A metal wire flew towards Iris’s neck, reaching her faster than her body could react. She winced instinctively in preparation for the pain, but it did not come. She heard a growl of pain from beside her. Opening her eyes, she found Alis clutching his forearm as the metal wire started to constrict his arm, drawing blood along a circular line.

Iris did not spend long assessing the damage and instead prepared her hair for another attack. Yet the moment she faced her enemy, she found her arms tied to her body in the same manner. She fell to the floor, unable to compensate for the loss of balance. Another wire wrapped around Alis’s throat, refusing to let go no matter how much he tried to claw at it.

The soldier made a stumbling beeline toward Alis, tearing his hands from his neck and prying at the brass knuckles. Alis disobeyed, ripping his hands away and striking at the man, but he missed. The knuckles flashed again, but the man struck him before he could replicate the magic.

Iris knew that even if he did, his life was on a ticking timer. She needed to undo the spell somehow.

Yet that could only end in her killing someone. The destruction of something special to someone, all for a stranger she had only met less than an hour ago.

She felt cheated. She had been given another losing hand, and she was to accept it like anything else.

She kicked up one of her feet, priming it against her body, and her hair followed her command. She prepared a needle protruding from her boot and aimed for the man’s heart. Precise, instant. She had to hit the bullseye, or Alis would die.

A single shot echoed along the rooftops. It rebounded in the district's nocturnal silence until it faded completely.

The soldier fell to his knees, then flopped to the floor. The constrictions vanished, and Alis immediately began gasping for air, his breaths even raspier than before. Iris hauled herself up, trickles of red blood trailing from two lines across her arms.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he managed to say through the incessant coughing and heaving. Iris turned behind her, finding a golden figure racking their rifle. The armour vanished, and Evalyn remained, shouldering her rifle.

“What happened?” she asked, running over and kneeling. “I saw people crawling out of a wrecked car and followed the Aether.”

“I’m okay,” Iris said. Evalyn looked Iris up and down, then straightened the spluttering Alis.

“I had a feeling something was wrong as soon as they stopped following me. I had no clue there were more,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

Iris dove into Evalyn’s torso in silent gratitude. She did her best to hide her cowardice, her guilty relief that she had been spared from carrying out the dirty work.

“Let’s get out of here first,” Evalyn said, forming her armour once more. “Then we can talk.”

Evalyn stood up to leave when Iris noticed a fleeting tinkering sound coming from the fallen man. She squinted, her vision focusing on a small white sparkle on his hand. Iris stood up and shuffled over, wary of the soldier who had fooled her by playing dead once before.

On his finger was a small ring with a single gem of the same make as the eight on Alis’s fingers. The tinkering sound, reminiscent of a small stream of water, chimed in unison with a white beam of light stretching forward a centimetre or two.

Almost like the needle of a compass.

“It’s pointing at Alis.”

Iris beckoned the others over, and Evalyn bent down, stripping the fallen soldier of the ring. She moved it around from left to right, up and down. No matter the position, the beam kept its heading, directly towards Alis’s brass knuckles.

Iris followed Evalyn’s lead as they rushed into the apartment complex. Evalyn quietly closed the door behind her. She moved through the lobby noiselessly, signalling the others to stay close behind. She drew her handgun from the holster and pointed it forward, inching towards their apartment door. The moment they reached it, she turned her gun towards the front entrance.

“Iris, open it.”

Iris did what she was told, compensating for the forgotten house key still resting in Evalyn's office with her own makeshift one. By now, she had all but memorised the lock's interior and where each pin set. Putting a finger up to the keyhole, she spindled her way inside. The purple skeleton key massaged each instrument into place until the lock conceded with a click. She turned the key and opened the door.

It was not home. Instead, it was exactly what anyone else would expect. An apartment room of the same make as the rest of the building.

“Inside,” Evalyn said, pushing the two in with her body. They shuffled in, and Evalyn closed the door, closing the handle lock as well as a door chain and a heavy bolt.

“They’d probably blast their way through it anyway,” she sighed, switching the lights on. Iris followed her as she travelled across the room, between ceiling-high book casings and a furnished dining table. Under her feet was a spread of floral carpet, and above her, a ceiling fan slowly turned, creaking a little as it went.

“I’m going to close the bedroom curtains,” Evalyn said, disappearing into the adjacent rooms.

Iris took in her surroundings, unsure what to make of it all. It was exactly what anyone would expect from an Excalan apartment. She could imagine a family of three or four spending their mornings in ordinary happiness—moving from simple breakfasts at the dining table to newspapers on the couch. There was not a sense of liberating wonder as there was in Iris’s home, but instead one of confined intimacy.

A family lived here; she could be sure of it. A normal family that did everything a normal family would, except exist.

“Right,” Evalyn said, re-entering the room. She jogged to the kitchen and began to rummage through the drawers. Not long after, she hauled out a large green metal box marked by a red cross.

“Come here, Alis,” she commanded, taking a white cloth and a brown brick from the first-aid kit. Iris watched as Evalyn broke a chunk of the brown material off the mass, crushing it with her hands until it resembled dry clay. She beckoned Alis over once more, and he finally conceded.

“Head down,” she said, using her free hand to turn on the faucet and wet the towel, wringing it out as best she could with a single hand. She sprinkled the grain onto the towel, letting it dissolve for a moment before applying it to Alis’s neck. He winced, and Iris sensed faint magic from the towel as the solution began to sizzle on his wound.

“Calm down, it’s just a disinfectant,” she said, working around his entire neck. “Nothing powerful enough to close wounds or erase scars, though. I don’t even know if that magic has been found yet. Would be mighty convenient.”

She moved down to his hand, raising it to her chest and applying the same solution.

“It doesn’t look too deep, but I’m going to bandage it up as soon as you wash the blood away,” she said, wringing out the towel and putting it to the side. She grabbed another one from the box and began the process again. “Bathroom’s over there. You’ve got a mirror,” Evalyn said, pointing Alis across the room.

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She beckoned Iris over as Alis left, taking Iris’s forearms and running the cloth over them. Iris yelped, feeling the grainy disinfectant grind against her skin, tricking her nerves into thinking she was burning.

“It’s okay,” Evalyn cooed. “You’re okay now.” Evalyn put her free hand on Iris’s cheek, then ruffled her hair. “Did you fare okay?”

“Yeah,” Iris said, “but if you didn’t come so soon, I don’t think I would’ve—”

“You would have,” Evalyn said. “I saw you, and if you had done that and saved him, I would have been very proud of you, okay?”

Iris looked up to Evalyn, and any ounce of praise she could earn from her always meant the world. Yet she still could not find it in herself to take her mentor, her mother’s words to heart.

“I know,” Evalyn whispered, seemingly reading her mind. “I’m glad I got there before that happened. But you fought well, Iris. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

“Okay,” Iris said, gritting her teeth through the stinging sensation.

Evalyn chuckled. “But that car, was that you?”

“Yeah, it was.”

“Really? You left those four guys in that thing reeling.”

“I did?”

“Absolutely. The cops were already there by the time I found them. I’ll tell Marie to work her magic and get them under higher security by the morning.”

“I just felt like I had to stop thinking and trust it, like Elly told me to.”

“Well, that man does say some good things sometimes.”

Iris thought back on the entire sequence, from car chase to rooftops to entanglement. For the most part, she had been able to take the upper hand. Somehow, someway, just by following an example. Someone like her, using the same power.

“Alis, his things copy magic. It copied mine.”

Evalyn’s hand stopped moving, and she matched Iris’s eyes with hers, her eyebrows furrowing. “Are you sure? It’s possible that he just has eight different types of magic, isn't it?”

“No,” Iris explained, “his hair disappeared, and the shapes he made were the same purple as mine.”

“That’s not good,” Evalyn muttered, “especially if he’s not the only one with them.”

Evalyn fell silent again, working the towel across Iris’s wound. She brought it closer to her face, examining it. “It really does look like normal flesh and blood. You might as well be human.”

She returned to the task at hand as Alis returned, blood washed from his neck.

“How you feeling?” Evalyn asked.

“Fine, ma’am,” Alis said, suddenly speaking with an air of reverence. Iris could better see evidence of Alis’s supposed military side. That, at least to her, was something familiar.

“You’re going to stay here tonight while I go home and notify someone who can better help you.”

“Is Elvera still at home?” Iris asked. “How do you get back there?”

“Get back? How I usually do. This space is for strangers who try to break in, but if you or I or Elly or Marie open the door, it goes back home. Since we had a stranger with us today, here we are.”

Hence the fakeness, the elaborate design of the house was all to make it feel as though it were inhabited; to convince those who wished Evalyn Hardridge harm that she was indeed not who they were looking for.

Such was the life of the Wish Bearer.

“I’d be grateful for any help, ma’am,” Alis answered.

“You’d better be, we’ve gone through a lot of trouble to get your ass to safety. While I'm at it, I'm getting the tracking magic removed from the brass knuckles and that ring.

“...Yes ma’am,” he said, taking a moment to no doubt suppress his protests. Evalyn nodded her approval and finished tending to Iris’s wounds, placing the medical supplies back in the drawer and folding the bloodied towels.

“Might as well take these to the wash,” she said, getting up and heading for the door. “Alis, the bedroom’s free, and there’s some non-perishables in the cupboard. If you need anything else, ask Iris.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She undid the many locks of the front door and opened it. Stepping outside, she glanced back at them, in particular at Iris.

“Play nice.”

The door closed.

Iris stood silent, intensely aware of the presence but a few steps away from her. She was still getting used to Elvera being a foreign third presence in the house, and now this. She was stuck with an almost complete stranger, and her curiosity only made things more uncomfortable.

“Thank you.”

Iris turned his way, meeting his pre-emptive gaze; the same subdued, righteous flames burning like a furnace inside his eyes.

“For what?”

“For helping me. You almost saved my life as well.”

“I’m sorry, I was going to—”

“No, I don’t mind,” Alis interrupted. “I believe you would have hesitated even if it was your own life was in danger. Why?”

“Why? Uhm…”

Iris fiddled with her fingers, indecisive on whether it was wise to tell him anything more than he needed to know.

“Does it have something to do with that power?”

Iris had trouble looking at him directly. His eyes were nowhere near as sharp as Elliot’s; she had all but gotten used to that sort of gaze. Alis’s eyes were bright rather than sharp, as if he could tell no lies, as if whatever he said was justified by some greater law of the universe.

Iris succumbed and nodded. “Yes.”

“I see,” Alis said. He pondered for a moment before looking around the room. He eyed the armchair and made a beeline for it, his movements oddly disciplined for the situation. He sat down, arms on each armrest and backside firmly planted. He stayed silent for a moment, convincing her that he was done with the conversation for the time being.

“When I replicated it,” he declared, startling Iris, “it took an awful lot of effort to keep it under control. That’s never happened to me before, even with powerful magic. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Iris admitted. “I don’t know what it is, I’ve just always had it.”

“Since you were born?”

“I don’t remember being born. I only remember since last summer.”

“I see,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “But if you mastered that power, I doubt there’d be many people left who could stop you.”

Iris was fairly certain that those words, especially from him, were meant as words of praise. But not for Iris.

“That’s what I’m scared of.”

He humphed in agreement. “I would be too. Trading blows with you in your prime would be the last thing I would ever want to do. But you’re not my enemy, so I doubt it’ll ever come to that.”

“Who is your enemy?” Iris said, eager to at least get a question of her own into the conversation.

“My enemy? That’s a difficult question,” he answered, furrowing his brow. “If you only remember as far back as last summer, then I doubt you know how Vesmos works.”

“No. I just know they’re big.”

“Very," he said, then growing silent again as if preparing to tell a story. "The Empire assimilated seventeen different states during its golden age of conquest. Through extensive bureaucracy and treaties, the states, their people, and their customs were integrated into the Empire's way of life and governance, thus creating an inclusive and prospering society.”

“That sounds like a textbook definition,” Iris commented, sitting on the far side of the couch from him. His eyes were still closed, detracting from his intensity. He was almost statuesque.

“It is. And, to give the textbook authors their due credit, it’s mostly true.”

“Is it? I’m not used to propaganda being true.”

“Nothing that I just said was false.”

“Then what’s the issue? It sounds wonderful.”

“The issue is that their golden age of conquest did not necessarily mean an end to a war. The assimilation of culture and efficient bureaucracy, the sharing of power between different classes of citizens.”

He opened his eyes and turned them towards Iris. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his knees, intertwining his bruised and scarred fingers.

“Everything exists only for war. A perpetual state of conflict exists not only to preserve borders but to challenge them.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what Vesmos does. It’s hard to question something everyone takes for granted.”

“Who takes war for granted?”

“People who are born into it. People who never know of the outside world, let alone go there. Why would you when everything you ever need is in the country?”

War that started long before anyone alive in the current day and age was born. War that had become a cultural pillar upon which everything else was bound. War that had shaped society, built the country, and brought a malformed form of peace and prosperity to its civilian citizenry.

Just like Fadaak, it was yet another oasis built on blood.

“That’s the enemy. That’s the purpose of the resistance I want to join.”

“The Unified Front of Assimilated Nations isn’t all you’re chalking it up to be, Alis.”

They both turned to the front door as Evalyn closed it behind her. Her body paid them no heed as she walked to the bedroom carrying a folded blanket.

“I’ve seen how they work. By the looks of things, they have barely enough organisation to run a province, let alone an Empire.”

“But they’re doing what needs to be done,” Alis argued.

“Sure they are. No one likes to be in perpetual warfare. Trust me, I’ve been there,” she yawned as she walked back into the living space. “Changing a nation’s ingrained socioculture is one thing, but rebuilding it after violent collapse is another.”

“But—”

“Take it from someone who’s seen fifty-eight revolutionary forces come and go in their lifetime, and maybe even from someone who’s seen two in but a few short months,” she said, pointing at Iris, “too many fail. And even if they don’t, they never make good on their promises. They just cling onto power until the next revolution comes along.”

She rubbed her eyes as if she had been talking of nothing more significant than her plans for the next day. “It’s all just another step in the race for a utopia that doesn’t exist,” she managed to say while stifling a yawn.

It was a very Evalyn perspective on the world. An acceptance of its inherent evil and a rejection of any attempt to make it better. A perspective she was well aware came with her privilege. Yet Iris could not say the same for the hopes she had destroyed with her own two hands only a few short weeks prior.

That was not some misguided, naïve attempt at shaping the world to their ideals. That was an attempt to survive, to live. Who was to say that Alis’s attempt at change was not something similar?