He was so close to the heart of the night that he could hear its beat; erratic, pulsing through the forest like a vein, carried by the winds to the corners of the Box. Direction was no longer an issue to one that was changed—reborn and anew. Luka Sullivan had chosen to kill the human within and abandon its corpse, living only for a single purpose, and that was to keep his promise.

The awareness of that which lay hidden among the shadows was foreign. Yet, it levelled their abilities to a certain extent, his and Reux's, which Luka ultimately perceived as an advantage should there be a dual. A match, decisive.

After all he'd done, death no longer seemed to him an option; only a possibility should Fortune's wheel take an unfortunate turn. And should such misfortune occur, Luka would not have the chance to apologize for being unable to keep his promise.

He's closing in, the voice that surfaced in his mind was, to him, new. Papercrane's warning was calm and collected, quite apart from Victoria's personality. He knows what you're doing.

Shift?

The owl agreed, risking the nausea that she knew was bound to strike after every first flight. Human bodies were not the kind to stand foreign entities, and testing the boundaries of it—accepting the Link by doing so draw closer towards the heart that was not his own—invited a deadly consequence.

For once, his flight was soundless. Weaving over and under the canopies; branches that reached for feathers and skin alike; leaves that rustled as he passed, caressed by the Wind that was strong, still.

He felt it against his heart, closing in like a monsoon and seeking the most of what it could destroy. That which was fragile.

He's past the clearing, heading towards you. Northeast. Perspective was something he had trouble conceiving, identifying and establishing connections between what he saw and what they were—mere outlines and presence translated into physicality and image. The drop between the haze of canopies must have been the clearing.

Luka was beginning to think the match inevitable.

He wants me dead, was what he said to the owl.

She laughed.

I suppose that was what he wanted Slayne to be. But I hope you survive this, Sullivan...I'd very much like to see my nightingale again.

The wind was loud.

For a moment, it masked the presence of another—one fell swoop and the attack was here, initiated from behind in an instant that he could not conceive till the very last second, turning at an angle, uncanny, mid-flight, swerving to the left without a bearing and losing his control over direction as he crashed into the bark of a tree, a dull pain in his back throbbing beneath his skin. Inside his flesh.

The Link was severed in attempt to nullify the pain. Papercrane turned to her Winged and called for his attention, urgent and afraid. Get up. Hurry!

"Sullivan. I didn't know you liked to run," mused a laughter that was carried by the wind. "You look so tired."

Luka could see him now, smiling with eyes that belonged to no human being but that of one who assumed the role of a God, deciding upon which who should meet their end; where ideals were placed on a pedestal so high, understanding and knowledge could never share its place and attain a status worthy of his attention.

Reux observed the presence of a snowy owl—perched above on a low-hanging branch—and lowered his weapon at once. Dark eyes widened in delight.

"You," his laughter was quiet but insane. "Look at what you've done."

They stared at his moment of joy, crazed. "What would Iolani think?" He tapped his blade against the side of Luka's face. "His best friend, fallen as low as his greatest enemy. A cannibal."

Papercrane was not familiar with a mind as silent as Luka's. She could not tell what he was thinking, let alone understand the young man as much as she understood Slayne. Inside, Slayne was never quiet. Where he wasn't thinking, the silence was filled with the song that played within his cage and that itself, provided all the understanding she needed of her Winged.

"I am in love with the tragedy that you've decided to write, Sullivan," the horned owl stared in awe before straightening up. "Would Iolani continue to love you, despite the extent to which you've fallen? Ah, perhaps your desire to live exceeds your desire to retain his affection. Choosing to live without the love of one so important, in fact, the prospect of hatred, even—"

He was wide open.

Luka was waiting for a moment like so, blade in the heart of his palm. He'd recovered from the impact and kept himself out of his attacker's range, shifted twice in an instant and used the momentum gained from take-off to dive at the shrike. His blade sank into Reux's side but the latter dealt a blow to the back of his head in reaction, cursing loudly.

"Greatest enemy? Io does not think so highly of you, Yvone." He retrieve the blade with a jerk and the stench of blood filled the air once again, accompanied by the bated breath of Reux, who had fixed his eyes upon him.

The smell was unbearable to Luka. At once, he felt like throwing up.

Not now, Sullivan. Papercrane made for Reux's Avian, talons raised. He's not done.

The engage was carnal and instinctive, as though stripped of their humanity and forced into a cage where two was too many. All that remained was the concept of survival and rage, fuelled by pain, was key.

Minds crumbled within seconds of the dive, Reux going first for the primary vein at his neck, angling his knee to gut the other and knock him off his feet. The pain doubled and yet another blade slashed but now, the darkness his friend, Luka forced his wrist aside and dealt a blow to his cheek, sending him towards the side in a cry of anguish but the attempt to rise was defeated by a moment of return, swift and deadly.

There was a vial of acid.

He caught the reflection of the bottle at once and shifted in panic. It missed his eyes by a narrow inch, shattering against the bark of a tree to a fearful hiss.

"If only you'd just die," Reux had the gall to laugh despite it all. Breathless. Pain clouded his eyes and for once, he was human. "All it takes to die is a second, my friend. Living takes everything."

The horned owl began to close his eyes, leading the other to drop his guard for, even a bare second or so, that gave him the opening for a shift into his half-form. Luka shifted for a chase, but his reaction lagged behind the former who was already in the sky.

"HE'S TRYING TO KILL ME!"

Luka and his Avian halted in their tracks, landing on a branch that skirted the canopies. The words clicked in his mind and all of a sudden, there were calls of several Nocturnes in the air that responded to Reux's cry for help.

This man is built on lies, Papercrane could not believe her ears. The calls are territorial. I hear some I've never heard before—they might be on his side.

The Wind was loud and Luka felt as though the entire night was under the control of Reux Yvone, one who crafted a utopia that could only exist by lying to no one but himself. Despite so, for people to share his ideals, or at least be swayed by the world of perfection that he'd projected, Luka was not kind enough to understand.

For the very first time, he wished for company that was not Io's. There were others that had begun to understand the workings of his simple cage of silence, and Luka was well-aware of who they were. Once strangers despite their proximity, they had become, to him, acquaintances sharing a common friend.

Vaughn would have known what to do. To have acted on instinct as Abigail and Dmitri seemed to have done, always, was also part of the solution. Yet, trapped by thought and consideration—the very enemy of action—he was still.

Sullivan. Turn back, his Avian warned. Leave him; there is no purpose in revenge. Victoria is waiting and we cannot win against numbers.

He was woken by her voice, grateful.

An immense grief swallowed the creature in his cage all of a sudden as he recalled the way he'd expressed himself to Slayne on many occasions, the countless times they've talked about prey and the way in which they'd differed on their opinions. The emotion needled his chest and rooted itself, a first.

He should have thanked him, at the very least. He should have.

_________________________

Victoria did not like the forest at night. Leaves trembled in the breeze, swaying branches; falling to the earth along with the wind, crickets. These were sounds that did not faze her during the day but along came the night, and she found herself at the mercy of instinct and imagination, creating monsters when there were none.

Hunger.

Silly Luka hadn't eaten all day, foolishly searching for the next tiny striped shell as though his life depended on it and his sanity revolved around the act.

Still, he was alive and that was what mattered most. The pain in her right wing was reduced to a dull ache, numb from the throbbing that returned every now and then. Flight was not an option and hopping back to the creek was the only way she could sate the hunger.

It had been close to a month since she last hunted for rabbit or snake. Human activity delayed the hunger that she'd brushed aside, the ability stemming from Luka's absence of such. But now that he was far and their Link, severed, Victoria could feel the raw instincts of her own replace the human rationality that her Winged once provided.

Alone, she was just a bird.

Victoria?

A voice, unknown, invaded her thoughts and a shrivel of discomfort wormed within at its beginning. The sour twist of her tongue made her retch like a human, unable to conceive the emotion of disgust that seemed so foreign to a creature like herself. I don't know you.

Oh, I'm sure we've met, the voice laughed dryly. Seemingly exhausted.

Before the eagle could respond, the branches and leaves that shrouded her presence parted with a jolt—scaring Victoria into a screech as she jumped back and raised her claws reactively. Good God what in the...

Her right wing, however—stiff and unwieldy—was unable to hold the weight of her momentum and caused the eagle to fall backwards, having lost her balance in an instant. Something caught her.

Skies! Get away from me.

The voice snickered at the back of her mind and a new but familiar presence surfaced as soon as she'd struggled out of their grasp and turned, snapping her head around in fear and shock.

Not so strong in the dark after all, her Winged did not hesitate to comment, a lilt in his voice to mask the rest of his being that was tainted and stained. Corrupted to the ends of the earth, unable to return.

It was him. The shock that came to her in the form of pleasant surprise was uncalled for and discomforting for a first.

Despite the insistence she had displayed in their parting—a seemingly cold and heartless separation without a slither of attachment—his Avian had hoped, shamelessly so, for his return.

Luka! Her head snapped towards the human, alternating between him and the snowy owl. Thank goodness you're alive. And, who is this?

You don't remember me? Papercrane sounded incredulous in her response. We've met many a time.

Impossible, Victoria felt the muscles in her back tense before easing into a warmth. It was unlike the numb chill of the wind that she constantly felt. There's only one snowy owl on the island and we've never seen a—

Her thoughts derailed and came to a stop. It explained the disorientation, the feeling of being split into half; explained the unusual conflict within her Winged and yet it also explained the abnormal rate of recovery which a single glance at his arm confirmed. Inside, Luka was repairing fast.

Did you really?

He averted his gaze. Do you think he'll forgive me?

No.

Yes.

Victoria and Papercrane stared at each other. Who was he talking about?

He was talking about Io, wasn't he?

I thought he was talking about Jiro! The question was vague. Is he always like that?

Actually, yes.

Both turned to him at once. Who were you talking about?

____________________________

The escape was narrow but for now, a success.

For the first time throughout the night, Luka did not feel hunted or at the mercy of another; thoughts collecting without the shortness of breath that was a result of running. Running away.

The east had bloomed into a rosy pink, the shade sweeping westwards towards the tired and the wounded. Although he'd narrowly escaped the hunt, a dull pain remained in its place—pulsing near the sides of his head, temples drilled.

Distance was a concept he felt, all of a sudden, vague and unclear. How much they had been able to put between himself and Reux remained mostly in the dark, and the crevice between his heart and mind widened with every step.

Luka, your face is pale. Victoria looked up from his arms, observing the circles under his eyes that were blank and glassed. You need some rest! Redress your wound at a resting point and change your clothes. The smell of blood is going attract unwanted attention.

He was not in the mood to disagree or show any sign of doing so. Physically speaking, Luka was enough to continue for miles at his current pace as a result of Papercrane's added presence. Avians bore half of a human's physical pain apart from being able to lend them their wings. With two Avians however, that fraction would increase and only a third of the pain caused by wounds and exhaustion would be experienced.

The disease that pulsed in his temples, clouded his eyes and plagued the heart was that of an incurable pain—a wound, deep within, would never heal.

Every frame and every turn of his head saw bone and flesh, blood and knives. His hands, smeared with dirt and grime, were sullied by the image of blood dribbling down his wrists, between his fingers, over his fingertips; holding onto a heart that wasn't his own, never clean.

He thought of Io and everything was erased, the light of the moon soothing the contaminated mind for a mere second before plunging, once again, into the darkness.

Io was not safe.

That was the only thing keeping him alive and driving the movement of his feet, aching and heavy. Should Reux decide to lay his hands on the sole person he lived for, Luka would lose everything at once.

I understand that you wish to get to him before anyone else does, the snowy owl flew ahead and circled above. But rest is a part of the journey as well. How far will you go without it? It is foolish to persevere with our eyes closed.

Another mile. Luka insisted blindly, breath shallow and bated as he repressed the nausea that stirred in his gut. Just one more.

I am unsure as to whether or not I appreciate or detest that you and Slayne are so similar in personality, Papercrane snapped in return, slightly fatigued by the morning light. Now that Luka was both diurnal and nocturnal, his body could not contain the sudden and unnatural change that he'd administered by force.

So its true that there are side effects at first, Victoria was struggling to keep her eyes open. Her senses were oddly multiplied, jumping at every brush of a leaf or crack of a branch despite her exhaustion. They seem delayed. Why is that so?

Papercrane spotted a stream ahead and led them towards it at once. Only Avians who resist the ritual trigger immediate side effects. I accepted him, but the energy inside is unfamiliar and re-establishing multiple Links is giving him a hard time. After all, it's only been a couple of hours.

Luka's first instinct was to wash his hands. Drawing closer to the edge of the stream, he knelt beside it, gentling setting Victoria down on the bank just close enough for a drink. Papercrane inspected his wounds.

The he in the stream was unrecognizable; his reflection stared back, as though it could not identify its owner. The sides of his lips were stained with the blood of his friend, forehead smeared with soil where he'd fallen and eyes of a fish's—dead.

He wanted to drown.

Luka dunked his head into the stream and relished in the feeling of nothingness before breaking the surface and wiping his face, hiding tears and clearing the head that was once clouded. What had he done?

Impermissible. He would not be forgiven; but he was no longer human and there was nothing to forgive, no more. He was going on about forgiving when the concept itself was futile and already in flames for there was no extent of an apology that could level the severity of his deed. Both the mind and heart was shrouded in smoke—so opaque that no light could filter past the cloud and shed its veil upon reason.

Guilt and regret washed over his cage in waves. The destruction was done; there was no return. He would never be the same.

Luka! The noise in his head was affecting both Avians and Victoria turned to him, anxious. You're paler than I thought. Are you having a fever?

He reached up to place a hand over his forehead, then his neck. There was no control for him to compare against. Fever or not, his perception remained without a comparison and thus he shook his head.

You're more stubborn than I thought, Papercrane flew up towards a high branch and observed their surroundings. Victoria. Come up here if you can. I think there's a resting point not far west but I can't confirm it.

It was convenient, having a partner that was diurnal. The snowy owl never liked how Slayne never bothered to train his morning vision under the light of the sun; had he attempted to do so, things wouldn't have turned out this way. Perhaps his windows wouldn't have closed.

She stopped herself. Unnecessary thoughts.

Victoria struggled, clawing her way up the bark whilst propelling herself a little, gliding every now and then. Oh I feel ridiculous! Only squirrels skitter up trees like so—and yes, you're right. There's a resting point not far from here.

Alright, Papercrane nodded, taking off and circling down soundlessly. I'll leave it to you to persuade him.

Ugh! And I thought we'd go for a majority vote and win by numbers, Victoria snorted. All I've learnt from our years together is that Luka's opinion doesn't matter! Let's go.

_____________________________

He saw how he died in a dream—desperate and grieved. His cry was pained, trapped behind a window, muffled by the sound of the Wind and drowned by a darkness he'd attempted to fight against. It was Love. The phrase filled every corner of his soul, armed against the slings and arrows of Fortune raining down from above, carried by the Wind past his windows until they were, at last, closed.

All that remained within was a song.

At least he did not die alone.

*

The nightmare was one that would plague his soul for the rest of his life. Luka woke to the sound of crickets and the chill of the night, unable to differentiate between reality and the dream. For all he knew, death was an experience he'd been through once; the only oddity being that death was often the last thing that anyone would logically experience, alas, without the mind to truly comprehend it for by the time they did, the mind would no longer exist.

Luka, how are you feeling? Victoria was by his side. She'd watched his eyelids shudder and twitch in the heart of a dream; heard the shallow and bated breathing that was characteristic of a fever. The side effects are getting stronger, and you haven't eaten all day.

The eagle nipped at a lone energy bar, provided at every resting point, and dropped it in his lap. Please eat something.

Luka had been sleeping for more than three hours, but the exact time of his collapse was unclear and hence present-time as well.

Physically, he was less fatigued than before, but everything else weighed more than himself and conceiving it all was already beyond him.

But Io was not safe.

He had to go on. He had to carry everything on his back and continue the journey of a path so dark despite its darkness; despite the absence of a light; despite the pain, the grief, the weight—

No.

He couldn't do it.

For Luka to carry on, he had to let go. He already did. The burden of humanity was one that he could not afford to have on his back had he wished to survive and so that, he had given up. What else did he have to leave behind? So many things he wished to forget and let go for the pain was immense and destructive it spread inside like a forest on fire.

Everything was in ruins.

How was his friend able to carry all that fear and grief on his back and yet, stand taller than the rest of the world—fly higher than everyone else?

Yet, Luka understood that it was precisely because he was not Iolani Tori that he loved and admired him so; and to aspire to become the moon was simply beyond him. It did not matter how long or how hard he tried, Luka would never be able to carry out what his companion was able to.

For now, all he could do was keep his promise.

Sullivan! Papercrane emerged from the flaps of the tent, nearly soundless. While Victoria had watched over the resting point during the day, the sun had set nearly an hour ago—leaving the rest of it in the hands of her new companion, a Nocturne. I hear something.

She paused.

More than one.

*

Again, they were running away. The presence of more than one Nocturne was enough to send Luka flying in the opposite direction, and little did he know, into the jaws of the shrike himself. The false cry of murder the night before had framed him in an ugly picture—a position of poor privilege; an outcast.

I'm afraid I cannot resist the temptation of Reux's head any longer, admitted Papercrane as her Winged called upon her to shift. Then again, death is a luxury which I will not allow him to have. I want to see him suffer.

Victoria laughed, gliding behind and slightly below them for support. I remember thinking that myself!

Having weighed the possibility of going against several Nocturnes at once however, Luka made the decision to pull out of combat. If surviving was key to keeping his promise, that was priority. That much, he was able to understand.

Someone's coming our way.

Heightened senses picked up a flock that closed in from both sides and behind and all at once, he felt as though he was being strangled—held at arm's length, lifted above the ground by a pincer.

They weaved through the forest, speeding beyond a limit that they'd once set for fear that stamina might be compromised but now, it was do or die.

The fraction of thought was severed by something that dived from above, splitting the pair into two and forcing them out of balance. Victoria crashed into the bark of a tree and she felt as though her skull had cracked into bits, falling limp and still inside a shrub. Luka shifted out of his Avian's form and they stopped short of a clearing where one sole individual stood in the middle of it all.

Papercrane felt the boil of pain and anguish, deep within the cage of her Winged, overflow at the sight of the most disgusting creature on the island.

All at once, they were surrounded by the eyes of strangers, shadows of the night that Luka could not battle in the darkness, alone; but before thought could present itself and sort emotions he couldn't conceive, the hunt closed in on Luka Sullivan for the beginning of his end.

He was swarmed by three at a go—people who dived for his weapon and then, for his limps. He swerved, ducking and creating space for an opening to challenge the sole individual that sowed the seeds of discord throughout the island for a selfish purpose: his utopia.

Luka rammed his fist into the nearest gut before turning it towards a jaw and shoving the body aside—

A forceful jerk on the back of his jacket destroyed the momentum he had in an instant and Avians flocked around Papercrane, biting at her wings and clawing at her eyes.

When was the last time he'd seen Io? The thought crossed his mind, fearful and sudden as last times were. The last was often desperate; it was the marking of an end, a final draw. Luka felt his the world crumble beneath his feet and soon, he was staring at a broken darkness that shrouded a night full of stars. Had that been the last?

"I would prefer to walk on a path with you somewhere nearby."

The last thing Io had said to him chimed in his head, as though it was the heart of the night and the bell struck twelve.

It was time. Was it?

He felt a blow to his chest, harsh—knocking the air out of his lungs as he coughed, struggling to get a glimpse of the moon beyond the shadows of the canopies above until yes,

he could see it.

Only the moon and nothing else.

It seemed to him as though time had slowed to an eternity so incredible, he could have tracked the movement of a snowflake in the harshest winds, amidst the chaos, a languid peace. Then, he wasn't so sure any longer that it was Time which had slowed for him, but that he was, in actuality, transported to a world that was apart from his own.

He was flowing down the stream

Something was peering down at him—an eye so familiar that he recognized it at once. The Eye in the sky. It appeared to be searching for something. He could tell by its gaze, sweeping the world beneath as he stared up at the sky, looking at the moon.

It searched and it searched and Luka did not know exactly how long had passed until something clicked in his mind and he registered what, or who, the moon was searching for.

It disappeared. First, the stream; then the sky for the canopies had returned and the broken shadows were back but the moon—the moon he could see. Always.

His mind latched onto his final call in the midst of silence: the eagle's call.

Victoria rose to the occasion, knowing what he'd seen and what he had meant by the last. The final. The one before the end. There was scuffling and the sound of bone connecting with flesh and fists connecting with flesh and soles connecting with bones but above all, there was an answer to the question, and the Eye turned to him at once.

I'm here.

________________________________

A/N: *emerges from a pebble* Cuppie is here! Hope you enjoyed this week's chapter. School is coming back next week (my, my! How absolutely distasteful!) and I'll be doing my best to keep the updates going :) 

I'm always talking about Vaughn and Io but the most stagnant character throughout the entire series has been Luka, and there is a reason for this; only so that I can make his impending change a jarring difference from the him before. Luka was the most predictable and easy to write since the first book, and now he seems so much more alive. So much more human. 

His depth is taking shape and I feel like its a good time, probably because him being a control to the changes around him has always been necessary too but now, it is finally his time. 

As always, I aspire to write (to the best of my efforts) every character in that each of them are more than flesh and bone, more than a stereotype, more than (ironically so) a character. 

To make a character more than a character itself...haha, I sure am ambitious. 

-Cuppiecake.