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Chapter 7: Chapter Seven

Using the back of his hand, Kai wiped the sweat off his forehead.

Peering down at his white gloves, he determined he would need a new pair. Dirt and sweat stained the pristine white material, not to mention the crimson—turned maroon— tiny splotches of blood.

He was beginning to resemble Egan. The boy could never keep his gloves clean. Kai had gotten in the habit of grabbing extra clean pairs from the infirmary and keeping a stockpile for his teammates.

He always pretended he didn’t see Egan pluck a new pair almost weekly.

“Oi, Kai! How many?”

Kai narrowed his eyes across the landscape before turning and looking at his cousin from over his shoulder. Even without specifying, he knew exactly what the other boy meant. How many bodies have you dropped, Kai? Was it less than my count?

“One,” he replied stiffly. “One body.”

Several alive—maybe six.

But Nereus wouldn’t care about that statistic.

Nereus simpered the way his father often did when containing intense glee. “Pity. I had four.”

Kai exhaled levelly and turned his shoulder on the boy that he could easily call a younger brother. They’d grown up together, after all.

Where had he gone wrong with Nereus?

Each day, the boy inched steadily closer to shadowing his father.

Each day, the boy grew further from Kai and the promise they shared with Wayde.  

Pacts sealed with salvia and blood encompassed most of their childhood. Recognizing the tyrant-like behavior of their fathers early in life, they made promises that they would never let their fathers control their actions. They had never wanted to turn out like those silly men who followed their fathers like well-bred hunting hounds.  

Except, they’d gotten so close in almost forgetting that vow.  

But Nereus had clearly forgotten about it completely.

Kai had truly tried his best. After combining his team with Micah, he’d sided with Nereus to reassure him of their bond. He had reminded the young man about their pact at Wayde’s funeral service. He’d even tried to contact him after break to get together with him, but to no avail.

Nereus was completely and voluntarily under his father’s whims.

In the distance, he spied the approach of Viktor and Aiden, their postures normal, healthy. No wounds, then. To his immediate right, Cain and Talia both sauntered over, just as unharmed as their other teammates.

Good.

They needed an easy win.

Without any sort of incitement, the team naturally congregated together on their way to the temporary base.

He studied his teammates for a brief moment, recognizing the cohesiveness that hadn’t been there at the beginning of their conception. It truly impressed him how far they’d come. Originally separated by background, race, gender, and political standings, Kai hadn’t believed the group of nonconformists could successfully work well together.

But he saw it now.

He saw the imperceptible bonds of unity and coalition, and Micah was the one responsible for constructing such bonds. Even when he wasn’t present, there were traces of his presence in the way the team interrelated.

Egan had built the strength of the team by becoming the foundation. Kai recognized the trait as a good leader, a powerful king, but it was also a dangerous reagent.

After all, if the foundation crumbled, how well could the structure stay erect without it? If the structure remained standing…well…that would not be an indication of a good leader, but rather an exceptional leader.

“I’ve only seen two prisoners. Just two,” Viktor lamented on their way to the tents. “Personally, if I were in Region 0 and escaped, I’d go the opposite direction of the capital.”

“It’s good to know you’ve put yourself in the prisoners’ shoes,” Aiden remarked.

“Many of the prisoners have ill-intentions towards the king,” Kai contended. “It would make sense if they made the capital their first stop. After all, they were high on their victory at the prison. Why stop there?”

“Well, Micah definitely isn’t missing anything.”

At the mention of their captain, the mood plummeted. Kai knew they wanted Micah with them. The boy was a balm, a soothing presence and an encouragement, even in his silence.

Ahead, at the village marketplace, the academy had pitched makeshift tents. The team ducked underneath a large marquee to grab a cup from the long table of supplies. Unreservedly, they poured themselves some water from the bulky canteen. The day was cool in temperature, but a certain humidity hung in the early air.

“Good work with your team, Edlen.”

Kai turned towards the voice, focusing on both Instructor Candace, who’d issued the commendation, and Lord Josiah. Both men were standing underneath the marquee, inclined to watch the cadets return for their assigned reprieve.

“Thank you, Instructor Candace,” Kai responded dutifully.

Just over Candace’s shoulder, the contained prisoners occupied an open train compartment that was scheduled to travel back to Region 0.

Several members of the military stood guard as they restrained the men and women with unforgiving bindings around their wrists. Some prisoners even appeared unconscious, or the cadets chose to execute a bit more brutality than necessary. While Lord Josiah had given his expressed permission to execute the prisoners upon resistance, Kai imagined most of the victims hadn’t actually resisted arrest.

The majority had been unarmed, after all.

“You’ve spread them out well. Stranglers haven’t gotten through.” Candace raised his cup of water in mock salute. “I’d imagine you will be promoted to captain quickly.”

Kai could feel the others deflate upon that proclamation. While Candace indicated a positive turn of events for him, Kai wasn’t one to take credit for something others had accomplished.

“I appreciate that, sir,” he replied, looking briefly over at Lord Josiah. As always, the man was impossible to read. “Although the credit must be given to Cadet Egan. He has prepared us for missions like these.”

Here, Lord Josiah gave a serpent-like smile, clearly humored by Kai’s response.

“Nonetheless, Egan is a prince now, Edlen,” Candace continued. “You do realize he will no longer be able to accompany you and the team on missions, yes?”

Kai reared in offense.

“Princes often fight on the front lines, as Lord Josiah may recall,” he said pointedly. Josiah had been Micah's junior during the Igni and Unda war and he’d still fought. “I believe Egan—” he cut himself off abruptly with frustration— “I believe Ezra would die of boredom within the walls of a palace before he died in battle.”

“I would second that,” Viktor added quickly. He appeared just as affronted over the idea of Micah staying behind. “I don’t understand why he had to stay behind today.”

“Fortunately, understanding the king’s orders is not a requirement for first-year cadets.” Lord Josiah’s tone was enough to turn Viktor’s face crimson with indignity. “The prince was to stay behind. That was final.”

Kai kept his features schooled, though he wanted to balk.

He knew enough about Calder’s and Josiah’s history to know the kings were nearly always at odds. If Lord Josiah were even the slightest bit indifferent about Micah attending the mission today, he wouldn’t have enforced Calder’s order. Either there was more to it or Lord Josiah simply wanted to exert his dominance over Micah.

If Micah interacted with the man uninhibited, there was a high chance they butted heads often. As such, Kai could understand why Josiah would find pleasure by establishing control over Micah.

It was an odd relationship.

“Ezra is…” Kai trailed off when the wind suddenly picked up.

Violently.

The pavilion flapped fiercely and strained against the hooks holding it in place. Voices bellowed exaggeratedly as articles of clothing and other loose possessions flew across the marketplace. Kai watched men run after their possessions, hoping to retrieve them, but they danced impishly from their reach.

Stepping out into the open, Kai squinted through the wind.

Above, the sky was relatively calm, no approaching storm clouds or anything out of the ordinary. But the wind! He had never experienced something so sudden, so strong.

So peculiar.

Suddenly, people began screaming and pointing in the distance. As Kai turned in the specified direction, his blood ran cold.

Directly north, on the horizon, was the capital. He’d admired the view frequently throughout the morning, delighting in the fact he could see the buildings standing tall over the encompassing wall.

Now, though…

Dark, destructive smoke rose above the buildings like menacing clouds of doom. Only, the more he stared, the more he realized that a storm cloud really was brewing above the capital. Lightning flashed repeatedly, emphasizing the sheer size of the cloud as it continued to expand into something entirely alarming.  

The smoke indicated the capital was under an attack.

The cloud and the wind, however, indicated something far more abnormal.

“The gods! They’re angry!” someone shrieked.

Abashed, Kai was inclined to think the same thing. He stared, his mind suspended in a state of disbelief and paralyzed to rational thinking. Standing against the strong wind, he watched as the world folded in on itself.  

Micah.

He turned, happening to look at Lord Josiah, his perplexity only growing.

The man’s sharply intelligent eyes were vacant, empty.

He appeared to be a living and breathing mannequin.

Slowly, the Igni lord gazed at Kai, almost as if he did not recognize him. That unfamiliarity did not go away, but resignation and a sense of duty took prevalence.

The Igni lord then moved and started issuing orders for the academy members to board the train. Kai stared after him, not experiencing that familiar intimidation he always felt in the man’s presence. The man even walked differently. The confidence was not overwhelming, nor was it particularly noteworthy.

Looking back to the capital, Kai found himself at a loss.

* * * *

“Ezra.”

Micah struggled to wake.

“Ezra.”

Serpentine and deeply resonating, the unfamiliar voice forcibly roused him from the darkness. Unforgiving rain and wind struck viciously at his face as he came back to consciousness, nearly drowning him from the merciless onslaught.

Micah coughed, spluttered, and raised a hand to cover his face from the assault.

Breathing proved difficult, as did observing his surroundings.

The rain was relentless.

Painful.

He couldn’t see. His face grew numb from the continuous and repetitive blitz attack across his skin. Curling his fingers into claws, he scraped his face, his insides squirming with both irritation and desperation.

“Stop!” Micah screamed hoarsely, his rage turning violent.

And then the rain stopped. The wind died.

Slowly, he lowered his hands, his eyes turning cross-eyed at the long, narrow icicle posed just inches from his face. His eyes roamed higher, marveling at the suspended icicles and the ice-bridge that formed as a shield high above him.

It was beautiful.

Rain tapped on top of the shield, possessing a sort of hesitancy. Thunder cracked unhappily through the air and rumbled the entire capital. His stomach tightened at the angry sound, and far above, the lightning veined across the sky, nearly blinding him with the intensity.

In the moment of stillness, when the elements seemed to hush, he could hear crying. Screaming. Cries of disbelief and pain across the capital.

Suddenly, the rain and wind returned vigorously.

Rain poured from the skies and splintered through his bridge, shattering the delicate ice into a shower of pellets. Micah curled in on himself for protection, though he hadn’t had to worry about the icicles piercing him.

The wind was strong enough to shove him cleanly across the wall.

Unable to see his surroundings, he was surprised when he became weightless.

He was falling.

Scrambling, Micah flailed his arms, his fingers grabbing for something, anything.

Anything!

Hot, nearly scalding warmth suddenly encompassed him. Micah found his hand firmly—unnaturally—guided to reach high up in the air for the edge of the wall. Blindly, he grabbed for the ledge, feeling his legs dangle uselessly beneath him.

Looking down, he spied the long drop to the ground, knowing he’d die instantly upon impact.

“Ezra!”

Sachiel’s face peered over the edge and he hastily grabbed Micah’s wrists. He hoisted him over the edge with ease and settled him firmly on top of the wall.

Or what was left of the wall.

Micah used Sachiel as a shield against the elements as he surveyed the damage. The wall crumbled into nothing a few feet from them. The gap that demolished the wall was several yards long containing no structure, nothing but large boulders and destroyed stone.

He then turned, looking towards the tower that enclosed the staircase.

A portion collapsed, yet the structure seemed to remain in better standing than he’d thought. Unfortunately, Micah spied a man underneath the collapsed ceiling. His uniform indicated he was one of the three military members.

Micah stood up shakily.

His boots planted firmly against the cobblestone wall, bracing against the high winds. As he approached the buried man, he observed the way the pale radiance around the body flickered uncontrollably, as if struggling to stay lit.

A fleeting, fragile thing, really.

Initially, he imagined the silvery, pale glow he’d seen around others were auras. And maybe they were, in a sense, but it was also more.

The sight before him clearly indicated they were souls.

Micah stopped until the toes of his boots touched a rather large boulder. Gazing down at the crushed man, his eyes traced over the deformed skull and the reaching, desperate hand. The man’s fingers trembled wildly, twitching just as violently as his soul. Blood clouded the water, elegant and fancy swirls of crimson, before a gust of wind and rain shattered the image.

Then suddenly, with nearly an audible sigh of relief, the soul darkened.

And stayed dark.

Micah strained his eyes, unable to see much more than the endless void of an unlit soul. It hadn’t gone anywhere. It hadn’t done anything spectacular.

Was that it? Was there no afterlife? No such thing as a soul moving on to the next destination? Just… nothingness? Like a fancy, electric light bulb just blinking out of existence when it burnt out.

“Ezra.” A hand grabbed his arm, pulling him away. The fingers abruptly withdrew with shock, however. “You’re burning!” Sachiel placed his hand behind his back with intentions of hiding his surprise.

Micah blinked the water from his eyes, realizing the rain did not feel so cold anymore, realizing that warm, scalding sensation that accompanied him off the wall remained a suffocating presence. It was noticeable, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable in the least.

It was…

“No!”

He turned as the cry rang across the grueling winds. Talia’s mother reached for the fallen man, unaware of his darkened and extinguished soul. She kneeled next to the man and her hand hovered over his face, assessing the way his skull split open from the impact of one of the fallen boulders.

“The capital is under attack,” Aedus stated the obvious as he and Ezra appeared beside Sachiel and Micah. He stared out into the capital. “I don’t even know what Element they are. Earth? Wind?”

Micah forced himself to look away from Talia’s mother and the dead man. Gazing out into the capital, he saw distant figures running through the streets, dressed entirely of black and destroying anything in their path.

It was mass hysteria.

Micah unsheathed his sword and made for the stairs.

“No,” Sachiel warned with a surprisingly stern and authoritative tone. “You are not going alone.”

“I was anticipating you were all going,” Micah said as he stepped over the fallen man. “Unless, of course, you need to tend to the prince.”

He looked pointedly at Ladon, who appeared shaken. The younger man had never been on a mission before. No matter how well Sachiel had trained Ladon with the sword, it was pointless in real battle.

Micah’s team could contest that.   

It’s how they lost Wayde.

Sachiel did not argue, though he looked far from pleased.

As Micah turned his back, he heard the councilman shout out orders for the others to stay behind with Ladon.

Ducking into the crumbling tower, Micah descended the stairs quickly, noticing the sconces on the walls brightening unnaturally as he passed them. As the flames elongated eerily, they bounced off the cobblestone walls and created deep, unnerving shadows.

Although the tower was a reprieve from the wind and the rain, Micah did not feel protected. There was a disconcerting presence with him. It followed at his heels and raised the hairs on his neck with taunting persistence.

Every time he turned, however, he saw nothing but Aedus and Sachiel trying to keep up with him.

Gripping his sword tightly, Micah threw open the door and sprinted through the deep puddles and across the streets towards the screaming, seemingly losing Sachiel and Aedus as he twisted through the streets.

He was able to identify the general direction and distance of the threat before a loud, earsplitting siren sounded across the capital.

Several buildings and homes were reduced to rubble. Citizens bawled outside their home, their cries drowned out by the siren, by the rain and wind. Micah raced past, wanting to help find their buried loved ones, but sensing the urgent need to eliminate the threat first. Thunder shook the grounds of the capital and the dark clouds cast his surroundings in hues of grey and blue.

It was depressing, morbid, and oddly serene at the same time.

Micah slowed his run as he turned down a desolate street. His senses screamed in warning, yet he appeared to be alone.

Suddenly, an invisible force knocked into him, sending him flying through the air.

As he hit the ground, he rolled unceremoniously into the center of the street. Panting, he stared into the storm clouds above, wondering at the unfair advantage air Elementals had in the grand scheme of things.

Air immediately became his least favorite Element.

Unlike water and fire, it actually affected him.

“There he is.”

As Micah sat up, he surveyed the black-clad figure as it sauntered towards him. The man was dressed in form-fitting black attire with a headscarf wrapped entirely around his face. The only things that he revealed were the grey eyes representing the eastern culture and the red-gold aura.

The same-colored aura as Josiah’s.  

Gradually, Micah stood, eyeing the man with suspicion. From the corner of his eye, he witnessed more figures emerge from the shadows, surrounding him, eyeing him intently. It was if they were here for him specifically.

His sword lay a few feet away from him, having slipped from his fingers during his fall. He did not look at it, but he remained conscious of its distance. Gradually, he turned his head, noticing the several figures encircling him.

He could all but feel their scorn. Their amusement.

Mockery.

At his slip of attention, the air Elemental threw out his arm, sending another strong gust of wind in Micah’s direction. This time, he stayed on his feet, but he was powerless to stop his boots from sliding across the wet cobblestones and toward the dark figure directly behind him.

The Igni man arranged his posture eagerly, flames growing in his palms, readying to attack Micah.  

Only, the flames extinguished rather abruptly.

The figure stumbled ungracefully, as if in shock.

“Agni!”

It did not sound like the typical Igni curse, but rather a sharp accusation—almost as if Agni were personally responsible for his ineptness.

To add insult to injury, flames unexpectedly consumed the fire Elemental whole, and his high-pitched screams reverberated wildly across the street. No matter how hard it rained, the fire did not extinguish.

Micah allowed himself just a second to process the implications of the sight before him. Just a moment in time when his suspicions clicked together.

The truth…it made him delirious with incredulity and anger.

Micah raced away from the burning man and back towards the air Elemental. Dodging to the side, he grabbed his weapon. As soon as his fingers curled around the hilt of his sword, all the others charged from their positions. They were all Elementals and they all channeled their Element in his direction.

Stuck in the middle, Micah knew he’d be annihilated.

Even if Sachiel and Aedus stumbled into the street and quickly summoned their own Elements of fire and water, they would fail to take all of them at once.

There was only one option remaining.

While there were no longer any fire Elementals foolish enough to attack him with fire, Micah focused on the closest water Elemental. Turning away from the other attacks, he sprinted into the water assault.

Immune to the Element, Micah merely felt the power tickle against his cheeks and pull wantonly at his hair and clothes. 

He emerged on the other side of the attack—much to the disbelief of his enemy. Blue eyes widened and Micah slashed his sword, beheading the Elemental. The blood that splattered across his face was warmer, thicker than the rainwater already soaking his skin. His eyes fluttered closed at the sensation washing through him.  

Hunger. Adrenaline. Bloodlust. 

As his eyes opened, he watched as the headless corpse slumped to the ground.

The red-gold presence that hovered around the man immediately levitated from the fallen body and hung in the air as a celestial mist.

Distracted, as Micah watched the golden hue suddenly grow brighter and brighter, he felt something alien inside him stir at the sight. His hunger grew—intensified—to levels he had never experienced before.  

He wanted to reach out. Touch.

Possess.

A sword came at him and Micah ducked instinctively, tearing his gaze away from the temptation. Harboring his bloodlust and honing it to his advantage, he easily kept up with his opponent. Judging from the blue eyes, he assumed it was another water Elemental.

They’d realized he was immune to their powers.

“Not so much a pretty decoration, then,” the man groused. “For one so young, you have a few surprises up your sleeve. Though he wouldn’t have it any other way, would he?”

Micah slammed the hilt of his sword into the man’s ribs with renowned vengeance. As the man bowed forward from the blow, Micah flipped his blade and sliced it across the man’s throat. His blade cut through the black clothing easily and slit the skin like butter.

Blood sprayed and the water Elemental quickly cupped his neck, using his Element to seal the wound temporarily. He tumbled away from Micah, like a coward, only he lifted his hand and gave a signal.

Micah whirled around, spying a wall of stone racing towards him at breakneck speed.

It would crush him.

Just before it squashed him against the brick store, he bent down low and threw up his arms defensively. He reached for Element, hoping, praying that it wouldn’t remain stubborn and elusive. He needed it. He relied on it.

A wave of energy and fatigue hit him hard.

It was only a small price to pay.

When the impact did not come, Micah lowered his arms and stared at his warped reflection in a sheet of gleaming ice.

He scoffed in disbelief.

It had worked. Nearly at the last second too, as he was pinned against the store and only a foot or two away from the ice and stone. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips against the ice, thanking his Element and panting deliriously. He closed his eyes into the cold, feeling the phantom lick of exhaustion ripple across his limbs.

“Mortals. All so weak.”

The voice from his enemies roused him from his relief and reignited his anger.

They were, weren’t they? Mortals. Yes, they were weak. And they were susceptible to becoming mere toys and sources of amusement. Easily discarded, broken. Insignificant. Compared to daemons, gods, and creatures of power, mortals were disposable.

Somewhere in the distance, someone screamed his name, assuming the worst.

Sachiel.

Micah’s limbs were drained. He could feel exhaustion pull at his consciousness after conjuring ice of such magnitude. Still not accustomed to using his Element, he knew there would be a backlash to his person.

He didn’t believe he would be able to conjure anything more. Should he feign death? Injury? They already thought him dead. Perhaps they would retreat.  

Craning his neck back, Micah considered the pelting rain. His head tilted with consideration. Maybe he couldn’t summon or conjure ice, but converting something that was already present was another story.

It was familiar to him.

He laughed.

Fools.

Mortals had their own powers.

His hands trembled with excitement and rage as he hoisted himself up and on top of the large boulder that they’d thrown at his unprotected back. Planting his boots firmly on top of the earth, he stared down at the black-clad figures.

Most of them had turned their attention to Sachiel and Aedus, both of whom were harnessing their own Elements in defense.

“Your Water God—Varuna—has betrayed you,” Micah crooned softly.

Somehow, they heard. Over the rain and the siren, they sensed him at their back. They turned, their eyes relaying their disbelief at his survival. Micah smiled an ugly smile as the rain came down harder upon his proclamation. The ground became saturated and the streets gradually began to flood. His pulse hammered against his chest.

It was real. All of it was real. Varuna was real.

Keegan… they were real! You were right all along!

He lifted a hand, reaching towards the sky with unbridled excitement.

“His element becomes my weapon.”

Judging from their postures and their unimpressed auras, they were underwhelmed. They didn’t feel the way the rain steadily turned harder, sharper. They certainly were unprepared when large icicles impaled three of their comrades through the skulls.

Micah watched as the red-gold hues expelled from the human corpses, leaving behind the flickering silver souls of the mortals. Micah became further chagrined at the sight, knowing that he’d killed the mortals but not necessarily the parasite attached to them.

He leaped from the boulder and sprinted towards the water Elemental from earlier.

The man continued to cup his throat, sealing his throat wound until he could see a Healer, all the while, keeping a hand in the air to ward off the falling icicles. Though he was a good distance away, Micah reached for the man.

Manipulating the water Element to his favor, he froze the water holding the man’s throat together. Slowly, the throat closed, froze, and the man grunted with surprise. As Micah drew back his sword and beheaded the man, the neck column was already frozen.

As it landed on the ground, the neck shattered into pieces.

Dancing and pivoting, he threw up the water on the ground with his feet, freezing it on impact and throwing it to another unsuspecting victim. Ice easily embedded into the chest cavity, dropping the enemy and allotting for a slow, painful death.

He faced the air Elemental, smirking when the man proved efficient enough to block the ice attack from the sky.

“You’ll have trouble dropping me, mortal.”

Mortal.

Micah clenched his teeth in a feral grin and threw a wall of ice towards the man.

As predicted the air Elemental blocked it, but Micah already conjured another wall of ice from the deep puddles of water. He caged the man, confusing him in the maze-like structure. Then, as the air Elemental forced the walls away from him, shattering them on impact, Micah surprised him with a shot from underneath.

The puddle below the air Elemental quivered before elevating from the ground. Turning to a sharp icicle, it pierced the man through the groin and all the way up through his throat.

Micah advanced closer to the dying mortal vessel, his vision tunneled, his bloodlust overwhelming.

He couldn’t see anything but the need to pulverize.

Quickly, he snatched the red-gold aura before it could float away.

Surprisingly, his fingers did not go through the mist.

An earsplitting screech resonated high above the siren. The aura—soul— twitched and squirmed in Micah’s grasp, though he was quick to keep a solid hold. He was wholly unaware when the others quickly retreated and the rain and wind tempered off abruptly.

His attention was only on the object in his hands. Holding it, he experienced a rush of power and authority. The being wasn’t so powerful, was it? It struggled in his grasp, fervently hoping to get away.

Micah held on to it with surprising control.

“Just mortals,” he whispered to himself.

The soul continued to emit loud, earsplitting screeches. Subconsciously, he recognized shadows darkening around him and the color bleeding from the world. In a grey haze, Micah brought the entity closer to his face, controlled by a darker, more primitive part of his consciousness.

Yes, yes!

“You will not!”

The sharp command penetrated through Micah’s haze with such startling authority, that he flinched and opened his fingers up around the soul.

She was displeased.

As if someone other than himself was controlling his body, Micah found himself falling to his knees with shame. Her sharp reprimand burned across his skin and inflicted a deeper regret than he could make sense of.

It was the same female voice he remembered arguing with Josiah.

His eyes rose.

A woman stood just feet from him. Her long hair was white in color, seamlessly blending into the grey and colorless environment.

Quickly, he took in his surroundings, noticing that time seemed to stand motionless. His eyes refocused on her, unable to look away long, stirred by a foreign remembrance. That sorrow he experienced the last time he heard her voice returned with wicked vengeance.

Sorrow and heavy regret.

Her anger only made his chest hurt so much more.

“I know you,” he breathed in wonder. “And it hurts. So much.” As he regarded her, moisture dripped from his drenched hair and down his upturned face. He wanted to reach out and touch her. To see if she was real.

The cold mask of porcelain softened and she appeared forlorn.

“We have never met formally, Ezra. You do not know me.” Her eyes—pale in color—rose above his kneeling form. “Leave us now. He is safe.”

She lifted a hand and waved it. As she did, Micah felt the scalding warmth he’d become accustomed with suddenly leave. “No,” he mumbled softly, “I know I’ve never met you, but I know you. I feel a vague remembrance and a torment of emotion.”  

She approached and crouched down before him. Her fingers reached out and touched his upturned face as if he were fragile.

“Those feelings, those emotions, were gravely misplaced and are not yours to feel.” She had troubled features, mirroring his angst with perfect clarity. “Ezra, never give into those feelings you know not to be yours. Ever.”

“Who are you?”

A ghost of a smile crossed her features before her touch, her image, gradually disappeared.

As she vanished, the color returned to the world.

Time resumed.

Sachiel crossed the distance with Aedus trailing closely. He lowered himself in front of Micah, occupying the same space as she had previously.

“Are you unharmed?”

The councilmember’s enthusiasm and disbelief outweighed any concern in his tone. Through glazed eyes, Micah gazed at him blankly, trying to gather himself and his senses.

Vaguely, he realized both men were looking at him with incredulity.

“You’re an Elemental,” Sachiel accused. If he had his assumptions before, he certainly did a good job appearing taken aback. “Ice,” he specified with surprise. “Ezra?”

“It’s a work in progress,” Micah admitted, allowing Sachiel to assist him off the ground. “Are they all gone?”

Sunlight bathed their surroundings, shining with so much radiance, it was almost impossible to imagine they’d just experienced torrential downpour. And people gradually began swarming the streets. They were talking amongst each other and looking towards Micah.

It occurred to him they would have witnessed the battle from inside neighboring buildings. He felt a migraine start behind his eyes. This time, it was from exhaustion and no lingering half-uncles.

“Yes, they are gone. We need to go to the palace—”

“I need to get away,” Micah cut Sachiel off abruptly. “I need to rest.” He looked away from the man’s imploring gaze, his body trembling madly. He didn’t know how long he could stay upright. “I want to see my team back safely.”

Sachiel and Aedus shared a look. “Aedus will accompany you back to the academy,” Sachiel said quietly. “Someone will retrieve you later, I have no doubt. Rest while you can, Ezra. Your father will want to see you.”

His hand touched the small of Micah’s back, a soothing, yet nearly claiming gesture in the eyes of the public. Micah did not argue with the man, nor did he care what his intentions were at the moment. Instead, he hurried from the scene, his distant relative falling at his heels.

His Element stretched him thin, yes, but the questions and the dawning realizations ate gluttonously at his mental state.

He had a lot to accomplish.

His most pressing obstacle?

Josiah.

* * * *

Surveying the scene below, he hung, suspended upside down. His displeased eyes tracked the figure hurrying away from the crowd of gathering mortals.

Such a spry little thing. Initially, aside from the physical beauty that set him apart from other mortals, he hadn’t appeared to have possessed anything noteworthy—at least nothing that would suggest his unique and damning…status.

Nonetheless, the events of the attack certainly proved otherwise. He was far more dangerous than they could have imagined.

Some, especially the younger ones, would not realize the depth of that threat before it was too late. But he did. The others would treat it as a game, far more interested in playing with a favored mortal than actually comprehending the severity of the situation.

Blitz attacks clearly did not work.

Subtlety had to be spun carefully to destroy the boy’s platform.

Now would be an opportune time to spin it, for the mortal’s protector remained looking the other way. With a pleased hum, he traveled above the capital, nurturing and producing enough webbing to create chaos.

It would take time, but he was a patient god. 

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