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The world is messy, she thinks.
She stands on the slopes leading to the water, constructed to avoid any further erosion to her town's waterways. The distant outline of her country's capital is harsh against the light of the setting sun, scattering light along the surface and through the trees. Distant shouts can be heard from the bridge leading to the mainland, stretching its way all across the canal, the collapse having held up the flow of merchants.
Her brother is being drafted into the military.
They’d been standing on that bridge when it fell. Something about a demolition gone wrong. He’d pushed her aside as patterns lit up amongst his skin, their world crumbling around them. He’d held the entire bridge together, somehow. The Council just couldn’t pass it up.
Despite his knack for thymia, no one had really thought her brother could make it in such a place. After all, he’d always been unable to give up what few positive emotions they had.
Apparently, before she’d been born, her mother had suffered a miscarriage. By the time she’d come around, no one was sure her mother would even survive given her age. Now her brother always stays close, watching, like she too might vanish if he stays away for too long.
He will be going anyway.
In all honesty, she doesn’t want to see him go. Like he won’t ever truly leave she never experiences the moment. But her mother insists, so she stays, and returns to her house colored only by the sun.
Her brother kneels down, Afti scampering down from his shoulders. “They’ll watch over you.” He promises.
The girl looks up to meet his gaze.
She can only stare, glare, watch- somehow hoping to convey her thoughts with just a look. Her father thinks the military will humble him. Her mother thinks the military will help further his career.
She can only hope they are right, and that her fears are wrong.
He smiles softly, standing up. The weight of his bags pull on his shoulders. “This place had a name you know.” Her brother muses softly. “Before we became part of the empire.”
A pause. “We don’t have such things anymore.” She says, repeating the phrase she’s heard so many times before.
“I know.” He says, almost knowingly. “But I’m going to learn all about places with names, places without them. So make sure you’re doing a lot of learning back here okay?”
She swallows, nodding slowly.
The door shuts quietly behind him.
-
The academy is a collage of frozen rooms and colors even blander than the food. She keeps her promise and studies the stories she is told in class, though none of them live up to her brother’s theatricality. She keeps them cataloged in her mind. Somewhere out there is a sea of sand. A spire that stretches all of time. A city of salt that remains forever on the horizon.
Her actual grade related to the actual military aspect of her education however, is rather abysmal. In all honesty, she’d be better suited as a supporting officer, but she does not have the privilege of even considering such a position. As much as she does fancy herself an archivist.
Her one saving grace, or maybe the thing that will drag her down eventually, is a pink haired boy with cat-like eyes. He’s only a year older than her, and he already has a name. Liontari.
She’d thought it strange, almost insulting, but Liontari is the kind of person that cannot go without a title. The marked boy plagued by emotion. His existence is a paradox. Something not supposed to happen, both marked and unmarked at the same time, overflowing with feelings. Like he can’t focus on one thing, so he just focuses on it all.
They stick together somehow. Through some bond of being the only ones from their hometown, or through the fact that no one else really wants to be around him.
It was just- well, she couldn’t feel entirely indifferent to him. Even if it would be better to just pretend he didn’t exist as he wailed and screamed and yelled as his parents dragged him away for sneaking out yet again. Or now, in the academy, given the teachers disappointment at the meer thought of their association.
They’re standing in front of the windows of their dormitory, Lykos rereading a collection of legends from all around the empire. Liontari is humming yet another song he’s made up. Something about a field of flowers and muddy waters. “What would you, do if you weren’t an apatheia?” He asks, suddenly.
She glances at him, pausing. “But we need to be apatheia,” She says plainly, “to move upwards and share our prosperity with the world.”
Liontari’s face sours slightly. He scoffs, propping a hand on his chin. “Figures you’d say something like that.”
A pause. “What would you be?” She asks.
He casts her a quick look, before staring back out the window. “I’d like to be one of those minstrels or something,” the boy says finally, “like the ones that come in from the Eastern border. Traveling around, learning new songs, and performing all around the empire.”
Even if its for a small, brief moment, the girl considers it- imagining the world stretched out before her, in an infinite display of possibility. “I’d like that too.” She says quietly. “There’s so much we don’t know out there. Apparently Amongolia has something similar to Nous. The same with Crete. I wonder if they’re the same thing sometimes.”
Liontari lets out a small laugh. “Don’t let the instructors hear you talking like that. They’ll throw a fit.”
She sighs. “I won’t. I know better.”
The door to their dorm room opens, a man with pale pink hair entering the room. Both of them stand, saluting to greet him. He nods at both of them. “Liontari, it’s time to go.”
The boy's expression slackens. “In a second, okay?” He groans softly, going to gather what little of his belongings he’ll need for the migration to the capital.
“You never know,” she offers, “maybe it’ll actually fix you this time.”
Liontari’s eyes flit over to her, something indecipherable flickering in his cat-like slits. “Maybe.” He concludes, voice hard, facing back towards his brother. A sigh. Liontari stuffs his clothes into his bag, not even bothering to fold them.
“Hurry up,” the man says, “mother’s waiting.”
“In a minute!” He shouts over his shoulder, shoving in his small collection of folk-songs in for good measure. Liontari runs over to the other room, retrieving his bag of toiletries and his special fidgets. Afti whines, scratching at his feet. The boy lets out a groan. “Not now.” He mutters, “I’ll be back soon, okay?”
His brother groans, yanking atfi off him. The creature yelps, falling on their side. Both of them snap their gazes back. “Did you honestly not pack before this?” The man demands.
Liontari stares.
The boy’s brother reaches forward. “Liontari-”
“I’m not going!” Liontari snaps, slapping the hand away. “You can’t make me!”
A low growl. “You’re being childish!”
The boy laughs incredulously. “Going back to Nous Anthropos didn’t work last time! What makes you think it will now? The side effects are only now just wearing off! Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”
The man moves, grabbing Liontari’s bag roughly. “We never should’ve let you leave the house.”
Liontari looks up at him, letting out a low breath- before driving his claws into his brother's face. The man screams, trying to pry the boy off him. Lykos backs up, the sounds of teachers already running to see what’s causing the commotion. Liontari has rammed his shoulder into his brother’s gut, trying to force him down while the older boy yanks him by the hair. “I’m not going back there!” He screams. “I’m not!”
“Stop that!” His brother screams back, slamming Liontari back. Liontari rolls, scrambling onto the man’s back and squeezing as hard as he can. The man yells, yanking Liontari off by the collar, the boy landing roughly on the floor with the wind knocked out of him.
The teachers arrive in the doorway, huffing. “What happened?” One of the three demands.
She shakes her head. “They just started fighting all of a sudden! I don’t-”
Liontari’s brother lets out a yell. “He bit me!” He screams. “This psychotic freak bit me!”
Two of the adults seize both of Liontari’s arms, dragging him back screaming. He struggles, thrashing, trying to free his arms to no avail. He tries to trip one of the adults by seizing their legs with his ankles. A third adult steps in then, holding his legs tightly. The boy goes wide eyed. She almost swears there’s tears in his eyes when he looks at her. “Don’t make me go back there.” He pleads, and he sounds so utterly broken she doesn’t know what to do. “Don’t let them take me, you know it’ll just make me worse-Please!”
The adults rush around her. “Let’s get this over with.” One mutters.
Liontari never quite forgives her, for letting them take him back to Nous Anthropos.
By the time Liontari returns, he’s more joyful than ever. But through every joke, every smile, something festers underneath. Like smiling is the only thing he can do with the wave of emotions that wrack his body on the daily. His movements are even more neurotic, unfocused, unhinged. Sometimes she’ll think everything’s fine, almost back to how it was when they were younger, before he’s screaming at the stop of his lungs, clutching his special blanket like a lifeline, or getting into yet another fight with their instructors.
He throws himself into combat, beating his opponents until he forces them to cry, like some twisted gratification that he’s not crazy for feeling pain. It’s a terrifying sight.
Still, Liontari helps her train in combat, and she still lets him copy off her homework.
-
It’s a year into the military academy when she finds out her brother is missing in action. They’ve been allowed a day home due to the empire’s victory in the mines of Sudelasia. The girl stands by the water once more, her mother’s offerings of food left at the wayside, mind repeating the officers words over and over again.
“Orca went out admirably. He didn’t stop fighting, even as we pulled out.”
Liontari crouches next to her, watching her as tears roll down her face. She doesn’t even know why she’s crying, she can’t feel anything. She didn’t even know her brother had been given a name.
Orca. The killer whale.
Was that honestly her brother?
“What was he like?” Liontari asks. “To you, not to me.”
She can only swallow back a sob. “He was nice.” She manages. “Just as nice as he was to you.”
He doesn’t give a reply, turning back to face the waters, cast a bright orange and yellow in the setting sun. “I’m pretty sure that’s not entirely true.”
The girl peaks out from between her arms. “He wanted to know all about the world.” She says quietly. “Wanted to know about this place before it was even part of the empire.”
Liontari leans back. “Thalassa.”
“What?”
“It was the name of this place before we became the empire.After some primordial sea god, from before the Rain of Kathartrio.” When Liontari sees her face, he pouts. “I’m not all stupid you know.” He says, almost offended. “Stole the book from my parents' study one time, before they were shipped off to get burned in the capital.”
“Ah.” She says. “That’s nice.”
And it was.
-
It’s a whole year before she finds out that Orca is alive.
And his return is not subtle. With an almost amused indifference, and that sickeningly same flair for theatrics, her brother returns to the empire as the new head of the apatheia army. Where he came from, how he got that giant scar on his face, and the sudden personality shift are entirely unknown. All that is known is that he emerged from the capital in Nous Anthropos’ building, reborn from his own ashes.
She doesn’t know how to take it.
Liontari, however, likes the change- proud that he knew the new head of apatheia before he was known. A sign of sorts, that even the most unlikely soldiers can rise to the top. Liontari likes to speculate on what might have happened in Kitrino with her. “Orca is so cool now.” He gushes. “The scar makes him look so dangerous and raggad. How do you think he got it?”
She continues looking off into the distance, trying to ignore the thrumming feeling of wrong wrong wrong inside of her. “Maybe he fell down.” She says absently.
Liontari makes a face. “Are you kidding me? There’s no way.”
“That’s correct.”
It’s almost easier, to speak her mind when she’s had her emotions taken away. To be more standoffish. Because that way, it’s not like it’s her actually speaking. She’s just watching the narrative play out from her own eyes.
A part of her wants to make her own pilgrimage to Nous Anthropos. So that she doesn’t have all these feelings tumbling around inside her, strangling her lungs, making it harder to breathe. Another part of her doesn't, because every time she makes the journey, Olivinis recognizes her as “that boy's sister,” which really only makes the feelings worse as they begin returning in a slow creep through her airways.
By the time she and Liontari graduate, neither of them have high enough scores to move on to higher official training. Liontari is assigned to Battleship Kacharias. She is assigned to Battleship Skylos. She’s not even sure if they qualify as friends anymore.
Afti manages to sneak on to the battleship with her.
By then, she doesn’t care anymore. She lets the Nous eat her emotions each and every day.
-
The next time she sees Orca, its when she’s assigned to Battleship Lykos as part of his newest decree: the Failana Extermination Mission. They are to be sent ahead to scout the dangers of the water, kill all the residents, and wait for another battleship to assist in retrieving the Nous.
Orca stands in front of a legion of soldiers, almost enjoying the contempt simmering underneath. He has a sure smile plastered across his face, eyes looking but not seeing. The scar runs across his ruined face is pale; you'd think he’d stapled the flesh of an enemy combatant to his face. It’s almost sickening.
Her brother gives a speech just as flowery and righteous as the stories he used to tell her, but without the tenderness he used to carry. There is something hard and grimy inside him instead. Something terrifying.
This time, she lets herself sit her emotions as Battleship Lykos departs from port. The sound of the sands scraping the hull almost lets her taste the salt. Above them, sand flyers leap from the waves, flippers scattering the sound of scales through the harbor.
It's a beautiful sight, at the very least.
-
Right before making the journey into Falaina’s cage, Battleship Lykos is attacked by Suidelasia, somehow equipped with imperial weaponry.
Alarms blare all over the ship, red lights flashing on every surface as officers scramble to meet their posts, Thymia rises to her skin, patterns stamped on her rifle as she races towards the fray. Just before she can make it outside the main hub, Atfi nips her feet hard.
She falls, armour cutting into her skin. “Not now, Atfi!” She yells, using her rifle to support her stance. Atfi only bites her again, pulling her in the direction of Nous Lykos. Just then, the doors to the hull burst open, Suidelansian soldiers lighting up the room in a display of light and gunfire. One soldier gets in a lucky shot, piercing her armor with a bullet straight through her soldier. It happens in an instant, the muscles inside her body snapping at once. Tears come to her eyes from the pain.
Afti only pulls her harder.
She races towards Nous Lykos, clutching her shoulder as other soldiers push past her roughly. The ship is practically shaking now from all the gunfire. She grits her teeth, blood surging with nothing more than panic and the chance to live live live-
Nous Lykos greets her with a glow of cosmic light, a swirl of silver green and purple ebbing under its translucent skin. She buries herself into it, the glow burning through her eyelids.
-
By the time she emerges from the chamber, there is nothing left of Battleship Lykos other than bombed out buildings and a collection of broken bodies. She observes it matter of factly. This is, after all, what happens when there is war.
She examines whatever remains of the soldiers identification tags, and does her best to bury them according to the regions the numbers specify. When cremating each body from the Southern Region becomes too much for her, she buries them like she would those from her hometown. In the earth, marked by their weapons.
In the day, she’ll eat the dried fruits and meat left in the corners of their stores, and collect rain water in a makeshift funnel. She feeds Afti, and she feeds Nous Lykos.
Then she’ll collect her swords, sit in whatever remains of her post, and wait.
For something. Anything.
For the sky to stop giving her rain. For the food stores to run low. For Nous Lykos to take her very will itself, and allow her to just die.
The sun bears down on her skin, pressing down, the air almost difficult to breathe.
She doesn’t know how long it's been.
Afti runs through the grass in front of her, holding an empty food can in their mouth. Her eyes flit up to watch them, making sure they don’t accidentally eat the container. The grass rustles after them.
Her heart stops.
There is a boy.
-
By the time she wakes up, she’s half convinced she’s hallucinating. The boy is a young archivist, barely a few months younger than her. His friend Sami is almost exactly her age. She falls back on that familiar indifference, merely observing her life like she’s not a part of it. A sweet scent of milk permeates the entire island,
Despite the kind nature of its residents, the distinctly un-imperial architecture, the casual abundance of unmarked, there’s no mistaking it- she’s on Falaina.
-
Chakuro is an amalgamation of who she could have been, and what Liontari could have been in another life.
Before she can even inquire about her numerous questions, he’s already pulling out pages of his numerous records for her to read. A light appears in his eyes as he excitedly discusses how much he enjoys his job. When Chakuro writes, it’s like he’s not fully there, immersed in a world of words.
In all honesty, she can tell that Chakuro isn’t a very good archivist. There are gaps in his writing, like he crossed large parts out without bothering to find good transitions to replace them. The only consistent part is his completely objective archives. The year's harvest. The fisherman’s catch of the day.
Still, when he hears that she wants to return to battleship Lykos, he sheepishly pulls out his own stack of personal papers. Even if she can hardly read the scribbled handwriting, she can tell it means every word he says.
“Lykos,” he’ll say, “tell me more about your country’s stories.”
Everytime he says that name, a part of her bursts and fizzles inside. And everytime she insists that she has no such thing as a name, he laughs it off. Something about how someone so special can’t go unnamed.
She’s special here. A sign of the outside world, for all it represents, good and bad.
Oftentimes she’ll find herself obliging more than not. Stories are a language she knows how to speak, far better than when he asks about what happened on Battleship Lykos, or what happened to her dearest brother. It leaves something churning inside her every time she finishes another story. At the sight of Chakuro recording it in meticulous detail. Something that reminds her far too much of her own story.
“Tell me about your family.” She says instead, hoping to deflect yet another question about what her brother is like. How he could possibly do the things he’s done to the Mud Whale.
Chakuro goes quiet, eyes focused on the horizon outside his window. “I never knew my parents.” He says finally. “I was really young when they died. Ginshu was barely old enough to remember them. She doesn’t say much, but I know she misses them a lot. Even if we never knew them.”
“So we were raised by my grandfather instead.” He continues. “He was unmarked, but he didn’t act like a higher authority either. He taught me everything I know. All our legends, all our stories. Each and every one of our characters.” Chakuros voice tightens. “We- we fought a lot. Because of my hypergraphia. I’d get these seizures, sometimes. Where I’d get super overwhelmed, or throw tantrums because I wasn’t allowed to write something. I feel like I never really got to know him before he died.”
Chakuro’s eyes glisten. He stops, looking down at his tear stained hands. He scrubs the tears away, laughing slightly. “I really need to stop doing that. One of these days the dead really will call me.”
Lykos looks away, saying nothing.
“Chakuro?” She asks.
“Yes?”
“I’d like to help with your archives, if that’s okay.”
-
Ouni is like her brother, or how she imagines he might have been in the year he went missing.
He and Chakuro share the same thirst towards the outside world, while staying firmly tethered to the island they call home. The same will to face the horribly wide world with excitement.
Unlike Chakuro, Ouni doesn’t bother with niceties. He is direct and straightforward. Ouni is a leader after all. The leader of the group that wants to adventure all throughout the outside world.
Oftentimes she falls back on that old standoffishness. Ouni demands answers. No hiding anything from him. She hates to be the one to back down easily. Sometimes she’ll tell him about the outside world to scare him off. How he really doesn’t know how well he has it, on the Mud Whale, with no war, no unmarked being killed off for being defective, with no political conspiracies surrounding your family.
Still, Lykos recognizes his hunger for more. His need to know that this isn’t all there is. And if she is the one that can provide that affirmation, so be it.
Ouni hates anything underhanded. Oftentimes he’ll break her out of her room and let her stay in tower three, if only to get the Committee of Elders to fess up some semblance of whatever they’ve been hiding. When he’d questioned her about Orca, about how someone could possibly do those things to another human being, she’d admitted her suspicions about some type of conspiracy. In the end, once she’d revealed all the details, he’d end up even more angry at the empire than Orca himself.
His friends are less of the same. While Ouni is solitary, his friends are like the lifeblood of the Mud Whale. Oftentimes Lykos finds herself counting the days based on how long its been since another one of their crazy incidents. The Moles remind her of the imaginary troupe she and Liontari had concocted, in the world where they did end up being minstrels and poets. Brimming with an excitement to do nothing more than keep living their life.
It leaves her both excited and exhausted.
Still, the fact that neither she or Ouni have a real home only serves to make tower three even more inviting.
-
The sight of Battleship Skylos looming over the Mud Whales does nothing at all to calm her nerves. Especially with the general unease caused by the Committee of Elders providing nothing but a weak explanation as to why the Empire is even here, when Lykos knows exactly what they plan.
Nibi ends up getting her, Ouni, Chakuro, Buki, Aijiro, and somehow Sami onto the ship to explore, fueled even more by the Committee of Elder’s lack of an explanation. By the time she finds the nerve to fight back, Chakuro and Ouni’s desire for answers has outweighed their caution completely. All Lykos can do is hope to lead them somewhere on the ship with the least amount of guards. Nibi’s so excited he nearly falls off his reed boat from dancing about on the sand. Sami only moans about how much trouble they’ll be in when they get back.
Skylos’ functions have changed since she was on her last tour there. More soldiers than ever before, and with better armour than she remembers.
The worst part though, is seeing Liontari.
His commanders really must hate him, he doesn’t even have armour on his uniform. Liontari’s eyes light up, tackling her right away. “32!” He laughs incredulously, “What are you doing here? Oh crap- are you injured? I thought no one survived the Lykos attack.”
“32?” Sami questions, appearing from behind the wall the group is supposed to be hiding behind. “Her name is Lykos.”
Its only a few seconds later that alarms are blaring, Sami, Buki, and Aijiro are bleeding out on the ground, and Liontari stares at her, betrayed, as she flees with the others back to the Mud Whale.
-
The next time Lykos steps foot onto Battleship Skylos, it’s to kill one of her nation's Gods, as well as her brother’s mission. Her feelings of his permeate nearly every aspect of her thoughts. What he could possibly want with the Mud Whale. What he could possibly want in what's slowly become her new home. Why he hasn’t even given her an explanation as he’d renamed her “sample four” and left her alive, even after betraying their country.
And now she’s lead Captain Tokusa, and so many others, straight into a trap.
Pagoni steps over their dead bodies, hardly reacting to the fact that they are dead and he kiled them. Lykos grits her teeth and draws her knife, hoping for some kind of reaction, any reaction. The soldiers she’d once looked up to as the backbone of the empire now ring eerie and hollow as the battle commences.
Just as she and Chakuro race towards the Nous, Ouni is shot through the leg, slashed across the chest, and stabbed through the leg again once more for good measure. She races back to help him, only to be stopped by yet another legion of soldiers.
She wipes blood from her mouth, letting it splatter on the floor. “Orca won’t be happy with you for hurting me.” Lykos says, not even knowing if it still rings true.
Above them, Nibi pounces, duel wielding stolen swords. He drives their blades through Pagoni’s back, pushing off his form, before diving into the fray. Ouni manages to get up, wiping out wave after wave of soldiers. It’s unpredictable, without even the slightest hint of battle strategy. None of the soldiers know how to react, it’s something they’ve never encountered before.
Lykos manages to knock out a few soldiers, but just when she thinks she’s collected all their weapons, a sound rings through the cathedral. Nibi’s form is skewered, three times, torn apart by three spears at once. It’s so wrong, and twisted, she can hardly comprehend it.
And that's when Ouni snaps, pitch black thymia rising to his skin, the patterns ripping through the world in a storm of fury.
-
She returns to find Liontari missing in action.
And- stupidly, a part of her hopes that the legend about lion’s having an invulnerable pelt turns out to be true. After all, it turned out that Daimonas’ are real. So why not this?
Of course, it doesn’t make the funeral for everyone any easier.
-
The journey to Amonlogia makes her feel nostalgic for a life she never lived. Or maybe it makes her nostalgic for a life she hasn’t lived yet.
The endless rock of the Mud Whale, exploring islands drifting by, taking in the hundreds of unexplainable mysteries of the world, it's everything she could have asked for. Still, Chakuro still hasn’t forgiven her for not telling him about the Curse of Falaina. She hasn’t quite forgiven herself either. Lykos isn’t sure she ever will.
After exploring the Tower of Time, Chakuro asks her to write her own archive so that they can verify each other’s accounts.
It isn’t much, but it’s something.
-
Ouni hasn’t been himself since Miden’s room. Whether it's because of his Daimonas powers, or through intuition, she cannot say, but when she returns to tower three, she talks to him. “You shouldn’t listen to those twins.” Lykos says matter of factly. “They only use ideas as tools for their own agenda. They don’t actually believe a word they say.”
“So what?” He replies from his position on the floor, arm propped up on one of his legs. “Even if they don’t actually believe it, it doesn't make their ideas less true.”
A pause.
“What did they say?” Lykos asks.
He casts a brief glance back at her. “What do you think?” He says, like its obvious.
She takes a small breath. “It doesn’t matter what they said.” Lykos states. “What they said was about a person, not the world. And people change.”
When Ouni doesn’t even bother with a reply, Lykos turns to leave. Just before she exits the tower, she turns back- “Nibi wouldn’t want to see you like this.”
Ouni doesn’t look at her.
-
The United Kingdom of Suidelasia denies their plea for asylum, holding all the Unmarked, including the Committee of Elder hostage. To make matters worse, the Empire is also back.
With Orca.
Everyone clambers for a plan of attack.
Tobi accuses her of planning this whole thing. Of her being a spy. He apologizes immediately after of course, but it does nothing to hide the fact that Orca is here. With another battleship.
As Ouni and Chakuro come up with a plan, Lykos dissolves into darkness.
Her family started this mess. She might as well end it, too.
-
Orca has adopted a new set of soldiers. Young ones, at that. Lykos grips her dagger, peering from above the Amonlogian streets. Before she can even jump down with a surprise attack, her only real chance at succeeding, her hands begin to shake.
She tried to grip the dagger harder, but that only seems to make the tremors worse.
The knife clatters loudly on the streets below.
One of Orca’s jesters looks up.
Lykos vanishes before she can process his familiar face.
-
Most of Orca’s entourage is already dead by the time she manages to get close again, sniped by a nearby Amonlogian soldier. Unfortunately, she was right about Orca’s new jester.
Why why why did he have to be alive like this?
Lykos drops down behind him, clamping a hand over Liontari’ mouth before he can scream. His eyes widened in recognition, his arms slackening. “Don’t scream.” She murmurs to him. “I just want to see Orca. Where is he?”
He scoffs, giving her a sardonic grin. “And what kind of guard would I be if I just let some traitor waltz right up to the head of the Apatheia army?”
She begins to reply, before stopping. “Liontari, where’s my brother?!” Lykos demands.
Liontari just laughs, rubbing his hands along his arms. “He’s not your brother anymore.” He coos, “he’s my brother now. And he likes me much better than you.”
The older boy leans close, his breath hot against her face. “He treats everyone around much better than you do.”
Lykos just swallows, backing away from Liontari’s face. “Good.” She says finally, getting into a sighting stance. “I guess the feeling is mutual then.” Lykos fingers the hilt of her dagger.
Above them, a single drop of rain splatters onto the brick road.
Thymia ignites, Lykos throwing all her swords, Liontari’s sansetsukon wiping them back. She rolls, barely managing to dodge the shattered sword blades, getting in close enough to slash his hair piece. He scrambles back, not used to close range fighters, throwing his whip around her leg as he slams her to the ground. Lykos fumbles to get the weapon off her, using her thymia to hold the hilt of it in place as he swords dive towards Liontari’s hand. She breaks skin, the dull sheen of bare muscle exposed to the rain.
She rolls once more as Liontari sends the fragments of his weapon after her, pelting her with a barrage of wooden splinters. Lykos manages to get away, only to run head first into him, driving one of the left over knife shards from earlier into her chest.
Lykos falls to the ground, legs trembling as her body struggles to keep up with the loss. It’s started drizzling now. She slows her breathing, gritting her teeth as she rises once more. Her hand closes on the knife shard, prying it from her veins, letting it clatter to the ground. “You know, Liontari,” she manages, swords scraping dully against the ground, “for the longest time I didn’t understand you.”
“I thought you were weird.” She continues. “For laughing too loud, for never being able to focus, and then focusing too much. For getting angry. When all you wanted was someone to laugh with you.” Lykos stops, looking up to meet her friend's eyes. “But I’ve felt those feelings now. I’ve been forced to endure even the ones I didn’t want to. And I’m sorry no one acknowledged you.”
Liontari stops cradling his face, turning to look her dead on. His body jerks violently, sending a barrage of swords straight at her. Lykos deflects, moving in close once more. She slams her foot into Liontari’s good hand, jamming her elbow into his neck as both of them crash to the ground. The only sounds are their labored breathing and the rain beating down on them.
The boy lets out a low laugh. “You- you think you understand me?”
Before Lykos knows what’s happening, she’s slammed onto the ground, lungs barely working. Liontari laughs hysterically from above her. “You think you understand because what? You haven’t had your emotions taken away for a few months now?”
He grabs her chin, not letting her look away. “I had to deal with these feelings for fifteen years!” Liontari yells. “And not a single time was I treated like someone deserving of being seen as a person. I was just a thing.” A laugh wracks his body. “I nearly killed myself, so many times, just to see how people would react! And not a single time did I get anything, anything I tell you. So tell me, 32, do you understand that?”
She chokes, eyes wide. “Liontari I-”
“I don’t care!” He yells. “I don’t care. Look at me now! I never needed any of you! Orca adores me! The Head of Apatheia recognized me! I don’t need anyone else!”
Liontari angles his sword at her throat.
A laugh bubbles from his chest. “Do you know what I’ve always wanted?” He asks, hands trembling. “I’ve always wanted to hurt you. To make you pay. Anything. For watching me suffer from the sidelines.” Something salty lands on Lyko’s cheek, mixed with rain water. “You never did anything,” Liontari laughs, “other than look at me with pity.”
He’s not even holding onto her throat anymore. “I hate you.” He says. “I hate you, and Orca.”
It’s all but pouring now.
Thymia ignites along her skin. Lykos yanks Liontari back by the hem of his clothes, grasping her blade as both of them scrape along the palace steps. She uses the momentum to pin him at the bottom, driving her sword inches away from Liontari’s face. She straddles him, planting her feet firmly on his limbs so he can’t move. Both of them gasp, breathing heavy on their skin. Her clothes soak to her bones. Liontari is hot underneath her. “I’m sorry.” She says finally. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”
Lykos throws her blade to the side, grabbing Liontari’s face. “So let me help you now!” She growls ferociously. “You don’t have to go back there! Everyone thinks you’re dead! You can leave! Come away with me!”
A pause.
He lets out a low, pathetic laugh beneath her. “Do you honestly think people could live with the person that nearly murdered them?” Liontari asks incredulously. “I’ve killed people. Even more than you have. Ripped their fingernails off once by one just so I could make them beg.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I don’t know.” Lykos says honestly. “I don’t know but I’ll make it happen. The people of the Mud Whale are too kind for their own good. We’ll find a place for you.”
Liontari still won’t meet her eyes.
She yanks him up by the collar. “Please.” Lykos says. “I’m an assistant archivist now. We have a collection of songs in the works. We have a giant forest in the middle of the ship. We have a black market selling coral and other things stolen from the sea of sand. We have fighters, and rebels, and a song that moves the whole island. You’ll never have to go back to one of those Nous again!”
“I can’t.” He says tightly. “After everything. I can’t. None of you have suffered at all.”
“I know.” Lykos says, hands slackening. She sits up, letting Liontari breathe. “But we need someone that knows Orca’s plans. And I won’t be able to live with myself if I leave you.” She’s shaking now. From her emotions, or the cold, even Lykos doesn’t know.
It takes a minute for Liontari to sit up. They’re sitting face to face, Lykos still pinning Liontari’s lap.
He buries his head in the cradle of her neck.
-
“Well?” Her brother asks. “It’s time for you to pick. Kill me, or watch them die.”
Lykos fingers the hilt of the sword, embellished with imperial gold and rubies.
It clatters to the floor.
“I won’t kill you.” She says. "That's the one thing I'm sure of."