Chapter 9

Lifting his head, Hayden stared into the realm laid above the thick layers of grayish clouds. His sorrowful hazel-brown eyes poured out layers of bitterness nobody understood.

2019. It had been eighteen years ever since they parted ways. Back in Ring of Deity, he remembered how it ached his heart, watching his pal imploring Felynx to let him go...

"I… I can't do this anymore, Felynx. I-I can't do this anymore..." Yisroel knelt and fixed his dejected gaze on the ground.

Felynx's silk robe brushed past his trembling arm.

"Get up, Yisroel," he commanded, turning away. "You know you can't escape from this. His Majesty wouldn't allow it."

"O-One… one by one sent to me." He gulped the sour lump down his throat. "One by one vanished also because of me."

There was a hint of despise in his voice as he glanced over at the iced cuboids hung deep in the wall. He hated himself for failing to bring them back alive. 

"Everybody wants a happy ending…" Felynx stared into the deserted fountain outside the round window surrounded by twirling silver vines.

The water was forming the shape of the late white dragon. Distorted, but the formation was there. It took him a whole lot of effort to stop Long Shen from abolishing it. Outstretching his hand, he traced the figure from afar. So affectionate, as if it was the real dragon that he was caressing. 

"But not everyone is lucky enough to have one," he muttered.

"I'm not asking for any happy endings! I don't need them!" Yisroel yelled. "I… I just want to quit."

"Yisroel." His voice turned hard, and the instant drop in his tone gloomed the divine smoke emanated by the silver fronds. "Do you really think you can quit? We all know it deep inside. Regardless of being a TinXi or a dragon, we can never quit." Felynx helped him to stand up. "This is the oath we live in." 

A reflected light streak pulled him back from dwelling further on the past. Hayden glanced at the old metal board hanging miserably at the mailbox—only "Residence" was written. The name before was smeared and scratched more than once.

'Tired of changing?' Hayden thought.

Standing in front of the quaint mansion laid next to the abandoned resort, he shoved the wild bushes away, looking for the ring to knock.

"Yes?" It was from the mini camera fixed at the side of the bricked wall.

"Good day, I'm Hayden Watson, and I would like to have a talk with Mr. Yis—" He cleared his throat and continued, "I mean, Mr. Vincent. Is he at home?" 

Right then, the latch clicked. The iron gate folded inward. It was as if his presence was expected. A new-looking lady, who seemed to be in her mid-40s, showed up with a slight smile on her face. She looked good despite dressing up in full black.

Bowing, the lady stretched out her arm to lead him in. "This way, sir."

Hayden walked along the stone pathway exposed under the plain blue sky. Wild grasses stroked his bare toes, and soft flaps of blinds echoed in his ears. It felt exactly like eighteen years ago, only that those greens had yet to be trimmed, and he had to make every step wider so they wouldn't get stuck in his brown flip-flop.

"Here, Mr. Vincent is inside." The lady stopped at the last stone. "Please go ahead. I'll not be seeing you in."

It was a rule Vincent set. No servant could go beyond the final piece without his permission.

"Thanks." He nodded and immediately looked away.

The energy surrounding the main section of the barn-style residence triggered his eyes to turn blue. Pausing his steps in front of the vertical blinds, he shook it off. 

The man sitting on the couch looked toward the entrance upon hearing the noise.

When their eyes met, Vincent furrowed his faded brows for a long moment before ignoring the presence of the guest.

But Hayden was so not backing away.

Stepping into the barrier invisible to the mortals, he greeted him, "Hey, friend."

"Yo." It was all the pal said as he drifted his sight back to the vapors floating from the cup of tea he held. 

"You've got nothing to say?" Hayden asked directly, walking down the three-step stairs.

The sight of a pathetic prosthetic hand kept at the side of the wall caught his attention for a moment. It was almost obliterated by the layers of cobwebs. 

"What else should I say when you know about it already?" Vincent flipped the newspaper over to hide what he was reading. His unfilled sleeve swayed. 

Hayden slapped hard on the target page. "And you plan to do nothing at all?" He stared at the articles talking about the recent mysterious deaths. "Again?"

He flashed him a glare. "I told you I quit."

"I hope you do understand that avoiding and quitting are two different things," Hayden hissed, challenging Vincent's aloofness. 

And it worked.

"Hayden—"

"Vincent, please." He crouched to meet his devastating gaze. 

"Pal…" His sigh was heavy. "You know it. If there was something I could do, I wouldn't lose my limb," he uttered, pointing to the black and white images of the victims, "and they wouldn't be dead. You just wouldn't understand."

"I do."

"NO, YOU DON'T!"

"I DO! I'M A TINXI TOO!" Hayden grabbed his shoulders and screamed back at him. "Listen here, Vincent. Trust me, we can stop them. We can do it this time. The dragon, her mark is different—"

"Stop telling me about dragons! I'd rather not know," he said, gulping down the remaining tea, "than to lose."

Suddenly, Hayden snapped his fingers, and a blue radiance appeared hovering on top. Its ferocity increased as it swirled in place for a few seconds before diving into his skin. His flesh started to burn. But he wasn't intending to stop. The ray continued to stream toward his shoulder.

"What do you think you are doing, Hayden Watson?" Vincent waved his hand and brushed off the glowing ray before it could do any harm. "Are you dumb?!"

He locked his gaze on him. "If I can gain back your trust, I don't mind losing one arm."

"Even with the dragons, you know we can't win against the evils, against Arlyaen. You know it better and deeper than I do, Hayden. They're getting stronger, and we're getting weaker. Haven't you learned? If mortals still choose to doubt the existence of dragons, if they still have the curiosities lingering in their breaths, we'll never win."

"It'll be different this time."

"It'll be the same."

"No, it won't."

"It'll still be the same!"

"Trust me, Vincent. it's going to be different."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because the first step to win is to be sure of what you're doing. Right now, I need you to check something."