"But what do you mean, you don't know why you commit crimes?" Clara started, her voice sharp with disbelief.
"—Like… why do you actually work for them? Is it for the money? Did you have a rough childhood? Were you underprivileged? Or…" She faltered, her frustration spilling out in scattered questions.
"I don't know—maybe someone wronged you?" Clara desperately searched for an explanation, anything that might make sense of why Cyra would choose to be a villain. She wanted a reason so badly, something solid to cling to so that redemption might not feel impossible.
"Nope. No sob story here." Cyra gave a lazy shrug and looked back at the moon.
"It's really just because I'm good at it." He was starting to understand the charging sensation that Clara mentioned.
Clara's chest tightened. "What kind of cold answer is that?"
Her stomach knotted at his nonchalance. Maybe he really was just… rotten at heart. She had always believed that people were born good, that something in life had to happen to twist them into something darker. But Cyra wasn't offering her that. No tragic backstory. No redemption arc to write off his choices. Just a man who seemed to embrace his nature.
"There has to be more to it," she pushed, her voice soft but insistent. Something in her gut told her he wasn't giving her the full truth.
"Nope," he said again, more firmly this time. "I've always loved computer hacking, ever since the internet practically came into existence. And I've been picking locks and breaking into places that I wasn't supposed to be in since I was seven. Turns out I'm not good at much else."
"— My brother, on the other hand… he was good at everything. The golden child. So, the only time anyone noticed me was when I was getting in trouble. My childhood was fine. Good, even. I even come from a respectable family. But when you live in someone else's shadow long enough, it does something to you. For me, it lit a fire. It pushed me to discover something I was exceptional at… even if that thing happened to be stealing." The moonlight and tranquility was like a truth serum.
"Did you ever try to be better?" The words came out harsher than Clara meant to. "Sorry, I mean have you tried putting yourself out there again?"
He paused, his jaw tightening, voice lowering slightly. He could tell she wasn't going to give up easily. He could feel past pain brewing in his chest and took a breath before speaking, not wanting to take it out on Clara.
"When my brother died, I stopped trying to be good. It was like I became invisible overnight. Not just to my parents, but to everyone. The only person who ever really noticed me was gone. So I leaned into what I was already good at."
Clara considered his words in silence, her brows drawn together. A distant truck rumbled by, its headlights flashing briefly across the road. She lowered her gaze.
"I'm… sorry."
Cyra's lips twitched upward into a small, tired smile, though his dark eyes remained fixed on the moon. "It's fine, we weren't very close. And I was very young. I hardly remember." He lied.
"I have another question. If that's okay?" Clara's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as though she were afraid she might push too far.
"Ask away, my dear."
"Why are you in school?"
He turned his head, flashing her an easy grin. "Same reason everyone else is, of course. To sharpen my skills for my… chosen profession. Technology changes fast, love. I have to stay sharp." He winked.
Clara couldn't tell if he was teasing or serious. Maybe both.
"Are you going to forgive me for all this, my lovely princess?" Cyra asked, his tone warm, almost playful.
He reached out and brushed her shoulder lightly with his fingertips. At his touch, a soft blue glow pulsed across her skin.
They both froze, staring in awe at the unexpected light.
Cyra trailed his fingers down her arm slowly, the glow following his touch in luminous streaks that traveled to her slender wrist. Trails of shimmering blue danced wherever his skin connected with hers.
Clara lifted her hand to his and watched the sparks swirl between their fingers.
She hesitated, then reached up and cupped his face, her palm glowing softly against his cheek.
She traced a path along his hairline, her fingertips drawing glowing swirls across his sharp jawline. She was mesmerized.
When her hand hovered near his lips, she suddenly pulled back, startled by her own boldness.
"Sorry. I got carried away!" she murmured, her eyes fixed on the fading luminescence left behind on his skin.
Cyra's expression didn't change. His dark eyes, however, seemed to glimmer with something unreadable.
"Whatever this moon gem did to us… it's remarkable." Clara turned her gaze from the glowing traces to Cyra's watchful eyes. Then she turned away, shutting her own tightly, as though she could hide from his stare.
"I don't know if I can forgive you so easily, Cyra," she admitted, her voice trembling.
"— Whether you meant to or not, you used me as a tool to commit a crime. And now I'm tangled in this just as much as you are." She looked down at her hands, flexing her glowing fingers.
"And now I have these powers that could've killed those men tonight. So what does that make me? An attempted murderer?" She shook her head, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she sat, still perched on the large boulder. "I want to believe you're a good person deep down… but a good person wouldn't put someone innocent in that kind of danger."
Cyra's chest ached at her words, a weight settling over him. He stayed silent for a moment, his gaze softening as he watched her. Then he finally spoke.
"It's getting cold," he said gently. "Let's get you somewhere warm. I don't think they're coming after us. Which means they either didn't see where we went… or they're dead."
Clara's head snapped toward him, her face pale, panic rising in her eyes.
"Hey! Relax!" Cyra chuckled, raising a hand. "I'm only joking, darling. When I grabbed the moon gem when we made our getaway, they were crawling on the floor, blind as bats but very much alive. I'm sure their eyesight will come back eventually. And even if it doesn't… well, that's what they get for trying to kill me."
Clara didn't love that answer, but it was better than thinking they were dead. If anything, maybe losing their sight would give them a reason to retire from the life of crime altogether. A girl could hope.
Cyra offered his hand to help her down, but Clara swatted it away. She jumped off the boulder herself, ignoring the slight sting in her foot when she landed.
They walked to the sleek black car parked nearby, and soon Cyra was driving them up a winding hillside road.
After about twelve minutes, they arrived at a secluded house perched on the crest of a hill.
From this far up, Clara thought she might even be able to spot their school if she looked hard enough.
The house itself was strikingly modern, with clean lines and massive windows that glowed warmly against the night sky. The front wall was mostly glass, and manicured shrubs lined the edges of the driveway, pruned to perfection. Though no one was home, the lights inside were already on, casting a welcoming glow.
"Benvenuta a casa mia!" Cyra announced as he stepped out of the car, sweeping a hand theatrically toward the house.
Clara raised an eyebrow. "Of course you'd live in a place like this," she said dryly.
"What's wrong with mia casa?" Cyra feigned shock, placing a hand over his chest as if she'd deeply wounded him.
"Your casa screams 'immaculate snob,'" she replied with a teasing lilt in her voice.
He smirked. "So, are you going to come in, or are you just going to stand out and judge me, princess?"
"I mean… are you going to invite me in, fancy pants?" Clara shot back, striding toward the front door without waiting for him.
"Ooo, feisty." Cyra grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. "I like feisty Clara. Come on in, darling."
She stepped inside, and he followed, sweeping his arm dramatically.
"Welcome to my lair."