A/N: As promised, an update as fast as lightning! Hehe. Enjoy! The next update will come on Sunday/Saturday as usual ^^

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The darkness was not something he was accustomed to. With bated breath, the eagle squinted his eyes and did his best to make sense of the shadows that weaved in and out, crafting patterns of uncertainty that plagued his mind and sullied the heart.

Very often, Luka Sullivan was accompanied by the light of his very own moon—one that was not afraid to be different in the face of a darkness so complete and undisturbed. The eagle himself was apart from the strength that he'd witnessed thus far. Following, choosing the light was one thing. Being it was another.

Minutes later, he came upon a familiar-looking tree that he once crossed, having examined its roots for any sign of Io's trace. The distinct stripes of a sunflower seed however, was nowhere to be found and this could only mean that Luka had combed every spot within a ten to twenty-meter radius of the last shell he'd spotted—to no avail.

Are you sure about this? His Avian asked for the third time, unable to fathom his blind determination of pressing on. We've been going around in circles for God-knows-how-long, searching for the next sunflower seed in the middle of the night! Luka, do you need to be reminded of your poor sense of vision under the absence of light?

Victoria landed on a low branch, coming close to smacking her head on the trunk of another tree. You're diurnal for fuck's sake! Oh, did I use that correctly? I hope I did. Knock some sense into that empty head of yours.

Luka had resorted to weaving through the undergrowth by crouching low and parting it with his hands, scanning every leaf and blade of grass that could have unintentionally hidden the shell of a sunflower seed.

Io's counting on me, said the eagle who could not afford anything other than a simple response. It was, after all, a key aspect of his character. Unbeknownst to him, however, was that this very simplicity of his thoughts would soon prove detrimental to his sanity.

What could have remained a mere promise would become the key in which the simple desperation to keep it, turned—unlocking the creature within and commencing its rampage.

A destruction of his humanity.

Victoria landed on the earth beside him and parted several ferns with her beak, searching despite the series of complaints she'd made over the past few hours.

Sure thing, Luka. Go ahead. Don't even stop to consider the possibility that he just ran out of shells, she quipped sharply, unable to pause her daily dose of sarcasm.

At this, Luka stared. He blinked twice at the root he was inspecting. Oh.

His Avian turned to him with a snap. You can't be serious! Haven't you considered that hours ago? With a single beat of her wings, she flew to perch on a branch that was higher up. Excuse me, the last I checked, I was the one with the bird brain. Perhaps by some awful miracle, we managed to swap minds and you are now my Avian while I, the Winged.

It's not like I know how many packets he brought along, reasoned Luka.

He did not sound very defensive in his head, but neither was he careless enough to let the matter slip through his fingers without a stand. A solution had to be drafted; and most preferably in the shortest time possible.

It's not like I know how many packets he brought along, mimicked Victoria with a surprisingly human-like roll of her eyes. What, do these packets also magically never run out? Does it somehow produce an infinite number of sunflower seeds for Io's consumption? Get one of those infinity fridges for me, like. I'd like a never-ending supply of rabbit flesh please.

Luka did not bother to provide a response to his Avian's usual bouts of passive-aggression, complete with sprinkles of salt and sarcasm.

He sat on the thickest root of a tree, cold and weary. With a newfound perspective to consider, he wondered if Io had the same, original plan in mind. The sunflower seeds were not part of it, in the very first place. At least not part of the plan that he'd relayed. Which segment remained and which, cast aside?

If Io was on his way to the arrival gate, then Luka would have spotted his light from afar (he'd recognize that light even in his dreams, with his eyes closed). What time was it? There was no watch on his wrist and the only indicator of time he could possibly have was the moon in the sky. Alas, the latter was shrouded by the shadows of the trees that towered above, leaving the time of the night unknown.

In the height of faith, he could only hope that his friend was safe. The distance between them allowed for personal space, in which Luka soon found that he didn't know what went on in Io's mind very well.

Was he supposed to? Granted, he'd spent the most time with Iolani Tori. Logic would have presumed that the extent to which he knew the other was, at the very least, more than everyone else. Yet, he had not the confidence to confirm such a broad and unlikely conjecture.

Crack.

Luka snapped in the general direction of the sound, quiet and still. Lessened eyes caught no movement in the distance—only the sway of the leaves ravished by the wind at night. He waited longer, just to be sure.

The shadows above were sinister and dark, blocking every beam of moonlight from filtering through and reaching his heart.

Crack.

It did not sound to him like branches. Luka could have sworn they were akin to the sound of cracking joints. Or were they bones?

He brushed the thought aside and drew his dagger, laying in wait. Victoria remained perched above, head turned in the same direction as she braced for an attack—tensed.

A moving shadow.

That was all they could make out for the night was far too dark for any diurnal and all they could rely on was the remaining senses that were, as of now, severely muted by exhaustion. He was confronted by a form, shapeless and dark, breathing only wisps of smoke that coiled and wrapped around his being.

The shadow was in his way and Luka slashed his blade in a careless fashion but it was within an instance that the shadow morphed, disappearing into the darkness that surrounded him entirely.

There was nothingness for a moment, save the beat of his heart and the shortness of his breath.

Then, it was behind him.

_______________________

For all intents and purposes, he did not intend for this to happen.

The intended act had lost its bearing even before the question was asked; derailed and awry, the trolley had not direction and will to carry out the intentions of its owner, lost to the slings and arrows of Fortune—the workings of an entity beyond himself.

What Iolani Tori had intended would remain locked away in his cage, known only by himself and Reux. The truth of his weakness laid bare and unclothed, revealed by the question and the subsequent answer he was forced to give: the boy was as selfish as any other human being, unable to resist the temptation of saving their beloved.

Then, he had assumed the answer to be painfully obvious and the question, awfully simple. Classes of ethical theories, despite having a logic of their own, converged at the very same answer—the right choice. The five.

When put to the test, Io had failed.

He did not choose what was right. Selfish desires; the ambition to change what seemed to be inherently fixed—destiny itself—unable to accept a future set in stone; selfish, selfish, selfish, selfish

Self.

Light had fallen upon the darkest corners of his cage and the boy who was once so obsessed giving everyone in the world an equal space within was now forced to question this belief. There were some people in the world he couldn't live without.

This, along with an analysis of the tragedy that had unfolded before his very eyes in a matter of seconds, would bring him to greater heights.

One, he chose to save Luka. Two, he hadn't stopped to consider the possibility of a broken lever. Three, no one ever did consider that possibility in all of philosophy. Four, it was broken. Five, it being broken made it look as though he'd saved the five.

In fact, his selfish intentions could very well go unnoticed by the rest of the world—rest of the world save Luka, who was now going to die—who could not read his mind; could not be at all places at once and hence see or hear the real decision made; who was not him. Io would be celebrated as the hero who'd saved the five and made the heroic sacrifice of his beloved and henceforth live the rest of his life in pain and anguish.

Worse, Luka would never know that he'd chosen to save him. He would meet his end without this knowledge of truth, perhaps thinking that in the end, no one really cared about him at all.

He would expire alone.

This was not what he had intended to happen. This was far from what he intended at all. Yet, the results—as though having a will of its own—deviated, and the cards were played. He had lost.

Although Iolani's intent had been clear and distinct, there remained a truth shrouded by an odd complexity, dark and obscure.

Had he really saved the five when he'd chosen to save the one?

Clearly, there was a disjunct in the logic. A crack in the glass.

This was where intentions and consequences lay apart. Will and result; purpose and end did not necessarily speak the same language. How was one to determine what was right when in reality, the truth of purpose, will and intent would never be known?

*

Iolani Tori screamed at the gate that was closed, drowning in pain and anguish—feeling as though the tragedy was renewed and he was destined to be more alone than he already was. An hour had already passed when he'd finally found the strength in himself to express some form of external grief, alone in the middle of a field that was wide and empty.

The medical tent in the distance seemed, all of a sudden, miles further than it really was. The world was apart from himself.

He fell to the earth and lay on his side, staring at grass, observing each blade before his vision blurred and he was observing no more. The creature within throbbed in pain but everything else remained hollow and numb, unable to act on the will that had once burned brighter than any flame.

Two hours of waiting, two hours of thinking, felt more than an eternity. Io understood this on a personal level. The true enemy was thought itself, brewing within, quiet and unnoticed.

In a minute, he had asked his Avian how long before the gates would open again. Exhaustion weighed upon his shoulders but the rigour of thought kept his physical being from shutting down. He waited, knees to his chest, head buried in his arms. He waited.

*

"Boy, what are you doi—"

The sentence ceased as soon as he looked up. Through unwilling eyes, he took in a bespectacled official, who in one hand clutched a clipboard and a quill in her other. He looked away.

"You're! You're that sparrow," said the official in disbelief, glancing between the gate and his curled-up body. "Since when did you arrive? The gate was closed at four. Pray don't tell me you've been sitting here for two hours?"

He didn't respond.

"Well, would you look at that." She said with a sigh. "They didn't tell me you were deaf!"

Still, the boy remained silent. He stared straight past her at the gate, waiting.

"By the Lord Falrir, I must swear! Today's just not my day. Here I am, early for duty, having listened to some strange rumours along the way about Hunters, awaiting further instructions. Hunters! Here, on the island?" She scoffed. "A little far-fetched, don't you think?

He turned his attention to her.

"Hunters?"

The official had the fright of her life. "Skies! You can hear me?" She clicked her tongue and wagged a bony finger in warning, "you're like those kids who have selective hearing!"

"I've been listening to you. Just, not in the state to hear properly...I'm sorry," said the boy quietly. "Will you tell me what you mean by Hunters?"

The question left his lips and as though it had a will of its own, and the gates began to open with a crunch of gravel and stone. It was time.

"Oh, look! The gates are about to open. Apologies, child. I have duties to atten—"

Io wasted nothing before taking his very first step towards the opening. Every second mattered and for all he knew, that very second could have been the difference between seeing Luka, breathing, and a him that was cold and still.

He had been waiting at the edge of the stone gates an hour before it would open but as soon as a gap that was large enough to slip by was made, Io was startled by several other prey scrambling through, faces streaked with tears.

"Thank skies! Thank skies thank skies we made it!"

"Oh my god, oh my god...praise the lord," whispered another as they exchanged hugs and words of comfort. Io counted.

There were five of them.

"You're!" It was a hen who spotted him first. She had turned slowly, surveying the area before resting her gaze upon him. "You're Tori."

"Iolani?" Someone was in his face and then was crushing him with a hug. "Iolani Tori? You were the one! You saved us."

Did he? Did he really?

Io felt as though he did not save a single soul. The weight of everything was beginning to pile upon his back and the burden was heavier than he'd expected to bear. "What are you talking about?"

"You're still so humble. We are so grateful," said the hen, taking him into her arms with a sob. "Thank you for getting us out. Oh it was a nightmare..."

Nothing could be conceived in his cage that was hollow and empty. Io felt no satisfaction, no happiness from the appreciation that they expressed; the smiles of relief upon their faces. He had not intended to save them at all.

"We owe you," a dove who appeared even younger than he was smiled amidst her tears. "Thank you so much."

"Have you been waiting for us?" The hen asked as soon as she pulled back from the hug. "Your cheek is colder than ice! Let's go inside—"

Io shook his head, stepping away from the five and moving, instead, towards the gate. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I really am. I have something important to do next, and I cannot accompany you back to the tent," he stepped past the gate and back into the Box. The official who watched from afar had not the time to react before he turned and carried on. "Please forgive me."