Philip woke up with a groan that he immediately choked down out of habit. Noise often led to unneeded trouble.

If he was to say what had bothered him first, the unbelievable pain or how comfortable he was, he would choose the latter.

Pain was something he was used to but this was different. The feeling reminded him of the time his grandfather had told him about heaven and hell, the places he had never thought existed.

It had been a new concept. That when souls departed, according to their deeds on earth, they were rewarded—or punished—with an afterlife, either to be free in a city of clouds or to drown in a lake of fire, for eternity.

Maybe I have died and this is my afterlife? The one the Order claimed didn't exist. That was the first thought that fluttered into existence in his now conscious mind.

He had to admit it, a life of pleasure did sound enticing. . . According to the Order, being assimilated into the Code would either be painful or numb. That was the one thing he didn't like about what the Books said regarding death.

But Issac. The new thought forced his eyes open, forming another idea in his mind, one he had almost forgotten.

What was an afterlife without a purpose? How ironic would it be if he had died the moment he just caught a glimpse of happiness?

Philip was tempted to banish the thought and accept his fate but the nagging feeling that he would regret it stung him painfully, hurting more than than the hole he knew was in his chest.

As he kept his eyes open, soft rays of orange light flooded his gaze, not startling enough to blind him but bright enough to show him where he was—on a cozy floor, surrounded by warmth.

If this was heaven Philip wouldn't doubt it one bit.

It had been so long since he had been this warm. It was like being swaddled in layers and layers of blankets and yet he felt nothing around him. The heat tickled his skin and somehow dug into his bones at the same, making him feel fuzzy from the inside out.

Comfortable was an understatement.

The other thing he noticed, once his brain fully registered his unnatural warmth, was his naked chest.

He was shirtless.

The situation hit him like a ton of bricks. If he didn't have his mask then how was he breathing?

The fog. . . Where is Issac?

"Glad to see you awake," a soft voice spoke from above him and Philip finally shifted his gaze from his uncovered torso.

What he saw was a boy. With long locks of blonde hair framing a tender face he couldn't quite focus his gaze on, Philip pegged the child to be in his fourth quarter—no older than twelve.

"Where is he. . ." The messenger tried to speak, but his words broke off into silence, his throat sore and pained.

The boy rolled his eyes, as though expecting the unasked question, and took a step back to reveal Issac asleep in a corner. "As soon as you can walk, you should leave. . . both of you."

When the child had walked away, moving further away from where his gaze could reach, Philip took comfort in the rise and fall of Issac's chest.

Then he too drifted away into unconsciousness, his body too tired and mind too content to question why he was so warm and far away from the forest that haunted his dreams.

†

Edythe stared at both men with a frown and Esau watched her like he normally did when he had nothing better to do.

"Do you suppose they are good friends?" she asked her brother as he stepped away from the one they had surrounded with blazestones.

Esau turned to her and shrugged as he threw another lazy handful of herbs into the pot of bubbling black brew. Once it turned transparent it would be done, that was how it was supposed to work. But two hours of waiting had started to draw on the boy's patience.

"They don't resemble each other, so they can't be siblings. . . I think." he answered dully.

"They seemed awfully concerned about each other. . ." his sister dragged her words and tilted her head towards the soldier that had woken up first. "He said he would do anything."

"Ever wondered why they were in the forest in the first place? Who shot them with the arrow? Why did they come to Lacau?" Esau asked, pausing to take in a deep breath as he replied her statement. "He could have lied."

"How am I supposed to know if he lied or what they're doing here?"

"Then why are we helping them?"

One of the soldiers stirred and Edythe froze, only letting out a sigh of relief when the man showed no signs of waking up.

Esau was tempted to shake her, to get rid of whatever fear held her back when she was around people, but he didn't. It would be pointless.

He had never seen her talk boldly in front of anybody other than their parents and he doubted she ever will. That was the reason he decided to drug the soldiers and keep them asleep.

Once they woke up the usually silent Edythe would be back and despite him not wanting her to change, Esau would still miss the sister that voiced her opinions.

"These soldiers are from the capital, we are going to the capital." she said, with a tone that begged Esau to argue.

"What? Since when?"

"Since now."

Esau scowled at his sister then sighed in resignation. "This was your plan."

"It was."

"What changed then?" The boy shifted away from her and dipped his finger into the paling liquid that filled the pot. Despite having expected it, Esau was still shocked at the coolness that met his hand.

"Someone was watching us."

Esau pulled out his finger, slick with a fine coating of what he hoped was the antidote, and touched it with his thumb. His brows drew down in concentration as he thought of what to say next. "The man in white?"

She nodded and turned her back to the unconscious soldiers, a frown pressed against her lips as stared at her brother.

He couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking about.

"You were going to trade him to the soldiers?" he asked. "To ask for help?"

"If it came to it. . ."

"Then we're lucky these two idiots came along," he forced a laugh, "aren't we? Ransom waiting to be cashed."

When Edythe laughed along, Esau used that opportunity to shove his finger into her mouth. His eyes met hers in a steady stare that dared her to move.

"M-mh." She looked at her brother in surprise as he pulled out his finger and held it in front of her face with a small smirk, all the seriousness in that moment gone.

"The antidote is ready," he announced with a thin smile and wiped his hands on his shirt. "Now, give me your finger."

Edythe glanced him over with a suspicious glare and took a cautious step back. "Are you going to stick it into your mouth?"

"No," Esau grabbed her hand. He pulled her closer and held up her pinky, "what gave you that silly idea?"

Edythe would have replied his amused grin if not for the prick of pain that ran through her arm. She glared at the pin in her brother's hand then at the drop of blood rising from the tip of her finger. "Really, Esau?"

Esau only smiled and inverted the jar by his pestle over her hand, his gaze careful and carrying a hint of worry.

The girl watched on, silent as a thin wisp of yellow floated above the red on her finger and hit the bottom of the glass container. She held her breath as it vanished, disappearing almost as soon as it came. "It's beautiful."

"I know." Esau hurriedly pulled the jar away then wrapped a thin strip of bandage over the pinprick in one quick motion.

"What does it mean?"

"How are we getting to the capital?" he asked back, easily evading the question.

Edythe sighed and picked at the bow Esau had tied with the bandage. "I don't really need this, I've stopped bleeding."

"Hey," he grabbed her by the shoulder and her eyes landed on him, "you know that if we go with soldiers I'll never hear your voice again."

Even though they both knew he was was exaggerating, Edythe still swallowed hard and dropped her gaze to the floor. Her guilt washed over him like the tides of a raging storm and like the first time he saw her golden eyes he knew that she was hiding something.

"There is a teleportation pad in the basement of our house. . ." she whispered. "Pa uses it to get to the capital."

Esau let go of his sister and tried not to seem hurt.

We both have things to hide. The thought hit him with a burst of relief and somehow made him feel less guilty about making her cry just hours ago.

"Really?" He fiddled with his fingers, eagerly directing his attention elsewhere. It was best not to pry further. Some secrets were meant to be kept. "We'll have to go deep into the forest to reach that clearing."

"If the secret passage hadn't collapsed we would have gone there long ago," Edythe said. "I didn't tell you because we couldn't have gotten to it even if I did."

Esau's mind flashed to the dog-like monster that now patrolled the perimeter of what used to be their house, then to the hidden door in the corner of the workshop—the one he had never gotten to open that day.

"That's why we need the soldiers." It struck him like an epiphany, but it wasn't. A part of him had known all along.

"It would be be the safest way to go to the capital," she answered, her voice now strangely distant.

"Why the capital though?" Frustration fueled her brother's voice and he fought not let it affect his rationality. He needed to hear her say it. "Why not East? It's closer."

"Pa said we should choose." Edythe shut her eyes as though she was in pain. She moved away from Esau.

"Choose? Choose what?" He waited for her to explain.

"Where to go, who to save." She let out a breath. "East or North, one of the nations will fall sooner or later. The fog. . . you once said that someone should do something about. We can do something about it."

"What?" Esau took a step back. Stunned, he tripped over his strewn boots and fell to the ground.

"We can't do anything about it," he shook his head, "we can't even leave this stupid town on our own."

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, I wasn't supposed to. . . Not when we're still here," she paused for a moment and pushed a stray strand of her hair between her fingers. "You need to tell the story. Pa told me to tell you that before he was. . .gone. And I know other things, things that you don't."

The room descended into silence.

Eythe stared at the floor while she waited for her brother to say something. And Esau understood that she wasn't done yet.

He didn't bother asking her what she knew. If she didn't tell him now then it wasn't important. It didn't matter.

Protect your sister, his mother's voice said in his mind.

"Tell the soldiers the story?" he asked slowly, trying to understand.

Because from what he understood, whoever he told the story to would be the one to survive this entire thing.

But how could he choose between their home and the place they were born, their family's home?

"No," Edythe shook her head, "you need to tell the minister. . . of North."

Esau's mind went blank for a moment.

If East fell then the world would go hungry. But if North was wiped out then it would be a global disaster. If the South-West alliance was destroyed then the earth would crash to a stop.

How can I choose?

"I won't." Esau stared at her with steely eyes. He couldn't do it. He couldn't choose how people died. He couldn't pick who got to live.

He should need to.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He looked at her in surprise. "You're not going to argue?"

"I'm tired." She got down on the floor with him and laid her head on his shoulder.

She closed her eyes. "I'm tired of secrets, and I'm tired of us fighting. . ."

"Me too."

"I don't know the story and you can't tell it to me," she told him, her voice barely a whisper. "You can tell the minister, his mind is like yours, perfect."

How do you know that? Esau raised an eyebrow even though he knew she couldn't see it. He didn't ask though, because realized that it didn't matter. He trusted her.

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. "Are you afraid of forgetting it?"

"No," she shook her head into his chest. "I'm afraid of it being taken away from me."

"Is that why you were crying?" Esau asked even though he already knew. "Because of the memories you lost?"

She didn't answer immediately, but after a while she wrapped her hands around him. "Nothing that's broken can ever be the same. . . even when it's fixed."

"Edythe."

"I'm broken, Esau." Edythe said quietly. "I've changed."

Esau didn't say anything, he just held her. Sometimes silence was better than words but he wished she could just open her eyes and see that it didn't matter. All the secrets didn't matter.

He stared out the window of the workshop and watched the faint glimpse of what should have been a sunrise. A sun that three months ago, he took for granted.

The sight inspired him and now he knew what to say. It wasn't something Edythe might want to hear. He didn't like the thought of it either, but. . .

"Everything changes. And we changed to survive. We'll change again tomorrow and there is nothing we can do to stop it. We've never actually been the same, Edythe. Nobody is the same."

"We change with every second that passes?" She lifted her head and looked at him, her eyes sad, bright and golden. "I don't know about that."

Esau ignored her skepticism. "And we're broken by each new thing we face."

"But we're together."

"That's all that matters," he concluded.

Together they turned out the window and watched the fog swallow up any remaining trace of orange light in the frosty air. The only hint of a sun disappeared from the sky, blotted out by the milky white.

After a while Esau spoke again, his voice steady and tone resolute. "I've got your back, Eddy, always. . . I'll tell the story, not for North or East, for you."

He had promised her that she would see the sun and the stars again, even if she couldn't remember, and he wasn't about to break another promise.

North, East, South and West. If their father had wanted them to really choose he wouldn't have asked them which nation they loved more. The real question would have been whether they had the guts to save the world or something philosophical like that.

Esau was too sober to spare a laugh. His parents were probably dead and he was thinking about them like this.

"Esau," Edythe tugged at his sleeve and broke his train of thought. "I've been wondering. . . Do you think Ma and Pa are the reason the fog is here?"

She didn't need to say it. It already made sense.

Their mother was the one who grew most of the forest that all the beasts were hiding in, and the plants there were the only ones that had survived the fog.

Their father had left Lacau two days before the attack but suddenly came back the moment Edythe had died to tell Esau a story about a world that shouldn't exist, the world that Alun probably came from.

All the facts fitted together like the pieces of a well-crafted puzzle, like everything they had ever done was all for the purpose of leading up to this exact moment.

"This is a game, Edythe," Esau finally said, unsure of how else to put it, "a game we have to win."

†〰†

This chapter was long coming. I hate how disjointed it feels (to me). But I can't really put it any other way except if I start from scratch. I cannot overemphasize how not-normal the twins are. Edythe hasn't told Esau what happened with the man in white, and Esau still hasn't said a word about the story. Remember the story?

Elton and Harriet Yong seem to be horrible parents. But do you think there's a reason the twins adapted so well to being alone and trapped with monsters?

Question of the chapter

Do you think Edythe and Esau's parents are using them in a game? What does Esau mean by the word 'game'?