July 5, 2022 - 10:48am

Ricci Family Manor, Abuja, Nigeria

Yasu Rose was, despite her hardly gray hair, barely wrinkled skin, and powerfully deliberate steps, an old woman. A traditional woman. She didn’t care much for texts, emails, or even phone calls. If there was a matter to be addressed with her, it was always in person. That’s how she found herself several thousand miles away from her mainstay, instead visiting the grand halls of the grieving family of Franklin Ricci.

She took her time to walk down a grand flight of marble steps into a courtyard bursting with color. The cane in her left hand gave her a gait that was uniquely identifiable as hers. The sound of which caught the attention of an elderly man strolling along his garden. Although not nearly as youthful looking as Yasu, he too, had the disposition of a man decades younger than he actually was.

“Elder Rose,” he said with a smile, “to what do I owe the honor?”

“Good morning to you too, Alessandro.”

“All these years, and you still won’t call me Sandro.”

“That would be informal. And I am here to discuss formal matters. Shall we?” She gestured with her free hand that they continue to stroll.

“Ah yes, I thought as much. You’re here to extend your condolences about my grandsons, I assume?”

“Angelo is well. Well enough. I know you tasked me with keeping him safe, since he refused to stay away from the Institute. And now, two years after that Orchestra Incident with his face, I’ve failed to protect him again. I am sorry for that.” She stopped to give a small bow.

She’d always assigned Angelo’s team to the easier missions. When they’d been tasked with tailing Soji and Monika, she hadn’t expected Tamara to leave them alone, but when she did, the woman let her duty to protect the Institute override her duty to one of her last few friends.

“Bah! That’ll learn ‘im. He’s stubborn, that one. If you had rejected him from the Institute, he would’ve gone rogue to chase down blooms himself. To this day, I do not know what happened that filled him with so much hate for those creatures, but that boy is exactly where he should be,” Sandro paused to snip a few leaves, “Besides, I trust you’ll continue to take care of him?” His accent danced between a distinguished Sicilian and a well-travelled Texan. Indicators that the Ricci family was indeed distinguished and well-travelled.

“Yes of course, but about Franklin, I wish —”

“Oh, my darling Francesco. Such a sweet boy. Why my daughter went to give him an American name, I do not know. Now that is a death I cannot forgive. My daughter, she is torn up about losing her second son. I’m well past mourning, I fear. Heads must roll for this.” Simultaneously animated and laidback, Sandro lamented over his grandsons’ misfortunes like one might a ruined dinner.

“And they will.”

“Will they? My contacts tell me that the very creature responsible for my grandson’s demise will be participating in this year’s Orchestra. Some order.” Sandro scoffed.

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“I understand your grievances, but I will not accept that tone, young man.” Yasu scolded. “The current situation is quite delicate. Since the boy’s participation was bought under Contract, there’s nothing I can do about that. What I can do, is create a situation for Angelo to avenge his brother, as is his right. I trust this will bring you closure?” Sandro nodded.

“I know it’s not so simple. Not with that Cain brat running around. What are your plans to deal with that?” He added. The two sat down on a marble bench, taking in the scenery.

“There’s not much we can do, her brother’s an Elder. There’s only the Contract we had Dhruv force on her to keep her in check. It doesn’t prevent her antics, but it keeps us safe.” Yasu sighed. Sandro couldn’t help but shake his head.

“I may be old school, but you First Families are intense. Even if it is for the greater good…forcing a Contract on a child…” He paused, “It’s a shame what happened to her Family, too.”

“It had to be done.” Yasu shrugged.

“It did. See, that’s something that’s missing from these kids, and what I can at least commend Angelo for. Intensity. It was hard to do what we did to build this world for them. And it was hard for those before us.”

“Indeed. Both my granddaughters have put me to shame, and forced me to extend my tenure as Elder. One is an arrogant fool with no regard for tradition. The other spends her time running around with women. Commoners, at that.”

“I hear you. They think their new modern ideals are the solution to every problem. They fail to understand why things are the way they are. They just know that they don’t like it, and do whatever they want. I mean, blooms in the M.I.I.?”

“It’s preposterous. One would’ve hanged for even suggesting something like that back in our day. After everything we did to stave off the rising bloom threat?” Yasu had visions of crimson rivers flowing down cobblestone, houses ablaze, and air thick with smoke.

“Project Pantheon was bloody. We did all that so they wouldn’t have to. Now they want to tear it all down. And for what?” Sandro sighed as the two geriatrics repeatedly patted themselves on the back. They desperately needed this time together to justify the brutalities of the past, present, and future.

“Who knows? I can only hope my daughter can do right by me after I pass. Even if it is tradition, I can’t say the rules regarding lineage are working in my favor.” To Yasu, there was only what was right, and what was not. The matter of succession drove her to near madness, as in this case, the ‘right’ way was simultaneously the ‘wrong’ way.

“I’m not sure I understand how that works. If you have a living daughter, why would your granddaughter be next in line?”

“Monika is next in line because she’s the offspring of my late eldest daughter. Had Fumiko died childless, that would’ve put her younger sister in the Elder position. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.”

“Ah, so that’s what that succession debacle was about. But she survived, much to your dismay.”

Yasu nodded solemnly.

“And she’ll continue to survive if she makes it into the M.I.I. I can only hope the undertakings of her tenure as a maestro with the Institute prove to be too much to handle.”

“What if I told you, old friend, that I could find her for you?”

“I came here to make amends, not ask you for favors.”

“Oh, this is no favor. You’ll do something for me.”

“Do tell…”

“I’ll get you the girl’s location, and in return, you’ll bring me Soji Ojo’s head.”

~

July 5, 2022 - 11:12am

The Pit, Miguel’s Farm, Nigeria

Soji sneezed. In the darkness of the pit, it was almost impossible to make out the exhaustion plastered in his face, but his ragged breaths told the story for him. The left side of his mouth blackened and stretched all the way to his cheekbone, sharp white teeth poking out of them. Tendrils of a black substance rose from his lips.

“You alright?” Kuro asked. The boy was in no better shape than his friend, with blood, dirt, and something in between strewn along his face. His hands trembled, especially the one gripping his machete. The mushrooms lining the ground and walls glowed softly.

“I’m fine, just a sneeze. Let’s go.” Soji walked ahead of Kuro, further into a seemingly endless cavern of blooms. Their eyes shone in the dark. Kuro dropped the head of a rabbit-like bloom and followed. They were far from finished.