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Immunity: Part 2
Immunity: Part 2
Author: Purple Cashinx

Chapter 1: Chapter One

Where is he, Sachiel?”

Sachiel concealed a smile as he landed on one knee before the king.

He also nodded respectfully to Lord Josiah, who stood lazily behind his assigned throne. For as many times as Sachiel occupied the throne room, he had yet to see Josiah sit obediently on his throne.

Granted his position was a distance behind and to the side of Calder’s prominent seat, parallel to the vacant prince’s throne, but it was still a position of prestige.

There were typically three monarchs with varying degrees of power. Because Queen Ember was no longer in the picture, Lord Josiah, acting as the Igni representative, would occupy the third position until Prince Ezra married and continued on the monarch line for both families.

Now that Calder suspended Lord Josiah from his duties at Concordia Academy, and repositioned the man where he could watch him closely, it was likely Sachiel may actually witness Josiah take a more active role in the political court.

It was a fascinating thought.

The man had a silver tongue. It was utterly delightful to watch him insult others, sometimes to the obliviousness of the intended victim.

He imagined Ezra would be the same way.

Perhaps the young man would not be as lethal with subtlety as his uncle, but rather, he would possess a bluntness. Experience and age would eventually sharpen and refine such bluntness into something extraordinary.

“Sachiel,” Calder called again, not hiding his impatience, “where is my son? Let me remind you, for the past several weeks, you’ve continuously fed me incorrect information.”

Around the room, the royal guards took position against the far walls. Just to the side, there was an informal court of advisors and councilmembers gathered. He noticed Kai’s father—Seaton Edlen— amongst the group, displeasure evident on his features.

Sachiel would not say Ezra ran from the capital, yet there was no conceivable word to make it sound less cowardly. He also took Kai Edlen with him—or more appropriately—Kai forcefully invited himself along for the trip.

“He probably recognized his last bit of freedom and took full advantage,” Sachiel murmured quietly to his knee.

“I beg your pardon?”

It was no longer a secret that the lost royal heir was roaming the capital. News travelled quickly and the public speculated wildly.

Calder refused to publicly confirm or deny rumors, which was understandable considering Ezra’s insistence to remain invisible. The high nobility, however, knew exactly who the prince was.

Weeks ago, during the capital’s anniversary, Calder had discovered Ezra during the prisoner’s duel. He had then summoned Sachiel. After all, the boy’s duel was astonishing and elements of Sachiel’s style reflected throughout the prince’s form.

Sachiel had not hidden anything from his king and answered all questions as truthfully as possible while keeping some things private for Ezra’s sake.

In turn, Calder had hurried to do damage control.

After repositioning Josiah in the palace, he gave off a united front with the man over the subject of his son.

When he made a formal statement to the public, he would feign that he’d known from the beginning that Ezra was relocated as a child for his own safety. That he and Lord Josiah planned to wait until he was of age to reintroduce him to the court.

Obviously, not many nobles believed the story, knew it to be false, but it was expected of Calder to smooth things over with the public.

After all, he didn’t want to appear fooled by Josiah. He didn’t want others questioning his leadership if he could not even look after his own son, who happened to be under his nose for over half a year.

It gave Calder control.

It reestablished his footing by forcing Lord Josiah to unite with him.  

“Boys will be boys, Your Majesty,” Sachiel rephrased with a clear, ringing tone. He looked up and appraised Calder’s uninspired expression. “I imagine they will return right before term begins next week. Oh, which reminds me…”

Trailing off, he dug into his inner coat pocket and withdrew an onyx feather.

It would make a very impressive quill.

“Mr. Edlen wrote to me last week. This is a feather from—”

“The Terra Kingdom,” Calder interrupted, hardly impressed. “Which you mentioned before as their last known location. Oddly enough, after sending a few men to the Terra Kingdom, it was revealed they hadn’t received outside visitors for quite some time.”

Sachiel gazed at the feather, feeling his lips twitch.

“Don’t you find that odd, Sachiel?”

Replacing the feather back into his coat pocket, Sachiel inclined his head. “It is very odd the Terra Kingdom swallowed their animosity over our last visitation, yes. I had believed Delegator Barth banned us from ever encroaching on their lands again.”

“He does not possess such authority when half their kingdom remains a sanctuary region,” Calder responded stiffly. “So, when it comes to Ezra’s location, either you’re playing me, or they are playing you.”

“I imagine it’s the latter, Your Majesty.”

“You imagine?”

“It pains me to admit their deceit,” he replied forlornly. “It was a nice feather.”

Truthfully, Sachiel was having a rather entertaining time with the whole situation. For the past six weeks, the academy halls were quiet. The break between terms was nearly two months and most—almost every— student had returned home.

Ezra and Kai had left the capital immediately after finals.

As far as Sachiel was aware, Kai only kept in contact with him about their whereabouts—rather— theoretical whereaboutsIt pleased Sachiel immensely, simply because he had both Calder and Seaton constantly summoning him to the palace for updates.

He was delighted to respond with incredibly vague answers.

“Do you know where he currently is?” Calder’s question was not directed at Sachiel, but rather Josiah.

The Igni lord gazed indifferently at Calderan answer in itself. Considering Josiah knew of the prince’s location before all others, it would be no surprise if the man knew where the boy was now.

Lord Josiah would never share such information, however, especially to Calder.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” Sachiel intervened smoothly, “but it is possible that Ezra feels powerless in this situation. In order to establish footing, he is setting the terms for your first meeting. I imagine, considering his upbringing, he will always be rather defiant.”

“You find this far too amusing for your own good, Sachiel,” Calder drawled.

“Is it that obvious?” Sachiel inquired, scandalized. “They are young men—”

“They are young men with responsibilities,” Seaton Edlen interrupted fiercely. “Especially the royal prince. Running off is a rather childish and irresponsible thing to do. Not every noble has the same frivolous luxuries as you do, Sachiel. They have a duty to uphold.”

Upon the sly insult, Sachiel exhaled levelly and stood from his kneeling position.

He faced Seaton and his brother, Muriel Edlen.

“Both men are legally bound to the military,” Sachiel informed them coolly. “Nowhere does it state the students need to report back to their daddies between terms. What they do during their free time is entirely up to them.”

He turned back around and lowered his head to both Josiah and Calder. At his side, his hand curled around the pommel of his sheathed sword.

Old habits, he supposed.

“I’ve trained Ezra long enough to know he will approach you when he is ready, Your Majesty, and not a second sooner.”

Calder was relatively infamous for his blasé indifference. Subjects, even controversial ones, hardly got him to stir.  

However, upon seeing Calder’s hard stare, Sachiel realized his misstep.

He’d given far too much of his opinion, especially in front of members of the court. He suggested the king wait on someone and relinquish control over a situation. Even when that ‘someone’ was his son, it was an inappropriate suggestion for the King of Concordia.

Calder smiled coldly. “You know my son better than I, Sachiel,” he admitted. “However, he is my son. As soon as their boots hit military grounds, I want you to bring them to me immediately. Not a second later. Do you understand me?”

The gloating from the spectators was palpable.

Sachiel could taste their delight on the tip of his tongue.

With an iron fist, Calder swiftly regained control and authority. It was necessary, Sachiel supposed, for appearances sake. Nevertheless, he foresaw such dominant plays reoccurring with Ezra as the target.

The boy was far too headstrong for subtle court.

In many ways, Ezra was very much like Calder. As soon as the young man detected the reigns, he’d buck stubbornly. If Calder did not recognize this in time, both father and son would butt heads assuredly. Sachiel both anticipated and dreaded the thought.

Glancing at Lord Josiah, he paused over the brightly amused eyes.

The man knew Ezra just as well—if not better—than Sachiel. Josiah was most likely foreseeing the same situation and anticipating it greatly.

If there was one way to make an enemy out of Ezra, it was to attempt to establish control and dominance over the boy. Ezra would make many adversaries in court, surely.

How very exciting.

Sachiel bowed low at the waist. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

“You are dismissed, Councilman Sachiel.”

If there was one thing Sachiel knew how to do well, it was a proper exit. Feeling the bruise to his ego, there was only one remedy to nurse it back to full health.

Attack someone else’s pride.

Turning, he sought Muriel Edlen in the leering crowd of politicians. Inside, he gloated. “I understand your son did well on his finals, Muriel.” Sachiel walked toward the exit at a flaunting pace. “Nereus ranked twentieth overall in a class of forty. Impressively average. Give my salutations to that renowned, private tutor you hired last year.”

Amongst the chuckles of the other politicians, Muriel looked positively vile. “Very kind of you, Sachiel,” the man responded spitefully.

“Heard your stallion was ranked first, Sachiel!” Ervin called out. “Congratulations!”

He always did admire Ervin.

The man had a particularly sinful smile.

“Yes.” He triumphed. “Micah Egan—our recently revealed royal prince—not only ranked as the top cadet during trials, but was also the top of his class for the term.” Sachiel opened the door and smiled at his associates. “I expect all your payments by the end of the week. Preferably gold, though I’d accept a lavish bottle of malt.”

Catching a few grins, and relishing in his success, Sachiel exited the throne room with his confidence high and his pride redeemed.

* * * *

Micah followed the shopkeeper down a set of rickety stairs.

As they descended, the stairs creaked noisily and the temperature dropped several degrees. The tangy, scalding air above no longer served as an oppressor, but rather a distant, unfriendly memory.

As the sweat across Micah’s forehead cooled, he slowly unraveled the shemagh from around his face.

The man glanced back at him, leering, before turning back forward.

Micah watched the storekeeper closely, grateful for the sword slung to his back. There was something unnerving about the man, though he supposed it shouldn’t have surprised him.

After all, the store he currently occupied sold and bartered dark artifacts.

“We have several,” the man repeated for the third time, almost as if he thought Micah were thick and not capable of retaining information. “Not many people are keen on the subject in this day in age. Their focus is mostly on technology and the mass improvements to civilization.”   

“Which is just as equally fascinating,” Micah replied distantly. “People have brilliant minds to create such inventions to improve our society.”

The man grunted, unenthusiastic. “I foresee things changing because of technology. And the change is not for the better, I assure you. There will be dying arts. Arts that should thrive and govern society.”

Micah quirked a brow. “Do you often foresee things?”

Either the man did not notice Micah’s cynicism, or he decided to overlook it. He merely shrugged his heavy-set shoulders and led Micah through the lower level of his store. He reached for the gas-burning lantern and shed light across the array of items.

It was a junk pile, really. Micah gazed across the artifacts, noticing the dust and the thick spider webs in unused corners.

His boots slid across the cobbled stone floor and toward the bookcase, intent to look at the array of available tomes.

Only, a hand curled around his elbow.

“No, not there.”

Micah stared deliberately at the hand around his elbow before gazing apathetically up at the shopkeeper. The man smiled awkwardly, quickly removing his hand and approaching the opposite end of the room away from the bookcase.

“I keep them separate.”

“They can’t be that indecent,” Micah commented, catching sight of some rather questionable artifacts in the room. “Considering our surroundings are full of prohibited items, I would have assumed they’d be on display like everything else.”

“Anything that deals with Noir Magic is very incriminating to possess,” the man argued sensibly. “I especially don’t want it falling into ignorant hands. I screen everyone who requests such material.”

“Rather noble of you…” Micah trailed off dryly. “I must have passed your verdict.”

The Igni shopkeeper stopped and looked at Micah from over his shoulder. There was a rather crude leer in his eyes.

“You passed.”

If books on Noir Magic were in abundance, Micah would have left several minutes ago. The reality of it, however, was that he needed this man to obtain what he wanted. He’d traveled from region to region, village to village, looking for this.

After several weeks of failed attempts and dead ends, he finally found a willing vendor.

Finally.

He hadn’t realized how difficult it would be. He was an ignorant fool before he left the academy, thinking he could get his hands on books like these. Halfway through his venture, he’d concluded he might never get the books he needed to discover Josiah’s secrets.

Fortunately, he’d decided to stop one last place before giving up.

The shopkeeper moved around a cabinet and crouched down to retrieve something from the storage area. As he straightened, he slammed a stack of leather-bound tomes on the counter, causing a cloud of dust to implode.

Eagerly, Micah reached for the books, his fingers sliding alongside cool leather.

Hissing in pleasure, he looked up at the shopkeeper. “May I?” He motioned to the leather strap keeping the three books together.

The man barely nodded before Micah unstrapped the belt and spread all three books out to examine them. They were beautiful. His hands nearly trembled as he flipped through the smallest book, eyes glazing over at the information, the diagrams, and the sketches.

All in a language he could read.

This was it.

Oh, Agni this was it.

Micah flipped through the other two, seeing similar material as the first. All on runes. All on daemons. All readable. Schooling his features, he calmly gathered the books back together. After securing the leather band back in place, he looked up at the man with unimpressed eyes.

“These will do, I suppose,” he added casually. “How much do you charge?”

The creaking and groaning stairs was his first indication that something was amiss. Turning to glance over his shoulder, Micah observed the two men gradually making their way down into the underground.

They were rough looking and aggressive. Micah identified one of them as the man who had dawdled above in the shop. He hadn’t given the man any attention, simply because he’d focused exclusively on the storeowner.

Evidently, it appeared as if Micah should have paid more attention, for the man brought a friend.

“These books require a different sort of payment,” the storekeeper informed, taking the books from underneath Micah’s greedy hand. “I assure you, you wouldn’t have had enough gold to cover the costs. Consider this a bargain.”

“I’m sure he has enough gold. He looks like a damned noble,” one of the men observed. “You and daddy have an argument? Is this your act of defiance? Learn a little black magic?”

“With a face like that,” the last man interjected with a languid stare, “you probably won’t want to put him on all fours.”

Micah narrowed his eyes. “Pity,” he drawled, “that’s my favorite position.”

“He has spirit. I like it.”

Crude, sexual harassment was not new to Micah, especially in the outer regions. There was only one man who nearly took advantage of him when he was much younger, but Micah never allowed another to do the same.

Though this type of situation happened everywhere, the desert experienced it more frequently, simply because law enforcement was scarce.     

It was another reason Micah despised the capital.

It was another thing he’d want to fix.

Deliberately, he withdrew his sword, watching as the three men smirked with amusement. He mirrored their amusement with his own, more than willing to drive his blade into their guts and leave them on the floor like gutted boars.

These three men were scumbags who did not deserve to live. They did not deserve to harm another innocent.

“I was more than willing to give you a fair price,” Micah said to the storekeeper.

“I’ve been experiencing a rather dry spell,” the man replied airily, looking at Micah hungrily. “You are a sight for sore eyes, boy.”

The stockier and larger Igni man lunged for Micah.

Nearly rolling his eyes, Micah sidestepped him and slammed his blade downward and into the man’s stomach. The man howled and dropped to the ground, slamming into the cobblestones with a hollow thud.

Hands grabbed him from behind, forcing him to bend backward at an odd angle.

The shopkeeper behind the counter squeezed his throat with sudden and surprising force. Micah heaved, his eyes nearly popping from his skull as the fingers crushed his windpipe. The man in front of him inched closer and Micah threw up his foot, catching the man’s chin with his boot. 

It only allowed him a second of reprieve and Micah brought back his sword blindly, swinging it in the general direction of the shopkeeper behind him. Though he did not hit flesh, his attack was enough to shake the hands from his throat.

Micah stumbled, inhaling greedily and touching his sore throat.

An object flew at him from his blind spot, slamming into his head. The glass shattered and sliced skin near his hairline, dazing him for just a moment.

He laughed. “Fools.”

Turning suddenly, he caught his attacker by the throat.

The man seemed surprised at his abruptness, and Micah tightened his hold on the man, staring into the cruel, yellow eyes.

“Such vermin,” Micah whispered hoarsely.

By no means was he larger than his attacker. In a battle of strength, he wouldn’t be able to hold the man still for long.

Nevertheless, he didn’t need time. Not when he had power. The temperature dropped abruptly and his Elemental came forth eagerly. A surprising turn of events. It usually ignored his call.

The man struggled for a moment, realizing his throat gradually turned solid. Sharp, disbelieving grunts escaped his lips as Micah released him. The man reached for his throat, his hands trembling madly as his tanned skin turned a glacier blue.

Clearly, he could not breathe. Could not speak.

He panicked.

Micah smiled thinly, watching the man suffer and collapse to the ground. His Element was always elusive and stubborn, often confusing Micah when it would come forth or stay obstinately buried. Especially when he needed it the most.

Fortunately, he did not have to coax it out today.

The Element seemed particularly attentive.

His attention then narrowed on the shopkeeper. The balding Igni man took one look at his comrade’s frozen neck and raced for the stairs.

He didn’t get very far.

Micah’s hand curled around his ankle. Abruptly yanking the man forward, the shopkeeper landed face down on the stairs. With forbidding slowness, Micah pulled him down each step, making it as jarring as possible.

“I did say I was willing to give you a good price,” he rasped through the soreness of his throat.

“Please, you can have the books! For free! And anything else,” the man pleaded.

“Men like you are all the same.” Micah yanked one last time. Standing on the stairs, he placed one foot on each side of the man, caging him in. “Together in a pack, you’re large and in charge. Nothing can touch you. When you find yourself standing alone, however, your cowardice is overwhelmingly pathetic.”   

Cold anger beat within him, thrumming in his chest and electrifying his nerves. He could feel power coursing through his limbs. His fingers twitched, eager, willing.

Staring into the terrified eyes of the man, Micah felt nothing but extreme glee.

He reached down and cupped the man’s flaccid manhood.

No!

“Yes,” Micah whispered. “You wanted this, no? For your dry spell?”

He petted the man mockingly before reaching for his Element and freezing the man’s family jewels.

As the screams pierced through the cellar, Micah calmly walked back towards the counter. Grabbing the books, he placed them into his satchel and considered the two dead bodies.

This far out in Region 10 was so much of a pit, he had no qualms leaving corpses behind.   

Stepping over the suffering man, and intentionally planting his foot into the frozen groin to break off the cock, Micah climbed the stairs. Screams followed him all the way up to the storefront, only silencing when Micah slammed the door shut behind him. 

As he stood underneath the bright, relentless sun, he calmly wrapped his shemagh around his head and over his nose and mouth.

Adjusting his bag over his shoulder, Micah made his way down the deserted alleyway and back into the throngs of the bazaar. He ignored vendors who called for his attention and swam through the thick crowd of sweaty and loosely robed bodies.

As the several feet scuffed across the hard, unforgiving ground, dust rose and suspended in the air. A cloud of haze stretched high into the sky, reaching wantonly towards the searing sun.

Micah watched as women gushed around the vendor who had traveled from the capital. The vendor sold fashion and jewelry that once belonged to nobles.

Despite the second-hand possessions, the females appeared exceptionally enamored. The vendor wouldn’t sell much, if any, here. He had probably traveled to each region’s village since his departure from the capital. His merchandise was little, indicating he’d sold much of it already.

Unfortunately, the further he traveled south, the less wealthy his clientele.

It was the same for other vendors from the capital. Once they entered the outskirt regions, they’d have to sell at a deep discount to get rid of their unsold inventory. They hardly ever made an effort to travel to Region 20.

“That will be four silver pieces.”

Micah approached the food merchant. Reaching out, he snatched the wrist of the unaware consumer, holding it captive. He shook the man’s wrist that clutched the silver coins.

“I only paid two pieces yesterday,” he informed.

The young man gazed at Micah before turning his attention to the vendor.

Said vendor appeared reluctant, but shook his head. “Two pieces then.”

After tossing the coins onto the counter, the man took the bowl of noodles. “Why do they always do that with me?” Kai inquired as he followed Micah away from the hustle of the bazaar.

“It’s how they make money,” he responded neutrally. “They take advantage of travelers and make a profit.”

“Travelers,” Kai repeated, as if insulted. “I am wearing their clothes.”

“And yet, your pale skin and blue eyes don’t seem to fit the general clientele.” Micah gazed at Kai, smirking at the boy’s petulant expression.

They both dressed in undescriptive trousers and shirts. Though reluctant at first, Kai decided to wear the shemagh to hide his startling blond hair. They did not garner as much attention when they wore the traditional headwear of the desert regions. Nevertheless, vendors still took advantage of Kai, which Micah found amusing.

The two men settled on a boulder that overlooked a fathomless canyon.

“Did you finally get what you needed?” the boy asked casually. He dropped the shemagh from his face and the material pooled around his neck.

“I did.”

Kai dug into his noodles, hardly batting a lash at Micah’s ambiguity.

“Evidently you had to fight to get it.” He stirred the south’s spicy sauce around in his bowl. “You’re bleeding. And unless you came down with a sudden flu, your throat is raw and scratchy.”

“How irritatingly observant of you, Edlen.” Micah unraveled his own shemagh and used the material to wipe at the open wound near his hairline.

It burned, though he couldn’t care less.

“Just playing my role as the concerned ally, Egan.”

“Careful now,” Micah warned softly, “if you play the role too well, I might start believing you actually care.”

“I never do anything less than perfect. You’ll just have to learn how to make the distinction.”

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Kai inhaled his noodles with a surprising amount of savagery. Micah scoffed and looked out at the red canyon. Several weeks had passed in their rather lackluster venture and Micah remained clueless to Kai’s intentions for accompanying him.

Besides sightseeing, growing familiar with other regions, and emptying his coins for both himself and Micah, Kai received nothing by traveling with him. There were several possibilities as to why the boy had decided to leave the capital between terms, and Micah had narrowed it down to three likely scenarios.

Either Kai was avoiding something back at the capital, he was truly concerned about Micah, or he saw it as an opportunity to grow close to Ezra, the royal heir.

Now that Kai knew about his identity, the boy could take advantage by becoming a trustworthy ally. His proximity to Ezra would earn him a high position in court. It would bring him prestige and status.

Upon that initial thought, Micah had admonished himself.

Kai hadn’t changed after finding out about Micah being Ezra. He’d always possessed a sort of admiration towards Micah amongst a sea of angry animosity and dislike. The boy would say he disliked Micah, yet he always seemed to appear when he believed Micah needed help. 

No, Micah had an intuition that Kai was avoiding something.

Alternatively, perhaps he really was worried how Micah would react after Keegan’s…

Passing.

“I never thought I would say this,” Kai started after swallowing his mouthful of noodles, “but there is something beautiful about the desert regions.”

“Beautiful,” Micah agreed as he gazed out into the barren and distant canyon.

The high sun cast massive shadows across the rocky terrain, creating deep, fathomless cavities. He especially thought the canyon beautiful during the evening when the dying sun cast everything in shades of crimson.

“But so far gone in its corruption. Good things hardly ever come from the desert.”

“Besides Keegan.”

Kai’s words caused Micah to still and his mind to blank. With his thoughts centering on the three men at the shop, he had to do a sudden turnaround with the very mention of his friend and the purity he’d carried like a second skin.

While Keegan had to struggle with the typical transgressions of the south, like hunger and crime, a close and protective family had raised him. The other man had been clueless how to deal with people who had less than noble intentions.

Micah exhaled quietly and nodded with agreement. “Besides Keegan.”

Kai studied him closely before looking back down at his food. “I’d say you as well, Egan, but…” the man trailed off. “You’re just as corrupt as the rest of us mere mortals.”

A sly smirk curled Micah’s lips.

Indeed, he was.

Kai sighed angrily. “Why are there so many?”

It took Micah only a moment to realize what frustrated Kai.

Just a distance away, a young girl lingered shyly behind a large boulder. Several people passed her by, hardly paying her any heed as they shopped for supplies. She braced her small hands on the rock, blinking at Kai and the noodles in his hand. Her arms were rail thin, her belly large with malnutrition. A simple smock dressed her skeletal frame, dirtied and torn.

Micah grimaced, though the sight was common for him. Kai, however, seemed especially bothered whenever they encountered abandoned children. He would grow agitated as if the children were the root of his anger. 

However, he’d do something generous like—

“Here.” Kai lifted the bowl of noodles towards the small child. The girl ducked down lower, afraid at the suddenness of his actions. “I’m not going to hurt you. You can have it if you’d like.”

Trying to act nonchalant, he stood from his position.

Avoiding eye contact with the child, he placed the bowl on the ground a distance away from his position on the boulder. Slowly, as if not to rile a wild animal, Kai returned to his spot and turned his back to the girl.

As predicted, the child stayed rooted in place.

Only after a respectable amount of time passed, she ventured tentatively from her perch and approached the bowl of noodles. When she got within reaching distance, she grabbed the bowl and sprinted away, her bare feet slapping the dirt road.

“You’re not affected,” Kai accused.

“No,” Micah responded levelly, “it’s a situation I grew up with constantly.”

Kai deliberated for a moment. “Region 20 is one of the poorest regions. How did you survive? Did your…mother have enough money from her time at the capital?”

There were a few occasions Kai asked him small questions about his upbringing and other matters of his personal life. Micah had learned to respond truthfully, knowing the other man was only curious.

“You’d think she’d have trunks full.” Micah smirked darkly. “I believe she had some gold in the beginning, though it ran out quickly. By the time we reached Region 20, we had nothing but what we earned at our previous residencies from work we’d perform.”

“Why did she do it? Why did she run?”

Micah looked at Kai, considering. “I’ve yet to hear the true story. I don’t think I ever will. All three of them are deceivers, and they play on nothing but dishonesty.” He turned back to the canyon. “My mother claimed Calder and Josiah deceived her. I imagine Calder would tell me a story I hadn’t heard before.”

“You’ll have to face him eventually,” Kai said.

Micah mulled over the words.

Calder indicated as much the day of Keegan’s service. The man was probably impatient with the news of Micah’s disappearance from the capital. What waited for them upon their arrival would most likely be a frustrated king. And Josiah.

Micah closed his eyes briefly, not knowing how to act, what to feel. The betrayal was still sharp. Bitter. Yet something pulled him back to the older man, reminding him of the impossibility of being angry forever.

“Let’s go. We need to find a room for tonight.”

Micah stood up and Kai quickly followed. They wrapped their shemaghs over their faces once again and ventured through the bazaar. The sun beat warmly across Micah’s back, causing the sweat to accumulate at the back of his sore neck.

“Would you like your fortune told?”

He turned and locked eyes with an elderly woman leaning across the counter of her station. Her bosom was large and left nothing to the imagination.

Considering the lack of customers, the people in Region 10 did not believe in wasting valuable gold on a woman who proclaimed herself a spiritual nomad.

Imagine that.

“No,” Kai replied shortly.

“I will give you enough temptation to spark your interest,” she persisted. She reached for Kai, gazing at him with her eyes unfocused. “You will have glory bestowed upon you, my boy!” Her eyes then landed on Micah and she frowned. “I sense something very malevolent around you. It’s focused on you.”

“That would be my uncle,” Micah replied cynically, earning an amused snort from Kai.

“No, no,” she responded fiercely. “Not blood. Most definitely not relative. It has taken a very unnatural interest in you.” She reached out, as if to touch Micah. Her hand suddenly pulled back. “You—you… have darkness, yes? Something dark is growing inside you.” She abruptly stopped talking and cowered away.

Micah watched, bemused, as she hurried from her booth and towards a man. She engaged him in a harried conversation, gesturing towards him.

The man, in turn, scowled darkly.

“On second thought, why don’t we catch a train back to the capital?” Kai inquired. “You’re upsetting far too many people here, Egan.” 

Clearly.

Micah was at a loss of what ensnared the woman’s fear. Had she somehow sensed the books in his bag? Perhaps she grew fearful enough to tell others. If it wasn’t the books, however, what, exactly, had ignited such fear?

A part of him wanted to ask her, though she appeared far too afraid to welcome such an approach. He started to speculate himself, his resolution only growing to study the books in his bag and become an expert in the subject.

No matter, Kai was correct.

It was time to head back to the capital. He’d gotten what he needed.

* * * *

Hobbling from foot to foot, Pele braced himself on the counter, nearly hyperventilating. His eyes roamed over his two comrades, unable to look away from their lifeless stares. They received a harsher fate, yet Pele could not wrap his mind over his loss.

His hand trembled as it reached between his legs.

He’d touched himself several times before and the result remained the same.

Nothing.

A strangled whine sounded as he pressed his fingers against his pelvic bone and around his groin. It did not hurt. It was still numb with cold.

Rotating his torso, he looked back at the staircase, spying the object of his misery. It lay in a crushed pile, glimmering like ice as it had slipped down his pant leg when he’d stood. Pele squinted at the shattered manhood, dry sobs originating deep within his chest and spilling from his mouth with unrestrained wretchedness.

It was surreal.

So surreal.

That monster.

A soft, nearly inaudible chuckle resonated across the basement. Pele nearly missed it amongst his cries of denial, but it was unnerving enough that it pierced through his sorrow.

“Who's there?” Straightening, he balled his fists furiously. “H-have you returned, boy? I swear to Agni, I will wring your neck, you pathetic bastard! Come out and face me!”

The distorted laughter subsided. “Is that truly what you want?”

Pele squinted into the shadows, spying a darker shape amongst the blackness. It appeared like a man, though it possessed broader shoulders than the boy’s lithe frame. Suddenly, red orange eyes blinked back at him and fear struck Pele cold.

He stepped back. “What are you?”

“No need for introductions. This will only take a moment of your time.”

The shadow moved closer and Pele scrambled backward, running up the stairs. Only, the door slammed shut, locking him underground.

With his pulse in his throat, he turned slowly, feeling the hairs rise on the back of his neck. There, at the bottom of the stairs, stood the figure. Enough shadow cloaked the figure to obscure the features, though it was unmistakably male.

Blood orange eyes gleamed up at him. “I should be thankful he left you for me,” the man mused. “Though I’m in no state to perform anything intricately satisfying.”

“He spared me!” Pele shouted.

The amusement from the figure suddenly extinguished and the fear—the horror—returned to suffocate Pele.

He gasped, feeling a terrible migraine pound behind his eyes.

“The audacity of mortals always fascinates me. He did not spare you.” The shadowed figure took a step closer to the stairs. “He wanted you to suffer. I want to end you.” The eyes narrowed. “You placed your hands where they did not belong.”

Pele’s eyes fluttered uncontrollably and he sagged against the closed door. His hands reached out to brace against the wall, hardly recognizing that they trembled so much, he failed several times to make contact with anything but air.

He’d never felt this before, this all-consuming fear, horror. It was gripping. As soon as the sweat dripped from his temples, it evaporated against his cold skin. The small hairs on his arm stood on end and the goosebumps were relentlessly prominent.

“Agni…” Pele whimpered, praying to his god.

Please, please, help me.

The figure laughed true glee and stepped fully into the light. “He cannot help you.”

Pele slammed his palms against his head, screaming as he tried to comprehend the sight before him. The migraine behind his eyes turned inconceivably unrelenting. The pain. The pain. It was too much! His mind split in two.

Pupils dilating, he stared wide-eyed at the figure at the foot of the staircase. Liquid dripped from his eyes and Pele barely recognized it as blood before his head exploded.

The headless corpse slumped motionlessly against the gore-covered wall.

The figure lingered for a moment before slowly disintegrating, like that of a flame blown from its wick.

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