It was dark again, and again Kio walked streets he knew from his childhood. A wary, tense anticipation was with him every step. He was marching his way to a turning point, after all. At least he hoped so.

Hope felt like a dangerous thing, leaving him vulnerable to further pain and confusion. But it was there, and he was squeezing it with both hands. There was a temptation to just not bother; to stay in the awful but familiar gloom. But no. He was doing this. Even as his nerves sang with dread and his gut churned. He continued.

Openly wearing a sword was simply a way of being stylish on Yvenna, but carrying anything more improvised or ‘uncivilised’ could draw the police’s attention, as well as their awkward questions. So it wasn’t until he was back in the poor district, in the outer reaches of Grim’s territory, that he armed himself.

Poorly maintained buildings on unguarded streets provided plenty of options, especially if one had a bit of patience. But he didn’t have enough time to be patient, so he just made his choice count. He went for a building that had never been fully finished. It had long since been stripped of anything that could be sold or used in one's home, and he didn’t have a light to work with. But a bit of feeling around let him locate exposed plumbing, and some yanking let him tear loose a thin pipe about the length of his arm.

It wasn’t balanced for fighting, and not treated for gripping, but it was a vast improvement over his bare fists. He let it rest against his shoulder, and continued on. Towards the Ten-Ten.

The streets were quiet, but he remained alert for ambushes and spies. He didn’t know Grim well enough to predict his behaviour with absolute certainty, if such a thing even existed when it came to people. No doubt he wanted to destroy Kio with an audience, as Kio had threatened to do to him, but perhaps their fight had worried him enough to get sneaky.

The power was there, as it always was; within reach, demanding to be used, tempting and awful. He really could carry out the elaborate promise he’d made over that message. Probably. The streets had only ever caught fleeting glimpses of what he and the other trainees had been about, and what they could do.

A proper show of power, of actual, real-life magic, would shock and horrify them into obedience. Kio knew, because that had been his own first reaction

The place of power was clear as a bell, to the strange new senses Kio had gained. He didn’t feel it was strongly as he had at the height of it all, but it was still his to draw upon, since no one else was doing it.

Yes. He could tear through the Ten-Ten by himself.

Finally he saw it, at a distance.

The Ten-Ten wasn’t big, by the standards of the Blueflower District, but six storeys was still pretty respectable as gang headquarters went. Here Grim, and his predecessor before him, had held court for several years. Here locals could come for an audience, people could apply to join, groups could store and sell illicit goods, and of course the Rock Dogs could hold great, big, substance-fuelled parties.

No doubt Grim had put a temporary hold on any chems, save for the actual performance-enhancing ones. Tonight would be a special night, after all.

Kio stared it, that building that had always featured to some degree in his life; a background element that coloured the streets, directly and indirectly affecting the violence, and the way the people of Blueflower had to live their lives.

He patted the metal pipe against his palm. His good one, so as to feel the impact more.

Everyone had known about the Rock Dogs, and where they held court. Kio had been nine or ten years old when it dawned on him that it all wasn’t a normal state of affairs: Living in the shadow of gangs, in school, in local businesses, and just on the streets themselves… that was reserved for poor people. And fear had, of course, stopped anyone from doing anything about it.

Kio stood there for the next few minutes. He’d timed this rather well, but not perfectly. Midnight arrived, and since Grim wasn’t having him hunted in the streets that meant he was braced for an assault, as Kio had urged him. Perhaps he had men outside the Ten-Ten itself, lurking in the darkness in order to surprise him. Or perhaps it was all meant to play out in the rooms and hallways.

Whichever it was, the time had come. Midnight arrived. And the police struck like a volley of missiles.

Silent aircars disgorged heavy armour officers, and charges and cutting lasers cleared them a way in through the roof and a few spots on the walls. Drones of various sizes and functions swarmed, and flashing lights and alarms blared, announcing that this was indeed the law.

Kio was too far away to see real details, but he could make out the broad strokes. The police really weren’t messing around. They did not do much about the mere existence of the gangs, but when an anonymous tip warned them that a growing street outfit had an entire arsenal of plasma weaponry, this happened. Especially in light of recent events.

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From what he understood of police operations, this would have been preceded by judge-approved scanning of the building. And with the weapons at the ready for Kio’s coming, there would have been no missing them.

“Have fun, Grim,” Kio said. “See you in twenty years or so. Assuming you’re not dumb enough to put up a fight.”

He threw the pipe away. He had brought it along in case of an ambush. And he’d only come this far to see for himself that his second message had had the desired effect.

He walked; he sure was doing a lot of that lately, and made it out of Blueflower without being disturbed. He kept on going until he reached one of the lesser hanhas. Apparently, it had come into being as an afterthought, when building plans for the surrounding area had left some empty space. He didn’t really know why it had been the choice those weeks ago, and he never would.

It didn’t matter.

There was a tiny bit of lighting, enough for him to find that particular row of bushes, and then follow it out of the light. Things got a bit more challenging after that point. They hadn’t picked a place with a particular marker. The point had been to forget the spot entirely and never look back, after all.

But he persisted, on his knees, digging through the dirt bed with his bare fingers. He didn’t mind taking his time. He was in no rush anymore, and having a task actually felt somewhat nice, after the fog he’d lived in for so long. Besides, the numb hand made it all a bit more comfortable than it otherwise would have been.

Eventually, inevitably, he found it. There was a bit of a rattle, and he felt with his good hand. Satisfied that he’d found what he was looking for, Kio drew out the emerum necklace.

He walked back into the light and gave it a look, just in case of some astonishing coincidence landing two stone necklaces in the same bush bed. But no. This was it.

Kio cleaned the dirt away slowly, carefully, as memories played around in his head. He technically hadn’t lied to the pawn shop owner. The necklace had indeed been an heirloom. Manda’s heirloom. The one noteworthy thing she had from a family that had mostly died out, and entirely failed her.

Kio focused on cleaning the big centre stone, until he could hold it up against the light of the lamppost. Emerum reacted to illumination in strange, gorgeous ways, creating a multilayered display of dazzling colours. He lost track of time as he stared into it.

Manda had asked him to accompany her to the burial. The past must die had been one of the mentor’s commandments, and this had been her way of severing the last threads that bound her to it. He realised now that she’d wanted support for the task. And he wished it had occurred to him to give her a hug.

It is done, Manda had said, as she’d risen up from the bed. The past is the past. Now we can look to the future. Now we can make the future, and see where it takes us.

As clearly as he could remember her words and her face, he couldn’t remember what he’d said back to her.

“I’m sorry things went the way they did,” he whispered, still staring into the beautiful stone. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt. I’m… so sorry I didn’t speak up for you. It would just have gotten me killed too, but I should have done it anyway. I should have been strong, and brave. But we both fell under the control of a monster, and let him tell us what those words mean.”

He sighed, and closed his fist around the stone.

“Goodbye, Manda. I don’t think we ever actually had a chance. Not in his shadow. But… well, goodbye. I hope you can hear me. I hope you are somewhere, and that you are doing better.”

He pocketed the necklace, and discovered tears on his own face. He found a little hollow in the hanha and crawled in there, to face emotions and memories that would always be purely his own, never shared with anyone. Eventually, he fell asleep, and woke to a new dawn.

He cleaned the necklace more thoroughly in the sink of a public bathroom, then went back to the pawn shop. He turned in the necklace, and went with a payment of dorandas, rather than rils, in cash.

With some money in his hands at last, he bought a meal. Then he accessed a public use mail system, and put the rest of the money in a delivery drone. A fund had been set up for the families of those dead Tanga warriors, and Kio watched the little machine fly off to add to it.

He allowed himself a little nod, then started walking again.

Foolish, Kio. That was your fresh start you just sent off. But then, you also squandered your chance to take control of the streets. To make your mark on a city that has never given you anything. Just as you walked away from true glory when it was within your grasp.

It was the mentor’s, Avanon’s, voice. Or at least, the voice the man had put inside of him, drawing on the self-hatreds and weaknesses that had been there to begin with.

“Shut up,” he said quietly to it. “You are dead, and there is not a single soul in the galaxy that misses you. Stay in the past, where you belong.”

He found what he was looking for: A public comm setup. He put his hands on it and felt his head slump. This was the hard part.

Kio delayed, feeling courage sip away like water from a leaky container. The urge to just walk away felt like a fly, buzzing right by his head again and again. But no. It was time to have some actual courage, for once.

He reached into the depths of his jacket and took out a contact card. It had been crumpled up on two separate occasions, and almost thrown away once. But it was still intact, and as he unfolded it he could read the numbers on it just fine.

The warden had thrown it at him, during their final encounter. It was one of the cards for Aman Kendrel’s shelter.

Kio swallowed, punched in a number, and waited for a response.

“Yes?” a familiar voice said on the other end.

“Mom…”