"And that's how the story ends…" Kicking her feet on the desk, the woman retraced her finger along the page. Flipping through, her unruly sandy hair fell in front of her eyes.

"I don't know...I wouldn't call that an ending, more of a beginning," he muttered. Neatly trimmed brown hair and forced posture, the youth's eyes hardened by heavy expectations. His military uniform fit snug, a single medal proudly pinned.

"A beginning, how so?" The woman brushed the hair out of her eyes, setting down her reading. Bags under watery grey-green eyes, curious at the question.

The boy tilted his head, the firelight shining over his face. "Ideas never die, not really. Once they come into being, they are continuously unearthed, recycled, reimagined. It only takes the right time, place, person."

She shrugged, stretching into a yawn. "You're overthinking this. The story's over if the main character's dead."

He paced in front of the fireplace."Alexander Wren isn't the main character though, nor is Gloria, or Carrick, or anyone else."

"It's from his perspective," she hummed, raising an eyebrow. Opening a book off the desk, she lazily flipped through it.

He scowled. "That's because you wrote it like that. This isn't exactly what you found in the vault, correct."

"If I hadn't tied up the loose ends with my gifting, you'd have nothing. I stand by my work, every word is accurate." She raised her eyebrows, slamming the book shut. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I'm not doubting you, Emery." He stepped back, waving his hands. A nervous grin slipped out.

"Good." She raised her chin, balancing the book on top of her head. "Who's your main character then?"

He scowled. "There isn't one, it's not about a character."

"Ah right, it's about an idea." She rolled her eyes. "Ending the world isn't an idea, Sol, its insanity."

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"I'm not talking about that." He snatched the book off her head. "The story is about human depravity, transformation, immorality-"

"The price of playing God," Emery said, locking eyes with him. "Careful there, you're sounding just like them. "

"I am them, don't forget that." He raised his chin.

"I'd say you're one tenant short of following the Remedy. Too impatient to let things run their course." She stole the book back, putting it in its place.

"Don't start, Emery. " he huffed, turning to face the flames.

"That's the truth isn't it?" She got up walking beside him.

He tightened his frown. "That tenant is outdated anyway."

She smirked. "They're all crap."

"Crap?" His eyes seething, lit up in rage. "Perfection is everything, the only thing worth achieving. Once I pay the cost, rise above, you'll see how wrong you really are."

Emery snorted, "It's scary sometimes how similar you are. Every bit your father except with real ambition." She leaned back on the desk. "He and Augustine had better watch their backs…"

Sol smirked, firelight dancing in his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure...least you're entertaining." Emery buried her face in her arm. "Is it too much to ask to be spared when you oneday ascend on high?"

"I can offer an exchange." He shrugged. "Your life for what you've written."

She laughed, "Careful with the deals you make, you may grow to regret this." Gathering up the pages, she held them out to him. "You could've had them anyway."

He shrugged. "Why take a chance? These are worth more than you even know." Counting pages, he shuffled the stack, walking towards the door.

"Sol," Emery called, fear creeping in her voice.

He turned back. "Yes?"

"Don't do anything stupid...I'm being serious."

"Of course." He grinned, leaning in the doorframe. "What? Do you think I'm going to try and end the world?"

"No..." she muttered, "But I'm talking in general. You have a lot of promise."

"Sure," he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. He turned his eye back to the page, turning out the door. "I'll see you around, Emery," his voice echoed down the hall.

Left in the quiet, Emery's eyes fixed where he stood. The crack of the fire made her jump, shivers crawling down her spine. "I'm being paranoid," she muttered. "I'm never paranoid."

Some secrets were best left in the dark.

"Alexander Wren..." She laid her head back on the desk, staring up at the ceiling. Light danced with sinister shadows. She covered her eyes with her hands. "...what the hell have you started."