‘Hello ladies and gentlemen,’ Harley bellowed heartily into the mic attached to his shirt’s collar. He paused for a moment, beaming at the crowd. Attendees were seated in two columns of short, slanted rows separated by an aisleway. He walked back and forth, unable to contain the excitement. This was the day he had been looking forward to for years. ‘I welcome all of you cordially into Wishing Stone’s Product Launch Fair,’ he said, his heart overflowing with pleasure for his accomplishment.

A wave of applause and a whistle greeted Harley. ‘My name is Harley Phorcys, and I am the founder of Wishing Stone and the pioneer of human-machine integration. Yep, you heard that right. We’ve been anticipating the arrival of a microchip that could make humans ten times more productive for a long time now, I know ... I know,’ Harley repeated with a chuckle after observing several individuals shaking their heads with disbelief. ’I know the Internet has been repeatedly claiming that Wishing Stone was bluffing. Especially MoonStone and Caterite. Those two subreddits had even been uploading scientific stuff to debunk the claims. Well, I was MoonStone, and my assistant was Caterite. It’s so easy to convince you, netizens.

‘So by now, you might have realised I wasn’t bluffing. Imagine a technology that allows you to earn ten times what you do now while eliminating stress and fatigue,’ Harley spoke in a dreamy tone, with enough pauses to allow the listener to envision.

‘We constructed our innovative technology, NexusSynapse, using our superior AI that detects human issues and extends its exact and calculating problem-solving software. The AI is always evolving, gaining improved comprehension of its users.’ Suddenly, out of the corner of his eyes, Harley saw an LED screen fixed on the wall, placed far behind the last ring of the audience, flashing with a message: Don’t do it. Stop.

Harley smiled. His plan was working. He proceeded, snapping his finger to change the holographic exhibition of NexusSynapse images. ‘NexusSynapse,’ Harley stated in a new voice, evident that he was starting a new conversation, ’has been subject to massive criticism for its uh … er … imaginative technology. Well, it is.

‘Combining the world’s brightest scientists and myself, we have created a technology that can be called a little more than “imaginative technology.” NexusSynapse can be used in almost every field. It can be used to create architectural blueprints as well as to diagnose dangerous human conditions. So is this technology dangerous?’ Harely asked with a pinch of theatrics. ‘Is it a curse? Nope. Never will be. You see,’ Harley pulled the long scrunched hair out of his face and tucked a few strands behind his ear. ‘When the telephone was first invented, it was merely intended to be used as a communication device for people who were separated by long distances. But look at us now. Telephones have evolved into smartphones. They have transformed into an irresistible part of our lives. Also, they are now not only used for communication but also for educational purposes and entertainment. As a result, to clarify my point, changes in human life are not inherently bad. It is necessary to be able to distinguish our past from our future. To make human life easier. That’s all science stands for. To make human life easier.’

With my technology, you can excel beyond your capabilities,’ Harely said a little more loudly, ’no more falling behind in classes because you can’t grasp the concepts. No more struggling ... painting, drawing, dancing, or anything else. Just 10 times multiplied.

‘Everyone only wants to see your best self. The moment they realise that you are not perfect, they just ... throw you out. Cast you out because you can be easily replaced. Do you know why?’ Harley’s voice broke, struggling to keep a stiff upper lip, ‘Because there is a glut in the market. More population means more workforce. Which means less value for each of us. So if we had a disability … for example,’ Harley bent down and tapped a few buttons on his bionic limp, and immediately, his robotic right leg fell apart, lifeless. Harely limped a few steps, content with his pace. The crowd gasped as they saw a billionaire hobbling. For Harley, however, it was equivalent to walking on both legs. It was entirely natural.

‘Notice the gasp that went through the audience... everyone wants to see the best version of yourselves. With NexusSynapse, you could be like everyone else. You could absolutely watch movies in your mind, play songs, play games, and do anything you could do on smartphones. Downloading abilities will be the future rather than spending years attempting to master them,’ Harley staggered a few paces, his left leg supporting the majority of his weight. ‘This will eliminate a major component of education. This can be done by using our advanced BMI and neuroplasticity, which is an approach taken by NexusSynapse for cognitive development. I don’t want the launch to be a last-period science class,’ Harely gave a fake chuckle and continued, ’but neuroplasticity involves the brain’s ability to reorganise and adapt in response to new experiences or environmental changes. This is accomplished by using our implanted electrodes to stimulate certain brain pathways.

’For example, a person wants to learn a language. With NexusSynapse, the brain could get targeted stimulation that enhances the activity of regions involved in language acquisition like the auditory cortex and prefrontal cortex. This facilitates the brain’s ability to create and strengthen neuronal connections.

‘Also, like I said … NexusSynapse can increase productivity. Now how do we increase productivity? Anyone?’

A chatter grew among the crowd, and finally, a guy in a blue shirt stood up and spoke, ‘we need to increase the decision-making skills, concentration, ability to work, manage stress, etc.’ As he ran out of things to say, his voice gradually faded.

That’s right,’ Harley agreed quickly, ’how to increase those? By stimulating the prefrontal cortex, which is involved in the decision-making process, Synapse can enhance an individual’s ability to solve problems while not taking a struggle.

‘Now, much criticism has arisen about the potential impact of NexusSynapse,’ Harley said after clearing his throat. ‘Many of the critics are lauding NexusSynapse as the “greatest invention of the century” and many calling it the “most revolutionary technology to exist”. On the other hand, some are fixated on NexusSynapse’s effect on humanity. One major so-called problem is the failure of education. Yes,’ Harley accepted the statement in a deep voice, ‘education’s relevance would be lost in the wind. Definitely. Because education itself is a hoax. A lie that is fed to children the moment they can talk and walk. A person is fed up with all subjects without realising he/she might benefit only from one or two of them. Instead, they are being made to stu- no, not study, but to mug up everything and throw it back on the paper on the exam days. The grading system analysis how much we could memorise and present. The outcome would be unfathomable if we could focus on the child’s innate gifts and develop them during their formative periods. We could solve half of the world’s problems if children’s inventiveness was valued.’

Harley went on to discuss privacy and numerous other topics. He emphasised key issues and thoroughly explained the scientific process. He vehemently refuted the criticism levelled about NexusSynapse. Finally, the finish was in sight. His weak leg was aching from standing for so long. He limped with a little muted wince every time.

‘...the neurosurgery would be handled by SynapBot, a group of droids capable of putting the microchip into the human skull with pinpoint precision and in less time. Here it is,’ Harley said quickly as he clicked the button on the tiny remote he took from the chair nearby. Immediately, the holographic presentation was replaced by a video, which explained the components of NexusSynapse, ‘now here is a video on how SynapBot carries out the delicate surgery.’

Harley signalled his assistant, Laurette, who was standing at the far edge of the stage. She recognised the message right away. Harley fled the stage quietly and quickly, while the audience’s gaze was fixed on the hologram. Harley limped down the stairs and walked as fast as he could to the dressing room on his left. Rick Averoy, one of his earliest investors, was seated comfortably on the sky-blue, plush sofa. One of his early investors, Rick Averoy, sat luxuriously on the sky-blue, soft sofa. He was in his 60s, with thick, white hair that was perfectly groomed. Rick noticed Harley right once, got up half, and swiftly shook hands with him before falling back to the sofa with a tiny bounce. Harley sat on a wooden chair, parting his long hair with his hand.

‘Pretty good product launch, I see,’ Rick commented with a smile.

‘Hmmhm,’ Harley murmured, eyeing him intently.

‘So without beating around the bush, I’m gonna come straight to the matter …’ Rick paused, licked his lips, and said, ‘I need people to vote for him.’

Harley did not reply but continued to fix his eyes on Rick. His eyes slowly strayed off as his mind became preoccupied with thoughts and intentions. Finally, after a minute or so, Harley called out, ‘Laurette.’

‘Yes sir,’ Laurette responded promptly and took a few steps towards Harley. He looks at her with a smug smile, noticing her blonde hair and brown-black eyes. ‘You’ve gotta do what you’ve ... gotta do.’ She nodded, understanding the message, and stepped back.

He turned his attention back to Rick and said, ‘You were saying something?’

After a tension-filled pause, Rick replied in a restrained voice, ‘I need-’

‘Oh ... got it, got it … now I remember. So voting needs to happen, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘What do you mean by no?’ growled Rick.

‘A big, white circle with a red slanting line inside it.’

‘You think you are acting smart?’

‘Nah,’ Harley rebuked easily. ‘I am not acting. Plus … if you need any reason, figure it out. You know it.’

‘Mr. Phorcys,’ Rick called out threateningly and rose from his seat, unveiling his towering height. ‘I invested 1 billion in your f*****g, stupid company.’

Harley gripped the glass of water harder, turning his knuckles white. Overcome with emotion, Harley smashed the glass against the wall, and Laurette let out a gasp. Shards of glass penetrated his palm. Rick watched with a shallow breath.

‘It’s - never - a - f*****g - stupid - company,’ Harley said in a deadly whisper as he observed the wound on his hand with great enthusiasm. The blood trailed along the wound and finally dripped to the ground. ‘It never will be. It is my life and success. You know what it tastes like…’ Harley licked his wound with the tip of his tongue. ‘Not stupidity; it’s success.’

As Harley grabbed a white cotton cloth from the dressing table and wrapped it around his palm with a knot, Rick declared, ‘I know your dirty secrets. How you bribed the officials for permission and how one person died from your experiment. Remember, that’s just the tip of the iceberg. You don’t want me as your enemy.’

Harley came to a halt and closed his eyes firmly. Don’t let your emotions take control. ’I’ve got two things to say before I leave this room.

‘First thing is that the person you mentioned,’ Harley said with an air of finality, ‘was my ... mom. A pretty sad story if you want to wet your eyes. And Laurette, please carry out the procedures. Extend our hospitality.’ Harley took one last look at his assistant, who nodded and snaked her fingers into her handbag. Rick’s brow scrunched with anxiety. Harley walked out of the room, not looking at Rick, and staggered a few feet before a gunshot ripped through the air.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Apollo opened his eyes and let out a muffled gasp. Long hair that prickled on his forehead indicated that he was reclining with his head on a woman’s shoulder. His mind was devoid of emotion. It was as if he had been reincarnated, without any knowledge of his past life. Another person was sitting beside him. Apollo glanced to his right without lifting his head and saw the teenager. Somehow, he remembered seeing her somewhere.

That’s when, like a vacuum cleaner sucking out dirt, the memories of past events collided with his consciousness. He tried to lift his head. But his head weighed at least a few pounds, and yet he lifted it. Both women aside from him noticed it and looked at him curiously.

‘We - r … ’ Apollo made some weird guttural noises, trying to keep his voice even. After realising he was drooling all over the spectacled woman’s shoulder, Apollo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. With much difficulty, he said a meaningful sentence, ‘where am I?’

‘You are in a caravan,’ the teenager replied quickly as if it were obvious. Apollo felt utterly stupid for not grasping the fact that he was in a moving vehicle. For a few minutes, he remained silent.

‘Are you OK?’ the woman on whose shoulder he slept inquired. Apollo looked at her, and her face seemed familiar to Apollo. Yet his weak brain could not provide any more information.

‘Yes … an - and stop the vehicle,’ Apollo let out a long exhale after saying a sentence in one breath. No one replied.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

‘I said …’ Apollo drawled out with a long breath, ‘I said to st - stop the - the car.’

‘Zip it up, Greek god. No one is going to stop the car,’ replied the woman from the passenger seat. The silence returned, but this time a piece of low music played in the background.

‘I don’t want to travel with murderers,’ Apollo remarked, astonished by the brevity of the dialogue. The caravan abruptly came to a halt, and the slender woman in the passenger seat turned her head, grumbling, ‘If it hadn’t been for us, you would have been reduced to a pile of bones and skin.’

Nothing made sense to Apollo, and he sat there, accepting his fate. His eyes threatened to spill again with tears, and Apollo shut his eyes.

‘Don’t cry,’ consoled the teenager in a hushed tone. She had chubby cheeks and big, round eyes. Her hair was smooth and glossy, reaching to the shoulder. She smiled encouragingly and said, ‘Listen, I don’t know who you are,’ she breathed, ‘But it seems you are important. You see, we are the Purple-’

‘I know the Resistance,’ Apollo responded, perhaps a touch too loudly. But no one turned their back.

She paused for a minute, staring at Apollo, and said, ‘Well that’s weird bec-’

‘Iman …’ interjected the women on the front warningly. Disappointed, the teenager fell silent and gazed out the window. Apollo mouthed, ‘Iman,’ as his brain registered the name.

Apollo glanced outside through the window, and for the first time, he realised the wound on his shoulder was bandaged. A ghastly cut on his calf has been treated with medicine. He continued to gaze outside. The land was desolate, cracked, and sprawled out like an ocean. Trees stood alone, their leaves shedding owing to the heat of the sun they get without any opposition. The branches stood tall, touching the sky.

Finally, after an hour or so, they stopped the caravan with a forward lurch. They were deep within a dense forest, the dense canopy of leaves dampening the environment. A straight line of sunlight struck Apollo’s face, and he had to squint to see the others. They opened the door with a creak and a groan and emptied the vehicle. The spectacled woman helped Apollo get out of the vehicle, and again, a streak of familiarity rushed past him.

The wind was screaming and whipping his hair. He closed his eyes for a moment as others unloaded utilities from the caravan. The sunlight poured onto his face and caressed his skin, making him forget for a moment about the massacre he had witnessed or the situation he was now in. Lyrea enjoyed beaches, Apollo thought as he felt her absence weakening his already frail physique. A whistle interrupted Apollo, and its owner, the Asian guy, motioned for him to walk. Apollo followed them like an obedient child.

They walked at least a mile and realised why they couldn’t bring the caravan. The trees were rooted every few feet, and the roots, which were as big as Apollo’s thigh, were entangled with the ground, making it the best spot to trip over. At last, after evading a swarm of unknown insects, they reached what seemed to be a camping site. The land was cleared of trees and weeds, and already five tents were set up. The group split upon reaching the site, and many went inside their respective tents while Iman and the short-haired women stayed with him. Apollo walked over to a tree and slumped with his back scraping against the wound, which he momentarily forgot about. He winced as the wound burned with pain.

‘Iman, set up a tent for Apollo,’ the slender woman said as she exited her tent and entered a large blue tent. Apollo noticed, that her hair was tied low and was braided at the end. Iman took a blue package laying on the ground and unzipped it right away, without saying a word.

‘So your name is Iman?’ Apollo began, wanting to strike up a conversation.

‘Yeah … Iman Samri,’ she replied with a smile as she retrieved its contents from her lap. ‘You are Apollo, right?’

‘Yeah … lemme ask you, why did you come to save me? How did you know where I was?’ Apollo asked, leaning towards her.

‘Oh,’ Iman replied, her tone revealing that she was unsure whether to divulge the information. Finally, after thinking for a while, she replied, ‘Please don’t tell them I told you, but we need you. Resistance needs you.’

‘Why … the Resistance is dead. It’s done. Our efforts were crippled,’ Apollo said, shaking his head in disapproval.

‘Do you think the Resistance is dead ... or is that the lie you told to yourself,’ Iman questioned Apollo with an air of confidence, and she spread out the tent on the ground.

‘OK,’ Apollo gulped and asked, ‘How did you discover me?’

‘Well that part was tough,’ she replied. ‘Since you were off the grid, we couldn’t find anything about you. Like no digital stuff or physical stuff. That part was the hardest. Finding you. We spend at least 6 months trying to track you,’ Iman now connected the tent’s air cap to the air pump machine and gently swiped on its surface. The machine blinked with sky-blue LED light in response and started injecting air into the tent. ‘But our help came from Drakon Tech.’

Apollo was confused. ‘What?’

‘Yeah. Phoebe had-’

‘Who?’

‘That’s me,’ said a small voice, and the woman with short hair was sitting on a wooden tree stump behind Apollo the whole time. She had short, cut hair, which Apollo found very intriguing. Her spectacles were thick-framed and square, covering much of her face. Her skin was white as snow, and she paired it with white earrings.

‘I’m Phoebe Geeza,’ Phoebe walked towards Apollo and extended her hand. Apollo shook it rapidly and let go, his mind racing to remember where he had seen her.

‘Don’t muck your brain,’ Phoebe said with a laugh as if she read Apollo’s mind. ‘I was in the Resistance. Remember Goofy?’

‘Exactly!’ Apollo exclaimed, his brain relieved to finally remember how he knew her. ‘But you were so little.’

‘That was before you left,’ Phoebe blurted out as if words were coated with grease. Apollo grew disheartened, his heart aching at the thought that they still remembered it.

Sensing Apollo’s despair, Iman said promptly, ‘Anyway, Phoebe had hacked the data servers of many of the companies around your locality. It turned out to be right, when you sent them an email for the interview, we got it. But that’s when we gotta problem.’

‘What happened was that the file that contained the information, and its timestamp were manipulated. April 12th became April 21st. When I calculated the hash values and compared them, the value was different. Took me a day to find out. That’s why we arrived a day later your interview,’ Phoebe explained seriously. Suddenly, the air pump let out an alarm, and Iman disconnected the pop-up tent with a few swipes on the air pump’s screen.

‘What’s their names,’ Apollo asked, after staring at the tent for too long.

‘Yeah … forgot about that,’ Iman replied with a chuckle. ‘The scary woman is Ariana Terri. Her motto? Always carry a weapon. The Japanese dude is Akeera Yakuza. Though he can slice a fly mid-flight with his katana, the guy’s kind of sensitive. The big, muscular dude is Grayson Carl. He is our big gun. No talk, only action.’

Apollo stood still, his mind swirling with names and confusion. Even though there were people all around him, he suddenly felt lonely. He had an awkward wish for his wound to start hurting again. At least that would have made some sense.

‘You still haven’t answered my answer,’ Apollo asked, taking the liberty to ask questions because of Phoebe and Iman. ‘Why drag me to this.’

‘Because we found something,’ Phoebe said unexpectedly, taking her glasses off. ‘Something that could help us.’

‘But why me?’ Apollo said in a raised voice. ‘I have no connection to this group. That was the past. I left any connection to this group before your … expedition … to Puerto Rico.’

He looked at Phoebe, remembering the little girl who would always try to help. She was the only semblance of love and hope inside the camp for Apollo. The others were fixated on the cure but did not know its purpose. They were not so different from the people using NexusSynapse. Dead inside, but still alive for some purpose that doesn’t matter.

‘Why are you still angry with us,’ Phoebe asked earnestly, putting her glasses back. ‘You are supposed to lead us … you were supposed to fill her shoes.’

Apollo snorted, expressing sharp disapproval. He took a handful of mud and let it drain through the gap between his fingers. ‘Lyrea had many “supposed to” fills. She was supposed to do something good for humanity. The whole point of the Purple Resistance was to save people. Not kill them. Not imprison them and extract information. Not hold people hostage.’

‘That’s not your reason,’ declared Phoebe confidently, crossing her legs. ‘You were afraid of losing her. Wanted to keep her safe. Right?’

Apollo fell silent, accepting the defeat. The wind didn’t seem so comforting. He glanced at Iman, who looked at him with sadness.

‘You wanted to mask your sadness, your emptiness by hating the Resistance and Lyrea. Agree to disagree. The reason you left us before the trip to Puerto Rico was because you believed it would be a suicide mission. She trusted her source-’

‘How did it go? Tell me,’ Apollo asked her, agitated. ‘That led to her … death. My hunch was right, wasn’t it?’ Phoebe said nothing and fixed her gaze on the ground. ‘The entire clan’s heads got guillotined, right? That was the end of-’

Apollo stopped mid-sentence, suddenly remembering something. ‘How did you-’

‘Your evil wife saved me,’ Phoebe said sarcastically, and she pointed at Iman. ‘Me and her are the only survivors.’

‘Her?’ Apollo looked quickly at Iman, growing confused with each passing second. ‘How - where?’

This time, Iman replied. ‘They got me from Puerto Rico. Days before the execution. I … um … ran away from my family,’ Iman said in a small voice, with her head immediately dropping down.

Apollo was piqued with curiosity to know more but kept his silence. He kept staring at the tents, not knowing what to expect now. Suddenly, the enormous, blue tent at the far end of the site opened by unzipping, and Ariana walked out, whistled at Apollo, and motioned for him to come. Confused about whether she had asked him to come, Apollo rose uncertainly, casting a doubtful look at Phoebe and Iman. Both of them nodded assuringly and had serious faces.

Apollo took hefty strides towards the tent and entered by parting the unzipped flaps with his hand. Ariana was standing inside the small tent and observed a chart, whose content was not visible to Apollo. He cleared his throat, and she responded with a glance.

‘How are you,’ Apollo asked, with a nervous smile.

‘Livin’ in a paradise. Stop pretending to be caring and help us,’ Ariana said in one breath, without looking at Apollo. Apollo, who felt it like a blow, walked towards the white chart paper and tried to decipher it. It made no sense. There were two or three enormous blob-like figures formed of dark blue ink.

‘Does it make any sense to you?’ Ariana inquired, her face betraying her helplessness. Apollo realised she must have spent lots of time trying to solve it.

‘It’s… um...’ Apollo suddenly found something curious. He grabbed the chart (much to the annoyance of Ariana) and squinted at the top-right corner. Something was scribbled, like a name. He stared at the doodle for at least 5 minutes until it clicked with him.

‘Lyre … It’s Lyrea. Where did you get it?’ Apollo asked, his eyes wide with shock.

Ariana merely stared at him, biting her thumbnail, instead of responding. Apollo stared back at her, his forehead creasing with concern. Finally, she vented out a frustrated sigh and inquired, ‘So you don’t know The Three Relics of Odyesse?’

‘Three what?’

Again, she did not reply. Just stared at him with a serious face. Apollo noticed a tear trickling away from her hazelnut-coloured eyes. She shut her eyes, dug her hands into her pockets, and placed a sleek black, disc-like object on the desk. She then made her way outside, the sunlight illuminating the tent for a second. Apollo fiddled with the object for a while absent-mindedly and was hit with the realisation that it was a HoloDisc. Apollo placed it on the desk, gently taped a soft button on its top, and waited for a minute. His heart jumped to his throat when he came face-to-face with Lyrea’s pre-recorded holographic face.

‘Apollo,’ she called out, her voice longing for the presence of him. She looked exactly as she did before her departure. Her face was still strewn with tiredness, but she managed to maintain a smile, making others do the same. The grey streak mark in her hair did not indicate her age, but the result of not looking after herself. She wore a red cardigan and a grey sweatshirt. ‘I know you are seeing this one. I told them to give it to you. No one else.’ How she spoke, wondered Apollo. All relaxed and calm, as if checking on him on her vacation and not recording her last message to her husband. ‘I know you might be angry with me, but you must know that I must do this. Please don’t ask me why,’ she said, looking to her right, nodding to someone not visible to Apollo. That question always puzzled Apollo. About why she decided to fight against NexusSynapse, even when the Resistance was numbered and defeated. Apollo thought it might be her obsession, but it was more than that.

‘I am currently travelling incognito, doing pretty dangerous stuff. That’s why I decided to record this one. I know how you changed, and... you and I disagree on our approaches...’ ‘But in case of my untimely death,’ Lyrea breathed deeply. Or timely, I need you to fill my shoes. Just lead them. They are all bloody brilliant. But without a stern leader, they would fall.

‘I d-d,’ ‘I truly hope that you are sti- Nah,’ Lyrea’s voice wavered as she fought a knot in her throat. Lyrea tried to make her voice even with a smile, ‘you are still good. Know’s how to survive. Started with the straight-to-information stuff in case they saw this message without you. Dad and Mom are fine, right?’ Lyrea asked as if she had just started this recording, ‘I know your anger might not have subsided, but you have to lead the Resistance. Protect them. That’s my death wish. But don’t trust them. No matter what. I had a pretty damn experience.’ Apollo winced as if the words ‘I still love you’ were shouted by Lyrea in person to him. ‘I might have become obsessed with the Resistance, but every time, I think about you,’ Lyrea said.

Lyrea’s voice suddenly cracked up, and Apollo realised it was a technical malfunction. However, she didn’t seem to notice this, and continued, ‘I thought we could … forge a safe world and live in it peacefully. But I guess destiny was not favourable.’

Lyrea paused, looked around her shoulders, and leaned in closer. Apollo examined her face more closely and found a scar, possibly from a knife wound. ‘Now what I am about to say is very important, Apollo, so listen carefully. I have already assumed my death. I am certain it’s gonna happen because I’m gonna … step out of some lines. Not sure in whose hands, but it would be sure. So,’ Lyrea exhaled, preparing herself to give important instructions. ‘I have buried three important things that will help us overthrow Harley. They are hidden around the world and go by these codenames: Sheath, Dagger, and Blood. Combine them, and we get an upper hand,’ Lyrea said in one breath. ‘When you uncover each Relic, you might come across another object along with it. DO NOT TAKE IT,’ Lyrea said in a stern but quiet voice. ’You shouldn’t take it.

Just ignore it. You will come across foes; do not budge. Finally, when the time comes, you will come across some realisations. Pretty dark ones,’ Lyrea’s eyes couldn’t meet Apollo’s eyes. ‘They might shake you. But do not ... hate me ...’ Lyrea swallowed, and Apollo’s heart winced, ‘I have done some mistakes in the past … and I am begging you…’ Lyrea’s voice started cracking, and Apollo was sure it was not technical trouble. ‘Don’t despise me,’ Lyrea burst into sobs, tears flowing down her face. Her body shook with grief as she covered her face with both hands. Apollo, who was watching Lyrea in a trance, didn’t realise he too was on the verge of tears. Finally, after pulling herself back, she said, ’you are my only hope, Apollo. My. Only. Hope. I have given you the pieces of the puzzle. Now, you have to put them together.

The hologram faded and vanished with that wistful sentence. The tent was filled again with a hollow silence, and Apollo had not moved one inch until now. He still stared in the direction where the hologram played, wanting it to happen once again. Apollo sniffled, looked away, and bit his lips. He did not know what to do. Should he step up to confront the gathering, or should he sit here for all eternity and await his death? Apollo considered that thought for a while and realised how stupid it was. His brain has been driven insane after seeing his wife’s death note.

Apollo stood up, looked at the disc, and without hesitation, slipped it into his pocket. Apollo then walked towards the exit and saw the entire clan assembled in front of him. Akeera, Ariana, and Grey had a deadpan expression, while Phoebe and Iman were beaming at him. The air was still and quiet as if waiting for Apollo. His heart drummed on his chest, and blood rushed to his face, Apollo found it very animalistic. For a split second, he saw Lyrea there, like a ghost. Smiling and prompting him to proceed. She was with him.

‘So …’ Apollo whispered, perfectly audible to the group. The adrenaline coursing through his veins. ‘Let’s get this sh*t done.’