Charette’s boots squeaked against the polished museum floor as she rambled about the peculiar art, fossils, miscellaneous Essence-based technologies, and clothes of an earlier era. It was a time when they could forget about their worries and indulge in one of their long-awaited ventures. Simple as it was, Reial couldn’t bring himself to enjoy it.
He was far too preoccupied glancing around the corners, prepared to Stride at a moment’s notice if a curator looked at them for too long. That wasn’t suspicious, was it? People didn’t like being stared at after all. And it wasn’t like he was shy; he was just nervous their identities would be discovered.
Perhaps if he were to appear calmer, then they wouldn’t suspect a thing. No one knew their names after all, and people tended to share similar features. Except red eyes. He thought sourly. That was their one, unmistakable feature. Not a dirty dark shade that could be confused for brown, or a brighter, more vibrant hue like Khaantanese violet, but a true bloody red.
All he had to do was avoid direct eye contact, and they wouldn’t notice. But what if they recognized their clothing or even hair? Little features like that were distinguishable to those with an experienced eye. They couldn’t escape detection forever, could they? At some point, they had to run into someone who recognized them. Then what? Continue traveling paranoid?
No matter how he spun it, it only caused his anxiety to worsen. Why wasn’t Charette bothered by this? She was in this together with him. Shouldn’t she be keeping an eye out for others as well?
Yet here she was, prattling about how dumb the nezerine skull they passed looked without its flesh and scales. If only he could share her carefree attitude, then maybe he’d be able to enjoy himself.
“-right?” Charette said.
Reial’s muddled thoughts suddenly cleared as he found himself looking at his sister. She wore a quivering grin on her face, almost as if she was about to burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, what was it?” He asked.
Her grin instantly dropped. “I said ‘That dress looks dumb, right?’”
Reial blinked, suddenly finding himself in a dimly lit exhibit featuring clothes of the past eras. Namely early and middle Aunesfernish style. With large, sweeping skirts that reached to the knees, and elbow-length sleeves. It reminded him of Neo-Carcettan fashion, so he shrugged. “I guess.”
Charette frowned, then continued down the exhibit. Reial followed her closely. Listening, waiting for the sounds of other visitors. If they were being watched, they would’ve sensed it by now. It didn’t hurt to be safe though.
Charette started up another pointless conversation, which he forcibly drowned out through sheer will alone. His well-being was second only to her happiness. That’s how he wanted it to be.
He did find it odd how empty the place was. The Laconic Museum was considered by many to have the finest collection of historical relics around. The majority of which were donated by the places’ namesake, Lacon. A man Reial knew from stories and accounts of the Unification War. His greatest though, was his defense of the city of Aunesfern.
A historian first, then Veil Strider and a soldier second. Quirky, even amongst his own ilk. Perhaps that’s why the air hummed with a certain energy. That, or it was the Essence-based generators powering the place.
“Must be a slow day,” Charette noted.
“Yeah.”
Her frown deepened. Did he say something wrong? All he did was agree with her. Perhaps there’s something on her mind. He thought. Best if he let her sort it out on her own.
If harm never befell her, then he was fulfilling his personal duty. Nothing would happen to her again, not like in the past. To her, or anyone he cared about. He was a Veil Strider, and he would do the only thing he was good at. That’s what Hyvas believed, that’s what he taught Vaes, and what Vaes taught every Veil Strider after.
But he wasn’t like them. Neither was the time period the same. The land wasn’t lawless, cities weren’t destroyed, and humanity wasn’t on the brink of extinction. He was just a kid in a peaceful world, because of that, everything felt so disjointed to him. He’d never asked for this, for any of it.
Was it selfish of him to think so? Would Vaes think him an undeserving child? A child blessed by God who just didn’t care. It made him feel wrong. Like looking at a painting with a white streak going down the middle.
No one could give him the answers he sought. Not the Empyreans, not his parents, not even his sister What would they think of him if they were ever to discover his sacrilegious thoughts? Would that make him lesser than he already was in their eyes?
A feeling of utter hopelessness sprouted from his heart like a cracked seed. One that had been growing there since childhood. Always reminding him of how ill-fit he was to live his own life. Of how unlucky his family was to have someone so helpless and miserable. That he was just there, existing.
No, his life couldn’t be meaningless. It served a purpose just like anyone else’s, didn’t it? Was wanting to belong too great of a request for the Almagest to grant?
Charette pressed against his side, her windswept bangs obscuring her eyes. He looked to where she was staring and found a recreation of a hunting drog catching a juvenile crimsong midflight.
“I hope Scorch is doing well,” Reial said, noting the drog’s luminous green and yellow scales.
“I do too. He doesn’t like being left alone for too long.”
“I’m sure the toy will keep him busy.” Reial glanced at a nearby sign directing them to the next exhibit. “Come on, let’s go have a look around.”
Charette perked up and gave a small nod. Whatever it was that was upsetting her must’ve left her mind.
Upon entering the next exhibit, they were greeted by the radiance of five suns. Crafted by the hands of Exania Mechora—with the aid of the Almagests’ equal, Solvaylius—were the Striders Silk. Old, but not ancient shells of pure energy reformed in the shape of a hooded jacket.
The hoods rippled with the effect of a corona, flaring colors that were hot to the touch. The ends of the sleeves and hem mimicked this too, however, that was all the Silks shared in common. They were uniquely tailored for only the most talented of Striders. To say it was made of the finest silk was an understatement. For each “thread” was worth ten times the most expensive jewel.
Their swirling patterns varied from user to user, with overlapping flaring flaps, or tighter midsections to highlight the hips. Those, he assumed, most likely belonged to a woman. Relics made to rival the Remnants.
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Their comforting radiance burned away at Reial’s anxieties, reassuring him of his place in the universe. A piece of clothing, no matter how special, even armor, couldn’t do that. These were beyond all forms of fashion or clothing. Even beyond their comprehension, yet they could make them.
Was this due to Solvaylius’s genius, or their own? A being of unbridled love and affection. One who sacrificed all but their form for a creation not their own. How could anyone consider these relics anything but divine? Reial and Charette were drawn to the secured display cases in a reverent trace. He wasn’t a believer in the Almagest, he wasn’t certain that they even existed, but this, this was real. Vaes’s own Silk. The first-ever designed by Mechora herself.
It was a baggy, heavy-looking thing, unlike the more elegant modern designs. The ripples were a silvery-white color, with the main body being that of a deep black and light gold that swirled from the top right corner to the bottom left and presumably the back as well.
Reial had only ever seen it in books and the Sygnal, but to see it in person was something else entirely. The Silk that had traveled the world. Fought countless battles and freed many people from the tyrannical clutches of Striders and Gliders alike. Scarred by Hazrek and repaired by Vaes’s greatest disciple, Ovfrail. It was the ultimate testimony of the Empyrean’s storied life.
And yet its true brilliance was muted. Without the Essence from a Strider to power it, it would remain in this state. Imperfect, casual. Like a newborn star.
Reial felt the volatile energy of his Essence dance at his fingertips, and reaching out his hand, allowed it to dance harmlessly to it. He wasn’t even sure the barriers would stop it, but he wanted to know if this was the real deal.
Then, the Silk dimmed. The silvery-white flares calming like a dying flame as they twisted and bent. Not entirely metal, but not entirely cloth either. The patterns on the Silk stretched outward, breaking beyond the surface of the jack and forming golden hoops across the front. They varied in size as the jacket took on a more angular form, resembling that of armor, but something more ethereal, something more perfect. The ripples along the sleeves and hem formed into jagged, upturned spikes that pointed backward, like a snarling beast. The hood had completely reshaped itself, resembling that of a closed helm. There were no slits or holes to see or breathe from, as it soon became encased in those same jagged spikes, forming the crude visage of what appeared to be a nezerine.
Charette gasped. It was the perfected, brutal image of the Ecliptic Silk variant. Humming with an alien energy, its radiance more subtle, yet just as beautiful. Like gazing at a diminutive, dead star. And as soon as it changed, the Silk reverted to its original form in a bright flash.
“That was amazing!” Charette exclaimed. “Can you do that again?”
“I’d rather not.” Reial said, glancing over his shoulder. “I don’t want people to think we’re trying to steal it.”
Charette gave him a flat stare. “As if we could steal it even if we tried. Come on, just one more time!”
“Charette, please.”
She groaned. “You’re no fun, even now you’re too worried that someone’s going to find out about us.”
Reial winced.
“What? You think I haven’t noticed you looking around the entire place like a paranoid idiot? That you’ve only been nodding when I speak, how you freeze up every time you hear footsteps other than ours?” Her frustration escalated. “Why can’t you just relax and enjoy our time together?”
“Charette, you know as well as I do why I can’t.”
She scoffed. “Whatever.”
The reassurance and warmth the Silks had provided him cooled, making him feel empty. No, not empty, but forlorn at how he had handled the situation. He could’ve said something better, something more comforting, instead, he had ignored her feelings for their safety.
They moved through the rest of the exhibit in an awkward silence, Charette’s usual chattiness gone. Reial risked a glance at her, but instead of finding her features twisted with anger, her eyes were brooding. When they stopped to examine a Silk, she didn’t look up. Staring at the floor intently before moving on again. Like nothing interested her anymore.
When they finished looking at the exhibit, Charette went off without him. Heading for where the entrance to the museum was. Reial wanted to call out to her, but couldn’t find his voice. It was his fault she was like this, why should he try to make things worse? Sighing, he followed her out. They passed plenty of faces, old and young, men and women, though that didn’t bother him. He wasn’t afraid if they recognized him anymore.
Pushing past the heavy glass doors, they were greeted by the sights and scents of Osafa. Solvaylian Projections were sparingly spaced around dragoon spires in the city. The buildings and homes here were a lot like the one’s back in Aunesfern. White and black checkered walls that bent outwards with sloping roofs of red or gold tiles that curled upwards at the corners.
The people here weren’t dressed as elaborately as the one’s back in Aunesfern, choosing to wear something casual instead of the sleek clothes of their trending fashion. It made him and Charette stick out like Veil Seers in the dark.
He followed Charette down the steps, his heart heavy. They were leaving all because he didn’t care. Not about this dumb city or its museum.
That wasn’t the truth though, he did care. Everything he said and did was for her, so why was she still angry? Was it because of his methods? No, you’ve never done anything for her. He thought. It was a clever enough lie. To convince himself that what he did was for her. Would the voice chastise him again because of this?
He waited for what felt like an eternity for it to make its presence known, but it didn’t come. It never did when he wanted it too.
Finally, they stumbled into the plaza, a public lounge built in the heart of a city. At least in Yusanik. They weren’t anything special, save for the mini Solvaylian Projections and sound-controlled boxes around the comfortable seats lining it. The area was shaded with a tall roof to protect the people underneath it from rain, hail, and snow. You could always find someone here, either lazing about, talking with friends, or waiting for a coach to pick them up.
Charette sat down at one of the cushioned seats, her gaze piercing the Projection that appeared in front of her. Reial chose his seat beside her, and almost immediately a Projection came to life in front of him. Most likely powered by his own Essence. It was of a woman recounting the events of the last Solis Game. Specifically, the Striders bout.
Her words came through one ear and out the other in a garbled mess. Being in a plaza reminded him of home. The shade, the Projection, the comfort of a cushioned seat he could recline in. He could almost forget about the people around him. Almost.
This wasn’t where they were supposed to go. Scorch was waiting on the other side of the city, leashed on a tree for the other animals’ protection.
Neither spoke a word, their eyes forced onto their Projections. Reial could’ve turned his off if he wanted to, but then what? Sit in a deathly silence next to his sister? Eventually, Charette turned hers off and just sat there. Staring at the roof with those brooding eyes as people chattered among them.
“Did you ever think you would turn out like this? Being a Strider, I mean.” She asked him.
Reial tapped a finger against his armrest. “Not really, but like any kid I always imagined what it would be like. Moving faster than light, faster than what my mind could hope to comprehend. Having the strength to break mountains and cities. To turn invisible at will. To never trip or make a fool of myself. It all sounded impossible for someone like me.” Someone like me.
“Were you happy when you found out you could Stride?”
Happy?
“Children always dream of being as powerful as kings or Gods,”
I didn’t want that.
“So they can control their lives, you know.”
Then why can’t I do that?
Charette shook her head. “Sorry, it probably sounds silly coming from someone like me.”
“It’s fine,” Reial said. “I don’t mind.”
Charette’s gaze shifted from the roof to her boots. “If you can do all of these amazing things,” She said. “Then why are you so afraid of being seen?”
Reial went silent.
“If someone finds us you can just carry me and Scorch away. We’ll run to the next town, city, whatever. You’re a Veil Strider, no one can match you.”
“Charette…you know I’m still new to this.”
“You have four year’s worth of experience! Isn’t that enough?”
Reial frowned. “No. What if our parents send a Courser after us? What then? I can’t defeat someone with decades, maybe even centuries of experience.”
“You never know until you try.” Charette sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I wanted to reconnect.”
Reial cocked his head. “I’m not a broadcast, Charette.”
“Then why do you act like I’m not even there sometimes?”
He winced. “I’m not trying to ignore you.”
Her scarlet eyes met his for one long moment, almost as if she was trying to read his thoughts. Does she think I’m lying? Perhaps it was all the stress of running away that had finally gotten to her.
Charette stood up, and without telling him where she was going, made way for the southern portion of the city. Reial followed her in a haste. Wishing to know what he had done wrong.