Another note. Brief, no words spent on anything besides an address, date and time. Excala harbour, that much was clear. Iris balanced her mop against the wall and picked it up, memorising the address once more. Determined not to miss him again, she glanced at the ring. The faint trace was moving, rapid enough to suggest he was close. But he was moving fast, too fast for her to catch him. She reread the note, wondering if its brevity was for any reason deeper than there being nothing to say. She knew the drill and so moved to tear it up.
More writing, this time scratched on with something grainy, like dried clay. It had been scrawled on in haste, to the point it had almost lost its legibility.
Trust me.
Added as an afterthought, most likely. But it did not feel like the meticulous Alis she had come to know. She looked around, confirming she was alone before tearing up the note, moving to the archive window and dumping the remains. The pieces flutter into the street, joining the prior message in some soaked gutter. The night was very young, but the streets were already quiet. Curfew was to take effect in half an hour, enough time for Iris and Evalyn to return home.
She thought of it, as she had thought of it several times before. Just letting Evalyn in on all of it, and getting her to press that ‘fix everything' button she seemed to possess. But no matter which way she looked at it, fixing everything to Evalyn did not mean the same thing as fixing everything to her, or Alis, or anyone else for that matter.
Evalyn would make it perfect for herself, as she had always done before. Perfect meant finding a reason to expel Alis from the country in return for peace and flattening Vesmos if that failed. By finding a way to join the resistance, Alis had given everyone a way out of their worst option, their lowest level. If she were to run back to Evalyn now, she would never let herself on another mission again.
Forego another glimmer of hope for even one person, all for the guarantee of living another day in comfort. She refused.
“Home time,” she heard Evalyn call from the office, followed by a pair of soft footsteps. Iris turned around and headed for the door, meeting Evalyn in the hall. She gave a characteristic smile at Iris, who returned it meekly.
“What’s wrong?” Evalyn asked, moving past while finding the keys in her jacket.
“Nothing,” Iris said, hiding the ring with her other hand. “I’ve just been thinking.”
“About what?” Evalyn asked, unlocking the door. Iris did not reply, and Evalyn looked back, her brow furrowed. “Is it something you can tell me about?”
Words slipped from her mind and choked in her throat. A moment’s courage overcame her hesitation before it could set in, and she allowed herself to speak.
“Do you really fight only for yourself?”
Evalyn’s grip on the door handle faltered, and she tilted her head. “Why do you ask this all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know,” Iris mumbled. “It just doesn’t seem that way sometimes.”
Evalyn shrugged as if to acknowledge the sentiment. “Even so, it’s never my intention.”
“Why? You’ve protected the city before. You do what the Queen asks you to.”
“Because Geverde is a haven for people like us. Refuse their orders, and I ruin it for everyone else.”
“So if they didn’t want us anymore?”
“Then I guess I’d have to move somewhere else. I’ve talked to Elliot about it already; made plans in case it ever happens.”
“So this is just a place to you? And the people you end up helping, they’re just coincidences? Just people who ended up on the right side at the right time?”
Evalyn sighed, scratching the back of her neck. She averted her gaze, something she never did. Iris stepped backwards, retracting her arms as it dawned on her what she had said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Hey, no, it’s okay—”
“I’m sorry, I.”
“It’s all okay, Iris, just—”
“I didn’t mean it like that I just—”
“Iris.”
Evalyn’s hands had made it to Iris’s shoulders and were grasping them tight. Her eyes weren’t averted anymore, and the smile had straightened. Evalyn looked up at her from below, one knee to the ground. “I know what you’re saying, Iris. But I have these powers now, and you do too. There’s a world out there that won’t cooperate with us if we just ask nicely to be left alone.” She sighed, the whale on her cheek shimmering a dull gold, as though Darminjun was speaking her words as much as she was.
“For people like us, we either be a beast or we stray and become a god. Being a beast in its lair means being something with great power that stirs when it's provoked. Something that moves on animalistic instinct, doing what suits it and nothing more than that. Being a god means controlling everything, whether it concerns it or not, whether it matters to it or not. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Iris nodded, only slightly at first. Evalyn smiled and pulled her into a hug.
“I don’t want to play god, Iris. The fact that people like us can, makes me even more wary of it. I just want to be happy; I want Elliot to be happy, I want Marie to be happy, and I want you to be happy. Everything else can be damned as long as it leaves us alone, so I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Iris asked.
“I’m sorry we’ll never be completely on the same side.”
One more sleep. That time the next day, Wesper could expect to have the girl in her custody. An outstanding bargaining chip if exploited correctly. A leg up against the one person in the world that could come closest to playing god. To control a deity, what would that make him?
Just a man, most likely. Nothing but a preacher. A self-proclaimed messiah who would do away with old scripture and bring in the new. The first to throw away old notions, and outdated prophecies and replace them with solutions. Tangible, achievable paths to finality.
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Wesper stepped out from the comfort behind his bureau and walked across his room. The creak of the pine floorboards echoed intimately in the curfew’s silence, and Wesper relished it. The glorious peace—the terrifying, awe-inspiring standstill. The sensation of stasis one had to mimic to truly appreciate.
He leaned out of the window, wondering where his little errand boy was. He hoped for his sake that the boy was making good use of the weapons that Wesper had toiled to retrieve. Like a set of jewellery, they were—an odd way to describe a piece of military hardware, but accurate.
‘Trust me.’ It had been a nice touch to a rather dry invitation, but Wesper had let it slide. The threats he had levied were far from bluffs. Even if they were, he couldn’t expect someone as straightforward as his errand boy to see through them. No, his errand boy was nothing but a lap dog.
He leaned out of the window, being precarious enough to dangle his entire upper body through it so as to feel the nocturnal wind. Through his hair, up his nostrils, between the seams of his suit. It would be the last time he’d enjoy such wind for a while. At all, if he were to consider failure.
No, he had favours to redeem and contacts to use. His time in Excala would not end anytime soon.
Iris had spent the day in stasis; the thought of her task alone prevented her from doing anything else. She lay in bed, eyes wide awake, waiting for the clock on her bedside table to strike one thirty. At the pace she had travelled the prior night, she could make it to the harbour in half an hour.
Tick, tick, tick, boom. The time came.
Iris slowly rose from her bed and planted her feet on the hardwood floor, socks already on. She stood and moved to the ajar door, slipping her body through without making a sound. She got ready, taking all the same precautions she took last time and then some. She looked back down the hallway, but nothing stirred. Just the clock at the end of the hallway reminding her of the fleeting time.
She stepped out, easing closed the front door before pulling on her shoes and zipping the jacket up to her chin. It was growing colder with every night—her first winter was growing near. She hurried off, wasting no time in checking her surroundings and making for the roofs. Each step she took had grown lighter, and every movement she made had grown swifter.
She kept her eyes forward. A commute wouldn’t gauge her improvements; proficiency was measured in combat whether she liked it or not.
Eventually, the wind began to carry with it sea spray, and Iris could smell the salt. The rusted warehouses dominated the docks, and anything not of pure function had long vanished. She followed the landmarks, estimated her position and proceeded accordingly. The streets were quiet, but out of caution, Iris opted to stick to the vast rooftops instead. She moved swiftly over and between each warehouse, drawing nearer and nearer to the address. All the warehouses looked the same, and none had any indication as to their address. Observing from so high in the pits of night did her no favours, but she knew she was getting closer.
There. A figure on the rooftop.
“Alis!” she said, somewhere half between a hiss and a shout. The figure turned to her and stood, so she drew nearer.
“You made it,” he said, a wry smile across his face as she closed the gap between them.
“Yeah, I did,” Iris replied. “What is it this time?”
“This is the last one,” Alis said. “They said I could go back to Vesmos after this.”
“Really?” Iris asked. She paused, the sentiment registering. “This is it?”
“This is it,” he said, hands in his pockets. “There’s a warehouse down there, a front for a bunch of Vesmos thugs. They want us to take care of it, then I go with them.”
Iris turned to look at the warehouse. No lights on, no hints of movement, not even a whisper. “Really?” she asked.
“Yep,” he said.
Iris looked back at him, confused as to the brevity of his words. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
“…no it’s just…never mind.”
Alis pulled his right hand out of his pocket and flashed his brass knuckles. The familiar feeling took over as Alis began to spasm, although the convulsions were not as severe as before. He was growing stronger with each use, and her magic was fighting him less. Finally, the crystals grew purple, and his hand dropped to his side.
“Ready?” Iris asked.
“Yeah,” Alis murmured. She gave him one last look, then turned away, preparing to drop.
“Iris?”
“What?” she asked, one foot over the ledge already.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Showing me the city.”
“No problem.”
“Yeah.”
“…it was fun,” she said, flashing a smile. “Being around you has been fun.”
Iris dropped, hooking a purple line to the roof's edge as she abseiled down. She swiftly touched down with barely a need to bend her knees. The warehouse’s roller doors were shut, with only a lone streetlamp to illuminate the heavy metal shutters. No discernible way in, but going in from the front was never a sound plan to begin with—
A cold, dull sensation dug into her back.
“Don’t move.”
“Alis?”
A calloused hand clamped over her mouth, and Alis’s voice whispered into her ear.
“Don’t turn around, and do exactly as I say. Walk forward.”
Alis began first, forcing her to step forward in turn. She knew the things pressing against her back were the crystals; the chill of the brass penetrated even her field jacket. She walked slowly, her head unable to think as adrenaline slowly but surely took over.
“Wesper!” Alis shouted.
Wesper? No, there was only one. It had to be.
“I have her!”
She had to get away, run and tell Evalyn, tell her everything. Yet the moment her hair dissipated she was as good as dead.
“If you want her, you’re going to have to come outside!”
Wesper. Since when? Was he the contact to ULEF? No, it was suspicious from the start; this had nothing to do with the resistance. Was Alis in on it? Was Alis working for Wesper?
“I’m going to count to five! I’m going to tear her in half if you don’t come out!”
No, why would he be bargaining? Alis was a victim too, to some extent.
“One!”
Not all altruistic. He really was telling the truth.
“Two!”
Evalyn would do the same. She would do the same.
“Three!”
There were people he loved, people he cared for infinitely more than her.
“Four!”
It was how the world worked, so why did she feel so cheated?
“All right, all right!” a voice echoed from the warehouse. Alis stopped his countdown, and they both waited in silence. The roller doors creaked open, ever so slightly. Out of the sliver of pitch black, a suited figure emerged. His beige suit was overshadowed by a longer fur overcoat, but he was unmistakable.
“Here I am,” Wesper announced, pausing outside the warehouse. “We don’t have to make this any harder than it has to be.”
“I’m not going anywhere near there. I know what you can do. Come here, and I’ll give her to you.”
Alis’s breathing was ragged, and his voice was rasping, almost at breaking point. She could feel his heart beating as he stared Wesper down. Wesper was not so agitated. He smiled at them, lips curling hideously.
“Fine, I understand,” he said, throwing his arms up. “I don’t want to bother having to reason with you.”
He approached the two, each step leisurely in their pace. No matter how much he complied, he made it clear that he was the one in charge, the one with the upper hand in almost every way.
She felt the weapon in her back retreat to the point the crystals barely dug into her skin. The hand weakened; an opening. She could use it to escape—
“Thank you, Iris. You’re a good person. Be careful who you lend a hand to until you’re strong enough.”
“Alis—”
“Run. If I fail, get Evalyn here as quick as you can.”
“What—”
“I trust you, so please trust me.”
Iris felt a pulse of magic from behind her, one that even stopped Wesper in his tracks.
“Alis—”
A purple bolt flashed past the two, striking Wesper’s arm at the speed of sound and lopping it clean off. Blood tricked down from the stump as Alis tore himself away from her, charging towards Wesper, fists glowing a blinding purple.
“One step more and I’d have been off my property. A bit premature there, errand boy—”
Alis’s fist tore through Wesper’s stomach, disembowelling him in an instant. The body tore itself apart, falling into pieces of flesh and tendon. An unnatural reaction to being punched, no matter how hard it was.
“Fuck!” Alis shouted, bolting for the open door of the warehouse.
“Alis!” Iris screamed. “You can’t beat him!”
He did not turn back. He kept running, charging forward towards the opening between the roller doors.
Iris watched. She could only watch. Her legs stood still like ten-ton weights, paralysed. Every second felt like an eternity, and for every second he did not emerge, every second she wasted, the dread only grew deeper.
She looked at her ring.
One clear, unwavering line. He was right there, at the end of the straight path forward. So close. She only needed to take the first step.
So she did.