How long has it been? Vincent thought to himself. There was a black haze that surrounded him. He couldn’t see anything, but he wasn’t senseless. While it was hard to tell when or where he was, it wasn’t as though he felt nothing. It was more like his senses were all confused and turned around.

And then time passed…but how much time? Nothing made sense. Or maybe it did? The more he thought about it the more it hurt him. Whenever a thought flashed through the haze, he felt pain. The darkness around him would brighten, but it didn’t change color. It would just be a lighter…black? It was nonsensical. Then again, nothing made sense to him at the moment.

And that’s when the first sign of normality crept into his psyche. It came in the form of noise. At first, it sounded like multiple voices and words mixed together. But as time continued to march forward, the jumbled sounds began to split apart. He could pick apart individual phrases and different voices.

The more he focused in on these distinctions, the more his other senses started to return to him. He could feel the aches of his muscles and the tiredness of his body; he felt his back on a softer, yet firm material, and his body was wrapped in cloth; he smelled the must of the air around him; and finally, he began to see the light of the sun through his eyelids.

“Wha…” he moaned, rubbing his eyes open. It took a second for them to focus, but eventually, he was able to see the morning-lit interior of the room that surrounded him. It was somewhere he had never been, but strangely, it wasn’t unfamiliar.

The house was made of cracked stone and splintered wood. The floor was rotted in parts where the ceiling’s holes let in the outside weather. There was a smattering of broken, but barely usable furniture scattered around the relatively small room—they were mostly chairs and tables. In fact, as he looked down, he saw that he was resting on the only couch. And it was easily the most put-together thing in the room, including himself.

“So, you’re finally awake,” he heard a voice say.

Instantly, he tensed up as the memories of what had just transpired flooded his mind. Within a second, he shot up to his feet and got in a defensive stance. The blanket that was placed over him fell to the ground. He continued to look around until his eyes saw three figures starting to walk toward him from the other side of the room.

Emerging from the darkness first was a Hispanic man with long, string-like black hair that tumbled down to his shoulders. His eyes were soft and his smile was warm, which both contradicted his dirty, scarred face. To his left was a larger woman who seemed to almost skip as she walked. Each step of hers was bouncier than the last. And finally, to his right, was another person. They had platinum blonde hair and carried themselves with a sort of rugged elegance.

The same voice spoke up, now identifying themselves as the man in the middle. “How are you feeling, Vincent?” the man asked.

Vincent lowered himself into a slightly colder place. “What the hell is going on? Who are you?” he asked.

The man smiled and let out a small chuckle. He then paced around the room and sat on the floor, leaning his back up against the wall. “I understand you’re tense,” he said, “but please feel free to take a seat.” When he said that, the woman walked over to the nearest chair and took a seat, while the elegant person continued to stand toward the back.

Vincent squinted his eyes while staring intently at the seemingly relaxed man. There was no part of him that trusted this guy. He allowed himself to begin resonating, if only a little, so that he could see this man’s mental waves. The moment he did, Vincent almost sat down in complete shock. The man’s waves were almost perfectly smooth—there wasn't an ounce of malice on the surface.

Still a bit wary, Vincent sat back down on the couch but never let his eyes off of his surroundings, allowing his mental wave to sense the rest of the people around him. “Who are you?” Vincent reiterated.

“Oh, sorry about that,” the man said with a slight whimsical laugh. “I forgot. My name is Silo Custoro. It’s nice to meet you.”

There was an instant drop in Vincent’s stomach. His mind went blank and his ears couldn't believe what they heard. All of the air escaped him, just like his words. There wasn’t a single coherent thought that made itself known—it was a cacophony of emotions and shock that dominated his head.

Without even thinking, he stood back up. There was no more relaxation. Acting purely on instinct, he let his mind resonate further. His head vibrated with more intensity and his body dropped in temperature. His cold breath exhaled from his mouth in a cloud of mist. His mental waves poured out of him with a quickened speed; he could no longer contain them.

Like a match to propane, his mental waves exploded out of him. The dormant emotions that his mind had been forcing down ruptured their containment and forcibly projected out of him. He focused the target of his mental assault on the sitting leader of Aries.

The projected waves were unleashed without restraint. The loose planks of the floor rattled in response and the dust in the air moved out of the way. However, what remained unmoved was Silo. His mental waves did not change, nor did he project his own out to protect himself. He simply took the attack head-on.

After a few moments of this, Vincent could feel himself straining his mental energy. But that did not stop him. He continued to force his mind to resonate more. He continued to exert his will onto Silo. He continued to attack the monster in front of him.

And yet, Silo did not move.

“Why!?” Vincent yelled. “Why are you not fighting back!?”

A small trickle of blood flowed down Silo’s nose and ears. A little bit even ran out of his mouth when he replied to Vincent’s provocation with a smile.

“You’re a demon!” Vincent cried out, forcing his mental energy beyond the breaking point. “Why won’t you fight me!?”

Somehow, through the maelstrom of mental force, Silo’s calm expression remained. With what seemed like relative ease, he opened his mouth and said, “Because I know your anger.”

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The outpouring mental waves fluctuated for a moment. “What are you talking about?” Vincent asked in a moment of slight vulnerability.

“Hate is a strong thing, and I can see that you’re struggling with that and more,” Silo answered. “I struggle too. I get it.”

“To hell you do!” Vincent scoffed. “I ain't gonna hear this shit anymore. I’m outta here—try and stop me if you can.”

Wordlessly, Silo gestured toward the already open door on the far side of the room.

“Wha—” Vincent stammered. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“No,” Silo simply answered. “I’m not forcing you to do anything. I just want to talk. But if you’re not interested in that, then you can go whenever.”

Slowly, Vincent lowered the intensity of his mental waves to a near-standstill. He wasn’t calm by any means, but he allowed himself to sit down on the couch and at least hear what the man had to say.

Silo sighed and wiped the blood from his face. “I…” he looked around as if he was trying to find the right words, “I don’t want there to be any malice between us right now.”

Vincent rolled his eyes. “Like hell you mean that. I know you definitely resent me.”

Still sitting, Silo replied, “I’ll admit that I do. It’s only human. But it’s ok to feel emotions. In fact, it’s good to feel them. Anger, sorrow, happiness—none of them are better or worse than another. What’s bad is if you dwell on them. If they consume every aspect of you and cause you to do things unlike you.”

“Stop preachin’ to me as if you’re some saint. You’ve killed plenty of people and friends of mine.”

“I’m sure I have,” Silo said without missing a beat. “I’m not perfect…no one is and that’s ok.” He then took a mournful breath. “If I have killed your friends, I’m sorry. Truly. We've both done things that we’re not proud of. I'm no better than you.”

Vincent looked down at the ground for a moment. For some reason, those words found purchase in his mind. There was something in there that resonated with him—that hit him like a truck. It was involuntary, but all he could think about was one thing.

A single scene came to him. He saw that beneath him, laying helplessly open, was Zak. They were both on the top of a moving train. He recalled the hollowness in his heart when he looked down at his victim. The terror that came to him afterward of what he almost did. He didn’t hesitate. He didn't think about it. He didn't care.

“But…” Vincent started to say, his eyes quivering, “I almost killed someone. I-I-I was gonna do it.” He looked up at Silo, who was still softly looking at him. Vincent’s fist tightened and his teeth clenched in rage. “And it didn't bother me at all.”

Although it was brief, there was a moment when he felt both of their natural frequencies match. In that small window of time, there was a soothing understanding of one another. What was more confusing than that was the fact that it wasn’t just their mental waves that connected at that moment—he felt the waves of the two other people in the room, as well.

“What was that?” Vincent asked.

“A moment of unity,” Silo answered. But he didn’t speak it out loud, instead, the voice came directly into Vincent’s mind.

“Wait what just—”

But before Vincent could finish, Silo said, out loud, “Regardless, I think we both know what we have to talk about.”

There was a pause, and while it contained many layers of tension, there was also a bit of intrigue mixed in. For once, rather than acting on impulse, Vincent let the conversation form between them. Still on guard, he rested his back against the couch.

“Alright then, let’s talk,” he finally said.

Silo smiled. “I’ll be blunt because you seem to appreciate that. Archard is not the man you think he is.”

“Oh wow, what a surprise to hear that you don’t like him,” Vincent sarcastically stated, rolling his eyes.

The leader of Aries simply continued that outward, positive demeanor. “I know that he seems like an idol to you—and I don’t claim to know the reasons why that is for you—but I do know what he’s done to me and so many others.”

“You mean put you in your place?”

There was a slight, sharp inhale from Silo. “If that’s what you want to call it,” he said. “But this man views everyone as tools to use. His lackey killed my mother for not submitting to that lackey’s lustful desires. And you know what Archard did? He covered for him.”

Vincent frowned for a moment and thought. “Well,” he finally said, “I’m sure there had to be a good reason or missing context or somethin’.”

There was a mournful, but oddly polite sigh that came from Silo. “That man is a slave to power and nothing else. We both know that he’s trying to start a full-scale war tomorrow.”

“No, you—”

“We did nothing. He’s the one who’s going to have a public announcement, right?” Silo pressed. “We’re not the ones who are holding a conference to gloat about potential victory and to rile up the country.”

Although Vincent didn’t buy into what the man was saying, he couldn’t think of any immediate ways to counter his argument. Instead, he just stewed in the silence and let the Aries leader continue.

“That man only cares to kill us because we’re “his enemies” and nothing more,” Silo said. “Once we’re gone, he’ll just find another group to gather for whatever justifications he comes up with. Peace won’t return under him, only more conflict. After all, war brings power. And he only cares for power.”

Because he couldn't take any more slander, Vincent snapped back, saying, “I don’t care! You’re not going to change my mind!”

Maintaining his calm composure, Silo responded, “I’m not asking you to change your mind. All I want is for you to look at the man you idolize through a different lens, that’s all. You’ll see that he only views people as tools and nothing more—the resonance between Libra should speak for that in and of itself. He doesn’t care if people die. They’re expendable to him. I can tell that you hate how the world just glosses over death like it's nothing; how a person’s life is no more than a passing mention, at best, in the news. Archard is no different and I hope you’ll see that.”

Vincent thought back to the moment Eliot’s death was passed over by Archard and the rest of Libra. This single second of hesitation caused him to start to look at the situation from a different angle. But the moment he started doing that, his head began to throb in pain.

“I…” Vincent started to say, grimacing. “I can't do this anymore.” He stood up and started to walk toward the open door. No one stopped him.

Just as he crested beyond the broken home and into the outside world, Silo spoke up. “Before you go, let me give you a parting gift.”

Vincent stopped and turned around, looking at Silo with pained raise of his eyebrow.

“When it comes to resonance,” Silo began to say, “sheer power isn’t what makes you strong. Individual will only gets you so far. Your strength and ability to resonate increase exponentially if you are surrounded by people who share a genuine bond.” Silo then looks over to his friends—to his Treasures. “Tools break, but friendships don’t.”

Wordlessly, Vincent turned back around and walked out of the door.