Reial watched as the EBM packet jammed on the dispensing coil. He pounded on the glass window, hoping that the blows would knock the packet out of the coil's grip. Nothing. No, he would not be having another dwelling fruit bar today.

Ruby sparks danced from his fingertips as he ripped the machine from the floor, shaking it vigorously until the EBM came undone. Once it slipped past the door, he dropped the machine on to its feet, causing it to land with a mighty crash. The system was left in a daze as the letters were now replaced by numbers.

He returned to the sofa where Charette and Scorch were resting, ignoring the pointed looks of confusion from the others in the plaza. Plopping down next to her, he removed the silver sticker from the back of the packet and held it out to her. She was in the middle of eating her own meal, a hearty beef stew with golden biscuits they had bought at a bakery. Finishing her bite of food, she placed her silvery bowl at her feet and rested the biscuits off to the side.

There was a spark followed by the scent of smoke as the sticker took the shape of a bowl. Mushroom-like shapes formed at the center of the bowl, expanding and liquefying into a light-yellow broth. Cut nezerine horns and noodles surfaced from the depths of the soup, followed by some vegetables. Uvan’s stew. Now, this was real food.

Reial thanked Charette and ate it with gusto; relishing the chicken-like texture of the gelatinous horn as he chewed. With a mental click, a Solvaylian Projection flickered to life, canceling out the words of the noisy preacher standing at the corner of the room. He was draped in red robes and followed by two attendants with their heads bowed. He never expected to find members of the Red Star’s Dawn in a small town like this.

The Solvaylian Projection played a live interview featuring La’Sandra. Violet ribbons streamed behind her Silk’s armored form as she moved around her shop with a grace like that of a Gale Glider, no doubt unveiling a new line of clothing. She always enjoyed wearing her Silk to special occasions, and for good reason.

That starburst pattern of strawberry and white that melded perfectly with translucent streams of gold. The ribbons that always seemed to sway as if caught in an eternal breeze. Then came her imposing figure. At six-foot two, she was an avid fan of exercise. She was broader than most women Reial knew, but still retained many of the curves that highlighted her figure. Did her fans admire her muscular build as well?

“Find anything exciting to watch?” Reial asked Charette as he scooped up another horn.

“The only interesting thing around here is them.” She pointed to the preacher.

Reial turned down the volume of his projection and listened closely to their speech.

“-And we must abandon our reliance on Essence, lest it destroys us!” The preacher said—a man who appeared to be in his second century—lifting his hands up as if to embrace them. “He has warned us as he had done so in the past! We were not but petulant children back then. Covering our ears to blot out a horrible truth that we didn’t want to consider. That the Almagest and even the great Solis Vaylius were powerless to stop the End.”

A small crowd had gathered around them. Ten or so people from the looks of it. Were they only interested in the spectacle, or did they truly believe what he was saying? Reial wondered. It almost reminded him of-

“Join us, so that we may prevent this Final End. To prevent our minds from ripping each other apart. Join us, men, women, and children, so that we may unify against our greatest threat! Join us, so that we may live to prosper as greatly as Them.”

There was a subdued response to the crowd as half of them left. As if they too were contemplating the preacher’s words. The other half pressed closer, asking the man faint questions that Reial couldn’t make out. Reial frowned, looking down at his half-empty bowl. He didn’t feel hungry anymore. Placing the bowl in front of Scorch, he watched as the drog devoured the rest of his meal.

“He’s probably just saying that stuff so they could get more followers,” Charette said.

“Yeah.” Still, he wondered.

The Projection continued to buzz with activity. When he turned back to view it, he found La’Sandra surrounded by fans that had flocked to her main store. Many of them begged for a simple shake of the hand, others for an autograph, and some even asked if they could wear her Silk. He raised the volume, listening in on the many requests.

“Are you going to attend this year’s Solis Games?” The Interviewer asked.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

La’Sandra’s Silk hood turned to face him. Its basic shape was like that of a closed helm, with a large “V” running over the face before it tapered off to the sides in a stream of rippling wings.

“No,” She answered. Her tone was controlled and mature, like someone from Yusandross. “I think I’ve had my fair share of glory. For now.”

Cries of confusion exploded from her fans.

“Does that mean you’re retiring?” The Interviewer pressed.

“Vaes’s hand, no! I just need a break. I have a fashion line to run, food to eat, places to visit. I need my own time too, you know?”

A new flurry of questions assaulted her. Had they done something wrong? Were they too abrasive? Had she tired of losing to Ishrelai?

“It’s not anyone’s fault,” She reassured them. “I just want to give other burgeoning Striders a chance to show what they’re made of. Besides, I want to see how far my protégé has come.”

Protégé? Since when had she taken someone under her wing? Reial hadn’t heard talk of that. It certainly would make for a welcoming change, not that things had grown horribly stale. Just predictable.

“I wonder who it is.” Charette murmured, watching his screen.

“Probably someone as obsessed with fashion as she is,” Reial said.

A smile cracked upon Charette’s lips as she handed her leftovers to Scorch. Leaning back against the sofa, she let out a content sigh. Reial did the same, allowing the calm stillness of the town to settle over him. It reminded him faintly of Macoula. He could allow himself to just be for this moment. That would be enough.

“I can’t believe they sent a Courser after us,” Charette said, breaking the silence.

“What else were they supposed to do?” Reial asked. “Let us be off on our own?”

“Parents are supposed to be supportive of what their children want, right? Shouldn’t they support us wanting to travel the world?”

“I don’t know,” He answered truthfully. “maybe they think we’re too young.”

“Just because we’re young doesn’t mean we’re naive.”

“It’s more than that, Charette.”

“And how do you know?”

He didn’t, but he had to pretend. How could he ever believe he was in the right when his past teachers had always doubted his intelligence? “I just do, okay? If we stayed—”

“If we stayed, you would’ve hated me even more.”

Reial stared at her, aghast. Where had this come from? “Charette, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not!”

Scorch whimpered, causing Reial to turn to him. The drog was staring at them with his large orange eyes, his muzzle dirtied by the stew’s broth.

“Nothing’s wrong, Scorch. We’re just talking.”

“Of course, nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s ever wrong with you.” Charette sneered.

“Will you please tell me what I did?”

She didn’t respond.

“Charette.”

Nothing.

“Reine.”

Charette glared at him. “Don’t call me that!”

“Why not? It is your name.”

“Just don’t, okay?”

Reial winced. He didn’t understand why she preferred her middle name over her first. That name was a sign of their great lineage. Why was she so ashamed of it

Scorch crawled into the space between them during the awkward silence. Hoping to mend the rift that had come between them. If only it were that easy.

He could pretend that they were normal siblings, that they got along well enough and had their ups and downs, but why bother? They spoke not because they wanted to, but because they had an obligation to. Not by some greater force, but by unspoken consent. It was the final bit of normalcy they could allow themselves. Else he would begin to consider the truth.

“I’m sorry,” Charette whispered.

Reial shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “It’s fine.”

More silence. Hyvas, the silence, that was even worse than the arguing sometimes. All he could do was sit there and think of how poorly he had handled the situation. Then it hit him, nothing had changed. He had hoped that with Charette tagging along they would mend this wound of theirs. Possibly even start all over. But he was wrong. They were still very much the same as they had been years ago.

What could he ever do that was good enough? Maybe his teachers would’ve known. They had always known better than him.

After some time had passed, Reial spoke up. “Want to take a look around the shops?”

Charette dipped her head. “Sure.”

Putting on a smile, he threw on his bag and made a start for the stores. The shopping district was located nearby the plaza, which was a bit unusual. Thankfully, it was relatively quiet given the size of the town.

Most of the shops here were either clothing or jewelry stores, with the occasional food vendor to keep shoppers fed. The clothes belonged to smaller, lesser known brands, and some Reial didn’t recognize at all. Their clothes weren’t horrible to look at, but he wanted something refined and sleek. Simple, but with enough flair to stand out. That’s what he loved about La’Sandra’s clothing line anyways.

Charette didn’t care much for the grand displays people set up at the windows. She didn’t even bother to give them more than a single glance. Choosing to stare at her own two feet rather than what she would’ve begged their parents to see when she was younger. Where had her excitement gone?

Reial tried to play her part, chatting about this shirt or that pants, about how expensive it was and if he should buy it. When she was bubbly like that, he found himself enjoying his time rather than loathing it.

It was exhausting, but being strong meant being fake, didn’t it? At least that’s the impression he got. People pretended that they weren’t scared when they were brave, or that they weren’t angry when they were punishing others. He just had to be fake for Charette’s sake, so why couldn’t he continue being fake and choose to stay with her? Because it’s for her own good.

As he was in the middle of ranting about a certain color combination, he froze. Charette was looking at him with that same curious expression he had grown so accustomed to. Except he had been reading it wrong all this time. She didn’t appear curious, she appeared concerned. For him.