Ren crashed into the clay of shingled rooftops, which managed to soften his fall enough that when he landed on the cobbled stone below. He groaned, rolling over as a panicked family screamed at his descent. Looking back up the staircase through the shattered roof. One of the Riverward Guards stared back down at him, eyes wide in shock and fear.
The back of Ren's hand itched again; his Mark pulsing gentle heat under his skin.
Ignoring it, he pressed his hands to the ground, standing upright. Holding his shoulder, he looked back up once again, gave a curt, respectful nod, and dashed away, apologizing to the family as he burst through their front door.
His Winter robes had torn from the crash, and they'd do more harm in being discovered than good. So, slipping into an alley between homes, he tore off his cloak. As he did, Evelyn's birdlike mask tumbled to the ground, rattling on the ground for a few seconds. The eyeless slits stared back up at him.
After stripping down to nothing but the shirt beneath his robes, he knelt down, breath puffing before him in the cold. 'You will.' He thought, remembering what that odd girl with the mop of gold hair had said. Scowling at the mask, he picked it up, unable to even consider the idea of hiding his eyes. His father's eyes. His mother's eyes. His eyes. Ren swallowed back the lump that was reforming in his throat.
'I will.'
And he raised the wood to his face, which hugged almost too perfectly as he tied it in place, his vision reducing to little more than thin lines in the visor-like mask. It was warm, having absorbed his heat as he moved, but its warmth was still enough to make his breath hitch slightly. Once secured, he ran his fingers across the surface, just under where his eyes would be, feeling the intricate engravings.
Blinking, he attempted to adjust to this restriction of vision, but the shouting of civilians and soldiers forced him to return to his task. And his dormant Mark ached. It ached. But there was no time to address it. Instead, he took off running, vision blurring into narrow lines as he dashed, breath heavy and aligned with every step.
Skidding to a stop in another alleyway in a smaller clearing still some distance from the Ascendant Plaza, Ren pressed himself against a wall as a group of other House Soldiers marched by, idle gossip sputtering from their lips like whispered curses to Ren.
"You really think the Arbiter's son ran?"
"Of course he did, his old caretaker and another one of the boy's unit defended him from Riverward soldiers."
Ren pressed the back of his head to the wall, exhaling.
"They say he jumped from the stairs at the Justiciary."
"I heard that, too."
"So… That's it, then?"
"Well, obviously not yet. His body hasn't been found."
Ren glanced around. Now that he'd stilled slightly, the cold seemed to seep deep into him. He shivered, finally noticing a cloak left hanging next to a doorframe haphazardly. He darted for it, stopped his hand just before grabbing it. 'Stealing?'
After a moment, he pulled his hand away, his father's reprimands ringing in his head. 'No… No.' He turned, the back of his hand still throbbing. That pair of guards was beginning to round the corner. Cursing under his breath, Ren dashed across the open courtyard, pressing himself behind another wall once again.
"Think he escaped?"
"Doubt it."
His heartbeat was going wild, nerves and tension making every labored breath harder to keep quiet. 'With clear heart and mind.'
"Think the kid actually murdered his twin sister?"
"...Better not ask."
Glancing back at the direction the voices were coming from, Ren dared to inch closer, his heart sinking to see that they'd stopped, idly watching the cul-del-sac.
"So what happens to the Arbiter?"
"Lord Riverward is pushing for a full audit. After the stunt his son pulled? Probably subsummation."
"Into what House? The only 'land' they had was their embassies."
One of the guards coughed as Ren closed his eyes. There was no way out without passing them. He turned, pressing his aching hand to the wall and pressing his forehead to it. There had to be something…
Gently, the back of his hand pulsed with purple light. The world around him suddenly grew far more vivid, more detailed, like everything around him was infinitely solid and also infinitely moving, shifting. His hand passed through the wall of the home and the rest of him followed suit. And just like that, Ren tumbled into the darkness of a home after hours.
Forcing himself to his knees in the home, still warm from the fire pit in the center of the room, he glanced around, his Mark still pulsing with calming purple light. Looking down at it, he scowled behind his mask. 'Now you show up.'
He sighed, then stood as quietly as possible, dusting himself off. He looked at the back of his hand again, finally observing the shape the once invisible Valisite Ink had now taken. A seven pointed star, split in the middle, creating twin shapes. The Mark of the Outcast. Suppressing a groan, Ren shook his head and looked to the other wall. 'Of course it's not the Scales… Looks like Erin was the only real heir, after all.'
There was surprising bitterness to his thoughts, and a bitterness he pushed away as quickly as it set in. No, the Scales were only able to manifest for her because she hadn't been under extraordinary circumstances when it happened. She'd been helping mediate with their mother. Now, the memory of his jealousy somehow grew only more bitter, but not in the frustration of feeling less than his sister, but because of how deeply he realized that he would miss her.
Shaking his head, he forced himself to walk to the other side of the room, and pressed his hand against walls of paper and clay. "Alright," He whispered to himself, "Just one more time…"
His hand glowed, his perception changing again. This time, however, he stepped through the wall with purpose, his foot connecting with the dirt outside the wall with a sudden, sharp crunch. 'Roses and Ink…'
"Hear that?"
Throwing caution to the wind, Ren ran, pressing his hand to the next wall, phasing through it into the next quiet home as House soldiers ran into the alley behind him. In his studies as a boy, he'd learned somewhere along the way that the fastest way from one point to another was a straight line. Now, he actually believed it. Because now, he was capable of just that, running directly through home and courtyard and home, stumbling out of a final wall and tumbling into a road just outside the Ascendant plaza.
Even in the darkness of midnight, the moon shone enough to highlight the mosaic tiles that had made up the floor of the venue; etchings of the Seven Pillars of Creation. Though he'd seen the mosaic hundreds of times, there was something that tugged at his chest to see them. A star. An hourglass. Scales. A heart. A scythe. A blooming rose. And atop them all, a man. Space, time, justice, mercy, death, life, and intelligence or wisdom. Ren sighed, then pressed himself back against a wall as a crowd of Riverward Soldiers wandered in. 'Where's Silas…?'
"You look like a rose bloomed, withered, and was resurrected by a Mark of the Reaper."
Ren spun on his heel, bringing his hands up to defend himself. Instead, he found the lanky figure of Silas walking out of the shadows, signature breezy arrogance etched in his features. After a long beat, Ren slowly lowered his guard. "Might as well be."
Grinning, Silas held out a flippant hand, and a silver, ghostly mist flowed into it, coalescing into solid, silver steel. And he threw it. Right at Ren.
Ducking out of the way, Ren's breath hitched. "What the–"
Instead of hitting him, though, the dagger sailed aimlessly across the plaza, then disappeared before it could land. Satisfied, Silas let out a relieved sigh. "Coast is clear. Let's get out of here."