The vibrant buzz of nighttime Polassa had faded, leaving the streets in a peaceful stillness. The rain gently drummed on the paved streets, creating a rhythm that muffled the usual city noises. Gale-Carts floated in the misty air, their soft glow casting fleeting shadows on the wet pavement as they hovered nearby.
Olav, huddled under his leather jacket, shielding his cigarette from the rain, revealing it only to exhale a curling plume of smoke. They were three stories up on a rusty fire escape, tucked away in a narrow, grimy alley. The walls around them were covered in peeling graffiti claiming:
‘Yimani for us Folk again.’
The air was thick with the scent of damp concrete and the occasional waft of garbage that came from nearby bins.
“Are you sure he’s going to be here?” Izai’s asked. He peered over the edge of the fire escape.
Olav, with his head still buried in his jacket, gave a quick nod. Below them, a door creaked open. Out stepped Tai, unfurling his umbrella against the drizzling night. Accompanying him was an Akila – a Rohala Akila, her plumage a striking array of red hues. Her head and neck were adorned with pristine white feathers, spiked up in the same most other young KinAkilas did, as Izai noted. Her strong yellow beak cut through the night air with an assertive grace. She wore a Lucio Feroz T-shirt, a name that brought on a wave of nostalgia. It reminded him of when his parents discovered he was a PureBorn, and how his mother had dreamt of him becoming the next big KY Fighter.
“Why not join the WKYE Fighters Academy?” Izai could barely make out Tai’s voice through the rain pattering on the ground.
Without a word, Olav pulled the Frost-Sap blanket from his bag and let it flutter downwards. Izai wasted no time; he rushed after it and landed heavily on Tai. They began to wrestle, Tai desperately trying to wriggle free while Izai fought to keep him pinned until Olav joined them. Both their Talents were neutralized by the blanket, but Olav was right – Tai was far stronger naturally than Izai had anticipated.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Suddenly, Izai felt sharp talons grip the back of his shirt, tearing through the fabric as he was flung across the alley. He collided hard with a garbage can, which crumpled under the impact, the metallic clang echoing through the rainy night.
Izai got back to his feet, his body aching from the collision. “You don’t want to do this,” his voice strained.
The Akila’s plumage fluffed up, her dark iris shrank into a small black dot against the sea of gold that was her pupil. With a fierce screech, she charged at him. Izai dodged her initial strikes with ease, but his luck ran out when a powerful kick to his ribs sent him crashing into the alley walls. He couldn’t decide which was worse – being thrown into unreinforced material or into something Earth-Sap or Stone-Sap had made sturdier.
As the girl lunged at him again, Izai desperately gathered his Essence for a quick Push of Fire to create some space. The blaze made her recoil momentarily. Seeing her with her feet spread wide and knees slightly bent, he anticipated her retaliatory move – a Push of her own – a vine that snaked through the rain towards him. He deftly sidestepped it and landed a solid jab to her side, causing her to stagger.
He followed with a swift kick that bent her body sideways. With a determined final strike, he pulled back his fist for an uppercut. However, as his fist connected, an odd shiver coursed through his body. The punch had little effect; instead, the Rohala girl spun him through the air and slammed him forcefully into the ground.
The pain reverberated through him; each twitch more intense than the last. When he opened his eyes, the Rohala was now freefalling, her talons extended menacingly. Just then, the Frost-Sap blanket landed on his chest, and the girl crashed into it. The sensation was hard to pin down – numbness mixed with a burning and a peculiar coldness that seemed to freeze his torso.
The world above him began to spin. As he fought to focus, he caught sight of an Air-Ship gliding by, stamped with the cheerful face of a Folk Family and a message:
‘The leaders in anti-Pacifying pharmaceuticals: IronHeart Corporations.’
Beneath, the slogan it read:
‘Us, Regulars deserve a safer world too.’