“Kaito? Are you alright?” Reima called out to the man lying unconscious on the cool wet grass in front of her. Her legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment from stress and fatigue as she knelt beside him and gently shook his shoulder.

After taking the plunge off the Gedarian wall, the escapees had landed in the river that ran just outside the border. The current had swept them a couple of miles downstream before Reima was able to pull Kaito out onto the bank. Bloodclot was nowhere to be found.

A sudden fit of coughing startled Reima as Kaito started to come to his senses. He winced while struggling to sit upward, then sat hunched over on the ground for a moment trying to catch his breath.

She stepped away to give him space and her attention was drawn to his back. There, right between his shoulder blades, Reima recognized the Brand of the Patriarch. This one, however, had not been forced upon a squirming child the way Jonah’s had. A dull gray and perfectly symmetrical head of a stag sat atop a glorified spearhead, the antlers branching out over Kaito’s shoulders while the weapon handle rand straight down his spine. Reima realized the symbol was the same as the insignia worn on the left breast pocket of all the Vanguard soldiers.

“For how long do you plan to stand and gawk?” Kaito asked, breaking Reima out of her trance.

“Sorry,” she muttered, averting her gaze to the ground awkwardly. “Can you move? We need to get out of here while there’s still sunlight.”

Silence followed her question as Kaito’s icy gaze stared out at the rushing water. Finally, without turning to look at her, he asked, “What is your reason for doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Aiding me,” he clarified. “Putting your life on the line for the sake of a man wanted dead by your own people?” His gaze flickered back toward Reima. “Or was that not made abundantly clear to you?”

Reima stood pondering his question. Why had she helped him? Was it to repay him for his kindness before? Was it an act of rebellion against a system that had betrayed her trust? Her head was spinning with endless questions and unidentified emotion. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “Nothing feels clear to me anymore. Everything I thought I knew about the world seems like it’s falling apart. I just want to know the truth; about the Vanguard, about Paragon, about the ghouls… about everything.”

Finally, Kaito turned around to face her. The look in his eyes was something Reima couldn’t quite place. It was sympathetic yet serious and a fierce resolve burned bright from somewhere within their depths.

“The truth is like a double-edged sword. To find it, you must live on your own terms. Break free from the herd mentality that the Vanguard has embedded into your mind. The fight against the ghouls is just the beginning. Those you once thought you could trust may come for your head and the things you may discover out here will break you. But from the rubble, you will be reborn. You will discover what true freedom is. You’ll understand what it is you fight for. Your role in this world will finally be realized. That is what it means to know the truth.” Kaito asked.

Reima turned to stare up at the looming crystal-like wall towering over her and thought about everything that had happened. Her time in the Vanguard had been like a lunar eclipse, and its beauty from the safety of the moon’s temporary shadow had captivated her. Only when it moved from the path of the sun was she met with the blinding light of reality.

“That’s all I want,” she said after a while. “More than anything.”

“Very well. Then let us take our leave.”

“‘Us’?”

“Did you think that they would welcome you back into Gederah after what just transpired?” Kaito asked. “What you did back there was treason. If you return now, there is no doubt that you will be sentenced to death. The Vanguard will never welcome you back, nor will any Guild accept you. The whole world is now your enemy, but you don’t have to endure it alone.”

Reima felt as if her heart was being ripped in half. On one end it felt like Kaito’s words were stabbing her in the chest. She could never go home. She wouldn’t be able to see her friends and family again. Not Mel, not Elias, not anyone. She’d broken her promise to both of them and was now a fugitive of humanity.

She looked back at Kaito. Where would she go if not with him? After all, hadn’t everything she believed in turned out to be a lie? What’s more, she wanted this. The truth was all she’d ever yearned for, more than anything else. It was the reason she’d joined the Vanguard in the first place. In that moment, there was only one choice that made sense. She took a deep breath and met Kaito’s gaze while fighting back tears. With a single nod of determination she said, “I’ll go with you.”

* * *

Back in Felidae, Joven sat quietly amongst the large boulders that bordered the edge of town, taking refuge in the shade they provided from the blistering sun as he gazed out toward the vast desert. The heat had been especially brutal that afternoon, making his guard duty that much more annoying. It didn’t help that Omen had flat out refused to rest while his arm healed. Instead he’d chewed up the sling Gennaro had made for him like a misbehaved dog and had spent the past three hours attempting to climb the boulders with just one hand. On multiple occasions Kyo had attempted to get him to calm down but this only provoked Omen further and resulted in a screaming match between the two.

It had been two days since Kaito had left for Gederah with the young Vanguard soldier and he had yet to return despite saying that he was only going halfway. The more time that passed, the more troubled Joven became. He’d submitted to Kaito’s demand to let the girl go without protesting, but what if his intuition to not trust her had been right all along? Should’ve just killed her when we had the chance, he thought. He really should have come back by now.

He decided that it wouldn’t hurt to voice his concerns to Falon and was about to stand up when something crashed hard into the dirt next to him, sending dust flying in every direction. Joven didn’t so much as flinch as he gazed down at Kyo, who lay flat on his back staring blankly at the sky while his eye twitched with irritation. He pitifully tried to gasp for the air that had been violently knocked out of his lungs. At the same time, maniacal laughter sounded from atop the boulders.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“See that? I told you I could do it!” Omen boasted.

Kyo groaned and forced himself to his feet. He shook the dust from his hair and coughed before glaring back up at Omen. “Never do that again!” he yelled.

“You’re not the boss of me!” Omen shot back. He picked up a small rock and chucked it downward, nailing Kyo right in the forehead and sending him into the dirt a second time.

“Will you two knock it off?” Joven snapped.

“He started it!” Kyo said while pointing an accusing finger at Omen, who was now trying to bite into a rock the size of his head.

“How childish,” Joven commented. “Perhaps if you made an effort to get along with people, these things wouldn’t happen as often.”

“If you’re gonna lecture me, I swear I’ll puke.”

“I’m just saying nobody likes a sore loser. Right, Omen? Omen?”

“I smell blood,” came the unexpected response. Omen had stopped laughing and now stood rigid atop the boulder while gazing out at the wasteland with a stone cold expression.

“No shit?” Kyo snorted. “Probably because you just pelted my face with a rock, asshole!”

“No, this is different,” Joven interjected.

“Yeah? What makes you so sure?”

“Omen’s sense of smell is exceptional. When one sense is gone the brain rewires itself in order to compensate for the loss,” Joven explained. “I doubt your forehead was enough to elicit that kind of reaction from him.”

In just a few swift movements, Kyo was back up on the boulder. He disappeared from sight momentarily while he retrieved a pair of binoculars he kept wedged between one of the crevices. He stood next to Omen and followed his gaze out into the distance. “What the hell?” he breathed.

“What is it?” Omen asked. “Somthin’ we can eat?”

“Absolutely not.” Kyo dropped the binoculars and jumped off the boulder before racing out into the desert.

“Ey!” Omen called after him angrily. “What did you see, asshole?” He picked up the binoculars, looked through them backwards, and then let out an enraged screech before slamming them down on the rock and destroying them. “You dumb motherfucker! You can’t see shit through these! I’ll kick your ass!” He leaped down and followed after Kyo in a fury.

“You guys are too damn energetic,” Joven sighed as he ambled lazily after them.

As the trio drew closer, they could see two figures approaching them, one of which was Kaito. He was limping, bleeding, and covered in bruises. The majority of his clothing was gone aside from a pair of pants that clearly didn’t belong to him. The man looked like he’d been tortured.

Reima was with him, and for a moment it looked as if she had him in some kind of grappling hold, but upon closer inspection Joven realized she was trying to keep him on his feet. Kyo, on the other hand, clearly failed to notice this and charged at Reima full speed.

“What the hell did you do? No mercy this time!” he screamed while launching himself in her direction without a second thought. Reima braced herself and lashed out with a defensive jab to the core.

“Lay off!” she barked as her fist collided with his stomach. He grunted and collapsed on the ground and Reima’s eyes landed on the bruise on his head from Omen’s rock. “Did you hit your head? Or are you just so constantly pissed off that you can’t tell the difference between enemy and friend?” she asked.

“Dumbass,” Joven grumbled as he approached them. He paid no attention to Omen, who rammed into Kyo and started berating him for ‘lying’ about the binoculars. Reima looked on in confusion as they scrapped it out in the dirt. “What the hell happened to you?” Joven asked Kaito.

“There will be time for that. Right now, I need to speak with Gennaro.”

“No kidding. You look terrible.” Joven eyed Reima suspiciously. “I imagine you have a good reason for this though,” he muttered.

“Yes, but it’s nothing for you to be worried about. All you need to know right now is that Reima is our friend.”

Reima turned her gaze away from Kyo and Omen to look at Kaito in surprise. For the first time since they’d met, she saw him smile. It was an ever so subtle curvature of his lips, but there was no mistaking it. The look in his eyes was just as kind and sincere as the words he spoke. She offered him a small understanding smile in return, acknowledging this newfound respect between them.

* * *

A man sat within the spotlight of a room otherwise adorned in shadows. His narrow dark brown eyes were fixed on the door at the opposite end of the dimly lit hallway while delicate and nimble fingers drummed softly on the armrest of his throne. He wasn’t a man of great height or weight; in fact, he was what some may have considered rather small for a male his age. It didn’t render him any less intimidating. His short raven colored hair was shiny and slicked back, revealing a small porcelain face with sunken eyes and a soulless expression. He wore a long black overcoat with a high collar and had a dark purple cape laced with gold draped over his shoulders. He watched with disinterest as the doors swung open and a huge burly figure stepped inside, escorted on both sides by finely dressed guards.

“That’s close enough,” the man seated in the throne said curtly as the trio came to an abrupt halt before his slightly elevated platform. “Guards, you may return to your post.”

The two escorts bowed simultaneously before retreating back outside, leaving the two to stare one another down in silence.

“Well then, Commander Bardo,” the man said after a while. “What do you have to report to me?”

It was clear that Bardo was struggling to hold back his anger as he replied, “Don’t give me that crap! You know damn well why I’m here!”

“I’ve already received word from General Morgana regarding recent events. If its praise you’re after, you’ve come to the wrong place. The case of the Flaming Arrow was never yours for the taking.”

Bardo’s veins were visibly pulsating with fury in his skull, but still he kept his voice at a low growl. “No, it wasn’t… and that’s part of the problem here. Where exactly have you been, Rumion? The Elite should have dealt with this by now!”

“Did you come all this way just to shout at me? I don’t see why you’re so upset. You’ve captured Gederah’s most wanted fugitive. All that’s left for me to do is deliver the final judgment. Unless, of course, something has gone awry?”

Bardo tensed up at the dangerously calm tone in his voice. “Well, that’s…” he trailed off as Rumion snapped his fingers and Hawkes’ silver falcon flew out of the shadows and perched upon his right shoulder. Rumion removed the rolled up parchment from the container the bird was carrying.

“An urgent messaged came in just before you arrived. Is there anything you’d like to tell me before I read this?” he questioned. Bardo said nothing as Rumion’s bored gaze scanned the parchment.

“I-…” Bardo was cut off almost immediately as Rumion gave a slight twirl and flick of his finger. A single black spike suddenly shot out from the shadows and with a deafening clap like thunder, struck Bardo directly in the stomach, impaling him all the way through before dissolving into a lingering mist. The Vanguard commander collapsed onto the floor, wide-eyed and coughing up blood while his insides spilled from both ends of the wound. “W-why did you-…?” Bardo struggled to sit up but it wasn’t long until he fell silent and his eyes hazed over, staring at nothing as the last strand of life left his body. An eerie silence filled the chamber as Rumion watched his victim’s blood flow across the floor toward his feet.

“The Flaming Arrow, huh? How interesting…” came a cold and distorted male voice from the shadows behind him. Rumion rose from his seat and turned to bow to a tall figure adorned in elegant green and gold robes. Not an inch of skin on his body showed, and covering his head was the perfectly intact skull of a huge stag. The creature’s antlers were draped with strands of gold silk and heavily bejeweled with gems. The skull’s hollow eyes seemed to burn into Rumion’s flesh as the being stared down at him. “Tell me, Night Beast; do you believe this to be a cause for concern?”

“It’s been eight years since my brother turned his flames against humanity,” Rumion replied. “Eight years since the incident at Ravenvale. If these reports are true, then he remains a significant threat to our forces. What’s more, the Accordance League is scheduled for departure to the east in a matter of days.”

“Indeed,” the voice coming from the skull agreed. “This conspiracy against the Vanguard has been allowed to lay idle for far too long. Rally your team of elites, Night Beast. You have work to do.”