Several flickering tea lights, set in decorative yet practical intervals around the room, illuminated the boy standing in the otherwise dark room.

They told him to take his shoes off before entering and the mats were slightly rough beneath his bare feet, keeping him on edge. The last few months had been a blur. The only constant in his life was the scream perched at the back of his mouth. Even if he was allowed to let it out, he knew he wouldn't take the chance. Afraid the noise would begin and never stop.

The man beside him placed a hand around his shoulders and the wide sleeve of his sun bleached black robes encompassed him like their curtains back home. Like a welcome blanket inches away from covering his head too. He bundled the hem of his T-shirt with both hands and squeezed the fabric as a woman entered the room.

“Is this him?” Her tone was empty and lightless, filled with blood and broken glass like the house he had left behind.

Her presence crushed him like an iron weight plate on the top of his scalp. The man must have nodded at her. He knelt down next to the boy and placed a hand gently between his shoulder blades. The scream almost tumbled out but he pressed his lips together and trembled. His mum wasn't here. His brother wasn't here. He didn't know where either of them had gone.

“Ken?” he said. “Do you remember my name?”

“K-K-Kintorn,” he said at once as their first meeting jumped to the forefront of his thoughts. “Y-y-you said you're h-h-here to help m-m-me.”

“That's right, I am.” Kintorn extended a hand to the lady that Ken couldn't bring himself to look at. “This is my wife, Lacinya. She's going to help you while you're here too.”

Ken remembered how Kintorn had thanked the people who brought him here and bowed deeply at the waist. He almost fell flat on his face. “Th-th-thank you, Mrs La-La-Lacinya.”

But someone else had walked into the room behind Lacinya and, though hers had been colossal, the other person's aura strained against the walls and the ceiling. He couldn't lift his wide eyes from the floor as the woman spoke to him.

“Welcome, Ken.” She didn't sound like she wanted him there. “If you have any questions, you can ask me or Saytarnia. We'll do what we can to teach you the rules and take care of you.”

Rules? Rules were good. With them, he could navigate the dark cavern of human interaction better.

He bowed again, though not as deeply as before. “Th-th-thank you, Miss S-S-Saytarnia.”

Silence met his words but, when he finally managed to look at her, the other child had just straightened up from a bow as well. Her dark eyes glistened blue in the candle light and, though he was a stranger to the country and its people, he knew the colour wasn't normal for their race.

“Did you hear anything, father?” she asked. The set of her shoulders reminded him of his mum after a long day at work. Only now her face was a little blurred and his throat ached around the scream. “About Satara?”

Satara? The girl seemed only a couple of years older than him with long black hair held away from her face by an equally dark headband. Her voice tightened around the name. Who's Satara?

“We can talk about that in a moment.” Kintorn turned to him again. “We're going to be your new family while you stay here, Ken, so I want you to rest and know we'll keep you safe.”

Safe. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt safe nor if he'd ever been able to truly appreciate the feeling entirely. He nodded because he had a feeling his voice annoyed Lacinya. She stared at him like a taller, harsher version of the girl beside her until her husband spoke to her.

“Do you want me to wait until he's settled in?”

“No. You might remember something else during a second telling.” She stepped back and extended an arm towards the doorway behind her. “Come this way, young master Ken. I'll show you to your room.”

He grabbed onto Kintorn's sleeve as the man shifted on the spot and flinched under the attention he had asked for.

“Don't worry, Ken. I'll come to see you soon. Are you hungry? Lacinya can get you some food if you are.”

“I-I-I'm –” A single glance at the lady of the house decapitated his appetite. “– okay.”

“All right.” Kintorn pushed him towards her gently. “If you're tired, you can go to sleep. It's late.”

He shuffled forward, squeezing his T-shirt in his fists, past Saytarnia. She didn't look at him as she moved closer to her dad and he suddenly felt mouse-sized in a room that somehow didn't seem big enough to contain them both. Her faint scent almost punched the wail out of his mouth and he slapped a hand to his face to keep it in. Fresh blood along with something that tickled his nostrils and made his eyes water. It reminded him of the purple flames that had been burning away his memories, one by painful one.

<><><><><>

“How are you finding it here, Ken?” Kintorn sat down beside him on the porch.

“W-w-why is everyone angry?” He stilled as soon as the question flew out.

Asking things like that wasn't allowed. They considered it rude. He couldn't afford to be rude to anyone here. He dabbed at his nose with the back of one hand, although he had wiped the blood away long ago.

“Everyone?” The broad man folded his arms into his sleeves as he often did when he seemed to have a lot to say.

“N-n-not everyone,” he said quickly.

He considered running indoors but Lacinya was home and he had a feeling Saytarnia hated him being in the bedroom they assigned him when he first arrived.

“Who's angry, Ken?” Kintorn was one of the few who actually addressed him by his name.

Most of them called him the white one. The weak one. The boy with the broken throat. He bit his lip and tried not to remember the other things they called him. It never made him feel any good.

“N-n-no one.” That was a lie. Saytarnia always seemed to know when he lied and clearly didn't approve. She barely looked at him half the time. “I-I-I just need to be g-g-good.”

Kintorn placed a calming hand on his shoulder. He wanted to lean away from it but that would have been rude. “You've been here for about a week, haven't you?”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

He simultaneously felt like he had been in the strange, quiet country for a thousand years yet not long enough to know much about it. Which was a shame. Knowing things was one of his strong points, even if he wasn't good at sharing that knowledge.

“I-I-I don't know.”

“My daughter has gone missing and we're trying to find her,” said Kintorn. His chest heaved against his confession. “She's only a bit younger than you but we haven't been able to find her for a couple of weeks now.”

“Sh-sh-she got lost?”

“We're not sure.” Kintorn shook his head and pushed his hands back into his sleeves, a little deeper this time. “She definitely went to bed that night but when we woke up the next day she was gone. We've looked everywhere, almost searched the whole island, but we haven't found any signs of her.”

Ken thought of the eyes that followed his every movement as soon as he left the compound. But Satara was Kintorn's daughter. She belonged here. There was no reason for anyone to hate her.

“D-d-did she get hurt?” Aside from snakes, he hadn't seen many dangerous animals around but thought he heard wolves howling at some point during the night.

“I hope not.” Kintorn sighed softly. “Everyone in this house takes turns looking for her. That's why Lacinya and Saytarnia go out so much.”

So it's not because they can't stand me being here in their house? That was a relief. Until it wasn't.

“Wh-wh-why don't you g-g-go and look for her too?” Is it because of me?

“Someone has to be here in case she comes back on her own.” He smiled miserably. “If she's hurt, she might not be able to open the gate by herself.”

Ken scrambled to his feet at once, sandals scraping across the wood beneath him. “I-I-I can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Th-the gate.” He pointed across the courtyard. “I-I can wait for h-her here and o-open the gate.”

“So I can keep looking for her?”

He nodded, hands clenched in front of his chest. I can help. It doesn't matter if they're waiting for me out there. If I help, maybe they'll find Satara sooner and everyone will stop being so angry all the time.

Kintorn stood up too and placed a warm hand against his forehead. “Why? You're supposed to be resting here.”

“Y-you said we're a f-family.” The empty house stood like a silent witness. Ken gulped. “I-I want to h-help my family.”

<><><><><>

You need to stop running away, Satara.

Ken checked the feed from several CCTV cameras in and around the building he had been assigned, gaze flitting from one monitor to the next. Do you enjoy having people run after you? Or do you just like knowing you're missed by them and causing them pain?

Jason's constant underlying anger rippled over his skin like a long sleeved shirt made of scratchy material that he couldn't tear off. He rubbed the thin white scar along the centre of his left palm with his thumb. Though I'm the last person in the world who has the right to judge you either way.

Movement on the screen directly in front of him caught his eye and he blinked at an alert that came up for one of the cameras as soon as he identified the person who had just walked out of the building. Leaving the screen recorder on, he left the room at once to find Des.

Got her.

<><><><><>

Jason didn't see him as he left Sinastar's room, wiping his eyes suspiciously as if they hurt. Ken peeked in before the door closed completely and noted the down to business look on Des' face. I'm not going to interrupt that without permission.

He texted his findings to Des and knew the man's smartwatch would have started pulsing with a soft white light to notify him about the unread message. As he followed Jason down the corridor, he considered sharing the news with him, if only to let him know the wait was almost over. That way he could calm down and finally get some sleep. But even he knew how cruel it was to build up someone's hopes when you couldn't defend them from the unpredictability of life.

Isn't he going back to the room? Ken's eyes narrowed as he accompanied the other boy like an unseen shadow all the way to the training hall. Is he going to work out? Considering what his stress levels are probably like right now, that's actually not a bad idea.

Jason moved as if he knew exactly where he was going, weaving between the weight benches, HIIT decks, dumbbell racks, and various cardio machines until he reached their free standing punch bag. Ah. He just wants to hit something. Ken snorted under his breath, standing behind a tall multi-gym station. The red haired boy finished stretching out his shoulders and upper body as he stopped in front of it and flexed his wrist joints before shifting into a compact stance. I hope he doesn't break his hand –

Jason punched the boxing bag. Once. Twice. Several times. His fists snapped outwards in both direct lines and at calculated angles as if each point of impact were a barrier between him and the girl he needed to find. The distance of the town from the base. The clues she hadn't left behind. His own inability to watch over her. The lack of knowledge that prevented him from discerning her current whereabouts. His raw frustration cracked the rim of his controlled mask and the jagged edge bit into the sides of his face, spilling blood across his expression.

Ken recognised that chagrin as if it were his own but it didn't belong to him.

It had been hers.

After Satara's disappearance, the Lightlings had issued a strict curfew and children were not allowed outside after dark. The adults took turns patrolling the streets and scouring the island for the missing child. Every day that passed added more pressure to the older clan members and size to the growing danger in the minds of the other clan members. Finding a body would have given them some closure at least. That was what the people on patrol said as he hid in the shadow of someone's porch. Instead everyone was had become more worried.

And angrier.

He didn't dare go out during the day any more but the space within the Slaixing walls had grown airless and charged with an energy that stole the strength from his knees. He kept his promise to Kintorn and waited by the gate in case Satara returned but he fled the house as soon as he could at night. If he was going to suffocate, he would rather endure the punishment of the patrol that caught him.

The dojo was usually off limits to him but the rows of children and adults alike, all moving as one in time to the orders of their instructors, had fascinated him from the start. It was the first sight that managed to drag him from his muted grief. He found an open side door and removed his sandals before stepping into the sacred building. A continuous, hollow knocking sound nearly sent him scurrying back out.

No one else was supposed to be there that late at night.

The cool red pine floorboards barely creaked beneath him as he peeked into the large training area and watched Saytarnia unleash several moves in a row against the sturdiest wooden practise dummy. Its pair of rotating arms, one at head height and the other in line with her ribs, redirected her ferocity towards her but she either sent them spinning or dodged backwards before they could make contact with her. Her arms moved between its static extensions in flowing motions his enlarged eyes could barely follow and the slap of her palms against its teak wood body punctuated the repetitive noises he heard earlier.

Each strike seemed to land hander and echo around the otherwise empty hall louder than those before it until he was sure the wood would splinter against the impact of her hands. They sounded like unanswered questions in the limited moonlight from the windows high above them both and he didn't want to imagine what would happen if someone challenged her about a broken dummy.

Saytarnia ended her current stream of attacks with a vicious spinning elbow to the dummy's middle region. He cringed but she stopped before the blow could land, latching onto the stiff arms and pressing her forehead against it instead. Her soft yet rapid breathing melded with the silence and he didn't need to look at her face to know that he had already seen too much. He stepped back and barely stifled a yell with his hand as he bumped against someone.

Sinastar's face was unnaturally stern as Ken spun around but his gaze softened slightly a second later. He didn't say a word but continued to hold the younger boy's stare, leaning back against the wall of the corridor where Saytarnia couldn't see him. Ken flinched as her ragged voice reached them across the hall.

“Sino?”

He fled the corridor before she could discover his intrusion, snatching up his sandals on the way out. At that moment, even the risk of stepping on a venomous snake seemed less perilous than staying where he was.

The successive striking noises started back up again, only this time it was the thud of of flesh and bone hitting sand-filled vinyl, and the reeling bag alone testified to the force of Jason's blows. The sight took his breath away and other boy finished his final combo before he could regain it. He stepped back, then ran towards the punching bag, launching himself into the air as soon as it straightened up and performing one of the most beautiful tornado kicks Ken had ever seen. He landed lightly on his toes and paused to catch his breath, wiping an arm across his sweaty forehead.

He can actually – Ken drew in an unsteady breath and questions scraped his throat as he swallowed. He jumped as his phone buzzed inside his pocket and jerked back into the shadow of the machine. Jason either hadn't heard the noise or he didn't care enough to check its source, despite being in unfamiliar territory, and Ken bit down on his envy before it could spread to his expression.

Des had answered his message and told him to return to Sinastar's resting room at once. Jason began to attack the punching bag again and Ken backed out of the gym before he was tempted to disobey his captain's orders.

Do you turn people into monsters, Satara? The continuous sound of her friend's fury merged with her sister's and shadowed him all the way back to Sinastar. Or do monsters just find themselves drawn to you? He waited outside the door for several seconds, massaging his left palm with his thumb. Des looked straight at him as he opened the door and joined them in the room, brows furrowed quizzically.

“The police station,” he said and this time he was able to resist the magnetic pull of Sinastar's direct attention. “I just saw her at the police station.”

<><><><><>

Miles away, a pop up at the lower right corner of the young man's laptop screen informed him that his target was on the move again. He stopped scouring the CCTV footage of Lighter Hearts Clinic and brought up the feed from a completely different set of cameras, shoving his glasses further up the bridge of his nose with two fingers.

“What is it, Troy?”

His leader's astuteness no longer gave him goosebumps but he still blinked several times to compose himself as her low but vehement voice drifted through the darkness behind his chair. I really should start working with the lights on. I'm gonna start having seizures at this rate.

“Uh – nothing much. I'm just gonna start tracking your sister again.” Though he didn't look back at her, the back of his neck suddenly grew cold and he prepared himself for the altered proximity of her voice in his ear.

“Where is she going?”

“I'm not sure. Yet,” he added hastily. “But I'm on it.”

“You know what to do.” Despite the apparent conviction of her words, his leader remained at his shoulder, presumably watching to make sure he found the girl he had been tracking for weeks.

“I'll find her, my lady,” he promised, straightening up in his seat.

The nickname that started off as a joke now rested on the nape of his neck like a menacing hand, even before Saytarnia spoke again.

“You always do.”