Jing was quiet and she gave no answer to what she liked. In fact, it seemed very much to her as though she did not know what she liked. For what was there to like in this world that was falling apart? She could not understand.

Her silence made Io rather anxious; had he made her uncomfortable by posing a strange question? Hastily, he tried to withdraw his previous thought and replace it with another.

Jing, will you be coming with us?

She glanced at Slayne who was staring at the pair blankly. There was a sudden desire to snap her fingers before his eyes and account for his lack of reaction when she looked away. Involving herself—what good would it do?

No. I will go on my own.

The phoenix didn't mean to cause that expression on Io's face. Nor did she particularly like his falling shoulders that ensued the words in her mind. She was no longer neutral, numb; void. There was emotion and she was beginning to feel a little scared.

But I owe you one. So I...

There was a chasm in her thoughts.

I will repay it.

Io was quick to correct her no matter the tiers that placed between the two; the phoenix and the sparrow. Don't. What is that? Repayment. I didn't pay you anything, he thought carefully, feeling the lack of sleep in his eyes beginning to take a toll on his mind. Is that really what friends are about? Giving and taking? He frowned, for that was when he realized that he himself had made the same mistake a few days ago. He had wanted to give Luka something in return.

How did Luka feel about that? Io considered the possibility that his eagle friend had felt the same as he was, now. It made him rather guilty.

I don't really know whether I'm giving or not. It doesn't feel like you owe me one, you know. I thought friends were...were what? For some reason, the sparrow had the impression that friendship was something more than just a mere saying of 'give and take'. It seemed to him almost trifling, had the concept been reduced to a common mindset that had very little significance to Io, and it disappointed the boy.

I thought friends were...

He got it.

There. Io got really excited at this first critical question he could finally answer by himself and he did not know just how it happened. Friends are just, there. Maybe it's not about giving and taking like it is with other people—friends are just there. I mean, here. He pointed at his chest and he couldn't wait to tell Pipa and Luka.

This revelation, to many, might have been a silly and foolish one that served no purpose. But perhaps it was exactly that friendship served no purpose; that it had no purpose, that cleared the clouds in Io's mind and for all intents and purposes, allow him to move on.

Jing heard all this and felt awfully confused and slightly afraid when she found herself taken. For the first time, it was not hard to agree and yet, she wondered if Io knew how fast the world was falling apart. Would he uphold his values till the very end? Jing did not want to see the boy consumed by the vices of the world.

I'll come with you.

That, Io heard and was beaming. He turned to look at Slayne to prove his persuasion skills but Slayne had stood up, and was leaning against a tree with his eyes closed.

Io tugged on his sleeve, and the owl's eyes opened and his gaze lowered to meet the sparrow's...but one of his eye did not move.

Startled, Io scrambled to his feet to check his eye. He made a gesture of numbers and tiptoed to get a closer look at Slayne's dead eye. The latter frowned and did not quite understand what the sparrow was trying to do apart from the world that appeared so much less jarring and the lines between land and sky seemed particularly blur. He clutched the side of his head.

Jing knew that if she were to speak to him through an established Link, it would only serve to worsen the pounding in his head and so she decided against it. She did, however, call upon Sol to lead the way; their destination being wherever Io desired.

Naturally, Io gave an equally vague and abstract answer: and that was by the side of his friends.

*

It was a heated afternoon by the time the three arrived at their destination, Io lagging behind with Slayne who had a weakened sense of balance, and it was no surprise that Sol had led them to where Luka was.

Contrary to popular belief, Avians were perfectly aware of where human hearts seemed to lie.

The sun baked the air three times over and it was only the shade of the trees that provided much comfort to the group that traversed for a little over an hour. On Io's mind was how he should face Luka the next time he should see him; the safety of the prey that they had gathered along, and whether everything was going to be alright in the end.

He felt himself complacent, if he were to assume the orderly nature of narrative would reflect itself upon the course of his life. His story would end in happiness—and that would be the correct ending. The right one. But was it to be so in reality? Was there a structure to his life, planned out long before him without individual agency?

Will it be 'all's well ends well'?

Such a heated afternoon brought drowsy thoughts to his increasingly clouded mind and one could not help but associate such moods to lazy days of short naps and slow conversations over the couch; a chilled drink within reach and the ceiling being all. Their sore legs, occasionally itchy from dried blood or the scratch of undergrowth, and near-empty canteens were, in contrast, barely functioning.

The brief sensation of having come a long way eased its way into Io's cage as he recalled just how he had spent his afternoons back in the village before...before this.

Things have changed—but did he, Io, change?

That answer would not have come from the first person they saw.

Across the creek that Sol hovered above with a stop, was a bizarre gathering of predator and prey. There was, for some reason, an overwhelming number of prey tentatively huddled together as they filled their canteens with water while the sole predator, a cold golden eagle, stood apart from them. Mauri was nowhere in sight.

Though it was hard to tell what he was feeling, Io was the only one who could—and it made him guilty as soon as he realized that it was most likely himself who caused the eagle much distress.

Jing who had been leading the way was the first to come into his vision. She was far, quite far away, partially concealed by the shade of the towering trees and yet his eyes had snapped immediately towards her. Sharp, as usual.

It was then, in that instant, that Luka felt as though the forest was beating in his ears for there was a roaring. A roaring so loud. Where was Io? Had the phoenix come without him? Where was he? Where was his—

The sparrow soon came into view with a shoulder supporting Slayne's weight. He had been lagging behind, naturally. There was simply no way he could walk properly with a body mass like the owl's leaning on him.

Luka breathed and what the hell? He was so worried he didn't even notice the prey were done and looking at him expectantly, as if to be instructed what to do next. It was no surprise that they hadn't noticed the group approaching from afar. God, if his fucking heart would stop being so loud.

Victoria was strangely quiet as she watched Luka approach the newcomers. On normal circumstances, she would have scoffed and quipped about his quiet mind. He did look rather disarmed, for some reason; and his feet weighed without a sign. His steps slowed, and was it instinct or some sort of telepathy? For their eyes met—Io and his—and the former broke away to glance up at Slayne and down at the arm he had across his shoulders in support.

However obscured, the Nocturne was sharp in his understanding. It took him no less than a second to pull away and lean, instead, on the trunk of a tree.

Io smiled a little and thanked him with a nod. He then, without much thought but full of...something within, ran up to his friend to crash—shamelessly and embarrassingly so—into the latter's arms.

They weren't open; Luka's arms. He had a perplexed and rather surprised colour in his eyes, the ember sparks fading a little only to glow brighter in the next moment. He received the hug with an awkward raise of his arms, followed by a stroking motion down the sparrow's back.

The warmth from Luka's chest made Io realize that perhaps there was never a fear manifested in his cage; the fear of facing his friend the next time he should see him—the quiet despair of not knowing what to do churning in the depths of his heart. Was he angry? Worried? Resigned? Did Luka hate him for not allowing him to come along?

But when the time came for Io to face whatever he did not want to face, the slow burn of resolution had begun to flicker with a notice. A sign for him to understand that, in the end, his friend had cared as much as he did.

Both were, for all intents and purposes, thinking about the other; and there was no greater comfort than this very awareness.

The group of prey looked on with care, quietly amazed but deeply envious at the same time. There was not one of them who could imagine such a...bizarre relation with their predators. Or any predator, for the matter. And Jing, who watched with empty eyes, felt for once a stirring that she thought had died under the hands of time, buried by the world only to resurface, again, not alive but certainly not dead, before the scene of strange happening.

I'm sorry, Io began; face still buried in the eagle's chest but knowing that he should probably let go soon but not necessarily wanting to.

Luka didn't hear him, however. And though he had not heard him, there was a thought that invaded his quiet mind. The eagle apologized as well—for what? He did not know. He rarely apologized. Luka did not like to feel as though he owed someone something. And an apology was barely enough had he really done something wrong.

Io did not hear him. His arms slackened briefly, a sign that they should, well, stop being weird.

Lyra concurred and her Winged laughed shortly. A little breathless from nothing at all.

Rien, the kiwi, caught his eye and waved tentatively from behind a rock by the creek. Shel and Rhea followed suit with curious expressions and timely exchanged glances of bubbling excitement. The hummingbird was strangely squealing on the inside, clasping her hands together for no appropriate reason.

The pair parted in silence and then because everyone had been watching them, were embarrassed enough to avert their gazes, do nothing more and proceed on in opposite directions—Io, to the group of prey; and Luka to the phoenix.

It had become some sort of habit for the eagle to ignore Slayne in his all-superior disposition which Luka didn't particularly like. And perhaps it was this very habit that caused Slayne to feel even more displeased. They eyed each other shortly before looking away in distaste. Jing observed this with a raise of her brow. She was often unable to comprehend the pride of male predators and it left her very much piqued.

Io on the other hand was welcomed by the group of prey who soon flocked around him, paling at the dried blood on his arm and wanting to ask what had happened but knowing that this was no place for a conversation to be held or there would be penalties—punishment for doing so. The bluejay however, pretended to lack a genuine interest although she had, since the boy's sudden departure, found a stirring displeasure which she failed to attribute a cause for during that point.

At present, the union was one of comfort and safety and all that was left was to move, together, towards their destination. The sparrow hoped that this feeling—however fleeting—would not be so short-lived.

Briefly, Io wondered if he was alone in despairing for happy endings; and whether fictional characters who were rewarded with them understood the weight of a prize so highly sought after.

________________________

Cameron had left him. Again.

It didn't come to him as a surprise, per se. For how many times had he been abandoned?

He stopped to tug on the reins of pain that stretched over his back in the form of a hot white burn. These sort of scars, from what Vaughn understood, were not going to disappear anytime soon. Still, what he couldn't comprehend was the fact that this thing, this burn, was far more bearable than the scars that could not be seen and could not be healed with physical care.

The vulture's solitude only confirmed his mother's words yet again; the world was his, and his only. There was no one (should be, no one) to share it with for there was a need to thrive and to thrive, one must have all.

Half of the world was not sufficient. In fact, there was no one out there who would want to have another half of your world; they wanted all and they would not share.

This was all very much part of Vaughn's cage at present and the creature within was lost but at least it wasn't abandoned. It was a functioning thing and that was, perhaps, all that mattered.

Then there was the sparrow—the sparrow and his heart that flourished from nothing. Was it even possible to grow without feeding? Iolani Tori's very existence defied the laws of his life and it was, for intents and purposes, either the sparrow or him.

If Io shall thrive, the Vaughn shall die and if the vulture shall emerge victorious, the sparrow would drown in his own defeat. Their existences seemed to be mutually exclusive and there was no argument in this discovery.

Vaughn loathed the sparrow with a heated vengeance why because he was simply jealous.

That was it really—

Vaughn was so, so jealous.

He recalled, then;

The moment before he pulled the trigger on Pipa, she was on her knees with the most ridiculous dose of quiet tears streaming down her face, clutching the calf of his leg and shaking her head for no particular reason. She scrambled for something in her bag which turned out to be the wrapper of her packet of biscuits and a piece of blunt lead.

The canary had crouched low to scribble something, barely noticing the dirt on her skirt and the ants that clung to her socks. When she was finally done, the note completed and shoved with pleading eyes into Vaughn's hand, he could barely read a single word of her handwriting.

This was perhaps a result of trembling fingers and the lack of precision that the blunt piece of lead provided in the very last second of her humanity.

He found himself comforting her in his mind; telling her that she would, soon, have it dead. And there was no need to worry, no need to cry, no need to feel the pain that the heart could incite so selfishly and no more—no more need to care at all.

Her soul would die, and that was all okay because then, she would be able to thrive in a world so dark and destroyed that only devils could walk amongst it. A world; dead, for only the dead.

But she could not hear him and she was shaking her head and pleading with her hands for him to read her final words that came in the form of a miserable note.

For all intents and purposes, Vaughn could only make out a single word among the jarring rest, and his reaction had been to laugh.

p---s- sp--- Io

Yes, there had only been a single word for him to identify and it wasn't even a word that could save her life. It was a name.

A name that he despised with incensed hatred; one stood, rooted, in the heart of his cage. He smiled with a false nod of reassurance that he would, kindly, do as she asked him to. Her reaction was one so naïve and immediate that the vulture's mind paled to a marbled rot.

Pipa had smiled in relief and released her hold on his leg, thanking him with a silent bow of her head and looking so, so pleased with the diseased dirt that caked under her fingernails. The canary had, contentedly, let her guard down and this was the part Vaughn hated with a vengeance—the part where all prey would, in the end, bow to his silencer.

She let him pull the trigger. On any part, but he had chosen her legs.

They looked like they would break easily.

For the purpose of truth, perhaps one would have wished to know what Pipa had written exactly, as her final words.

But really, was that all there was?

What truly mattered was that even if Pipa had the barrel of a gun pointed at her heart, the latter was nowhere near herself—but her friend.

And that was all that made Vaughn so jealous and so...

So sad for her.

*

You seem to be in a hurry.

The vulture stood in the way of a ruffled-looking barn owl who, having had his eyes fixed in the opposite direction of where he was going, had run into an unsuspecting Vaughn. In actuality displeased but too fond of appearances to wear a scowl, the vulture waved with a smile—lowering his gaze slightly to meet Mauri's.

Mauri looked genuinely terrified upon the invasion of his mind and the prompt crashing of his body into another's. Vaughn steadied the owl by gripping onto the collar of his shirt (not the most pleasant way, really, but Vaughn wasn't all that pleasant anyway), allowing him some time to regain his balance from the impact and, well, turn his head in the right direction.

The familiar crack of moving bones reminded Vaughn of someone else for a brief moment, but he lied to himself that this wasn't the time to be thinking of a person who had abandoned him even in his thoughts. The vulture was not so kind as to opt out of returning the favour.

Mauri's disoriented gaze found itself as soon as they rested on Vaughn's almost iconic appearance. Long hair—silver or grey, he couldn't quite tell—tallish, weird. Korean-Russian-English-y dude. The barn owl frowned at his awkward phrasing of mind and hoped to the skies that no one had heard it.

Vaughn did, actually. But he made no comment as usual.

What are you running from? He asked instead with a gruelling smile that drilled holes into hearts. At least it was better-looking than his real smile, or so the vulture thought.

Mauri stumbled back, adjusting his collar while throwing furtive glances at Vaughn and looking him up and down. I—uh, eag—nothing.

It did not come to him much as a surprise that the owl's thoughts were so incoherent. In fact, it was very much a convention amongst both predators and prey. Humans. In general.

He glanced at his charm. Seven of clubs.

A closer inspection told Mauri that he had never dared to observe the vulture's strategy. A sort of strategy that often spelled victory and boy, was he curious (greedy) to find out, and perhaps that would provide him an edge over the rest of the predators in the next games—

No, thank you. Vaughn smiled once more, promptly reading once more and frustrating the owl for the third time since the start of the games. First, that infuriating sparrow; then that tall and ridiculously attractive eagle he was quite jealous of; and then this weird, lanky Korean-Russian-English-y thing—

I am, for convenience sake, not English. The vulture corrected him calmly, advancing a step closer. But if I were to say that, indeed, I were; would you be so kind to tell me what you were running from? It would do you no harm. Perhaps satisfy, only, my curiosity that is very much like...yours.

Not English? No shit dude no one's gonna believe you, Mauri cursed the vulture's near perfect language in his head, backing away slightly. And, yeah, but. Why? It's none of your business.

I have a Mark that matches yours, the vulture dangled a poor prey's choker before Mauri's widened eyes that took in the number that matched the one on his neck. I can give it to you.

Eagle. The. The one with the sparrow, the good-looking one, the newbie who is better than me, your mom's favourite. Whatever it is now give me that, Mauri snatched the choker out of the vulture's hand and his eyes glinted; sate with achievement.

And why were you running from him?

The barn owl shrugged. He wouldn't let me out of his sight yesterday so I thought he'd give chase when I sneaked out at night. 'Parently he didn't. Too tired I guess...? I dunno. Maybe his stupid sparrow came back. Or maybe he's still hung up about last night when the sparrow totally dissed him in some way which I really don't care so yeah I'm gonna go now. Bye.

Mauri held up a hand in brief farewell, side-stepping the vulture before leaving the scene.

Plans formed—weaved on their own—in his mind like a web that spun in time; waiting. Waiting for the prey to come

Running

Into it like a useless butterfly. Without

An eye

To see what was before and without

All eyes

To see what he was to become—food;

For the spider.

There would be no one to witness Iolani Tori's death and this

was what Vaughn had been programmed to ensure.

__________________________

The air in the Box pulled taut strings of the heart, leaving each stretched—insistently, like rubber across a thing too big for its own good. Io felt strangely hot under the shades that Jing had led them under, adjusting his collar as the eagle walked alongside him, taking turns to drink from the same canteen because his own had, unfortunately, cracked once again.

Things were fond of breaking in the Box, and Io understood that he was not the only one who noticed this. He stole a glance over his shoulder to check on the prey who were not so far behind, throwing a sheepish smile along. It was returned promptly with a thumbs-up from the hummingbird, who had appeared to establish an amicable relationship with the kiwi beside her.

Turning back to face the front, he took in a displeased Slayne stumbling, occasionally, alongside Jing who would turn to him with a blink of confusion and upon his look of disdain, sigh quietly and continue on. Nocturnes, of course, felt very much unsettled under the sun and Jing was, for all intents and purposes, just that.

What occurred to Io was the sun that seemed just about to set and how this would, in actuality, affect their performance since they would have to stop and rest those legs that had been supporting them since morning. For Io, since...he couldn't even remember when was the last time he slept. Sol would soon set, as well.

The night was not to their advantage.

A brief but steady movement caught Io's tired eyes and it was none other than Luka's hand that brushed his shoulder, proceeding to point, shortly, at the grey in the distance.

The wall. They were coming to an end and all that was left to do was to find, exactly, which gate was open (it could be miles, or meters, no one knew) and they were...they were free.

Iolani Tori would have proven to V that it was possible to change things; that not all prey needed a predator to survive and that he was, no matter the circumstance, prepared to lose and taste bitter defeat to achieve anything close to the dream. The dream that he and Luka could, one day, meet not in the dark but in the light.

He didn't quite care that the phoenix had his Mark. In fact, he was rather relieved that it was her. Jing wasn't one to abuse her power. Rather, she seemed to be quite afraid of it.

The sparrow made a mental note to ask her why. And perhaps also find, together with her, ten things that she liked. It was a pleasant thing to look forward to.

Pipa would have agreed.

It was at this precise moment that a cry sounded not far ahead, stopping their feet and seizing their attention. Io's first instinct was to meet Luka's gaze and to his surprise, it appeared that it was, strangely, the eagle's first instinct as well. Victoria was sent ahead to scout since Slayne and his Avian were obviously in no condition to move fast. His vision, though improving, was erratic and disturbing. There was a pounding in his head.

Shel Castillo prodded Io's shoulder and made a gesture of inquiry. His magpie chirped over his shoulder and Rhea was quick to hush him. The bluejay frowned disapprovingly at their sudden pause in progress and was rather impatient to continue. How could one not have the desire when the goal was right ahead within reach only to stop—and digress?

She was very disgruntled.

As soon as Jing bent down in attempt suppress the sick churning of her gut, her head snapped up in response to Victoria's call from afar.

Everyone turned to each other, then at Luka—who was, of course, looking at Io. The unspoken words were said within an instant; a glance.

But that was the sparrow needed to know

That someone was in need of help.

Will converted into action by the dream and his mind that focused so keenly on a single thing, supposedly blinded by everything else; Io started in the direction of the cry.

One more.

Just one more.

Pipa would have agreed.

_________________________

The vulture waited by the arranged point of contact, a miserable lamp post that no longer served its purpose, for someone to appear. Nox's feathers were slightly ruffled by the heat of the setting sun that shone itself directly—hot, on her dark wings. Vaughn as well, hated the sun.

A soft rustling caught his attention; seizing insistent thoughts to focus on one. He should have expected, really, that a task like this would be entrusted to the council and it was. How the phoenix had no such knowledge of the execution only pointed towards the disunity and lack of trust amongst the members of the council which the headmistress had, so kindly, created herself.

"Ready?"

Vaughn's gaze rested on the girl in the wheelchair, eyes wide and frightened as her lips trembled ever so slightly.

He advanced. "Is this it?" His mother was built without mercy, he knew. Vaughn checked his silencer. "The rest?"

"Facilitators are informing them of the opened gate. It's number five by the way," The council representative said dismissively, glancing down at the girl with condescending eyes. "Be there when you're finished."

The girl had woken only to find her legs void of use—a function that served no purpose. She had, in the blur of fright, thought that this was merely a nightmare.

"They're coming. Make her scream."

Oh but it was real.

So real.

Pipa tried so hard to keep her mouth shut.

___________________________

Something was wrong.

But since when were things actually right? When Io first saw his friend—her eyes open but wide, wide with nothing but sharp fear and cold tears—he thought this was certainly, most definitely a nightmare. If it was, then when did it start?

From the vulture's arrival? The separation that pained him so much? Or was it before?

There were too many possibilities for him to consider and all more willing to be entertained than the reality he currently faced and there was nothing—not desperation, fear, or contempt—that could distract him from the tragedy that was unfolding before his eyes.

Someone came up behind him. He didn't know who. He didn't really care.

This was new.

He didn't care.

Heavy breathing. Footsteps.

Silence.

No one spoke.

The sight was enough to kill the words that rose, if, still possible, from their throat and emotion died under the hand of despair that reigned. He saw it reflected in Pipa's eyes but wasn't too sure if it was her soul he saw or just...him. Himself.

Then there was the chair.

What did they do to her?

"Good evening," Vaughn began with a voice so clear it only proved how real this all was and no, it was not a nightmare. Io paled at the thought. Other people were standing behind him; he wondered what they thought. "You took longer than before, I believe," He smiled.

It was sweet.

Vaughn wondered just where he had learned this smile from. Not himself, for sure.

Nothing was him.

He was nothing.

Luka, having noticed that something was terribly wrong with the confidence on Vaughn's face despite the number of predators he was up against and they could, of course, win by sheer quantity—and then his confidence in speech.

Where was the council? Justice; when you needed it?

The eagle soon realized that Justice was a mere concept. A construct that could have, very well, ceased to exist in a world like this.

Justice was, for all intents and purposes, unjust.

"What are you doing," He followed suit, refusing to abide by the rules when a scavenger had just broken it before his eyes and received no punishment. Where was the council?

Talking seemed less and less of a viable option and sheer force—violence—appeared more tempting than ever. Jing was careful with her expression; her gaze that wavered, and the thoughts that crumbled without sense and structure. There was no organization and design in reality and things were always, always falling apart. This proved it all.

It was timely that the sun had decided to leave the world behind, darkness in its wake with no less than a golden glow—stolen from some transcendental being that lacked the strength to persist in a closing end.

"I thought it was rather obvious, Sullivan."

Vaughn smiled with fallen shoulders, appearing rather disappointed. He turned to his sole purpose of present action, wanting so much to laugh at the fear in his eyes for they soon wouldn't be. He would soon be empty.

The world was dull and all was turning to a lack of colour.

"If you would, Tori. Kindly allow them to take this girl away while you stay," The vulture tried to suppress the eager hatred, jealously, grief and frustration from within to stay sane. Sane and useful. "With me."

"No." Luka was already drawing his dagger and though having had close to no rest since the start of the games, he launched forth with a burst—the blade of his dagger was to meet the vulture's face.

"Don't!"

The voice was one that he knew controlled him from within and the eagle had to pull hard on his brakes for his lunge was far too momentous. One that was meant to harm and to kill in blind, white rage.

Io had cried out of instinct, gaze never leaving Pipa. There was no need for her to witness all this. She had nothing to do with the world that was falling apart; he would not let her heart die under the hand of fear. "Please don't do anything."

Triggered, Pipa fired.

"Don't do anything?" She whispered, as if seeing him for the first time. "Io, what are you saying?"

Taken aback, the boy's throat ran dry. It had been so long since he heard her voice. "Pi—pipa."

"Don't do anything?" The canary could feel her chest wrench at the presence of a heart but the absence...the absence of something else. "Do something! Please, oh God," She was so scared she was crying and choking incoherently. "Save me. Please—please, please just DO SOMETHING!"

Different.

She was different but this wasn't the time to think of difference; Io understood the fear that coursed through her veins and it was the very last thing he had wanted her to experience.

"Vaughn, if you put away your weapon, we. Can talk," He spoke slowly, gaze leaving, for once, the girl and looking instead at the vulture who had the barrel of his silencer aimed at Pipa's temple. He was going to fire? Again? But she...she just woke up. She had already experienced the darkness and emerged—

"Talk?" The canary was blank with tears. "Io, no—no. You don't understand, this isn't the time to talk, Io. Please just.

Just go with him!"

He didn't understand what she was saying.

It was the first time he didn't, and it was a horrible, terrible feeling that consumed everything.

Everyone stared.

This was the girl he had wanted to save?

"Go?"

She looked at him as though he was raising something absurd.

"But, but of course, Io," She heaved desperately. "If not for you, I wouldn't have been here. If I wasn't your friend, I wouldn't have been so foolish as to do such silly things that brought nothing but trouble and grief and tell myself that I was strong enough to take everything like you are! I'm not—I'm not you."

"I don't want all this, Io. Please. Please understand—" She stopped crying for a moment, as though something had dawned upon her.

"We're not friends."

"We're not friends." She craned her head to stare at Vaughn. "S-sir, we're not friends. I really have nothing to do with him please just let me go."

"Please spare me."

This was what broke Vaughn; and he knew that this was what would break the sparrow too.

"Pi—Pipa. What are you..."

Luka was wide with rage. Slayne was watching the finger that laid upon the trigger but could not see, exactly, where it was.

Io's voice

Broke.

She heard him and she—

"Stop. Io, just," The canary was lost, and Vaughn was well aware for that was the result of his silencer. It silenced all hopes and stole, whatever that was, humanity. She was gone and she would never come back. "Io. Give up."

Pipa was crying for him, really. She was crying for how much he had to suffer because he could just choose the easy way out. She was crying for the number of people he had involved for his selfish, stupid dream that—

"There is no dream, Io. It's not there..." Tears mingled with saliva and Pipa knew she was so, so ugly. Inside—inside and out. "There was nothing to begin with."

All was dark.

Iolani Tori was collapsing and Luka made a move to take to his side but the vulture cocked the gun and he knew if he left him free the trigger could be pulled so easily without consequence and if he pulled the trigger the girl would lose, once again and that was all fucking fine for Luka but certainly not so for Io.

The phoenix, extinguished, knew that this was getting out of hand. Where was the council? She glanced over her shoulder to take in the group of prey that this foolish sparrow had so stupidly helped. There were so many of them looking so helpless and so, so scared. Jing was furious at herself for not knowing that this—this all, were the normal reaction of prey and he, this boy, was the exception she had begun to get so used to.

She, too, had become foolish. And what was this eagle doing, helping him? What of the Nocturne who looked just as hopeless as all the other prey? Why now? What was Slayne doing, getting himself into a chaos she knew he wouldn't have chosen on ordinary circumstances—what had he become?

All of them. All of them had turned into foolish humans.

And all to the credit of this sparrow?

Stepping in front of Io, Jing prepared herself for the worst.

"Sullivan!" The sphere of flames singed a strand of the vulture's hair that was caught, barely, in its trajectory. It was a close dodge that Luka, too, would not have been able to execute had she not called his name in warning. Take the girl. Take the girl now.

The eagle knew that this was no solution because nothing could beat a pistol but who the fuck cared when there was no other possible solution—he listened. He did not trust the phoenix to care for his sparrow but it was not as if he, himself, was any better. Luka knew that he belonged in hell.

The wheelchair was clumsy and unwieldy but he propelled it aside with full force, taking her at least meters away and down a slope without much incline; Pipa screamed.

Click.

Vaughn cursed at his reaction that was too slow and his inability to take aim, once again, at the girl going down the slope but he turned, instead, to Luka and—

Heat. He ducked, feeling it soar past his temple blazing and furious but it was dark and that was her last distraction for the prey to run. Jing forced the kiwi to move, pushing her back harshly to kick-start her into a sprint that should, should be for their lives.

Owl. Go. They are slow; you have to push them.

Tired but frightened, the four prey ran at her order, Slayne cursing at fucking everything in the world but doing what he was told because, really, she was the queen.

The vulture however, found things slightly different. She was just a phoenix. A phoenix that was close to nothing in the dark; and it was, for all intents and purposes, dark.

Night had arrived on a steed—falling upon those who it trampled beneath its feet;

A nightmare.

Jing had no weapon. She had an extinguished soul and nothing else against an abnormal pistol that had no ammunition. Vaughn would pull the trigger on either one of them. The sparrow, or her and the obvious choice would be, of course, the former but he did not do it.

No witnesses, the headmistress had said and Vaughn obeyed.

The barrel of the silencer obstructed his view

Of the moon so

It seemed like an eclipse

And the option then, different for each simply because of the chasm in the minds explained by the fact that fundamentally, humans all thought differently; was followed by the phoenix launching herself in front of the boy but

Io, for some reason, heard the vulture's mind. Knowing that the target was not him but his friend, instincts came before rational thought and he found a strength—unknown in its source—to push her aside.

There was no light in sight.