The last rays of the sun, dying over the horizon, cast a bluish hue over the tops of the skyscrapers. The monolithic buildings pierced far into the dark clouds, their somber cover lingering but a scrap above the land of the monstrous city. From this lofty vantage point, the bustling crowds on the streets below were barely decipherable. They appeared as mere specks, granting color to every corner of Rua, going about their everyday lifes. One could not see the distinction between an accomplished man with a family, a job, and a purpose, and the lowest of low, scavenging for the leftovers of society.
Licking his lips, Anthemion watched the rising red numbers on the monitor, signaling his rapid ascent. Despite the fast climb, his emotions remained muted, except for a slight flutter in his stomach. And even that small agitation was perhaps more so birthed by the purpose of his visit, rather than the motion of the fast climbing elevator itself. Aurelius was no easy man, after all, nor a merciful one.
Without a single sound, the elevator came to a halt. Anthemion winced. He had hoped for some more seconds of safety.
With a last, lingering gaze out the glassy front onto the ethereal city below, he turned to the doors, straightening his back, and steadying himself with a slow, deep breath. The blank doors opened to reveal a long white corridor, filled to the brim with sudden brightness that stung his eyes. Squinting, he strode forward, his steps carefully slow, as he feared the ability of his legs' to carry him.
Two imposing men, more bulls than human, dressed entirely in black, towered at the end of the corridor, framing a simple door. With but a single glance, they took him in, deemed him no threat and not worthy of further attention, shifting their piercing gazes elsewhere. Uncertain about how to proceed, Anthemion merely stood there, growing increasingly uneasy. The fluttering in his stomach spiralled and just as the first words were about to escape his lips, the door opened seemingly of its own accord, as by invisible hand. "Enter," a voice emanated from the opening. It was unremarkable, ordinary in every sense, yet it carried an undertone demanding absolute obedience and a lurking threat of swift punishment, if orders weren't fulfilled satisfactory.
Gulping, Anthemion stepped in, acutely aware of how small his frame was between the imposing guards and how much he was at the mercy of their master not commanding them to tear him apart. The room was colored in shades of grey, appearing spacious not only due to its size but also due to the minimal furniture within. It bore no marks of someone residing there. In the center, facing the door, a dark wooden table throned, completely empty, paired with a simple chair of the same material, upon which a man was seated.
The view behind him showcased the countless buildings housing within the borders of Rua, stretching to the horizon and beyond. The doors closed behind Anthemion, leaving him exposed and without escape, not that would have been able to anyway. A sensation of nakedness, as if all his secrets were laid bare for Aurelius to witness, crept into his mind. However, the man paid him no attention, instead focusing on a small object within his thin hands, which Anthemion couldn't quite discern.
Seconds passed in absolute silence, fraying his nerves. A voice inside his head screamed at him to leave, to bow, to beg—anything but stand motionless—yet his feet remained rooted to the ground like an ancient tree. After what felt like an eternity, the man spoke again, his unnatural turquoise eyes meeting Anthemion's, ensnaring him in their gaze. "Business is good, you know? People work, they deliver, and I don't need to intervene beyond occasional praise or culling some rogues. Everything unfolds peacefully." He sighed, as if truly troubled. "I like it this way. I also like you. You are quiet, fearful, of course, but not without some sense. Brave, even, for standing before me after the trouble you've caused, after all you've little rascal have cost me. You could have been a fine one, someday, someone admirable."
He paused, his eyes flickering with underlying ire, sending shivers down Anthemion's spine. Beads of sweat trickled down his temples.
The air flimmered and the presence hit him like a merciless punch to the stomach, squeezing the air out of his lungs as he collapsed to his knees, gaping and utterly overwhelmed. Waves of palpable energy billowed out from Aurelius, coursing through the room. Though he hadn't moved a muscle, his demeanor apparently relaxed, as if chatting with a friend, the pressure threatened to crush Anthemion and the cold glitter in his eyes betrayed his wrath. "Yet, the loss you've caused me remains. It pains me deeply."
Anthemion felt an irresistible, unstoppable force, this cruel energy, swirling around him, gliding alongside his limbs and coiling around his torso, enveloping his entire body. The force tightened slowly, lifting him into the air, ever reminding him of the unfathomable power within it, able to grind his bones to powder with but a single thought of the man sitting leasurely before him. Completely unbothered. Anthemion's arms remained pinned to his sides, as if stuck by glue, his legs tightly pressed together, not voluntarily but forced upon him. He was immobilized, a puppet controlled by another's strings.
The energy centered around his throat, like a phantom knife poised to end his existence with a mere shrug. Horror flashed in his soul, as he was faced with his total inability to move even a single muscle, gripped him hard, as he realized his profound vulnerability. He tried to plead, but couldn't, to beg, but was unable, to cry, but even that was not granted to him.
"How should I proceed with you? You had the potential to be valuable, yet I can't let something like this slide. What would others think of me? Would they deem me weak, too lenient? I don't even want to imagine it. I-" His voice fell silent as if lost in thought. After a brief pause, he continued, his tone hard and calculating. "But you've come here. You've taken responsibility. Not that you had any other chance, as we would have found you either way, but it tells me something about you, something I desire in my men."
The energy around Anthemion's head eased slightly, granting him the ability to speak, but he remained silent, fearing any word might provoke immediate punishment. The man studied him, and after a tense moment, Anthemion caved in and broke the silence. "I-I am deeply sorry, sir. I've made a grave mistake, and I understand, I deserve punishment. I'm willing to do whatever it takes. Please, I have people who depend on me, that need me. I'll be loyal, I'll carry out every of your orders, no matter their nature. But, please don't kill me...“ His voice, meak and low, wavered and finally broke. Tears watered his eyes, yet he resisted letting them fall. Satisfaction briefly flitted across the Aurelius' face, a faint curve to his lips like a half moon. But the small smile didn't reach his icy eyes, and his voice was resolute. "This is your last and only chance. Defy me, and you die. Betray me, and you die. Question me, and you die. Cause me even the smallest loss again, and you die. And it won't be only you who suffers, but those who depend on you as well. They will pay in blood for your misbehavings."
Cold terror gripped Anthemion, though a glimmer of hope still gleamed in his eyes. He nodded as best he could, his movement restricted by the energy still shackling him. "Good," the man began, but stopped mid sentence. His brow furrowed, his attention drawn elsewhere as a familiar presence descended upon the room. His gaze shifted to the window, and Anthemion sighed in relief as the intense stare was no longer fixed upon him. The man waved his hand, and Anthemion dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. "Sorry, boy. Our meeting ends here. Remember our conversation. And that while I am merciless to those that oppose me, I take good care of those that follow my lead." The door opened, and Anthemion stumbled out as quickly as he could. The man paid him no mind as he left, engrossed in looking out the window. "Give him a fitting farewell," the words echoed through the closing door, laden with sadistic intent.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Still shaken to his core, Anthemion glanced up only to be met with the grinning faces of the two sinister guards. Their attire flexed as they bent down to lift him up.
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Within the room, Aurelius elegantly pushed his chair back, rising to his feet. A single figure hovered before the window, enveloped in a swirling cloud of white and grey, forming an egg-like shape around the man's frame, allowing just few glimpses of his clothes and leaving only his head clearly visible. With a simple gesture, the glass of the window shattered inwards, spilling shards to the ground like rain. Aurelius raised an eyebrow at the unnecessary display, but commented not further on the fact that the window could have easily been opened, as it was best not to arouse the nobleborns anger.
They liked drama, when making their entrance, and this one even more so. Moving gracefully, the man drifted into the room, carried by the cloud at his command. For a moment, he hovered in the air, his gaze wandering around the plain space, until it settled on Aurelius. Then, he gently touched down, the cloud dispersing to truly reveal his uniform underneath. His dressing was colored to resemble a rainy cloud, adorned with shimmering silver and white bands and metals lining his body. Most prominent was a shining crest in the shape of a cloud woven into a patch over his heart, marking him as a member of Rua's ruling noble family.
He was blessed with the grey eyes of his ancestors, though his hair held a faint shimmer of brown to it, instead of the desired shades of grey and white. A fact, he tried to hide to no avail with the sheer magnitude of lavish accessoirces donning his body, ranging from rings to countless bracelets and even an earing. His presence exuded an inherent arrogance and a sense of superiority that irked Aurelius to no end. But even with all his overbearing attitude, the noble still carried immense weight, so Aurelius swallowed his pride and bowed, just enough for it not to be considered an insult.
"It's an honor to meet you again, young master," Aurelius spoke, forcing a fake smile. "How kind of you to grace this humble servant with your presence." The thinly veiled mockery in his words went unnoticed by the young master, who smiled smugly, basking in the praise.
"But is it safe for us to meet? Have you been followed?" The nobles face darkened instantly and his eyes narrowed, his presence crackling like the sky before a storm. "Do you hold such a low opinion of me, Aurelius? Do you truly believe I am so careless?" His voice was dangerously low.
Quickly realizing his misstep, Aurelius hurried to amend his words. "Of course not, young master. I merely worried for your well-being and the success of our—your—operation. I doubt any lowly common born could detect your presence if you mask yourself, even if you stood before them. My concern was misplaced. I apologize." He bowed, head lowered until he received the affirmation he sought. "It doesn't matter. You don't know better. You're just a servant, after all, and a criminal at that. But don't question my abilities again, or you will pay."
"Yes, young master. I apologize for my incompetence. It won't happen again." Aurelius fought the urge to remind the young master of his own unsavory dealings and that he, at the very least, was guilty of pairing up with a criminal, but knew better than to provoke him. "You have my word."
The noble-born nodded as he walked by Aurelius and took his place in the only chair, leaving the latter to stand, solidifying exactly the kind of power dynamic he wanted to establish. They remained in silence, and he let Aurelius dangle in the quiet, long enough to make him uncomfortable, reminding him of his place as a subordinate. The noble like the little twitch in Aurelius' brow, the stiffness of his stance and that his eyes were a little downcast, not meeting his own. The innate power, he held over others... It was intoxicating. He relished the man's discomfort some more, before he finally began to speak.
"There's business that requires my attention, something that cannot be achieved through legal means. I have a need for your men. Send command to gather them. We have a place to explore, filled with riches that drugs and petty gang wars cannot offer them in a thousand years."
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The cold water splashing onto Anthemion's face washed away the lingering sweat on his temples, carrying with it the last traces of the anxiety that had been wrecking his body. The panic had hit hard. It had journeyed with him for a long time now, lurking hidden in the depths of his consciousness like an animal, only to leap forward in his weakest moments. Freeing his face from the sanctuary of his hands, he slowly raised his head to assess himself in the mirror. Eyes combined the green of a forest with the blue of a clear summer sky, a nose slightly too big in proportion, and skin so pale that one might think him unwell.
With a sigh, he waited for the trembling in his hands to subside and the loud thumping of his heart in his mind to fade. His hands, careful not to touch them, traced the bruises on his upper body that blended green, yellow, and even purple into a gruesome sight. Every movement sent a sharp pain through his torso, reminding him of the brutal kicks from the guards and their grins as they pushed him out onto the streets, only for him to stumble and fall to the ground. No one had helped. Not that he would have expected otherwise.
After donning a T-shirt and taking one last look in the mirror to ensure he appeared presentable, he left the small bathroom and joined his family in the kitchen. A small girl, barely reaching his waist, leapt from her chair and threw herself against his body. Chuckling, Anthemion slid his hands under her arms and playfully staggered backwards, as if he were about to collapse under her weight. With a smile, he remarked, "Somebody is growing pretty fast, aren’t they?" Giving a wink, he added, "Or has someone eaten a little too much candy?" His sister punched him with all the strength her little, lithe body could muster, which wasn't much, but unfortunately, she hit him right on the bruises covering his torso. Anthemion sharply inhaled, doing his best to conceal the pain that shot through him. "You're mean!" His sister freed herself from his embrace and glared up at him with her large, round eyes.
"Just sit down, please," Diane, his mother, intervened to stop the quarrel. "The food is getting cold." Sticking out her tongue, Ann turned around and returned to her seat. "Sorry, Mom," Anthemion apologized, though he couldn't quite suppress the grin forming on his face. The table was small, as to fit into the room while still allowing some movement. When they all sat down, even without their father, who was still at work, they were so close to each other that Anthemion could see every new and old wrinkle on his mother's face. In front of each of them was a bowl of rice and a bit of greenery to enhance the flavor.
They ate in silence, though the expression on Ann's face betrayed her intention to say something. Eventually, just before they would rise to clean their dishes, she could no longer contain herself. Her gaze lowered, she fidgeted in her seat as she began to speak, "Mom, there's this thing they're planning at school. At the start of third grade, there's…" She paused for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed. "Go on, sweetie. Please," her mother reassured her, picking up the bowls. Anthemion took them from her hands and began rinsing them with water and soap before she could protest. It was the least he could do. "It's… It's a trip. The school plans to organize a trip for the students as a celebration. It's just a fun thing, and everyone goes. I'd like to go too, and…" Her words hung in the air.
Diane felt her cheeks flush as a cruel mix of helplessness and embarrassment welled up within her. Embarrassment that her own daughter hesitated to burden her with the cost of a simple school trip. That her beloved daughter was afraid to ask her own mother for money. A child about to enter the third grade should be concerned about toys, boys, or sports—not the financial situation of her family. Hopelessness, for she knew it would be difficult to scrap together enough money, but she was determined to make it happen. For her daughter. Tears swelled in her eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I'll see what I can do, okay? I promise you can go, right? I'll make sure of it," she managed to say, her voice strained with emotion.
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Later that day, as night fell, Anthemion listened to the soft snores of Ann, echoing through their shared room. The familiarity of the sound brought him a sense of calm, for he had known it his whole life. His gaze was fixed upon their lone window, directed at the city that lay beyond it. Countless, unfathomably high skyscrapers formed a towering forest, a sea of people, amassing to a teeming crowd, and an air of infinite mysteries all converged into a single place. Endless opportunities awaited him, he only needed the strength and resolve to grasp them. Yet, he found himself caring little about all that lay beyond his humble home. Casting one last glance to his sister, his consciousnesses slipped away into darkness, his last thoughts revolving around a final, silent promise - that never again would his sister have to feel afraid to ask for something like money.