Halari didn’t know what to make of Callan’s face as they walked down the street. He took everything in with a look like he had found a hair in his stew.

“What are these?” he asked, gesturing to the biofoam beds nearby. Halari grimaced at the bed's low output; many of the buds were small, much like most of the farming plots these days.

“Biofoam,” Halari said. “We grow produce on it. Seed stock is running low this year and a lot of people are struggling to get anything substantial.”

“What about grass?” he asked. “Soil?”

“Some grass grows outside the Quarry,” she said, feeling more and more guilty with every word. “In patches and groves. But any soil is way too toxic to grow anything.”

Callan sagged a bit. “Flowers?” He looked at her desperately.

“Ummm…” Halari didn’t know what to tell him. His expression said that flowers were a good thing from whatever time he was thinking of, but… “Some of them aren’t poisonous.”

Callan sighed and slumped, blatantly crestfallen.

“I’m sorry,” Halari said. “I don’t know what kind of world you remember but it clearly isn’t this.”

“I need to figure out what happened,” Callan said. “Centuries of history. I missed so much.” He turned his eyes to the sky. “It’s gonna rain soon.”

“Hm?” Halari said, looking up. The sky was perfect, no black clouds on the canvas of grey. “No it isn’t. This is great weather.”

“But the sky is gray,” he said.

“It always look like that,” Halari said, cocking her head to the side. Was it supposed to be a different color? She tried to imagine the steadiness of the silver color above as anything else. Purple? “What’s it supposed to be?”

Callan’s expression fell deeply. He looked mournful, like a he had lost something important.

“Blue,” he said. “It’s supposed to be blue on sunny days. White clouds and a gentle breeze. This… god, what did they do?”

I gotta get him off this topic. “Come on.” Halari put a hand on his shoulder to guide him away. “Let’s go see the Center, you can tell me the truth about those statues.”

They weaved through the streets together and Halari let Callan set their speed. He seemed intent on taking everything in from the shapes of the buildings to the grain of the plaster.

When they got nearer to the temple, he paused to watch a couple children play in their yard and finally lightened up a little.

“Those are the Bellit twins,” Halari said, giggling when the boy pegged his sister in the face with the ball they were tossing about. “They’re sweet kids, even if some trinkets tends to disappear around the—”

Callan was no longer looking at the children. His eyes were staring beyond them. Past the temple. Past the cliff. To the ruins.

“Callan?” Halari tapped him lightly. “What’s the matter?”

He started walking towards the cliff as if in a trance, slow and haunted. The Ruins crept over the edge into view, each tower like the finger of a corpse digging its way out of a grave.

He stopped a foot from the drop off and froze, body stiffening like a piece of frozen wood. Halari worried that he’d shatter if she even breathed on him too hard.

He’s trembling. She didn’t know what to do to help him, especially when he dropped to his knees, arms limp at his sides.

“Wh… what is this place to you?” Callan asked hoarsely, a single tear trailing down his cheek.

Her throat closed suddenly, and she wished that it didn’t have to be her who told him. Still, he deserved to know, so she forced herself to speak. “These are the ancient ruins of the city of Atara,” she choked out. “Legends say it was destroyed during the Departure of the Flames.”

“No,” His voice was strangled, stuck between a sob and whisper. “This is the city of Atlanta. This is my home.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry,” Halari said. She felt tears in her own eyes, the utter grief on his face was the very image of tragedy. What was he seeing when he looked the ruins? What ghost was he weeping over?

His tears streamed freely down his face, unstoppable now that the dam was cracked.

I’ve made the Tyrant cry. Halari forced her own eyes to dry and put a consoling hand on one of his shoulders as he shook. Deity or not, Tyrannical Betrayer or not, this was somebody who needed comfort. This was somebody who was feeling true grief.

Callan silently wept on the cliff overlooking the carcass of his home and Halari stood with him in vigil. She didn’t even fully know what he was mourning, but it felt right to help him, even if just to watch. They stood there for timeless minutes of mourning until Callan was simply unable to produce more tears.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Callan whispered after a few moments. “This wasn’t part of the plan.”

“The plan?” Halari asked.

“We were going to leave this world,” he said, “when it was time. Build it up, make it right. Make it perfect.” Each sentence was a gasp, a choking plea to wake up from the nightmare he must think he was stuck in. “So that when we left it behind, it would be something to look on with pride. A utopia for the center of our… glory. Not a tomb for the people they forgot.”

“They’re not coming back are they?” Halari already knew the answer because it was the only one that made sense. They left a thousand years ago with a promise to return. They never did. “Your brethren, the other Flames?”

“No,” Callan said, rising on shaky legs. “There was never a plan to come back once we left, and that after making sure that the world was perfect for people who wanted to stay.”

“So we’re on our own,” Halari said. “I think I always knew that somehow.”

“No.” Callan turned to her, his grief hardening. Halari did her best not to shrink away from his serpentine eyes, the purple parts of which were glowing intensely. “I am here now, and I will not leave you behind.”

Halari nodded, looking at the promise in his gaze. This wasn’t the Betrayer, that person didn’t exist. And if he was, then he really was the perfect liar, because she only saw resolve and truth in his expression.

“I believe you,” she said, and she meant every word.

Callan cast one more mournful look to the barren bones of his city before turning away and wiping his eyes dry. Halari wanted to say something, anything to ease the man’s pain, but what possibly was there to recover from this?

“Is there anything else I should see?” he asked as they walked away. “Preferably far away from this place.”

“There’s the mines,” she suggested. “But I figure you don’t want to go underground for a while, all things considered.”

“I suppose I can stand at the entrance and look inside,” he said. “But you are right about that.”

Halari nodded and led him away from the Atlanta skyline. The towers reached for them from far away, casting tall shadows behind them while they made their escape from its haunting and tragic visage. Callan was silent on the way to the mine entrance, face distant and shadowed by the ghost of despair.

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The entrance to the mine was a massive hole at the bottom of the cliff face that was braced with a trapezoidal frame and kept up with supporting struts placed at even intervals going deeper and deeper into the well-lit tunnel. Light bars were placed on the ceiling, spaced wider than the struts, but the tunnel was so deep into the rock that even the illumination was lost in the distance.

“What happens when you run out of lights?” Callan asked, voice still ragged from his despair. “I imagine you only have so many of those.”

“Oh the miners ran out years ago,” Halari said, grimacing. “Now they just take one with them into the darker parts. A bit dangerous, but the ore is too valuable to not mine.”

“What’s the material?” Callan peered into the tunnel, but he didn’t get any closer. “Iron? Copper?"

“Here I’ll show you,” Halari said, catching sight of one of her brother’s crew coming out with a wheelbarrow loaded with the mine’s bounty and a little extra. “Hey, Jole! Over here!”

Jole, her brother’s right-hand man in the tunnels, waved back and redirected his course over to where they stood. He was a tough and lean man, like most miners, and just a couple years older than Telero himself. He was also adorned with an unkempt mustache below his flat, unruly mop of dark hair.

“Hey there, Halari,” he said with a voice like gravel falling on sand. “You seen you’re brother anywhere today? We got a stubborn patch of shield we need another hand with.”

Halari gritted her teeth in an awkward smile, recalling the morning’s rough and rumbly start. She and Viria had… undersold Telero’s mood upon coming out of his room during a quick breakfast. He hadn’t muttered so much as barked to them about the end of the world and begging forgiveness of the priests before storming off in a mad rush to do whatever he’d had in mind.

“He’s… busy,” Halari said. “I’m sure he’ll be around later.”

“Alright then,” Jole huffed, putting his hands on his hips. “Well, we can’t move on that vein without another pick.” He glanced at Callan, sizing him up with a twitch of his mustache. “What about your friend here? This is him, right? The guy you came out of the Center with? He looks stron—” Jole cut off and stared at Callan for a long second. Halari held back a chuckle, knowing that Jole finally saw her companion’s inhuman stare. “You got some weird-looking eyes, mister.”

“They were a gift,” Callan said without missing a beat. Jole nodded slowly like he understood, then continued on like nothing was amiss.

“You know how to mine?” he asked.

“What’re you mining?” Callan stepped over to the wheelbarrow and looked inside, then grabbed a chunk of the off-white sediment off the top of the haul pile.

“Only the most valuable stuff in the world,” Jole explained, coming up beside Callan and sticking his whole arm into the transport. He came up with a nugget of silvery metal with lines like black webbing wrapping its surface. “We call it deepsteel, since it’s so damn deep into the earth. What you're holding is its shell."

“We used it to make Charge cells and power a lot of tools,” Halari added. “Those lights, some of our picks, vehicles, homes. It’s…” She stopped talking, noticing Callan’s expression.

He stared peculiarly at the metal, then took it gently from Jole and rolled the nugget between his fingers.

“What is it?” She worried that she’d upset him again, somehow, although the look on his face was not one of discomfort or that horrible grief from before.

“This was here?” Callan murmured. “I thought we found it all.”

What’s he talking about? Halari wondered. Jole glanced at her, confused, but she shook her head, hoping he’d take that to mean that she’d explain later. “Callan, what’s going on?”

Callan snapped out of his odd reverie and held the nugget up for them to see better. “This… is ultimium. Raw ultimium that I thought was all mined up.”

“Well, we’ve got a huge deposit all inside this cliff here,” Jole said, waving to the looming face of black stone that they stood within. “Of course, it’s pretty much useless without a Charge. But we’re hoping, praying, that when the Flames come back, they’ll light it all up. We’ll probably be the most powerful trade nation in the world then.”

Halari’s head and spirits fell at Jole’s words, knowing what she knew now about their false promise. That was never going to happen, and they would soon run out of their last remaining power.

Wait… She snapped up and looked at Callan, right as he grinned slightly.

“Indeed,” Callan said, “but I wouldn’t hold out hope for them. However, I am here now to help.” He focused on the nugget of metal, staring into it intensely. Then, his eyes flashed.

And the black lines of the metal lit up.

Purple-crimson light flicked and flowed in the nuggets, casting its hues on their faces.

By the Visionary… Halari gaped at the power in Callan’s fingers, awed by the display. This changed everything. I’ve found it, I’ve found what we need.

“Uhhh…” Jole looked completely out of sorts, stupefied gaze flicking between the metal chunk and Callan, who looked pleased with himself and escaped from the pit of tragedy he'd started to sink into. “Ummm…”

“Oh shit!” Halari hissed softly. She snatched the Charged nugget from Callan’s fingers and held it out to the miner. “Uh, here, Jole, why don’t you hold on this and, uh, don’t mention it to… well, anybody.”

“Uhhh…” Jole took the chunk and stared at it dumbly as if trying to convince himself that it was real. “Uh, sure, I guess. But, Halari, uh, you are gonna… explain things right?”

“Yes yes, I promise,” Halari said quickly, grabbing Callan by the elbow and pulling him away. “Just, please, don’t mention this to anybody yet. Take it as an order, I guess.”

“Y-you don—”

“Ok-bye-Jole!” Halari dragged Callan away quickly, pulling him back towards the town. Only when they were out of sight of the mines did she stop and turn to him. “Callan, nobody knows who you are. You can’t do stuff like that yet.”

“What?” Callan looked surprised. “You didn’t tell them?”

“There’s a lot going on, right now,” Halari said rapidly in a hushed tone. “You, food and power shortages, those freak invaders.”

“Invaders?” Callan asked. “Is this place under attack?”

“Not to anybody outside the leadership and the Melokide,” she explained, that fresh shame of being one of those traitors rising up to her throat. She waved for him to follow her and began walking back to the garage,. “Nobody else knows outside them. They’ve been paying these outsiders off to prevent war. I found out by mistake.”

“Why don’t you fight?” Callan asked. “The people here seem… hardy.”

“But they’re not fighters,” Halari said. “They’re good people who just want to live, and we don’t even have the resources. So until we restart the trade lines, it’s not a winning battle.”

“And you worry that the fear would destroy this place,” Callan finished, nodding. Did he understand? Or did he think her a baseless liar? “I know it seems like omitting this from them might seem like a shameful idea, but you’re right not to ruin the peace without an alternative, and now you’ve just found another option. I will help, Halari, however I can.”

That eased her roiling conscience a bit, and Halari felt a tad lighter as they walked back to the garage.

It didn’t last long.

Two people stood at the garage, looking out into the street, waiting for them.

One was Telero, who watched her and Callan approach with a stormy expression darker than any normal rain cloud. The other was Kelot, who looked decidedly less violent than the last time she’d seen him while exiting the Vault. The priest even plastered on that shit-eating, condescending grin he loved to use as the gap between them closed.

“Dammit,” Halari groaned with a heavy eye roll. “Callan, whatever that man says is total bullshit. Just… be ready.”

“Was he there when you freed me?” Callan asked. “It’s all kind of a blur already.”

Kelot shouted hello, giving her no chance to respond.

“Greetings, Great Flame of Melokon!” he said, waving gently with a white-robed hand. Each word he spouted was saturated with enough forced grandeur to make her stomach turn. “I am truly honored to be in your presence!”

Halari’s eyes flipped backwards and looked into her brain when the man bowed deep enough that his nose almost touched the black stone of the street.

“Rise, priest,” Callan said. Kelot obeyed immediately, snapping up like a loosed tree that somebody had been holding down. “You ordered your men to harm Halari, correct?”

“Ah, y-yes,” Kelot stammered, blushing under Callan’s draconic glare. “That was… an unfortunate misunderstanding that your humble servants feel just terrible about.”

“Misunderstanding?” Halari gawked at him. “Your men shot at me like a firing squad!”

“Well, in our defense,” Kelot said with a shrug, “we believed you had just released the greatest calamity in the world’s history.”

Callan’s eyes narrowed.

“Which of course is clearly not the case,” the priest added with a panicked chortle. He cleared his throat, then continued. “When initiate Telero here illuminated us on your less-than-wrathful disposition, I saw an opportunity to reach out and offer you the chance to reorient yourself to the world.”

“I’ve been given the tour,” Callan said, gesturing to Halari. “She was quite thorough.”

Kelot cleared his throat again and fiddled with his robes.

This is kinda funny, Halari thought, relishing in the man’s mewling.

“But can she provide you the past?” Kelot asked. “Can she tell you everything you missed?”

“Can you?” Halari demanded. The priest barely looked at her before he responded.

“In four days, we will have a full presentation for you at at our Stellar Temple,” Kelot said, bowing slightly again. “It would be an honor to have your audience and potentially save some good grace in your eyes.”

“Fine,” Callan said. “Impress me, priest.”

“At your command Great Flame,” Kelot said, bowing a third time like his life depended on the frequency of his displayed piety. Then he scurried off, mission complete.

Halari looked to Telero, judging the way he stood, how his jaw was set. She knew her brother well enough to see he was bordering on enraged, something that was hard to ignite within him.

“Tel…” She reached for him to try for some kind of hug or comforting touch, but he pushed her hand away and stomped off, mining boots clomping on the stone below.

“I need to rest,” Callan said, sagging. “Thank you for the tour, Halari. I appreciate everything.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, staring after Tel. She needed to go after him, talk to him, try to unwind the coil tightening around his chest. “I’ll come back later with some dinner, if you want.”

“Yes,” Callan said. “Thank you.”

Halari grinned softly, then trotted off to find her brother. Telero only went one place when he was mad, she would definitely find him there.