her calling, Kuu was thankful for her sadness.

In the stillness of calm, one is but breath; only through the weathering of the storms of our emotions do we find our voice.

It was a line from For the Love of Thorns, one of Kuu’s favourite poetry collections from the great First Era Vos poet Lian-Guh. She ruminated over the sagely advice as she sought to uncover its context within her life. Perhaps, whoever had been speaking to her in her dreams–those shapeless figures standing over her, those voices–were testing her now. But if they truly wanted her help, why would they set her up to fail? It made no sense. How many storms did she have to weather before she found her true voice? Before she would be allowed to see Old Wes?

Kuu placed a small, pale hand against the cold glass, covering the image of Old Wes from her view. She could not tell if it was out of spite or yearning, but the pangs in her chest told her it was a bit of both.

Kuu sighed, then a voice behind her caused her to jump in surprise.

“Whatcha doin’ there?”

Kuu placed a hand against her heart, her shoulders slumping in relief as she met the gaze of a young boy curiously staring at her.

“I’m sorry, you scared me for a moment.”

Kuu looked past the boy to the flashing banners, floating holo-ads and hustle-and bustle of the thousands of bodies coming and going throughout the concourse. Innumerable shops with glowing halogen displays framed the aisles, cheek-to-jowl, row-upon-row, selling every kind of ware and service imaginable (and some unimaginable). Magrails underscored each consecutive level, the dangling bucket-trams zipping along them at near-sonic speeds, loading and offloading passengers at distant intervals. Kuu blinked numbly at the site of it all, the horde of stimuli assaulting her senses and rudely reminding her of the milieu that she had blocked out. The boy cocked his head curiously and Kuu zoned back in, focusing on her surprise guest. She shook her head.

“I…I apologize. I come here to…get away from it all, where it is quiet.”

The boy turned and looked back at the fracas behind him. He looked at Kuu and his expression looked confused.

“Doesn’t seem much quieter over here, to me. Hmm. What are you reading?”

Kuu looked down at the poetry book in her lap.

“It’s a collection of poems. I like to come to this spot and read them when I need to clear my mind.”

“Clear your mind from what?”

Kuu smiled to herself. “That is a good question. From life and its challenges, mostly. Or, perhaps, from myself.”

The boy scratched his head. “You sure think big things for a little girl.”

Kuu’s shoulders slumped.

Here it comes. She thought.

“I’m not a little girl, I’m afraid. I am a cybernetic.”

Surprisingly, the boy didn’t seem to be put off. He shrugged.

“Well, that’s nothing special. My friend Rory has a friend who is like you. He’s really smart and can do lots of cool tricks, like stand on one arm foreeeeever. But don’t tell his mom–he’s not supposed to hang out with him.”

The boy shuffled his feet, staring at the ground with a slightly dejected look. Kuu smiled despite herself.

“Our little secret.”

The boy perked up. “Hey! Can you do any cool tricks like that?”

Where other cybernetic folk surely would have been offended at being entreated like a circus animal, Kuu could sense the boy’s heart was in the right place.

“Unfortunately, I’m not as talented as your friend’s friend, I’m afraid.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “Oh…”

“But maybe next time I can bring my cat Donut and get him to do something for you, yes?”

The boy’s eyes glistened. “You have a pet?”

“Well, I don’t see him like that. He’s my friend.”

My only friend.

“Is he…like you?”

Kuu nodded. “He is. Well, a little more hairy, but inside just the same.”

The boy considered the idea for a moment.

“That’s kind of funny.”

“What is funny?”

“That an alter has another alter.”

Kuu laughed. “Yes, that is funny, now that you put it that way. I think they would call that…meta.”

“Meta. Huh. Yeah, that’s definitely pretty meta.”

The two shared a short moment of laughter before a voice cut them short. The boy turned to a woman standing a ways off by a jewelry kiosk, beckoning him with the wave of a delicately-gloved hand.

“Sorry, gotta go.”

The boy turned and ran towards the woman but stopped halfway, turning back to Kuu.

“Say hi to Donut for me!’

Kuu smiled and waved as the boy departed. She could make out their conversation as the woman slowly led them away.

“…you know not to run off like that. And what did we talk about regarding strangers?”

“But mom, she’s not a stranger! She’s an alter and she has a pet alter too– a cat!”

“You know we don’t consort with cybernetics. Don’t you remember what you uploaded in your history module 8.9.01.06.3?”

“But moooom, the Syntrophic Revolts were over a hundred and fifty years ago!”

“They still can’t be trusted, you know that.”

“She seemed nice enough…”

Kuu dialed down her extra-aural sensors until the conversation was lost in the din of the market. She didn’t need to hear the rest of the conversation to know how it ended.

It was a story she had heard one too many times.

As she watched the two figures disappear into the crowd, the glint of joy that her conversation with the boy had sparked was consumed by her depression in the same way that the boy and his mother were subsumed by the crowd. Kuu sighed and nestled back into the crook of the massive window, opening up her book and beginning a poem about the summer wind on the shores of an obscure Vos coastline. As she was several lines in, a strange sound jarred her out of her concentration. It was a faint ebbing chime, like a tiny alarm going off.

It was coming from her pocket.

She reached into her skirt and pulled out a small, metallic object.

The pod chit.

An ebbing glow emanated from around the edge, multicoloured and in sync with the small chime. Kuu performed a readout analysis on the object and she straightened up when her visual display told her:

UNIQUE REGISTRANT IDENTIFIER LOCATED. PROXIMITY SYNCHRONIZER ACTIVATED.

Kuu looked around her vicinity and gasped when she saw the very same cren from the terminex station–the bounty hunter–ordering a bowl of takeaway noodles from a kiosk, barely a bout from her location. He leaned on the counter, his grisly visage watching the floating multi-armed chef-mech as it sliced and diced, prepping several customers’ orders at once. Despite half his face being covered by the magnigraft and restabilizer, Kuu could tell that the man was impatient, as he tapped the metallic coverings on the ends of his leather glove against the metal counter of the bar. His position was such that Kuu could make out a sizeable firearm holstered at the man’s hip, half-hidden beneath his duster. Her quick-Link told her it was a Mark-IV Attria Cobra, a high-caliber ballistic pistol decommissioned by the military half a century before when they were deemed unfit for law enforcement due to their infrangibility, leading to unacceptable levels of collateral damage.

Clearly, that didn’t stop this man.

The bounty hunter jerked away from the cart suddenly, holding a hand up to his temple. Kuu knew the look in his eyes, that pervasive focus that anyone tethered to the Link had when they were ensconced in a feed or sync; what the locals referred to as spaze gaze, as in thought space, as in the Link. And then Kuu knew that he was seeing what she was seeing:

He could sense his missing pod chit.

Like a homing beacon, the pod chit had alerted both its purloiner and its owner of its presence, perhaps initiated by the man’s presence. Whatever the case, the man scanned the area, hand still on temple, as he put his magnigraft to good use. Kuu gasped and dived behind a public bench close to her position by the window. She peeked her head up and saw the man slowly making his way toward her, his head swiveling side-to-side as he scanned for his missing belonging. Kuu knew that it wouldn’t be moments before he would be upon her and then the game was up. There was nothing she could do to hide the chit that he wouldn’t find with his sensors, other than destroy the chit, both scenarios ending the game before it even began. Kuu looked around frantically until her eyes fell on an amalgam planter holding a sizeable manicured tree. Then Kuu realized something:

Correction: there was nothing a CREN could do to hide the chit. But a CYBRID…

Of the many qualities that Kuu possessed that she would have been happy trading in for a typical set, superior strength wasn’t one of them. Kuu’s exoskeleton was made of a highly tensile polymer–much stronger than bone–and that, coupled with her ability to upregulate her nervous system, allowed her to perform uncanny feats of strength. Ever so carefully and keeping low, Kuu grasped the edges of the planter and slowly lifted it. One pinch. Two pinches. She carefully slid her hand under and braced the weight as she slid the pod chit under the lip with her other hand. Slowly, and praying to the Thirteen that the chit would survive the force, Kuu lowered the planter down onto the chit. The chiming stopped, either from the destruction of the device or from being silenced by the planter. Kuu took a deep breath and wiped a bead of regulating fluid from her brow.

The bounty hunter stepped over to the window, walking around the bench where his sensors told him his pod chit was alive and well.

There was no chit and no person to speak of. Only the polished, ubiquitous amalgam floor of the concourse, a bench with an empty drink container on it, and a planter with a young tree in it. The man frowned as he scanned the area, cursing under his breath as he trudged away.

Several benches away, Kuu sat next to some randoms as she pretend-read her book. She slowly lowered the poetry collection as she watched the bounty hunter make his way back to the noodle booth where a steaming box sat on the bar waiting for him. He snatched up the box, held his wrist over a holo-scanner on the bar and was off as soon as he came. The chef-mech saluted him with a free hand as his other appendages continued to twirl knives, strain with sieves and toss with flippers.

Kuu nonchalantly got up from her bench and made her way back over to the planter. When she was certain no eyes were on her (who payed attention to a cybrid, anyhow?) she lifted the planter back up to find a glowing pod chit intact. Kuu sighed a breath of relief and retrieved the chit. As she stood, she watched the bounty hunter as he made his way across the concourse toward a magline boarding station. Suddenly, the pod chit died without notice. Kuu’s heart skipped at the thought that it had been damaged but her fears were allayed when her readout showed her that the autosynchronization had just been switched off due to signal attenuation.

So, it was sensitive to distance after all.

Kuu watched the man as he sidled up to a tram stop and, leaning against the station sign, dug into his noodles with a disposable pair of chop sticks. As she watched him eat, the glass of his magnigraft glinting every so often as it caught passing light, Kuu knew exactly what her next move was.

***

The doors burst open, kicking up dust into the darkness. The Interloper batted the smut out of his face and stepped into the ominous haze, summoning a lux flow in the form of a glowing white orb that hovered above his palm. He stepped into the room, feeling the chill of derelict millennia creep up his spine. The stale, frigid air told him that no one had been down in those lowest depths of the fortress for some time, which was a good sign given what he was looking for. In his day, Imtek raiders were all too common; he couldn’t bring himself to be hopeful that cren nature had changed that much in the time he had been gone. Yet, somehow, the lower levels of Kla’then Diar had remained unmolested over the years, which meant the objects of his desire could still yet be found.

As the Interloper shone his light around as he slowly paced the room, he took in the shapes of shattered wood and spilled weapons littering the floor, and here and there the telltale umber of bone shards withered by time. This had once been the fortress’s infamous Necridian Forge, named after the dwarven forgemaster Necridus who had overseen the building of the armory nearly five thousand years prior. While Kla’then Diar itself was not a dwarven construct, the foundations of it were believed to be the remains of what once was one of the Enka Duodeccium–the “Holy Twelve”, referring to the twelve ancient cities of the Duwaruva, of which only seven were known. Back in their day, the Enka were a mecca of civilization and formed the largest network of societies on Rynn, spanning every province except Madrol, which was undiscovered in the time of the dwarves. Despite being one of the earliest scale-civilizations on Rynn, over the millennia and after the Great Vanishing, the cities either fell into ruin or disappeared from history altogether. Enka Spiratus–the “Holy Spire” as it was once referred—was believed to have been the city that Diar’s Perch now sat upon. What once was surely a marvel of a city, spanning nearly five square-kaldars, had been reduced to but a basement, now the lowermost level of the fortress. Whether out of respect for what it had once stood for, or perhaps it helped the developers cut costs to reuse a perfectly sound foundation, the architects of Kla’then Diar left the ruins more-or-less intact as they built up the fortress atop its remains. Once the renowned armory where all the Grand Enesian Army’s soldiers were fitted by the forgemasters of yore, the Forge was now a mere shadow of its former glory, looking as if it were the victim of either a violent battle or an earthquake.

The Interloper walked past the first of many skeletons he would encounter, a sword still wedged between the ribcage in what must have been a killing blow.

A battle then.

The interloper had mixed emotions at the sight of seeing so many remains strewn about; while many of these could have been his friends at some point, they had all fought for the wizard in the end, which made them complicit. It was a strange kind of grief that begged to be relief; any kind of blow to Mokul, after what he had done to him–and so many others–was a grace. There was no kind of special hell built that could atone for all the atrocities the wizard had committed in his centuries on Rynn. Wherever the wizard was now, the Interloper would make sure he stayed there.

He moved the ball of light and caught a glimpse of an opening in one wall. He moved through the arch, moving skeins of cobwebs out of his way as he stepped into the master forge.

Or what used to be the master forge.

The massive stone pits used to melt and mold iron and steel now lay cold and lifeless, like the eyes of a corpse. Cracked and torn bellows lay on the floor covered in the workings of spiders and the dusts of memories, along with smithing tools which were barely discernible from all of the dirt and culm that had collected on them. The interloper stared down at the cold ashes at the bottom of the forge and an image flared up in his mind, one of glowing embers and the hiss of sparks as they kissed the air, the smithy’s hammer shouting proudly as it made contact with glowing, nascent steel. He remembered how, despite the ubiqitous cold of the armory, the forgemasters would sweat as they tirelessly worked, the droplets of liquid on their bodies glowing like tears of sunlight on their skin. The vision was so lucid that the Interloper knew it had to have been a memory; he had been there before, back when the forges were alive and well. The image faded and he was shifted back into the dank, sullen underworld that the Forge had become. Shaking his head as if to clear the residue of his flashback, he made his way through the forges as he searched for any sign of what he was looking for. His boot hit something solid and he stopped, shining his light down to the floor. A black boot, covered in dust, trailed out of the darkness beyond. Moving his light over the body uncovered he had found what he had been looking for.

He squatted down next to the body, examining the corpse of the forgemaster who had been unceremoniously left slumped against his forge.

Whoever did this wasn’t likely considering proper burials.

He panned the light across the boiled leather cuirass on the corpse’s torso to the black cloak with the insignia of the forgemasters on the breast, which was indicative of the individual’s title and rank. This man’s insignia revealed he had been the highest of his class, a master of masters, though the Interloper wasn’t quite sure how he knew this. He examined the skull and frowned when he saw a tidy hole damn-near center in the forehead. Upon closer inspection, he could see that the hole had carbon scoring around the edges and that the puncture was unnaturally symmetrical–too clean to be a melee weapon. He ran his finger around the wound and inspected his finger, finding a faint black residue stuck to the tip.

“Energy weapons? I know this mark…”

Energy weapons were not common in his day, but the Interloper knew the telltale sign of a plasma bolt when he saw one. And there were only a handful of groups back then who had the resources to develop them on any kind of scale, Mokul’s army being one of that handful. The interloper frowned at the skeleton, whose mandible hung agape as if frozen in its last, final ghastly death knell.

“Who did this to you?”

The Interloper sat quietly for a moment as he considered the implications of possible scenarios, until his eyes wandered down to the skeleton’s hand, one of which was resting idly on its lap. There, still fastened firmly to it was the very thing he had been looking for. He removed the black metallic glove from the hand and, reaching over to the other skeletal arm draped over the forge, pulled off the remaining glove. He donned the gloves, feeling the power still coursing through them after all the years, despite their being a size too large; his hands were no forgemaster’s hands, understandably. He held them up in front of his face and balled his fists. A faint black glow began to emanate around them, like a living aura.

“After all these years, your wards still stand. Impressive.”

With the forgemaster’s fists he would be able to pick up any magickal item, tainted or otherwise. The forgemasters were often tasked with repairing enchanted weapons, many of which were imbued with flows that could be deadly to the touch of mere mortals. Mokul thus oversaw the warding of safety equipment, administered by his generals, regent mages or paladins–anyone available who was skilled enough for the task–granting his the reputation of something of a mystical forge.

Holding the forgemaster’s fists then, the Interloper could see why the Necridian Forge had earned its reputation; these were a relic from a time long-past, a piece of history in and on his hands. And with these, he would be able to hold Kadomus.

And destroy it once and for all.

Before the Interloper could fully get to standing, he noticed something strung around the neck of the deceased forgemaster. He tugged at the collar of the cloak and slipped a finger under the band looped around the corpse’s neck. He pulled the object up and over the skull and held up a pair of flashguard goggles—special eye protection designed to withstand heat surges and flare-up arcs that were common in forges.

How interesting it would be to see through the eyes of such a master…

The Interloper slid the band over his head and fastened the goggles onto his face. The world suddenly became a violent hue of red, the colour of the tinting on the lenses. Suddenly, the world shifted before him and he found himself cast into a memory once more.

Red.
Red was the day that he had lost them.

Red was the sky crowning them at their execution.

Red was the blade that had taken her from him.

And red were the stones, so far below, yet forever with him.

Red was his heart, as it bled for them, for his mistakes…

It all seemed like a dream then, but now it was too vivid. It was red on white, dreams raked across hot coals. And oh, how they still burned. Three thousand years later and he was still a man on fire. The pain…the pain was unbearable, and it all came roaring back to him at once.

He gasped and ripped the goggles from his face, throwing them violently to the floor. Panting, he stepped back away from the corpse of the forgemaster who seemed to be looking up at him now, jaw agape and frozen in laughter as it too had seen his folly. The Interloper bumped into the hard stone of an adjacent forge and placed a hand on it as he braced himself, catching his breath. As he let his pulse relax, he looked between the skeleton and the goggles cast at its feet and considered them for a long while.

”No. I must never forget.”

He leaned over and picked the object back up, donning them once more. As he stood staring off into the blood-tinted darkness, he tightened his fists in his new gloves, bracing against the onslaught that was to come.

But there was only silence and darkness.

He waited, but no more visions came to him. He let out his breath, not realizing he had been holding it, but the edge never left him, for he knew they would be back. It was his cross to bear.

Taking one last long look around the dilapidated forge, the Interloper nodded and turned to leave. As he passed through the archway he stopped, noticing a large barrel that he had missed entering the room. He dusted off the lid, revealing a faded arcane script which was both indiscernible but somehow familiar. He wedged the lid open and peered inside, summoning another lux spell to aid him. He smiled when he saw what was inside.

”How interesting.”

***

Kade groaned as he bent over and placed his hands on his knees, huffing from the steep ascent up the cliffside.

“Are you sure this was the shortcut? Sure doesn’t feel like it.”

Brian turned and looked back over his shoulder, planting the butt of a stick he had fashioned into a hiking pole in the hard-packed earth of the mountain trail.

“Are you sure you’re an Up player? I’d have thought they had better cardio…”

“Very funny. Not in the big leagues yet. Besides, the limbs do most of the work for you.”

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t sound like the words of a champ, to me. But if you want, you can take the other shortcut.”

Kade looked up, sweat rolling down his brow.

“Other shortcut? Isn’t that a bit contradictory?”

Brian signalled down off the trail to a distant cliff face, practically a sheer plane straight up the mountainside.

“There’s your other option. Straight up the cliff. Would be faster, granted, but it comes with a few…undesirables, let’s say.”

“Undesirables? Do you have to be so cryptic?”

“Well, if the fall doesn’t get you, then there’s the potential for rockslides, slippage and all that. Not to mention the rocs…”

“Rocks? You just said that.”

“No, not rocks–rocs, as in giant, man-eating eagles. Or did you not notice them on the way up?”

Brian pointed off in the distance to several V-shaped objects strolling the thermals high above the rolling cliffside.

Kade shielded his eyes against the setting sun. “What’s so scary about a bunch of eagles?”

“Well, those are just fledglings, learning how to fly. You can tell from how they move on the thermals, not quite confident yet. The adults are about four times that size. They usually won’t bother people but if you get too close to their nests, that’s another thing. I’ve heard stories…”

Kade waved dismissively. “Enough with the fantastical creatures. Point taken. Let’s just get out of here. All I want at this point is a bath and a hot bowl of soup. And a bed. A bed would be nice too.”

Brian smiled. “This way.”

***

As they came out of the woods the wall of heat was the first thing they noticed as it struck them like a sweaty palm. Next came the colours and the smells; vibrant flashes of roiling flame and plumes of smoke, pillaring into the dusky sky. Falkner’s had been reduced to a shadowy form veiled behind a mass of entangled fire and sparks, and first-responder drones hovered above its corpse like metallic flies as they scanned for survivors in the wreck.

Standing in the treeline at the edge of the parking lot, the boys gawked at the sight before them.

“Holy…” Kade said under his breath.

Brian couldn’t seem to form words he was so taken aback.

Kade shook out of his trance and gazed around.

“The parking lot, it’s empty. Do you think everyone got out safely?”

“I…I don’t know. I hope…”

“Brian, are you okay?”

Kade could see water forming in Brian’s eyes. Whether it was from the smoke or emotions, Kade couldn’t tell, but the reflection of the fire in his friend’s eyes brought a chill down his spine.

Brian balled his hands into tight fists at his side. “Seven years. I devoted seven years of my life to that gym. And for what? What did I gain from it? I was supposed to stop…”

Brian said something under his breath that Kade couldn’t make up out, followed by “I’m sorry.”

A tear slowly crept down Brian’s cheek. Kade’s eyes ventured down to Brian’s right hand, which opened and closed convulsively at his side as he gazed dead-eyed out at the charcoaled ruins of his former workplace. A strange sensation came over Kade then, one that he couldn’t quite place. It was a feeling of kindred spirits of sorts, hearkening on everything he and Brian had been through in their short time together, but also something much…deeper. He couldn’t put a name to it, as he had never felt anything like it before, but the feeling told Kade to reach out just then and take his friend’s hand, to cradle it in his own, and offer him the comfort that he so clearly needed. Kade found his own hand twitching, as if it had a mind of its own that couldn’t be made up. He hesitated and then slowly moved his arm to reach for Brian.

A whirring sound jarred him out of the moment and a large metallic object floated into their view. It was one of the first-responder drones.

“Please identify yourselves.” It said in an authoritative voice.

Brian took a moment before he acknowledged the drone’s presence. A glazed-over look stole his expression.

“Brian Sans.”

“Uh, Kade. Kade Allor.”

“What is your affiliation with this facility?” The drone asked.

“I work…worked here. Before this.”

The drone turned and focused its one red optical sensor at Kade, staring at him questioningly as it bobbed slowly up and down, the whirring of the aeroport rotor juxtaposed against the cackling of the flames in the background.

“Me? Oh, I don’t work here. I’m just…I’m with him. I mean, not like that, but… We’re together. I mean, uh…that’s not what I meant…”

Brian gave Kade a confused look. The drone interjected, turning back to Brian before Kade could further dig himself into a hole.

“State your position and whereabouts in the last forty-eight hours.”

Brian sighed and rubbed his head. “Listen, I get that you have a job to do and all, but we really don’t know anything about this…”

Kade’s gaze wandered past the drone to a familiar portion of Falkner’s, though now barely discernible behind the mound of flames which consumed it. Despite the blazing fury, Kade could still make out the collapsed facade and Axe’s signature along the side of the gym where the creature had left its indelible mark. He looked between Brian and the drone and swallowed. He sincerely hoped that emergency drones weren’t programmed with polygraphy scripts. Although, it wasn’t really a lie: Axe hadn’t caused the fire. Maybe some structural damage but, no, this was the work of someone else. Something sentient. Kade didn’t know how he knew that but there was something in the flames that seemed to speak to him, as if it screamed to be heard–wanting to tell its story.

As Kade gazed into the fire, suddenly something caught his eye. He blinked and the object seemed to remain. But it couldn’t be possible.

There was someone standing in the flames, completely consumed; consumed, yet somehow unaffected by the fire. Kade frowned and began walking slowly towards the mysterious figure. After several steps he stopped as a voice sounded.

Kade.

It sounded like it was coming from all around him. Either that, or it was in his head.

Kade.

The figure didn’t move but Kade knew it was coming from them. Their appearance was obscured by the shapeless cloak and the licking flames surrounding them, but Kade could tell that the person was speaking to him.

Confirming his suspicions, it rose its hand slowly up at him, and in its hand it grasped something. Something bright red. Kade gasped.

His scarf. The one his father had given him!

“Hey! That’s mine.”

Kade began to run towards the figure but he stopped as if he had suddenly hit a wall. Waves of power radiated out from the location where the figure stood and Kade felt his breath catch as the force threatened to consume him. His throat tightened and his pulse quickened and Kade felt as if a vice had surrounded him and was slowly pressing in, crushing him on the spot. Kade had never felt such incredible power in his life, as if a demigod itself had descended from the heavens on high and decided to toy with its mortals, giving them but a mere taste of its power. And somehow, through an invisible connection that he neither understood nor could encapsulate, Kade knew the figure was doing just that–toying with him. It was capable of so, so much more than this, and that terrified Kade. Kade wanted to scream for help but he had no breath available to generate a voice. In a spasm of great effort, Kade struggled to reach up to his throat, as if to pry away the ghostly hands which grasped him there, and then it all released.

Kade fell forward onto his hands, gasping for breath. Brian ran up to his side, placing a hand on his back.

“Are you okay? Whoa, you’re shaking! What happened?”

Kade took a moment to gather himself then shook his head. “I…I don’t know. Saw someone…in there.”

The two looked to where Kade pointed but the figure was gone, replaced by the uniform matte of flames which slowly ate away at Falkner’s. Brian frowned down at Kade. Kade grit his teeth and pushed himself back up to his feet.

“I swear I’m not making this up, Brian! I saw someone in there. Something in there.”

Brian held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I believe you. After everything we’ve seen, who am I to judge what’s crazy or not?”

Seeing that his friend’s expression was sincere, Kade slowly nodded his head.

“But what was it doing in there? Did you get a look at him?”

“No. But I felt him. It was like…like what happened back at the beach, except…darker. Another…colour.” Kade held his head and shook it as he tried to clear his mind. “I can’t describe it, but all I know is that it was bad. Really bad. And dangerous. Whoever that was, they are very powerful. Like nothing I’ve ever heard of.”

Brian thought in silence. Kade looked around them.

“Where did that drone go?”

“Huh? Oh, that. I convinced it we didn’t know anything and gave it my contact details in case anything came up. That seemed to be sufficient to get it off our tails.”

“Thanks for doing that. I don’t need any more trouble, at this point.”

“Speaking of trouble, do you think maybe that guy was like…a wizard, or something? I mean, who else can stand in fire like that?”

Kade frowned. “Wizard? I didn’t think there were any of those left anymore. Last I remember hearing about someone like that was the Equivalence Wars, and wasn’t that like seven hundred years ago, or something?”

“Nine hundred, actually. But who’s counting…” Brian trailed off as he stared at the spot where Kade had pointed.

“Wait, what is that?”

Brian walked towards the flaming ruins and stopped at a large piece of rubble that had ricocheted away from the burning mass. Atop the rubble a bright article of clothing was draped over the battered stone. Brian reached up and pulled the object down, draping it between his hands.

“My scarf!” Kade hollered, grabbing it from Brian.

“I can’t believe this! I totally forgot to mention, that guy in there, he was holding this.”

“He was holding your scarf? Why would he do that?”

“I dont’ know. But I think he…knew me somehow. He kept calling my name.”

Brian scratched his head. “Huh. I didn’t hear anything.”

Kade shrugged. “It’s possible it was all in my head. Not like that, I mean! I mean that he was speaking to me–in my head.”

“Like…telepathically, you mean?”

Kade groaned. “I know it sounds stupid but just hear me out.”

“Hey, no poking here. Just confirms my suspicions is all–gotta be a wizard.”

Brian’s serious expression slowly began to crack and a goofy smile played across his face.

“You are such an ass!” Kade mock-punched his friend in the shoulder but couldn’t help but laugh despite himself.

“Seriously, though: why would this guy give you back your scarf?”

Kade stared down at the scarf as he attempted to tackle the question in his mind. It really didn’t make any sense, no matter how he framed it. He sighed.

“Honestly, I have no idea. No idea who this person is, no idea why they wanted me to have this. All I can say is that I’m glad to have it back. It means more to me than you can know.”

Kade wrapped the scarf back around his neck and smiled at Brian once it was back in place.

“You’d be surprised.”

Kade could see conflicting emotions playing across his friend’s face. Kade cleared his throat.

“You know, you know a lot about me, but I really don’t know much about you…”

“This isn’t a good place to talk. With all these drones and wizards about, I think it’s best that we hit the road, ASAP. Don’t want to be here when the Aeroflame Units get here; that’s when the real questioning begins. And we won’t be able to lie our way out of that one; those guys have CASARI on their forces. Can weed out a weed, if you know what I mean.”

“Right. So what’s the plan?”

“Hmm, didn’t really have one. I mean, I didn’t plan for this. For any of it. But I guess there’s only one way to go from here.”

“Up?”

Brian laughed. “In this case, Windhome.”

“What’s in Windhome?”

“Fastest way back to the mainland. Major port town. We can grab a connecting ferry back to my hometown, and regroup from there.”

Kade hesitated. Brian sensed his apprehension.

“And don’t worry, we’ll figure out what happened to your mom. First thing.”

Brian stopped.

“Well, second thing. First thing I’m gonna do is give that crazy sister of mine a great big bear hug.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a sister.”

Brian smiled.

“She’s not just my sister, she’s my guardian angel, Kade.”

Kade raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t believe in that Hexaddai mumbo-jumbo.”

“I don’t. But I believe in her.”

“She sounds nice.”

“I think she would like you. But why don’t we find out? Besides, all this conjecturing has gotten me hungry. I know a good takeout joint about an hour from here.”

“I could eat. I could definitely eat.”

“Come on, ride’s this way.”