The pale morning sun had barely risen over The City's upper walkways when Sylira stepped through the courtyard of the Ember Pact barracks, her eyes shadowed from the lack of sleep.
She'd been gone most of the night. Wandering, thinking, struggling to breathe past the pressure in her chest. Anora stood in the training courtyard already, merely watching the wind skim across the rooftop.
When Sylira approached, she turned her head slightly, analyzing her. Her eyes flickered purple, "You seem unsettled." Anora could see the state she was in. She clenched her fists and gave a small nod.
"Let's fix that, come down here with me." It wasn't an order, but it might as well have been. Sylira silently stepped into the ring with her. Anora didn't draw her revolver, or pull out her knife, but she moved to fight in close with her hands both raised.
Sylira fought with her fists, using her gift to manipulate giant spectral versions of her hands that hovered behind her back, mimicking her strikes in larger, unseen arcs.
Her ability did nothing against Anora's eyes however, as she was able to see what other's couldn't. Her eyes tracked something around Sylira whenever those invisible limbs moved. She wasn't able to see them exactly, but she was able to see figures, shapes that formed the hands.
At first, the spar was a clean exchange. Anora's footwork was clinical, controlled. While Sylira was aggressive with her strikes yet measured, using her invisible hands to strike from blind angles.
As the fight went on, Sylira's mind began to drift back into the night, to the threat of her family being held hostage. It made her control snap, her hands swinging harder. The invisible hands followed suit too, slamming forward like ghostly wrecking hammers.
One of them clipped the ground near Anora's leg, cracking the dirt. Her eyes narrowed at the sight, causing her to step back. "Sylira, we're sparring." She tried reminding her.
Anora could sense with her ability that something was off with her, it's why she suggested a spar to blow off some steam. She didn't expect that Sylira would be loose enough to lose control mid-spar.
She lunged in again, her real fist striking, the invisible hand echoing it in a far heavier blow that slammed into Anora's side like a battering ram. She staggered for the first time, the impact knocking the wind from her.
That wasn't some friendly blow from sparring, that was a real strike.
"Enough." Anora said, sharper now. Sylira's anger only boiled as a response, with the floating hands moving more erratically behind her. She threw another blow at Anora's head, this time clearly fatal.
Before it managed to land, Wing jumped in and grabbed Sylira's wrist from behind. Don quickly followed behind, appearing at the other side and planting a hand on her shoulder. Both of them were tense, ready to restrain her fully if needed.
"That's enough, Sylira." Wing told her, trying to deescalate the situation. Her breaths came hard and ragged. The invisible hands still hovered above her shoulders, Anora could see them trembling with residual rage.
Slowly, they faded from view, her power dissolving as her adrenaline emptied. Anora straightened, pressing a hand to the bruise forming just under her ribs. Her eyes were locked on Sylira's, not in anger, but with a quiet question.
She saw that Sylira's essence was burning too hot, something had disturbed her enough to keep her in an unstable state. She leaned her back against a stone post and stared down at her knuckles.
Wing approached Sylira with an almost surprising quietness, handing her a small cloth. "Wipe your face. You're still bleeding a little," he said. She didn't speak, but took it. Wing stood beside her, not pushing, just being there silently.
Across the yard, Don crossed his arms and turned towards Anora. "That strike looked like it did a number on you," he muttered. "You two always seem to be fighting, have you ever tried to get along with your juniors for once?"
Anora's gaze was still on Sylira, distant and thoughtful. "Anora?" Don called her name out once more, making her finally look at him. "She lost control. That's all." Her response made him frown. "That's not all. She's one of the most stable fighters you guys have."
"You aren't acting surprised at her actions either," he pointed out. "You expected it. Something is going on between you two, and it's causing unnecessary friction between our group. She's the youngest here, give her a break."
Anora's eyes narrowed just slightly. "I didn't expect it," she said quietly. "And it's none of your business. You're the last person who should talk about causing trouble we don't need."
Don stepped closer, lowering his voice. "If you know why she snapped like that, It's better if you tell the rest of us." Anora met his eyes, calm and unreadable. "With my power comes a responsibility, to keep someone's privacy."
Don's jaw flexed. He looked like he wanted to press her further, but Anora was already turning away. "Let it go." She ordered him before walking off. He frowned, his years of experience telling him that something was wrong.
Back by the post, Wing said quietly to Sylira, "You want to walk it off?" Her voice came out rough. "Yeah." He walked with her toward the far gate. As the two went their own ways, he went to Don.
He was leaning against the stone railing that overlooked the training yard. Even with both Sylira and Anora gone, the tension still hung in the air like smoke. "She wasn't just angry," he said, recalling her state. "It felt more like... fear."
Don turned his head. "You're talking about Sylira?" Wing nodded slowly. But after a moment, he added, "Anora too. She didn't even react when Sylira hit her. It was like it was within her predictions."
Don frowned at that. "And then she chooses to remain silent the moment I ask about it." Wing looked away, eyes fixed on the far rooftops. "Something happened last night. Anora has her own clue about it, but we're left in the dark."
"We're the only ones who work together here, yet we're the ones also left out in the dark." Don muttered under his breath. Wing didn't respond, but Don could see the agreement in the way his jaw tightened.
That was when footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Elion approached, hands behind his back, wearing a composed smile that didn't reach his eyes. "There you two are."
They composed themselves as he stopped in front of them. "Tonight, there will be a public assembly in the western plaza. The Concordist leaders will give a formal address, and so will I."
He looked at both of them with quiet intensity. "I want all four of you positioned by my side the entire time." Don nodded firmly while Wing looked like he wanted to say something. "A joint assembly... with the Concordists all present?"
"Sounds like it might turn ugly." Don added. Elion allowed a faint smile. "Sometimes, things need to turn ugly before they turn new." He turned to leave, adding without looking back.
"I expect all of you in the plaza before sunset. Tonight, everything changes." He said while walking away, his footsteps fading down the corridor. Don stared after him for a long moment. Then muttered tightly, "...Tonight."
Wing murmured, "It's not just going to be speeches." Don clenched the railing under his hand. "With the way people are acting right now, no, it's not."
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The sunlight had only just begun to spill across the rooftops when Kael stepped out of the hotel with Pheo, Adam, and Thorne following close behind. The streets were still waking, the vendors rolling carts into place.
Kael paused at a quiet intersection and glanced over his shoulder. "Before tonight, happens, we need somewhere to actually think. Somewhere we're sure is neutral. No Pact ears that could hear us, and no Concordist spies lurking around."
Thorne nodded once. "Your hotel is surely compromised by the Pact now. And with Adam's presence in Pheo's hotel, there's bound to be a squad of Concordist spies on standby. We need an area where none of us three have been to yet."
Kael turned to Pheo. "You should know of a place then, right?" Pheo thought of the one building in this city that had never asked anything of him, that quiet, dusty refuge where knowledge sat untouched.
"The Emberlight Athenaeum. It's quiet in the mornings, but most importantly, empty. The librarian also keeps to himself. If we need a place to talk secrets, that's the one." Adam looked at him. "Do you trust the librarian?"
Pheo shrugged. "He has only given without asking why." Kael gave a short nod. "That'll do." They moved through the calmer morning streets, staying clear of the main plaza where the stage for the evening speech was already being constructed.
Workers hammered beams into place and raised red-and-black cloth, the colors of The Ember Pact. Pheo led them away, down narrower lanes until the faded sign of the Athenaeum came into sight.
The moment they reached the door, Pheo began to slow. It was unlocked, hanging slightly open. Inside, lanterns were still burning, but there was no one at the front desk. No silent figure at the corner. Nothing.
The librarian was gone.
Thorne inspected the counter first. Kael's eyes flicked over books scattered on the floor. Adam stayed near the entrance, his gaze sharp, hand already drifting toward the handle of his sword.
"He's not the type to suddenly leave his station." Pheo muttered. They could see signs of a struggle, but there was no body left behind. Eventually, Pheo found something, a small piece of paper wedged between one of the books he had previously read with one word scrawled on the outside in a hurried, almost desperate handwriting.
Truthseeker
His chest tightened. He unfolded it carefully, soothing the torn edges with his thumb.
When the piano begins to play, run.
Don't wait for the speech.
Don't bother to look back.
That was all. There was no signature or explanation. The ink still fresh, as if it had been written recently. Kael came up behind him, reading over his shoulder. His voice was quieter than usual.
"Piano." He exhaled. "Looks like other than Elion's speech, something else is going to happen." Adam leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "Looks like he knew something, and got silenced for it."
Thorne's gaze fell on the overturned ink bottle and the faint trail of blood leading toward the back exit. "Or worse." Pheo folded the note and slipped it inside his coat. His jaw clenched, "Looks like he gambled on me returning here."
Kael reached and placed a hand on the desk, fingers tapping slowly in thought. "Which means we're probably the only ones left who know what's about to happen. And it all begins with a piano."
Adam nodded once. "Before it all unfolds, we end it tonight." Pheo's hand brushed the green stone at his chest as he breathed out, steadying himself. After calming his mind, he was about to speak before–
The front door swung open with a sharp creak.
Sylira stepped inside the Athenaeum, shoulders tense, jaw tight. She'd followed rumors, an old friend of hers saying that she saw a group of armed strangers slipping into the old library earlier that morning. And she only knew one thing about the old library, and that her brother works as the librarian.
Her eyes immediately locked onto the four figures ahead, freezing when she recognized Adam. She'd heard of the reputation the Black Aces have, with them being the type of people to kill without blinking.
In her mind, he was exactly the sort of monster The Dark Church would hire for silent work. Her face tightened, "Where is he?" Adam turned slightly, confused but composed. "Who?"
"You took him, my brother." she hissed, stepping forward. "You should've ran the moment you saw me." The invisible hands burst into existence behind her with a violent sweep of air, the outline of two massive and transparent spectral fists could be seen cutting through the dust.
She lunged forward. Adam barely managed to sidestep as one of the spectral hands slammed into the bookshelf behind him, shattering the wood. Kael pulled Pheo back and barked, "Thorne–"
Thorne already had his gun haldway drawn, but Adam held his hand up, stopping him. He didn't fight back, yet, just narrowed his eyes. "We didn't take anyone."
Sylira's real fist came next. Adam blocked in time, but the force cracked the floor underneath their boots. Pheo realized a misunderstanding was taking place, rushing to go between them. "Stop! We're trying to stop Elion–"
That name made her snap harder. Her voice broke. "You rodents! You're the ones–!" One of the invisible hands arced at Thorne. He ducked, but the power, wild with fury, destroyed everything behind him.
Kael moved forward quickly, backing up Pheo. "We know who took him. The Dark Church." Sylira paused at the mention of the church, breathing hard. She still kept her guard up, the hands still hovering behind her shaking with tension.
For a second, Adam and Sylira stared at each other without moving or breathing. He didn't raise a weapon, he didn't even take a stance. He just held her glare with that carved-stone expression.
"If he's your brother, we're going to save him. Or at least, we're against the ones who have him." Something in her face changed after she heard his words. Her invisible fists continued to hover, but didn't strike.
Adam took a step closer, slow and deliberate. "But I can guarantee you, one more swing and you won't have the chance to see him ever again."
Sylira's fists trembled once... then the spectral hands flickered out of existence, slowly vanishing. Her breathing slowed, but her eyes were still burning with a mixture of rage and grief.
Pheo stepped beside her, "Here, he left this." He got out the note, her eyes flicked down the paper as soon as she noticed her brother's handwriting. She took a sharp and shaky breath, "If I find out you're lying... all four of you will drop dead on the ground."
Pheo nodded solemnly. "Understood."