"他们是不可能看到的。"

Jing was right. For if Io and her were indeed of the same tier as sun and moon then surely—yes, she was right to say that they would never come close to seeing Luna, even if they were staring at her very form; directly in her face.

"关妳屁事、" the Merlin snorted, eyes remaining fixed on a completed sheet of arithmetic solutions in which he was about to copy.

The phoenix considered his offhanded vulgarity that she would have—on any other circumstance—ignored. Truth to be told, it served well as a reminder; a warning to mind her own business or she, too, would be roped into the abyss in which Io was fighting. Quite alone, she might add.

She wondered if anyone truly wished, whole-heartedly, for him to be the greatest living Nocturne. It seemed like a title worthy of a divine being and for a tiny human...merely inaccurate. Not only would he, the once sparrow, have to bear a burden heavier than any other; he would have to carry on despite the jarring disparity between his appearance and what others expected of the moon phoenix.

This, Jing thought, was what she herself had been unable to hold.

_________________________

The coronation of Iolani Tori as

the Second Eye

will commence if

and only if the participant is able to

prove,

in way of shifting or of any approved manner,

that he should be worthy of the title and position.

He must,

before a suitable audience

be judged and assessed accordingly,

justly,

fairly,

and appropriately.

___________________________

"Will Iolani Tori please step forward," the announcer rasped with a frown, surveying the row of human beings standing before a silent audience through his reading glasses. He had been eyeing the girl. He thought it might be her—it had to be, really; she was quite the representation of the moon.

And yet the one who stepped forth was the very person he had least expected: a scrawny-looking boy who seemed to him quite underweight, as though a slight gust of wind could have easily swept him away.

His frown severed, replaced by an incredulous smile that appeared slightly mocking. "Mr. Tori?"

The boy nodded quietly. He caught a glimpse of the sky that was darkening outside before returning his gaze to the man.

An unlikely surprise. Perhaps then, explaining the core element of the word for it was, by definition, unexpected. The announcer cleared his throat, turning to face the row he had regarded as the school's core staff before Iolani Tori decided to step forth and falsify his impression. It had been his mistake, really. He should have noticed the incredible smallness of the sparrow's frame and at least singled him out.

Whatever it was, the announcer wasn't alone in his thoughts; in fact, the remaining members of the order appeared equally surprised.

It all seemed...quite absurd.

"Well then," the man continued despite stifled laughs. "What will you be doing?"

Io clearly didn't dress for the occasion. He was in his uniform—which drew an unconscious association to him as prey and further gave the impression that he was a fake. Wasting their time, one of them would have said, but not aloud.

"I...don't know, actually," was all the boy managed to say with a smile that was sad. "I didn't come prepared."

The headmistress rose from her seat at the high table and addressed the boy directly. "Oh please. Spare us the drama and bore someone else with your words," she waved dismissively. "Do hurry."

Beside her, Faustes fumed within. This was not what he spent hours to witness: Iolani Tori embarrassing himself and proving that he was nothing short of an idiot. Rubbish. Of course he was prepared—had he forgotten the hours spent staring at a mirror? However ineffective it was, surely, he had something up his sleeve? Something to surprise; to see and to watch, just like he had, always?

Eyes watched with bated breath, waiting for the performance to begin with a sound—for the curtain to rise.

Io's eyes strayed to where Luna was.

Somewhere along the way, night had fallen in its abyss—drawing the curtains of day and leaving the sun asleep under a blanket of darkness. The rest was a dream; that said, the moon was part of it.

His throat was dry and so he swallowed once. "I know someone who can see it. Luna, I mean."

"Luna?"

"My Avian," he explained shortly, glancing again, at her. "Luka can see her."

He had declared this before the entire student body. One who sat staring back at him with a mind that was blank and a heart that was absent. The collective was cold; but the individual—from predator to prey—there were some who sympathised.

"Hush dear," V laughed dryly. "A single witness cannot in any way ascertain our doubts. Surely, you know that?"

The announcer was losing his patience; in part wondering just how he was to retrieve the time that amounted to this day, lost in preparation of the inspection that was supposed to occur. And yet here stood the core participant—denying their very efforts.

"Be honest with us, boy. We shall not waste our time standing around."

"But I am," he insisted quietly, suppressing the silent scream that threatened to unlock his cage. "Only Luka can."

This however, was far from the truth. A certain vulture understood this best and it was, to him, clear as day that Io was lying precisely because Vaughn, too, could see her. It was a silent appearance— much like the moon that emerged from the curtain of clouds as though waking from her sleep. Luna had appeared without a sound and materialised beyond the tall windows that arched from frame to frame, separating the Avian into three. All the vulture could make out however, was a glowing silhouette that shimmered as he breathed, forming the shape of a bird that looked very much like the fantastical creature he was never foolish enough to believe. A phoenix.

His eyes strayed to the person seated next to him: a female member of the council.

Though her gaze was directed at the stage, there was no indication of a passing light in her eyes or the fact that there was, for all intents and purposes, a moon right before her eyes. It was the closest—the closest Vaughn had ever gotten to seeing something so delicately sublime for Luna was more than a lot to process; and in all honesty, this left him feeling quite intimidated.

He could feel the ground beneath his feet begin to cave, as though the world he perceived had lost the support that dainty pillars used to hold it up.

The light

The light

The light

The light

For a moment, it was all he could see and the periphery of his vision seemed to broaden only to encompass the ethereal glow and

It felt

so real

for he

was false

The light

It crept

Into

His heart—

So dark

But should

he say?

Should he say? Should he?

The power of change was in his hands but Vaughn was never one to meddle—not in the affairs of a human being and certainly not one he should receive no benefit of doing; let alone the affairs of a sparrow.

The choice was obvious. The answer, clear.

His silence prevailed.

"Then you leave us no space for negotiation, my dear," the headmistress shook her head in false disappointment, met by livid sighs from members of the council. "There will be no coronation."

Io realized that he could not identify a single soul from the crowd. It was despite the time he took to scan the faces of the audience—blank with the absence of substance—that he had yet to see a single spark of emotion. As a collective, they seemed still and unmoving; never to be changed. The boy could see no one.

"I can see it."

Someone stood up. Io registered the voice almost immediately but the very first emotion that struck his cage was not one of relief or joy it was fear.

V arched a brow and rose to challenge the storm petrel. "Is that so?"

Vijay swallowed loudly and his heart deafened what he said next. "Yes. Yes Ma'am." He pointed in Io's general direction. "It's over there. Behind him."

It wasn't. Of course it wasn't and the boy himself new perfectly well the sort of lie his friend had the courage to craft. The eagle and the vulture were next to knowing the distortion of truth but neither spoke.

They hid within the shadows with a lie—the lie of silence. A conspiracy.

"It's right there," a girl stood up to direct a clear finger at Io. The hummingbird's account was hardly convincing but it triggered a turn of tables. An oncoming storm.

"I think I see something too."

"It's there alright!"

One side of the hall began to rise and the sound of chairs scraping across the floor heightened the volume of their voices that started to speak in unison—drowning the bouts of silence that had pervaded the early evening.

The sheer number of prey were, at all times, fairly intimidating despite the lack of individual presence which severely crippled any authority they could have had with the advantage of a majority. And yet it was times like this—times where all they needed was a common form of hope; a ground for them to stand so strangely provided by just one person—that this advantage was put to its best.

The danger of chaos closed in like a storm with rolling clouds—dark and imminent. This was the furthest any soul in the room could fathom with a mind so confined within its cage, a skull.

"We all see it."

"It's right there. Behind him—"

"Miss V, can't you see it?"

The small voice triggered a silence that was larger than any storm. Eyes danced, shifting bated attention towards the bearded vulture seated at the high table.

Io turned to look at her. He, who had come so unprepared but with the expectation of a truth so raw and fleshed that this—this clothing seemed awfully intricate; laced with beauty and extravagance. One that the truth was known to lack.

"Liars," the headmistress breathed in feverish fury, her hands clenched into a rock as though ensnared within her grasp was the sparrow's neck. "Liars. ALL OF YOU!"

"I don't think they are, Miss V," Jane said quietly, raising her head for the first time to speak. The announcer realized now the blunder he had foolishly made—mistaking the identity of the girl, the girl who represented the sun to be one of the moon! A terrible, terrible mistake. Immediately, an excuse began to surface and that was her lowered head. He had not been able to see her face.

"And what, Jane," V closed her eyes that were ablaze before directing them at the phoenix, "do you mean by that?"

Jane looked towards her only companion in the sky.

"I see it too."

The silent audience began to whisper among themselves, creating waves that washed upon a shore that was once dry.

"That cannot be," a member of the order turned with a frown, directing his disbelief at the bearded vulture. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Verity," a stout woman from Falrir's order came forth in panic. "Why is it that we cannot see the boy's Avian?"

"This must be some sort of trick."

"Surely, it is."

A stupefied announcer faced the entire school that was in an uproar. An urgency surged through the air with little restrain, flooding the entire room with a strange new awe as they looked up to Iolani Tori. It was all a lie.

How could they not see?

Io himself was afraid of the weight of it. The distortion of the truth was going far and it was weighing on his shoulders as though the entire sky needed some form of support and chose to rest, instead, on a small boy who could barely hold his own mind.

The lie—it was getting far too big.

As though on instinct, his eyes began to search for a source of comfort—a form he could only find in the company of those he kept with the creature in his cage. It was amongst the chaos that he saw Luka, but there were other people speaking to him as well and the eagle appeared to be listening.

Hadn't Io himself been the one who reminded the other to pay attention while others were talking? Hadn't he been the one who taught Luka to be there for others when they needed him?

This was all his fault. Had Io been searching for someone to blame for Luka's strange behavior, it could only be himself. He was the sole perpetrator.

"Perhaps he resembles the phoenix?" The announcer suggested nervously, lowering his voice as he turned to face the rest of the council and his fellow order. "Jane's Avian cannot be seen by the naked eye."

"That would make sense."

"Yes, he is the second Eye after all—"

"Enough!" The headmistress turned to the members of Falrir's order, those that she had purposefully picked for an advantage. "Do you hear yourself?" She laughed dryly. "The sparrow—the second eye?"

A glance over her shoulder sent several into silence. "Rubbish."

Though silent in their reproach, it was clear to V that the future she somehow thought she had in her hands was slipping from her grasp for she had failed to consider an unlikely factor: him. Iolani Tori was an unlikely factor.

He seemed quite alone on a daily basis, with only an eagle for some company and a foolish canary who appeared to her the manifestation of naivety and disgusting joy. There was nothing, if not little two people could do to save their friend from the depths of an order that had come determined to receive no evidence of him as the second Eye. Verity Ann had ensured his future; decided it for him and yet...and yet he continued to surprise.

"This is getting out of hand," sighed Faustes, who felt very much as though he had wasted the past few hours of his day feeling quite anxious over the boy's performance. "What's your plan?" He directed this at the core member of Falrir's order—or, at least, the one that V had chosen to lead.

The man had been silent since the start of the assessment, and it was against the noise that he spoke with clarity, save the shadows that lurked behind his words.

"This calls for further consideration, headmistress. We would like to conduct an inspection on the boy the following evening, and will be requesting permission to monitor his behavior in the day." In the day? Why, that would place the boy in an unfair position but...since when were things ever to his favor?

Faustes swallowed the thoughts that roamed within, declaring an agreement just so that things would end quickly, and that he could get started anew with this foolish, foolish boy named Iolani Tori.

______________________

Vaughn had returned to his room with a cage made of glass.

The world around him displayed its fragility, baring itself to the monster he had contained within so much so that the latter understood the consequences of him losing control—losing everything including himself and destroying the rest that was, already, so vulnerable.

He felt as though the world was just beginning to exist; still at a stage of development in light of how incomplete it seemed because it was so vast and so large. Everything appeared to slow down for the vulture, revealing—for all intents and purposes—the prospect of destruction. One that was caused by his very own hands.

Right now, his world was very, very weak.

He closed the door behind him and slipped off his shoes at the entrance, placing them inside the rack that he cleaned every Saturday afternoon before breakfast. Everything else was where he had left it—the glass of water by the kitchen counter and the bowl of apples on the coffee table. Even the strangely-positioned foldable chair in the middle of the living room.

Everything was in their rightful place. They were in order.

He climbed the stairs still in his socks and uniform, undoing the first few buttons of his dress shirt as he did so in order to hasten the process of his undressing before a shower. The vulture was about to remove his coat when Nox landed on the railing next to him with an odd raise of her neck.

"What is it?"

She was on alert and did not answer, head affixed in the direction of where he was going.

Someone had come in.

A natural flow of events proceeded, beginning first with the freeze before the vulture's heightened awareness and the fear that he could not see well in the dark. Vaughn instantly deduced that the first thing he should do is to turn on the lights in order to rid of the advantage his intruder possessed and yet his overthinking mind had the honor of presenting a perfect counter-argument: it would alert the latter as well.

The absence of direct conflict could have meant that his intruder had yet to notice the vulture's return but the other possibility of him lying in wait remained still in his doubtful cage.

Vaughn produced his pistol.

It was not meant for murder, no. But in the event of a threat to his safety, perhaps he should. It would at least, provide some form of counter measure to whatever weapon that his intruder had and would deter the latter from—

What was that thing in his bed?

The entire situation seemed, all of a sudden, an awful reenactment of the fairytale named after some girl with golden hair who happened to break into the house of three harmless bears. Vaughn had always found the story to have a terrible sense of humor, taking the idea of human intrusion on what was otherwise natural and turning it into a fairytale with a happy ending? Rubbish.

Had Vaughn been the one who dictated the ending, he would have killed the girl.

She was disgusting.

At present however, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and formed the impression of a human-sized bump in his bed, one that took up almost the entire length of it. It didn't take long for Vaughn to put away his pistol and grab a jug of chilled water from the fridge instead. Far more effective.

He didn't need to lift the covers to know the identity of the intruder. The mess of dark hair poking out from the covers that were certainly not long enough for the man gave him away.

Vaughn tilted the jug and poured a slither of water into the intruder's ear. Splashing the entire jug onto him was a waste, and it would only serve to wet the covers of his bed and—HE WAS WEARING SHOES.

ON HIS BED.

"You could have just told me if you wanted to take a shower," the man rose without a single sign of shock or protest written on his face. "Didn't have to pour the damn thing in my face to get me to go with you." All the vulture had to do was take one glance in his direction to instantly regret putting away his pistol. The man stretched and removed the covers as though he owned the bed, and when he finally bothered to open his eyes and look at the real owner of said bed, he did a double take.

"Eve?" The man appeared fairly amused despite the fury that crossed the features of the one he was looking at. "You look...different."

"You slept on my bed," Vaughn was seething and it was in a mere breath that he managed to say this. "You slept. On my bed."

"What happened to your hair?" The man laughed as he rose to get a better view of his step-brother. "You grew it out! And it's fucking...grey."

On normal circumstances, Vaughn would have corrected his naïve and uneducated conversation partner (if he would ever have a proper conversation with any sane being at all) that the color of his hair was, in fact, ash blonde but this—this was a special case. He was beyond white with incense.

"You slept," he repeated in the most collected manner possible (impossible, really, since his bed was his sanctuary and no one—absolutely no one could touch it or even get within a meter close), "in my bed, with your shoes on."

The finality in his tone was able to catch the attention of his brother. "Oh, right. I did." He appeared apologetically amused. If those two words actually went together, at least. "My bad. I knocked out."

"Were you at the sparrow's assessment? How did it go?" God, everything was moving at a pace too fast and Vaughn was not keen on catching up with this good-for-nothing.

He breathed deeply.

"What," he paused to put the jug down for fear that it would crack under his fury, "are you doing here?"

"Your mother invited me," the man reached for the chilled water. "I'm part of Falrir's order, remember?"

"I don't recall that happening," Vaughn snapped with a vengeance, snatching his precious jug away from his intruder's hands. "Get out of my bed, Viktor."

He did, and it took this for Vaughn to notice that his step-brother was not wearing a shirt.

"You took the trouble to take off your shirt and not your shoes?" It was unlike him to raise his voice. But then again, it wasn't as if Vaughn himself had a clear idea what it was to be 'him'. For all he knew, there was no 'him'.

Viktor sighed. "Look, Eve—"

"Don't call me that."

"Okay, okay I won't. I apologize, alright? I shouldn't have done that," he went over to pacify the younger vulture. "We used to do that all the time."

"What?" Vaughn snapped.

"Sleep in each other's beds."

"That was four years ago," Vaughn clarified with the intention of ending this conversation and forcing his step-brother to leave so that he can bathe and wash the sheets—at least return to his routine. This entire conversation was already eating into the time he had scheduled to finish his assignments.

"It's just four years," Viktor reasoned with ease. "And you used to call me by my name."

"I am, aren't I?" The vulture cursed under his breath as he began to remove the covers of his bed and place them inside the washing.

"My other name."

"What does it matter to you?" The younger one groaned, hoping that the distance he had put between them would leave the conversation as it was.

"You were cute back then!" Viktor called after him, but the vulture had already shut the door in attempt to provide a physical form of a full stop in which his brother seemed to have a hard time understanding.

________________________

Io was feeling fairly drained by the time homeroom came around the next day. He wasn't in the right state to meet the people who thought him a liar; and neither was he in the mood to speak to Luka as well. This was rare indeed, and Io was beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong inside of him.

There had been a tension that remained taut ever since that night in the forest. Io wasn't sure if he should assume that their friendship had come to a standstill entirely because of Luka's heat. He looked into himself and found equal fault. After all, it takes two hands to clap—yes. Io would have to do something about this.

"Tori."

The boy stopped in his tracks, pausing to turn. He shrunk involuntarily at the sight. "Professor Faustes...uh." Naturally, Io understood that he had said certain things that he shouldn't have in the midst of the previous evening; done certain things that did not deserve credit.

"I'm sorry, sir. I really am," he began before the lecture could, hoping for a lighter sentence given his taking the initiative to admit his mistake. "I just...it's just that I knew they wouldn't—"

"The council has agreed for Falrir's order to carry out an inspection. They might search your rooms and go through your belongings, but I doubt they would find anything," Faustes interrupted quite bluntly. "Starting today, someone will replace me as a homeroom tutor. He is from Falrir's order, and he will be keeping a close watch over you."

"You have to be on your best behavior."

The sparrow swallowed once before nodding. They were quiet.

"Yes, they wouldn't have acknowledged your rite either way," Faustes sighed. "But does that necessarily mean you should give up? Even if you know that your efforts will go down the drain, does that mean you should let go?"

His eyes widened.

This was it.

This was the wake—the call; the voice of the creature within his cage that Io had not been able to hear.

The boy felt mildly disappointed with himself. How as it that he had forgotten what he had known all along? It was foolish of him to not be foolish. And he needed someone else to remind him! How embarrassing.

Iolani Tori had not been himself and he hadn't known. But now he did, and now—the answer lay clear before his heart.

"No," the boy began to smile, "no—not even if it hurts. I'll never give up."

___________________________

A/N: Look at this neat new character that we have! *Viktor pops out of box* :D His full name is Hwang Jae-min Viktor and yes he is half Korean :') Vaughn's mother remarried about 5 years ago, and Viktor was already born then so Vaughn and Viktor became step-brothers. It's amazing how many faces Vaughn has. In front of strangers, he's so sweet it becomes poisonous, and in front of those who know the side of him that is dark and weary, he loses the mask and puts up a final defense, trying to build a wall between him and the other so that they will not come closer to hurt him.

Perhaps this is because he has been hurt before and realizes that being vulnerable will not bring any good to him, which is why he remains closed up. We know however, that Vaughn has another face in front of his mother, and this brings us to the theme of familial relations :> let's see how Vaughn shall fare.

On another note, the title of this chapter is The Emperor's New Clothes, and the ceremony in the evening embodies just that. The weavers in the story spins a lie that the new suit they make for the king is invisible to those who are stupid or incompetent, in order to punish the king for his arrogant and condescending nature, humiliating him in public when the commoners realize that the king is not wearing anything at all.

In Io's case, it is the opposite (the council claims that they cannot see Luna, and the collective claims that they can. Here, the good are lying)—and yet, there is still a prevailing lie that exists.

Should we lie in order to punish the bad?

Is honesty always necessary? Why is it considered a virtue?

Should the good always be honest?

Here it is. A children's story that features a lie. A lie that is good.

Unfortunately, this isn't the main point of the story. The main point of it was that the King himself lied that he could see the suit, and that he got what he deserved. No one really notices that this all—this entire punishment—had to begin with a lie itself.

The truth remains however. The fact that only Luka, Vaughn and Pipa can see Luna is not a lie. Then what is it that the prey and Jing see? What do they see—well they see the light in Io.

Precisely, the light that others cannot see; his strength inside.

-Cuppiecake.