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Arc F1.8 | Chapter 18: We Run

✮ ✮ ✮ Cravena ✮ ✮ ✮We run like fire, shifting through the streets. It feels as though it has been mere moments since our groups split, like sparks escaping the flame that would be Hwris’ slicing fury—although, does that man feel fury? I think not—no, his violence is nothing but a cruel normalcy.

We cannot allow him to reach his blades of air through us, nor allow his winds of suffocation to surround us.

Thus, we run.

✮ ✮ ✮ Izurial ✮ ✮ ✮

I warned, bracing myself to poke my head around the corner and check that the coast was clear. Had Cheska already assured me that no one was around, save the people lingering within the various buildings? Yes, but who knew if any of those people were peeking into the streets and liable to attack us.

Behind me, Cheska bounced on her toes, glancing this way and that—she had always been a ball of motion, and while she’d managed to pull some of that chaos within herself because we were in the middle of a crisis, it was starting to get to her. As a result, she was starting to get to me—this entire situation was, and while I knew it wasn’t intentional, a few times she had spoken in those moments when I was risking head to scope out a new path for us to take. Scared my heart straight into the ceiling.

There had been glares.

There had been the girl apologizing.

Now, there was me reminding her to not speak—or worse, touch me—while I was so tense. As much as I had little training with my core, Vtraní had occasionally brought me into their room for an evening, both to allow me some respite from the holding cells and aid me in learning to use my core. It was by no means something they themself were skilled with—their ability to nullify most core abilities meant their own ability to utilize their core was minimal—but they had been able to teach me the basics, for use in emergencies.

For as terrible as much of my life had been, I had rarely been forced to use my core in an emergency, but there had been a few times.

The one that stuck in my head the most was the time I had been to another group leader for an evening by Fräthk. Looking back, I now realize Fräthk always suspected that madwoman was liable to try and kill me—that Fräthk had been expecting her to maim or kill me, giving them the opportunity to take revenge on her group. Instead, her knife had slid over the flesh of my thigh—a scar that still remained today, gnarled and twisted—and slipped towards my flaccid penis. Apparently, for as much as my silverstrain genetics inclined my body to enjoy kinks, some mixture of the blood, knife, threat to my body, and legitimate fear had been doing it for me.

One moment, the knife had been pressing close to the base of my penis, the next, BOOM! Direct core attack. There had been a lot of blood and gore and brain matter after that—apparently my core was quite powerful; who knew? Thankfully, Fräthk had been fine with my killing the woman—although, perhaps if they hadn’t been, they might have killed me.

Sometimes, I have thought death and freedom from this life would be better, but now? With the possibility of freedom looming so close?

Now, I’m quite glad I at least have the chance to try to escape this life.

Still, I’d rather not accidentally blow Cheska up with an accidental, direct core attack if she touches or speaks to me when I’m so tense.

I murmured, seeing nothing overly wrong with the street, although I would prefer to get out of an area so controlled by Fräthk—or at least slip back into an alleyway, at the very least. Really, what we need is to meet back up with the other groups—Cravena and Renton, and even Cordk and the nameless teenager, have far more combat experience than either Cheska or myself.

✮ ✮ ✮ Renton ✮ ✮ ✮

My father’s voice pulled through my mind, and I tried to let it settle within me, the same way I had been letting it do so since I was first given to him, back when I was so small I can barely remember what life out in the is like.

Usually, my father’s voice could reach me. Currently, it was a bouncing thing, pressing against my defences before shattering away—a lost thing, fluttering out into the world, and I didn’t want it to be like this. These could be my last moments with my father—I wasn’t stupid enough to not know that, were someone to threaten us, my father would gladly give his life for my own. It was as solid and immutable a fact as it had always been, since that first moment we met, this ancient man—at least to my young eyes—smiling down at me and claiming me as his own.

With my parents gone, what did it matter if someone else claimed me?

From that moment on, I had always known my father would die protecting me, but despite the occasional argument with our guards or scuffle when I had been forced out on a job, this situation was by far the most dangerous we had been in. Both my father and I were valuable for our abilities, but neither of us were so valuable that Fräthk’s loyal would risk themselves to capture us anew.

Instead, they would kill us—kill my father while he gave me a few seconds to run.

To leave him behind.

To save myself.

To continue living without him.

I couldn’t remember a time when I had lived without him.

Fearing I might stumble and drop the old man, I swerved into an alleyway to glare down at my father, cradled in my arms. Frail as he was, bulky as I was, it was no great burden to , as he’d put it. He’d joked about my affection for Cravena back when I first heaved him into my arms as well, in those moments when we had slipped out of the courtyard with the aid of Porsq’s abilities.

As much as I’d never trusted the boy much, he had strained himself for our sake. Would I want to live in the same space as the preteen again? Absolutely not—living in such proximity to someone capable of twisting a mind so profoundly was not enjoyable. While the boy had never obviously used his abilities on us, we all suspected he did occasionally—all knew that, occasionally, he must have been pushing our distress with our lives to the side, in order to give us a little peace.

It was kind.

It was not his place to do so without permission.

It was something I would rather not have to worry about again.

I scolded the old man in my arms, glaring down at his smiling visage for a moment before lifting my eyes once more, disinclined to glare at my father too long, lest someone happen upon us while I was distracted.

the man teased. In my peripheral vision, I could see the man smiling at me yet more before shifting his own gaze to the alleyway.

We were, rather unfortunately, very lost. As much as the spire, visible on many streets, looming in the distance, set a direction for us, I had been hoping to come across two of the other groups by now. Originally, I had circled back in the direction of the streets both Cravena and the teenager, and Izurial and Cheska, had taken. There was no sign of them, and I was unsure of what to do: continue searching or head towards the spire and hope they were to be found along the way, or at the Baalphorian Embassy.

While I had little faith in the embassy offering us aid or shelter, my father insisted, and the reality that the other groups might be heading there as well…

my father asked, apologies written through his voice—he knew I was worried for everyone in our group. Yes, I was glad to be rid of Porsq, but I didn’t want anything to happen to the child either. Yes, I was more worried for Cravena than anyone else—I had a crush on the woman, okay? I doubted my affection would ever be returned—perhaps when we were still trapped in the holding cells, with so few people to entertain our affections with, but certainly not if we managed to escape this city, this nation.

Still, I worried for her.

Still, I nodded to my father, sending one last glance around the area—one last burst of what awareness I had for the aether, searching for any sign of others lingering in the streets.

There was no one, and I turned, beginning to shift through the streets towards the spire and the unknown of the Baalphorian Embassy.

✮ ✮ ✮ Cravena ✮ ✮ ✮

We run like fire, and the nameless teenager talks like rain. Their—no, —voice is like a thousand pricks of the rain I barely remember from my time before Fräthk. The soft pitter-patter of flecks of life from the sky. I have stood within showers and sprinkles, but that artificial spray is nothing compared to the solid press of the universe’s life onto oneself.

The teenager’s voice is like that: something lively and cooling, all at once. It sets things to growing, drowns out other things in turn.

she was currently laughing, the sound not quite matching the girl she wished to be—some trans people were fine with a million different things, distressed by a million more, and the girl had already told me in her droplets of opinions and words that she was not a fan of her voice.

she had said back when we first began to run through the streets, zigzagging through buildings as quickly as we could—our path was by far the closest to both Hwris’ location and the holding cells as a whole.

Hence, we needed to move.

As two people Fräthk often forced out on missions, both of us were far fitter than most other members of our original group—save Renton, and possibly Olivier. Thus, racing through the streets while chatting was no great burden. Unfortunately, we had quickly run into another of Fräthk’s loyal—they had been quickly burned to ash, but not before hinting to us that others would be upon us soon.

So, after roasting the man, we had turned and begun to run the other way—clearly, we didn’t want to be where Fräthk’s people were searching. Of course, this had required us to take a strange path through the city, and in the end, rather than risk heading back to the courtyard and circling directly around the other side of it towards the spire and the Baalphorian Embassy, we instead chose to head into another area of the city which was not controlled by Fräthk.

Essentially, we had retreated towards the courtyard, but went further still. Our path would be longer, but as Hwris had likely informed others of the strange occurrence in that courtyard, Fräthk’s loyal would likely be focusing their search efforts there.

The area we now travelled through may not have been directly controlled by Fräthk, but it was both controlled by one of their allies and directly between areas Fräthk did control. So, we had to remain vigilant—there could easily be members of Fräthk’s loyal using their area to surge towards the holding cells and the courtyard.

Porsq, after all, was not a creature Fräthk would be happy to lose.