"Cam?"

"Yeah?"

"You've stopped coming over to the Astrology tower," Vaughn said quietly, neither intending it to be a question or a statement. "Is something the matter?"

The owl shook his head and glanced over with a languid smile. "Nothing."

"But you always come," Vaughn reasoned with little understanding, frowning as he returned Cameron's gaze with one of anxious disappointment. His friend only shrugged.

"Are you angry at me?" The vulture asked next.

Cameron looked at Vaughn as though it was a foolish question that he had asked. "Look, you're overthinking."

Vaughn had close to no idea what his friend had meant. Was he really overthinking? He didn't know for sure. He's never had a friend before, so he figured that this was perhaps a new feeling that naturally made no sense.

"Ah. I apologize," He replied quietly.

There was a moment of silence in which the vulture contemplated then, the reason why his friend had stopped coming to the Astrology tower at night. Could it be that he had been caught skipping class? Had be received some sort of warning? After all, Vaughn knew that his mother was rather strict on conduct. Yes, Vaughn convinced himself that this explanation was fairly suiting and sufficient.

Nevertheless, he couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed as they made their way to the dining hall together—Cameron, for supper; and Vaughn, for breakfast. This was the only time left for them to spend together. The break between night and day;

Dawn and dusk.

"I just really need your help with Biology, you see," The vulture bit his lip. "I couldn't do any of the questions without you."

_________________________

The phoenix rose at the crack of dawn with wings spread wide like a fire in the sky—reigning; the land as though it was where it belonged. In the light.

Dmitri stopped in his tracks at the sound of its cry. The creature in his cage trembled with a fearing, willing his gaze to still with a fix. Where was it? He felt as though it was all around.

Moments ago, Jing had witnessed the tearing of her world and how the clouds, themselves, were screaming with a cry that masked the moan of the forest so loud. At present, the fire in her eyes was not something to be mistaken. Io and Slayne stood a distance away, breathing hard from the dead sprint that grasped everything in its hold; waiting for life to catch up. The sphere had vanished from the heart of his palm to manifest, instead, in the skies above where its heat was rooted—fierce—in a land of despair.

Cameron froze; as ironic as the fire rendered him to be, really. Immobile.

There was a catch in his breath that locked away the rest of his mind and prevented any form of rational thought. It was then that diminishing hopes began to settle deep within, ebony frost lacing the once fiery heart that drove his spirit—the idea of beating Vaughn, for once;

All to die under the hand of a sparrow.

A mere sparrow. How could he? What was he doing here? There were three of them; three predators in an alliance all against this miserable thing and yet what sort of foolish mind did he have to forsake safety and barge into what Cameron considered their business? He must be naïve beyond belief.

What Cameron did not understand was that Io was here. Here to help his friend—despite knowing all the consequences that he could possibly imagine; with each and every one of them spelling disaster after disaster: what if Jing turned on him? What if, instead, there were other people who took advantage of this and took his Mark?

Surely, returning the phoenix would mean that Io would lose his guide? What then—when Jing had his Mark and her Avian, would they not reach the finish without time to lose?

What was he doing, aiding his opponent in their victory? Should it matter? Whether his opponent was his friend or not; but what if they did not consider him as their friend?

And did that matter?

Io figured that it did. Of course it did, really—everything mattered. Inherently, Iolani Tori cared about so many things that he could not help but care about and no; even if he told himself that he would not care, would it really make a difference?

Jing stared at the sparrow as though he was the strangest creature she had ever set her eyes upon before turning, slowly, towards the three predators that stood between her and the world that was suddenly within reach.

The blazing wings that only Io could see were generous in its heat, burning in the air as though the forest itself was on fire.

Things were getting out of control and Slayne pulled on the back of Io's shirt, indicating that the time to leave was nearing. The latter however, insisted that they ensure the safety of his friend before doing anything else, for that had been their entire purpose of coming here in the first place. The Nocturne wanted so much to put him in place but forced Jiro's smile upon this impulse, reining in the frustration.

Of the three predators, Cameron appeared the most frightened. When, in actual fact, the rest had similar sentiments. After all, it was not unusual to be afraid of something one could not see—a vague unsettling of the heart that wavered in the face of the unknown; the manifestation of fear.

Fight? Dmitri posed to Lucienne who swallowed the question, unsure. For how was one supposed to fight against something they could not see?

Cameron wanted to leave. Flight was the preferred option for him because unlike the two, he was no Heart.

The heat was beginning to cloud their minds as vision failed in the presence of waves that rose from the forest floor, distorting their worlds. Io could tell that no one else seemed to be able to see Sol as the three predators were standing rooted in their places, still and unmoving save darting gazes and eyes that attempted to squint past the rising waves of heat.

Jing's Avian was hovering right above them, his wingspan encompassing all three with ease and so close—so close and hot that it almost resembled the falling of the sun upon their very faces.

No mercy could save them from the searing of their hearts, singed edges turning black with fear; crumbling reason in which instinct prevailed.

_________________________

Cameron pretended to laugh. "Come again?"

"That scavenger friend of yours," the other Nocturne cast her gaze skywards as she closed the door of her locker. "I heard he's got full marks again for that Biology test. Didn't you say he begged you to teach him?"

"What, you think I'm lying?" The owl scoffed with raised brows.

His classmate shrugged. "Not really. Just saying. Besides, I don't think you've ever got full marks on any of your tests," She said in a teasing lilt.

She was right. He hadn't.

"...again, you said?"

"Huh?"

Cameron's gaze was uneasy as he tried to reason the conflict within. "He's got full marks again?"

"Well yeah," The girl pursed her lips. "Why? Are you thinking of asking him to teach you instead? Haha."

He felt as if his pride had been extracted right out of his cage and trampled on without a care.

Vaughn had lied to him. Haha—what, was he so desperate to have someone to talk to? So desperate that he had to lie? Making himself look bad just so that Cameron could feel good teaching him; now that he thought of it, everything must have been false then.

The vulture had always been ahead of him. That pathetic little shit. That liar.

That fucking liar.

"Your pissy look is pissing me off," His classmate glanced over with a smirk.

Cameron promptly presented his middle finger. "Deal with it."

Why was he even friends with a scavenger anyway? There was nothing to benefit from this relationship—not when Vaughn was a useless liar and everything about him was false. Now that he thought of it, was he not better off without this idiot?

"Ty's having a party tonight. Wanna come?" The girl offered airily. "Drinking helps. If you need to lay off some of that shit."

Yes. This confirmed it; Cameron was disgusted by the vulture.

God, he was creepy. Who the fuck would lie just to have someone else to talk to?

Cameron cringed at the thought, repulsed from how desperate the vulture must have been.

"What time?" He turned to his classmate with a smirk that never was in his nature.

The vulture deserved to be alone.

__________________________

Dmitri was the first to turn tail and run. He stumbled back, shifting into his Avian before taking off into the trees without a moment to spare, leaving the rest behind. It was out of pure stubborn pride that Cameron rooted his feet to the ground despite Lucienne's insistence; rendering her completely furious at his plain defiance. Then she too, left without him.

The phoenix fixed an impassive gaze on the still owl, invading his Link.

Looks like you've been abandoned, Cameron.

He turned—left to right, and confirmed this observation. There was no purpose in doing so but perhaps a simple carving of his fate into mind. Now that he thought back upon their alliance, it seemed rather futile against such a strong predator. The strongest, after all. What was he thinking? Going in like that, believing that they could somehow make it and then what? Split the fucking Mark into three?

Cameron laughed at himself.

Jing spared him no mercy, for she herself had little to no idea what the concept meant. A little burn would do. Perhaps on his upper arm—

The split second before flame scorched skin was one of sacred stillness; the hesitation of a coming—an arrival of...something.

Her head turned and an unworldly screech murdered the ears of everyone near. A black thing pounded her square in the face and Jing fell from the impact that almost knocked her unconscious. The phoenix before a dazed Cameron shrunk in her pain, releasing a shrill cry as though its flames were suffocating in its dying state.

Slayne tensed in an instant, shoving Io out of the way as a dark cape descended upon them with extended claws; sinking into one of the Nocturne's eye just moments before the former shifted into a snowy owl.

The black thing swept Jiro's predator aside with a single beat of its wings before sending him straight to the ground with a dull thud, using the advantage of momentum to turn—fast—onto the sparrow.

No! The mind had latched itself to the blood spilling over Slayne's face but Io was forced to turn towards a sight far worse.

It wasn't a sight that was new to him. In fact, it had come almost as a stirring of familiarity, drawing upon his stream of memories to arrive at one.

The black vulture dived at his face.

Io raised the bow he had been holding onto for every purpose with the intention of turning thought into action but this time there was no thinking to do as he swung the weapon at the vulture before—impact sinking into the frame of the latter's right wing in which yet another scream was heard.

Vaughn collapsed on the ground and the bond between Avian and Winged severed like the strings of a heart cut. His ashen hair pooled on the earth where he lay, struggling to rise but upon the harsh crack of his shoulder crumbled once more.

This gave the phoenix few treasured seconds of recovery as she willed her Avian's flames to ignite once more, wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand. Sol dived at Cameron.

Io scrambled upright, limping over to his friend who lay on the floor so still; only to see a dark figure shove past him, breathing hard as the latter stumbled forth in a daze driven by instinct and clean despair, pushing Cameron out of the way just as flames singed his back—

"Run."

The owl did not run. He stared; eyes wide at the red-tinted skin on Vaughn's back that was turning white with pain. Numb.

Still. And what was he doing? Why did he deserve to be alive?

Vaughn swallowed blood that he knew not the source of, eyes begging with fire for his acquaintance to wake from his obscure state to see; see him, or anything, really. Just, see—

But the phoenix repositioned himself to come, once more with a heated vengeance, at the two who so suffered and made others die under their icy hearts. Vaughn drew from his coat a thing so familiar it stroked the fear in Io's cage, jolting him with fright and seizing his heart running cold.

The next instant felt slow. Almost like a note drawn out, long at the end of a piece so sad; his sprint was dead. Io did not gauge how long he took to get to the vulture or how far a distance he had crossed for it had seemed like a mile, almost. Almost, he fought for control over the pistol that Vaughn held in the heart of his hand.

The sudden impact as Io seized the wrist that held Thief succeeded in throwing off the vulture's balance, and his aim, perfect in every given circumstance, shifted a little to the left. Though soundless as the trigger was—the very click that Io had heard—to Jing it sounded as if a phantom had brushed the side of her arm, failing to steal what it had so desired.

She straightened her resolve that had been stroked, momentarily, by fear, and turned her attention back to the sparrow who desperately tried to gain control over the pistol in Vaughn's hands. The latter jerked his wrist away, eyes rather different from what they usually held (or so Io had noticed), but the sparrow held them in a vice-like grip. He refused to let go.

Cameron had his eyes fixed on Jing's Avian that was, to him, the larger danger at hand closing in and he so wanted to criticize Vaughn for losing his focus and that he should, instead, look at the matter that required most—

Nox came from behind, shoving the Nocturne forward as if propelling him to run and he did. Cameron ran; his Avian not far behind followed by Vaughn's and the entire thing certainly seemed absurd to the owl. Absurd. He was absurd.

Vaughn was.

Io's grip was slipping for some reason. Was it sweat? Or perhaps it was the fear. He was frightened. Frightened by the look in Vaughn's eyes. Lyra nipped at the skin on the vulture's wrist and the latter started, losing his grip on his silencer for a mere second which Io saw so distinctly a chance.

He seized the barrel of the pistol, aiming it towards the ground to avoid any—

Io felt it in his head.

A severe blow that was enough to dull his vision for a good instant, and then Vaughn had regained control over his weapon and turned to...run?

The sparrow watched him disappear within seconds; the shade of the trees concealing his being and masking his tracks. Vaughn had fled. Just when Io had thought he would point and shoot—at him, no less—he fled.

Reality found no place in Io's mind as there seemed little sense in the vulture's actions. It was his choice to intervene. To save—was he saving? He had, in fact, saved that owl who was about to meet his demise; but was it his intentions? Did he intend to save? And then, it was the fleeing. It was not like him to flee. The Vaughn that Io thought he knew would not have fled.

The sparrow came to the conclusion that he did not know Vaughn at all, and though it was a disappointing end to his rational mind, Io knew that there were more important matters at hand. He staggered over to Slayne in a hurried daze.

Breathing. He was breathing—hard, nevertheless, but breathing.

The Nocturne had a hand over an eye that could not see and was bleeding. Profusely.

A gash.

Slayne himself was unable to gauge what he was trying to stem; where it was or how he would stop it but it was the pain. The pain that consumed him from within and all he did was try in vain to put his hand over that area, hoping that it would somehow work.

Io scrambled for a strip of spare cloth in his pocket—from the shirt that Rien had used to patch the hummingbird's injury in which now came in handy. He wanted to say something. A word of comfort, of gratitude, of...of what? Words failed at present and that was all the sparrow had come to understand.

Jing approached, uncertain and slightly wary. Not of them, but of herself.

It was not the first time she had inflicted such a burn. On Vaughn, yes, but nevertheless, she acknowledged that Vaughn was still a human being. She hadn't thought of her power in that manner. Or rather, she hadn't wish to think of it. This was to her, the part that should have been locked away—stowed under a convenient carpet and forgotten for eternity.

She knelt beside the pair, watching as Io tried, clumsily because he wasn't trained in first-aid at all, to stem the stream of flowing blood as Slayne's breathing turned increasingly ragged, pale and shallow.

He was slipping.

The pain was turning dark and numb and he didn't know where he was going.

Master

The pain came as a sharp plunge in his eye that spread, horribly, over the back of his head like needles. They were needles.

I will sing for you

Something was keeping him awake and Slayne knew not whether to hate this voice or love it still for it was the voice of his beloved prey. The ground underneath felt as though it was burning and he was in hell.

He gripped his shirt and his knuckles blanched white at the force he exerted. The pain was strangely

I will wait

Unbearable.

He let out a cry that sounded as though he was going to die.

Io didn't know what to do but his hands were trembling as he tried to stop the blood. He needn't worry, however.

The phoenix brushed his hand aside and placed hers over the wound that was causing Slayne so much pain. There was a moment's pause, before a quiet glow began to reside in the heart of her palm. This, she had acknowledged, to be her own property. No matter the harm she knew she could bring; the disaster that her very existence seemed to prove, Jing understood that there was always the other side.

And she often stood in the middle—watching both tear themselves apart in the form of reality. A world that was a hell. A world that was...a nothing.

The sharp intake of breath that came from Slayne signalled the end of her healing as he struggled to sit up, coughing as he did so and using the front of his shirt to wipe the blood over his eye.

It hurt, still. But it had become bearable.

Slayne would not tell anyone the song he heard in his heart as his consciousness was beginning to slip. It was his, and his only.

A relieved Io turned to Jing with a disarming smile that blossomed. He inclined his head to sign a thanks, and was glad to see that she was alright. That was when Io realized that relief was more than a flood. It was the peace that came with having a heart that was far from empty.

It was fullness. A whole.

Why are you here?

She asked, staring blankly at the one who had come, foolishly, to return her Avian. For all intents and purposes, Jing was confused. Naturally, this was not a common occurrence since the girl was consistently acing her exams and apt as a quiet observer. This however, proved to her that there were things that...could not be observed.

Io paused to think. He wanted to provide a sufficient answer.

He finally arrived at one he deemed worthy.

I came to ask you something.

It was, by then, clear to the Chinese girl what Io wanted to say. She lifted her shoulders carefully, then dropped them, as though too tired to respond. After all, there was no answer as to why she had decided to help him. Just, him, really. Not the rest of the prey.

Jing was not that benevolent, as she understood of herself; but Io remained fairly puzzled by her answer. Her shrug.

I do not know why I helped you. Then, she thought of something else that he might ask. I am not one for joining people. It is highly impossible, and unlikely, that you should invite me to come with your...friends.

Again, he blinked. Slayne was still trying to make out where he was and what had happened. And more importantly, why these two were staring at each other with blank faces. Of course, he could not hear a diurnal conversation. Rather, he...wasn't part of it. The phoenix had the highest capability of choosing who to access, and who could access hers.

She was the strongest. After all.

That's okay Jing! I don't mind. I understand that you might not want to come with us. Ah...but you see, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly, realizing that he was a little light-headed. That wasn't what I wanted to ask.

What is it, then?

I wanted to ask what you like!

She paused, staring at his smile that was so sincere there was no deception in his surprising question that threw the phoenix off all laws of logic and rational thought.

This sparrow

Was dangerous.

___________________________

Vaughn had seen the Joker's Mark in the hands of the phoenix. It wasn't exactly how he had desired it to be but nevertheless, it was never part of the plan and was, therefore, unnecessary. There was no need to have the Mark, no. All he wanted was the sparrow to yield. That was all there is.

Everything however, seemed rather unprecedented so far. From Cameron to the phoenix. From her to the Mark, from the Mark to the sparrow and from the sparrow to the snowy owl. He hadn't intended to draw blood—from Slayne's eye, no less—and this. This all was far from what his mother had set him out to do.

He was straying; he noticed. But what was he straying from?

The world was no longer in an orderly disease and something else had seized his heart the moment he heard the weak Link that Cameron and he, still, possessed. Initially, he was surprised. For Vaughn had always assumed since then, for the past silent years, their Link could no longer be accessed but for all intents and purposes, this was not the case. Rotten and fading, yes, but its existence was all.

It was still there.

And then he found himself shoving aside all plans and rational thought, killing all but one that consumed the vulture from within. He turned back.

He knew not why and for all he did know, Vaughn was hated. Despised. It did not cross his mind, then, that Cameron was as lost as he and that they, both, felt that hatred was the only safe haven to reside in.

At present, the vulture was beginning to feel the insistent hell on his back. The searing of no ordinary flame burned the area where Sol had brushed, leaving a charred slit in his coat and a white, white scar. But the pistol was in his coat and Cameron was safe and all he had to do now was to run and ignore the hot pain in his back or the sharp ache in his shoulder where the sparrow's bow had landed.

All he had to do was to carry out the headmistress' wish. Not as her son, but as the villain—the villain of this story that was his own life.

Vaughn was his own enemy.

And all he had to do was destroy; get rid of him, spare everyone else and speak, if he wished, for no authority would be around, and Vaughn had been assured by his mother that she would take care of that and then yes.

Get rid of him.

That was all. That was easy.

And Vaughn understood; for living was obviously...harder.

*

He had come to Cameron's class in a tentative attempt to find him, since the latter hadn't been coming for a long time and for all he did not know, he could, at the very least, understand what it was like to miss talking to his best friend.

And he did.

But it was then and there—the moment he knocked on the door of Cameron's classroom during the midnight break that he was so familiar with, the one that his friend had always used to teach him in the Astrology Tower—that he soon came to terms with the sinking heart from within.

The class of Nocturnes had turned to stare at the doorway in which the vulture stood, still and worried; eyes searching for his friend. For what was a diurnal doing in a place and time like this? No less a scavenger.

He spotted him. Cameron; and the smile was immediate and so painfully ugly because that was how Vaughn found his smiles that were real.

Ugly.

"Hey," He started upon arriving at the owl's table, awfully conscious of how the entire class of night people were gazing at him intently with their large and yellow eyes—heads turned in the same eerie manner that Cameron always had the habit of doing. "There's this question I'm not quite sure how to do. Do you, perhaps, have some time?"

"I'm busy." Cameron didn't look at him, and there was nothing on his desk that indicated his occupation. It was empty and he had been looking out of the window.

The vulture's throat was rather dry as he swallowed. "Oh. Well uh, would another time be preferable? How about next—"

"Listen," His friend finally turned to look at him and for some strange reason, Vaughn was awfully, awfully relieved. It didn't last long.

"I'm not some object you use to get your fucking grades up. I'm not even obliged to help you or anything. Where did you get the idea that I would spend my time teaching some shit you don't even need?" Cameron seethed under his breath, drawing more attention from the class of Nocturnes. "I'm not some kind soul you can use."

Vaughn was pale. Something had seized his heart and his gaze seemed to be fixed—frozen, on his friend. He had not meant it to be like this at all.

No.

No, he had done it wrongly again; humans were all so easy to get wrong. What must he do to make things right?

"That wasn't what I..."

"Cam," Someone almost shoved the vulture aside as he walked round Cameron's desk to lean against it. "You know this scavenger?"

He didn't care. Honestly, Vaughn never cared whether or not someone called him names. Names were just names, exactly. Names were not identity and they held no significance to him.

But it was the smile—the smile on Cameron's face that made him so frightened and so pained for there were needles in his cage. A thousand of them. Cameron never once smiled like that when he was with him.

"Hey Ty," They did something foreign with their hands; so foreign that Vaughn could no comprehend. "Nah. He's just someone who asks me to help him with his homework all the time."

"Seriously?" Tyler gave the vulture a vague one-over that ended with a dismissive smirk. "I mean, I know you're nice Cam, but you can't let someone use you. Scavengers do that all the time man; you know that."

Cameron only shrugged, and they laughed. Several Nocturnes in the vicinity joined in.

Beginning to feel very upset and slightly desperate, Vaughn had the words stumbling past his lips before he could rein the dangerous creature he kept within. "I'm not. Cam, you didn't say that. In fact, I clearly recall—"

The great owl shot him a convincing glare that ceased the existence of his function, drawing his mouth to a thin close. "You're talkative, aren't you?"

"I just..."

"Look, scavenger," Tyler clapped a hand over the vulture's shoulder and applied an immense amount of pressure. "Can't you see that Cam doesn't want to talk to you?" He sighed, shaking his head falsely upon the confusion in Vaughn's eyes. "Go back. You're out of your place."

This was promptly assisted by the glowing stares of the Nocturnes in the classroom so dark. The lights were never on at night.

"You have no right to tell me that," The vulture jerked his shoulder out of Ty's grip. "I am quite certain that you are not the person I wish to speak to."

The amused hoots that sounded across the room was, already, a sign that Vaughn had crossed the line but it wasn't as if he cared. Cameron was his...his friend.

Hesitation seeped into his cage. It was a terrible feeling.

It was expected; the grabbing of his collar with a force that he could never measure, and the words that seethed in his ear.

"Watch your mouth, scavenger. Just because your mother's the headmistress doesn't mean you've got everything." And Vaughn knew. Of course he did. He knew perfectly well that he didn't have everything—and it seemed to him that he was in the very process of losing something he thought he had.

"Ty." Cam placed a hand on his wrist. "I'll talk to him."

His collar was released with a shove, and the vulture was thankful that he recalled how to breathe. He has assumed his heart was no longer functioning.

And indeed, he was right. The moment the vulture followed his friend to an empty classroom, he was suddenly very aware of the taut string between them that he hadn't seen before. Did it always exist?

Cameron was the first to speak. He told him that it was better for them to go their separate ways. Ultimately, he expressed, relationships on this island were built on benefits and there was—could be—no other foundation. He told him that he was being naïve and stupid for believing or even thinking of the existence of friendship and that friendship, he tells him, was for all intents and purposes temporary. One would always move on and meet new people.

"And you know what?" Cameron's voice was increasingly loud and soon, it was all that Vaughn could really hear. "Sometimes I think you're a burden. You're holding me down."

Being friends with a scavenger had no benefits.

There was simply no reason for them to be friends.

And though Vaughn understood that there were things in the world that hurt the physical being. But there was nothing—nothing worse than this that he had felt ever before.

"We never had anything in common anyway. It was bound to end, somehow."

"You see, Vaughn, you...you and I aren't—"

"We should just—not be friends."

"That way, you don't have to lie. And that way, I don't have to hang out with a scavenger."

The owl looked up for the first time since the start of this all. He let out a dismissive laugh.

"But what are you talking about, Cam? I—" Need you.

"You're—" The only friend I have.

Vaughn could say neither. There was no strength in him left to be used in this forsaken world.

Cameron sighed with a nod.

"You know what? Just leave it."

"Let's just, you know. Go," He raised his hands in defeat. "Forget about everything that happened. Okay? Just—forget about it. Right? Easy."

Forget about it?

But how? When really, the only thing that one can do was not to remember?

Forgetting was...

"Okay."

It was impossible.

"Okay," The vulture repeated quietly.

"Right. I'm going back to class."

"Okay." The scavenger lowered his head, wondering just why his vision was failing all of a sudden. And this was where his dreams had come to an end; and the nightmare of reality was only just beginning.

____________________________

A/N: When I was forming this in my head, I realized just how I make my characters suffer. It's not just this book (though in Flight School,  suffering is portrayed to be more raw and ugly unlike in the Baked series), but my other books too and I kinda feel guilty to some extent. I was thinking about it the other day and why I make my characters suffer so much and then I came to a conclusion that I couldn't help it. Simply because in reality, we do suffer. And I think suffering is a part of what makes us human. 

I'm sorry Vaughn ;-; ILY. 

-Cuppiecake.