CH. III     ✷     The Enemy Is Out There

         A trickle of sweat glides down Esmeralda's exposed neck. She wipes it off with the back of her smooth hand. "Get up," she says, breath heavy as she kicks at Kyrah's prone form on the ground. "You need to learn how to fight."

The sun remains high in the sky, bearing down on all of them. Ripples of humidity course the air, hinting a storm heading towards their way soon. But, it's hours long before a droplet of rain will even find them, so they do their best to make use of what they have now.

Kyrah sighs, back facing the grass as she closes her eyes. She rests her arm on the crown of her forehead, shading her eyes away from the heat of the sun.

Esmeralda's words mattered little to her at the moment. She tried to think of any coherent excuse to let herself out of training. Esmeralda, however, was smart; she purposely picked the days where neither Kyrah nor anyone else of the crew could complain about the weather.

A sense of dread washed over Kyrah as she groaned. The air felt stifling, only furthering Kyrah's motivations of laziness.

Esmeralda rolls her eyes, exasperation seeping through her features as she impatiently taps Kyrah with her foot again, urging her to get up.

Kyrah's eyes remain closed, but her voice is alert and aware as she sarcastically retorts, "I don't need to do anything. You're better off getting Kian to look decent for once in his life."

Somewhere, several feet away from Kyrah, Kian lies back against a huge stone, watching the scene in front of him unfold. He shakes his head at Kyrah's jab, voice dry, "Have I ever mentioned I don't like you?"

Kyrah opens her eyes to briefly glance at Kian, before she closes them again. A hint of a smile traces her lips. "Yes actually—," she pauses for a moment, pretending to think to herself, "About three times from just today alone."

"I can make that four times if you'd like."

"I'd rather you do not."

Esmeralda's irritation becomes more palpable as she paces herself, her body pent-up with frustration as she rocks her heel back and forth. Her lips are pursued together and her eyes intensely glare down at Kyrah from where she stands.

Kyrah, having sensed Esmeralda's glare, propped her hand to lift her head up, glancing at her.

She takes note of how her wavy, brown hair had grown out more, now carefully tucked into a loose braid. Her cheeks had slimmed down a little, accentuating the definition of her impeccable bone structure. Even her body had grown to be a bit more defined, with less body fat and more muscle.

Scars adorned Esmeralda's body, each reminiscent of every battle she fought, but alas, time had weathered onto them faster than she would've assumed. Soon, the ones Kyrah used to mentally trace with her eyes were gone, as if they had never marked Esmeralda's skin.

Kyrah knows better. It has nothing to do with stress. They've been on the low, residing at their post until further notice. But, the word magic thrums through her head like an echo in a cave. She has no complete knowledge of whatever power resides in their veins. Yet it knows each of them like a creator who knows the exact number of hair strands originating off their scalps.

The power has worn onto all of them in a timely manner, both mentally and physically, connecting them like red threads — a symbolism of Fate's doing in their lives.

However, Esmeralda looked just as beautiful when they had first met: dark, brown eyes that were full of determination, light freckles marked like constellations on her olive skin. Now, Kyrah peers into eyes that still hold that same look but darker — veiled with more vengeance and a craving to right what's been wronged to her.

Beauty is beauty — Kyrah would be a fool to deny it.

She turns her head, no longer willing to meet Esmeralda's gaze. She can feel the heat of Esmeralda's glare, and her silence in response only seems to aggravate her further.

Esmeralda tsks, observing Kyrah's reaction. The silence in the air is enough of an answer for her. She folds her arms against her chest, maintaining her sharp and unrelenting glare.

"I refuse to allow you to be incompetent in fighting," Esmeralda's words drill itself to Kyrah's core, leaving no room for argument.

Kyrah rolls her eyes, mockingly laughing, "Why does it matter? I cannot be killed —"

"— I don't care," Esmeralda interrupts, "What good will your immortality bring if you cannot even defend it?" She seethes, gritting her teeth as she steps closer to Kyrah, "How long will you entertain men with your defeat? You want them to make a mockery out of you?"

Kyrah clenches her jaw at Esmeralda's words. Agitation breaking away through her previously calm demeanor.

She has no will in her to fight at the moment, but if there's anything Esmeralda has ever been, it's knowing how to convince someone to listen even when they think they don't need to hear it.

Esmeralda takes notice of Kyrah's change of mood and gently sighs, opting to go more lightly on her. She stretches forth her hand, waiting for Kyrah to grab onto it.

"Get up, Kyrah," Esmeralda says.

Her tone is absolute, leaving no room for any means of fighting back.

Any traces of annoyance etched in Kyrah's features quickly disappeared. She looks at Esmeralda's hand with a spark of deja vu, recalling when their path together first began.

She remembers how Esmeralda's hands had been drenched in the blood of her village people. And, how Kyrah, herself, found it so compelling to shake her hand regardless of the blood on them. Perhaps it would have been more fitting for the two of them to shake on bloodied hands, and let it serve as the fruit of their bonds.

But, Esmeralda had wiped them clean. Stained her clothes with even more blood, so she could grasp Kyrah's hand as if her own were fresh.

Esmeralda's words ring loudly: Choose the life that you want. And, if fate stands in your way— throw it away and start your own. What do you say?

Kyrah can only bring herself to smile as she takes Esmeralda's hand. She senses that Esmeralda understands her train of thought.

Even without needing to speak, Esmeralda moves with purpose.

It is a new life Kyrah has emerged into. Her family is gone, replaced with a new one. The dried blood on Esmeralda's hand will stand as a past reminder for the life she has lived, but those days are over. Her hand is mostly clean now; all Kyrah has to do is shake it, and permit that to be the catalyst to her new fight.

Esmeralda pulls her up, strength never wavering.

She doesn't smile back at Kyrah, not with white teeth and plump cheeks, but it's in the eyes, Kyrah notices. When Esmeralda thinks no one sees her, her eyes lighten and soften up with care.

One day, Kyrah thinks, she will see an actual smile on Esmeralda's face. One day.

Esmeralda clears her throat, breaking Kyrah out of her deep thinking. She takes a step back, assessing Kyrah with a critical eye before she speaks.

"I want you to learn how to react in a fight before learning how to fight," Esmeralda brushes away a loose strand of hair in front of her face, before continuing, "Otherwise, your attempts at doing the latter may not get you anywhere."

Attentive to Esmeralda's words, Kyrah diligently nods.

Esmeralda steps behind Kyrah. She places both hands on Kyrah's shoulders, straightening her posture.

"Learning how to fight doesn't mean only throwing a punch. You need to know when and how. It's a skill that can be honed."

She circles back in front of Kyrah, motioning for her to get in form.

Kyrah follows suit.

Her hands are raised in front of her in the form of fists. She's partially crouched, knees locked, as she places her non-dominant foot slightly in front of the other.

Kyrah thinks she looks ridiculous, but it's nothing compared to what other forms of training Esmeralda could have her doing.

She bites down a shiver.

There's a slight narrowing in Esmeralda's eyes, Kyrah notes. Her eyebrows are creased in thought, with the middle of her forehead being slightly furrowed, not enough to cause wrinkles, but still noticeably there. It's the same, subtle look Esmeralda has when there's something bothering her.

Kyrah's not a perfectionist, not the way Esmeralda and Mattias are. But, it's that same look that flits across their faces in a way of showing displeasure about something but not exactly wanting to say it aloud.

"What is it?" Kyrah asks, "Just tell me."

Esmeralda rests her hand on her chin, looking deeply in thought. She doesn't answer Kyrah's question right away. There's a low hum in her voice as she scans Kyrah's form with a scrutinizing gaze.

"When was the last time you trained?"

Kyrah, afraid of not wanting to have a harder training, but seeing no need to lie to Esmeralda, hesitantly says the truth, "...Two days ago."

Esmeralda meets Kyrah's eyes, no expression laid on her face. It frightens Kyrah just a little.

"I have no interest in making your training harder. I was just asking."

"Can I ask why?" Kyrah queries.

"Your form has improved, but you still adopt the same stance I've been trying to get you to break since."

Esmeralda walks back again behind Kyrah. She kicks at the sides of Kyrah's ankles, forcing her to widen her legs.

Not quite used to the stance, Kyrah stumbles. Esmeralda holds onto her shoulder like an anchor, grounding her before she falls.

"You're alright," Esmeralda advises, "Loosen your knees. You're more likely to fall down if your body isn't open to reacting quickly."

Following her advice, Kyrah straightens herself up, using Esmeralda's hand on her shoulder as a grounder. Her knees are no longer locked as she crouches. She relaxes her hands, and feels a rush of fluidity take place within herself.

Esmeralda lets her hand go from Kyrah's shoulder, nodding in approval.

From the corner of her eye, Kyrah watches Mattias approach the two of them with a jog, instantly taking notice of Kyrah's improved form.

He smiles at Kyrah with a bright grin, "How is it that you never managed to get it when I taught you?

Esmeralda cocks her head to the side, raising an eyebrow, "Because I'm clearly the better teacher."

"Yet, Kyrah comes to me more for training," Mattias counters.

"You take pity the minute she complains. It's no wonder she runs to you every time."

Mattias gasps, feigning a dramatic act in front of the two women. His blue eyes go dark as he looks at Esmeralda incredulously, hand dramatically swung over his heart, "Don't tell me you think I'm a bad teacher."

Esmeralda glances at Kyrah before looking at Mattias. She shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest, "Fine. I won't tell you anything then."

Mattias laughs.

"Now go," Esmeralda gently urges Mattias away, shooing him. It's his turn to roll his eyes at her, "I don't need you distracting Kyrah. Take her from me when I'm done."

Mattias throws Kyrah a warm smile before leaving. She smiles back, happy to witness his and Esmeralda's interaction.

There's not much Kyrah has ever said when they have their moments. At times Kyrah likes their doting attention on her. She'd never be one to admit it aloud, but it makes her feel important when she often finds herself invisible.

And then they bring her in, Kyrah observes, almost as if they're fighting over who Kyrah aligns herself with more.

But, Kyrah likes them both. Each in their own individual ways.

It's always the same between the two: a natural competition. Yet, Esmeralda is usually the one to get the last word in. Perhaps, Kyrah thinks, it's the seriousness in Esmeralda's voice from how she teases that doesn't leave Mattias room to say anything else.

But, Mattias had always laughed like he had yet to do so before.

Flashback.

Esmeralda shakes her head, her eyes brimming with light. The tone in her voice is serious when she speaks. Kyrah can't imagine it any other way, "Not much of a teacher, are you?"

Mattias holds his hand up to Kian, signaling to pause their fight.

"Shut up," he responds with a laugh.

Kyrah sits besides Esmeralda, watching their bickering.

It was around the first two weeks after Kyrah had joined them. Esmeralda had wanted to train her, but thought it was best to let her see what it would look like before putting a task on Kyrah so early-on.

Esmeralda had never been one to rush someone into anything, but she was always capable of wanting to remind people about their strengths.

Draco, Kyrah recalls — the constellation, what the prophecy claimed her after.

She turns to Esmeralda, who catches her gaze before turning away, patting Kyrah's arm in comfort.

Kyrah smiles and thinks—

She's a beautiful symbol of strength and power.

End of scene.

Kyrah's eyes follow after Mattias, catching the sun's luminescent glow on his blond hair.

Esmeralda focuses her attention on Kyrah. Her hands held together behind her back, waiting for Kyrah's attention to go back on their training.

"Are you still with me?" Esmeralda asks softly.

Kyrah jumps, a little startled by Esmeralda's voice. She catches herself, wide brown eyes relaxing once she processes what Esmeralda had said.

"Yeah," Kyrah delicately smiles, "I'm with you."

Esmeralda nods and motions for Kyrah to get into position once again.

She quickly stumbles but manages to get into her stance before Esmeralda could correct her on it.

"You learn quickly." Esmeralda states, leveling her eyes over Kyrah's form with content.

Esmeralda falls into the stance naturally, making Kyrah's efforts pale in comparison to hers.

Kyrah's jaw tenses, slightly fidgeting her weight from one foot to another. Esmeralda doesn't fail to take notice of it.

"Don't get frustrated," Esmeralda voices, stretching her legs before resuming their training, "You're doing well."

Kyrah takes her words into consideration and allows her body to loosen up.

Esmeralda holds her hands out in front of her, ready to strike at any movement. Kyrah attentively watches, her eyes narrowed as she waits for Esmeralda's hands to change in stance.

She notices the slight disapproving shake of Esmeralda's head, "Don't look too much at my hands. Pay attention to my feet. The rest of my body doesn't move until they do."

Kyrah refocuses her eyes, waiting for even the slightest movement in Esmeralda's feet. It's not until a few seconds before she sees the back of Esmeralda's foot lift, and Kyrah instantly retreats, pivoting her body away to narrowly avoid Esmeralda's punch thrown near her face.

"Again," Esmeralda declares.

Kyrah and Esmeralda throw themselves into the same pattern for minutes. Esmeralda attacks, and Kyrah avoids.

When Esmeralda throws a feint as a test, Kyrah quickly retreats, learning and understanding the movements of her opponent before reacting any further.

The two dance around each other, Kyrah gracefully avoiding Esmeralda's roundhouse kick. She positions herself behind Esmeralda, taking her by surprise. It leaves an opening in her form and Kyrah decides to throw a punch to knock down Esmeralda's momentum.

Esmeralda loses her balance, falling onto the ground a bit harshly. She looks up at Kyrah with surprise.

There's a voice in Kyrah's head, one that refuses to leave her ever since her parents betrayed her. It's loud and suffocating at times, never once letting go of the opportunity to see the worst in every moment.

She fears the worst in Esmeralda's surprise.

If only she hadn't taken that step; if only she hadn't punched Esmeralda with the need to win and prove herself; if only —

Kian breaks Kyrah's self-deprecating chain of thought with a playful clap, drawing attention to himself as he lets out a low whistle.

"You're not messing up entirely for the first time," Kian lowly smirks, his eyes set aflame with delight, "Impressive."

"Kian." Imogen tiredly calls out.

She approaches the group gracefully, every movement deliberate and near ethereal as she places herself next to Kian's lodged position on the ground.

Ezra follows suit after her, his body language conveying a subtle confidence. He stands a little behind Imogen to the side, letting out a low, rumbling laugh at Kian's comment.

"You speak a lot for someone whose ass has been sitting on the ground all morning," Ezra jested.

Kian looks up at Ezra, half-smile on his face. "What can I say?" He begins, patting the solid ground next to his leg. "Ground loves my ass so much it refuses to let me go."

"You're ridiculous," Kyrah chuckles, hiding her smile behind her hand.

Imogen stretches her limbs, purposely elbowing Kian in the ribs. She crosses her legs one over the other. "I, for one, think you did beautiful," she side-eyes Kian with a look of feigned contempt, "No slight-handed comment added."

Kian raises his hands in playful surrender, eyebrows raised. "I can't let your lover get too big of an ego now," he replies back.

Imogen bares her teeth, ready to tear into Kian.

Ezra walks a bit over and pulls Imogen back by the shoulder. "Easy, Gen," he laughs, "You know he's playing with the both of you."

"Are you ever serious?" Kyrah dryly asks, her humored tone directed towards Kian.

He leans forward, staring straight into Kyrah's eyes. His face is flat and void of any emotion. It's about the most serious Kyrah has ever seen him. All the humor in her face quickly pales.

Kian slowly creeps his face into a smile, "About you and Imogen being lovers? Absolutely."

Kyrah laughs, falling for his antics.

Her mind had begun to unravel in its downward spiral of thoughts but were aborted the minute Kian spoke up.

It's a specialty of his, Kyrah supposes. He's never been the one to hold her in comfort like Adya and Imogen, nor is he to spend his solitude in silence with Kyrah like Esmeralda, Mattias, and Ezra. But, he's an excellent friend, one who excels best in making Kyrah forget that her problems ever existed.

It's a beautiful thing to know: finding ways to relieve someone's pain.

A season, however, that rains without cease in a desert land — one is soon to ask when the sun will make itself known again.

It's as beautiful as it is dangerous.

Kyrah understands the pain better than she should, but the smile does not wipe away from her face when she looks at Kian.

He holds his hands up in defense, backing himself away from Imogen's fists.

Ezra doesn't hold Imogen back anymore. He only laughs at Kian's predicament, eye bags more noticeable, "You asked for it, man."

Kian doesn't respond to Ezra's comment. He narrowly just manages to duck Imogen's swing at his face. "Alright, alright, Gen," his eyes widening, laughing with Imogen, "Let me go."

Imogen pauses her hands for the time being. The blush on her cheeks still being lightly recognizable from Kian's previous comments.

"I will not!" She responds, her bottom lip grasped between her teeth as Imogen focuses to have her fist connect to the side of Kian's arm, "How have I dealt with you for so long?"

Kian shrugs his shoulders. His eyes bore into Imogen's own with a deadpan delivery, "Because I'm amazing."

The smile on Imogen's face comes off artificially. She doesn't respond with words, only reacting to pinch the closest proximity of skin on Kian's arm with short nails.

"Ow, Ow, Ow!" Kian tries to bat Imogen's hand off.

The sound of laughter cuts through the area.

Kyrah turns her head to look at Esmeralda, wondering to see if a smile graces her face.

Esmeralda is sat on the ground, hands beside her body to hold her weight up. Her legs are crossed one over the other, feet tucked beneath. The braid in her hair had loosened even more due to her practice with Kyrah.

Her attention is trained towards Imogen and Kian's conversation, but she turns, feeling Kyrah's gaze on her.

Esmeralda smiles.

A bright, beautiful one at that — one with white teeth and plump cheeks to showcase her joy; one that matches the vigor in her eyes.

Kyrah immediately shoots back a grin at Esmeralda. A radiating warmth spreads through her chest, mirroring the joy reflected in Esmeralda's eyes.

It's a sight Kyrah would do anything to see again.

The sun is no longer as prominent as it was hours before. "It's best if we all rest before continuing our daily tasks," Ezra insists. Kyrah decides to take the opportunity to rest her head on Imogen's lap while Imogen delicately plaits her hair with skilled fingers.

"What do you think that one is, Kyrah?" Imogen removes her hands from Kyrah's hair and points to a strangely shaped cloud.

Kyrah tilts her head, studying the cloud. It is quite faint from its distance to them, but they have no trouble seeing it with their vision. It bears some resemblance to a bird, with rather large feathers and a small body. But, Kyrah can't fully describe it yet.

Imogen presses her lips together, contemplating. She strokes Kyrah's hair softly. "Am I allowed to just say it looks like a tree?"

"That does not look like a tree, Imogen," Kyrah laughs.

Adya rests her head on Kyrah's stomach. She looks up at Imogen and Kyrah before turning her gaze back to the sky.

"It looks more like a bird," Adya declares. Her eyes are full of thought as she stares at the sky with wonder. "Would you not agree, Kyrah?"

Kyrah doesn't look up at the sky again. Instead, she focuses her attention on Adya, almost as if she is trying to recall something.

"Perhaps," Kyrah responds with half-thought.

She closes her eyes, savoring the feeling of Imogen's hands calmly tressing through her mahogany hair.

Taking a deep breath, Kyrah lavishes in the freshness of her surroundings. The air is lively, filled with the sweet notes of summer's garden. Grass bristles softly beneath them as bugs and animals, near and far, make themselves known through their sounds.

There's a moment of comfortable silence between the three of them. But, when Kyrah decides to look back up at the strangely shaped cloud, there's an indescribable pull towards Adya that leaves her confused.

Imogen softly traces her thumb over Kyrah's cheekbone, drawing Kyrah from her thoughts. Kyrah tilts her head to look at her, daintily smiling at the gesture.

"What's on your mind, my love?" Imogen asks.

Kyrah catches her wrist, gently caressing Imogen's skin in circular motions with her own thumb. She bites her lip, refraining from appearing ridiculous and diverting attention impromptu to Adya, whose presence lays peacefully on Kyrah's stomach, still gazing up at the cerulean firmament.

Imogen presses her lips to Kyrah's forehead, drawing her away from her thoughts. Kyrah nestles her head more into Imogen's lap, cautiousness in thought quickly forgotten.

"Well...I was just thinking," Kyrah starts, her eyes slowly trailing down to Adya, whose dark eyes meet hers, "Adya was the first person to start this journey. I do wonder what exactly that's supposed to mean."

"It could mean many things," Adya responds. She directs her eyes back down to her nails, picking at them with newfound interest. "I could also ask why there are a certain number of us and not more or less? Or why we were able to know our journey ended when we found you?"

She pushes herself off Kyrah and turns around to face her friends. Adya continues, "I'm unsure of what our journey is... but you both feel it, don't you?" Her eyebrows are raised accompanied with wide eyes. Imogen and Kyrah remain silent, confused about where Adya is leading their conversation. Adya decides to take their silence as an invitation to keep speaking. She silently whispers, "The power. Since the moment I've died, I've felt it in me."

Kyrah does not know what to say. She hears Imogen sigh deeply before placing her elbow on the other lap Kyrah's head does not occupy. The wheels in her head are turning, Kyrah figures. Imogen has never been one to say anything outlandish in a serious situation.

Imogen hums. She gently taps her pointer finger against her lips in a rhythmic manner before speaking, "I feel it too. Do you think it could be something more? Like a curse... maybe?"

"I don't see why it would not be," Kyrah says. "After all, for this power to begin, we needed to be in a deathly state, had to kill our entire families, and since then, my mind has only gotten more troubling in its thoughts."

"I'm not sure..." Adya softly starts. Her eyes are downcast, slightly disagreeing with Kyrah's sentiments on their shared power. "It has given us life —"

"It is rotting us from the inside out," Kyrah snaps, interrupting Adya.

Imogen pays attention to the flare of anger that flashes across Kyrah's eyes. She quickly looks away, exhaling any stirring emotions away within her. Imogen caresses the side of Kyrah's face in a way of calming her.

"You seem to have quite the opinion on it, Kyrah," Imogen notes.

Kyrah tiredly sighs and reaches out to hold Adya's hand in her own as an apology for snapping. "I just believe it has done us more harm than good," her thumb lightly traces over Adya's knuckles. "Think of all we have lost..." Kyrah's voice trails off. Her mind immediately goes to her parents — she diverts her train of thinking before it gets any further.

"We have lost a lot, sure," Adya tightens her grasp on Kyrah's hand to pull her out of her thoughts, "But to me, finding the six of you was worth more than anything."

Imogen smiles at Adya's comment. Her hand reaches to Adya's forearm and warmly grasps it before letting go.

Kyrah slowly rises up. She removes her hand from Adya's as a darker expression lingers on her face. Her eyes trace back up to the sky, searching for the peculiar bird they were discussing moments earlier.

There's a light stream of different colors, mostly blue and green hues reflecting off the cloud. Kyrah almost refuses to believe it. But, the bird shaped cloud is colorful, bright, and familiar. She looks back down at Adya, who watches her with a tilt of her head, and fondness in her eyes.

Adya is both delicate and grounding, multifaceted in many areas of her life. Kyrah looks at her and sees a vibrant array of colors: a new beginning in a bleak world. Adya, herself, may not know it, but Kyrah now knows why this journey had to begin with her:

Their rebirth can only begin until she does.

Kyrah mulls her bottom lip between her teeth. She looks Adya dead in the eye and asks, "And are you so certain?"

Adya raises her brow at Kyrah.

"That it was worth more than anything?"

Adya lifts her head, eyes leveling over Kyrah's solemn face. She doesn't say it out loud, but Adya knows that Kyrah is asking about the scabbed wounds of her parents' betrayal.

She leans closer and cups the sides of Kyrah's face with both her hands. Kyrah's skin is cold, despite the sun being out, against the warmth of her smooth hands. Adya brings the two of them closer. Kyrah doesn't question it once as their foreheads nearly touch.

Adya looks Kyrah deeply in the eyes, "I would burn all of heaven and hell if it meant I would find you."

Kyrah travels alongside Kian quietly. She glanced nervously at him, not exactly sure how to start their conversation.

Feeling Kyrah's lingering eyes on him for the third time, Kian sighs. "You want to say something, Kyrah?"

"Maybe," Kyrah replies, not quite sure how to express what she has in mind. A smile, however, graces her lips upon hearing Kian's voice.

Kian chuckles at Kyrah's antics. He playfully punches Kyrah at the back of her shoulder, soliciting a grunt from her lips. His steps quicken, urging Kyrah to match his pace before the sun vanishes from the sky.

The ground is crumbled and dry as they walk, branches and vines looming low, nearly obstructing their vision as they progress to their destination.

The air feels sweltering and humid, almost matching the intensity from earlier in the day.

Kyrah swats another bug away from her face, whining, "Why did I come with you again?"

"You're asking me?" Kian scoffs.

Kyrah side-eyes him, then playfully slaps him on the side of his face in retribution for his punch earlier.

"Ow?" Kian holds the side of his face in confusion.

Kyrah shrugs, "Oops, I thought I saw a mosquito on you."

"Yeah, right," Kian grumbles.

Kyrah sighs, wanting to approach a sensitive topic that she feels Kian is hiding. Despite his attempts to remain lighthearted, Kyrah can sense the weight he carries. It's getting harder for Kyrah to ignore it.

The comfortable silence between them quickly turns awkward. Kyrah fidgets with her fingers, her heartbeat loud in her chest.

"Um..." Kyrah starts, hesitantly.

Kian rolls his eyes with an exasperated sigh. He already knows where their conversation is headed. "Let me guess," he runs his hand through his hair, "You want to have a conversation about what happened a week ago?"

Kyrah looks down, "Well, obviously, if you do not want to talk about it, you do not have to," she trains her eyes on the patchy grass, "...I just think it's been bothering you more than you let on."

"I had a sister," Kian clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He takes a glance at Kyrah's nervous ridden face. "She was all that mattered to me."

Kian opens up faster than Kyrah would have assumed, but she believes it is his way of wanting to get the conversation finished with.

"What happened to her?" Kyrah hesitantly questions.

"She was sick. I thought she would get better, but by the time I wanted to see her again, I was up to be executed," Kian explains.

He lost his family just like Kyrah did. Her heart sinks— tragedy has connected the two of them together. "You went to see her after the trial, did you not?"

It is Kian's turn to look downwards at his feet.

"I did but..." He trails off.

Kyrah grimaces knowingly. She finishes his sentence, "But... she was dead, wasn't she?"

"Yeah," Kian sadly nods, "She was dead."

Kyrah stops walking. She holds Kian back by the wrist, wanting to convey how serious his pain means to her. Tears well in her eyes as Kian's eyes meet hers.

"I am so sorry," Kyrah laments.

Kian ruffles Kyrah's hair and softly smiles at her. "What are you saying sorry for? You killed my sister without me knowing?"

Kyrah rolls her eyes. She quickly fixes her hair from Kian's hand and roughly wipes a tear off her cheek with her palm.

So much for being sentimental, Kyrah thinks.

"Can you ever be serious?"

"No."

Kyrah sighs, "Well, at the very least—"

Kian presses his hands to his temples, groaning out in pain. Kyrah runs to his side, cutting herself off as confusion laces her face. She looks at his face, wondering what the matter is.

Before she can speak, a sharp pain rockets to Kyrah's head. She crouches low, arms crossed over her head as she cries out in pain.

"Kyrah..." Kian gasps, desperately attempting to breathe.

Kyrah holds onto Kian's shoulder. Her other arm clutches at her throat trying to find air back into her lungs. Blood streams out of her ears as every sound within the radius merges into one loud thrum.

A vague vision flashes before her eyes: a man, two hands being shaken, tremendous dark power radiating off Kyrah.

She snaps back to the present, her eyes finding Kian's. He looks back at her with the same terror written on his face: eyes widened, sweat dripping down his forehead.

Whatever it was Kyrah saw, she knows Kian witnessed it as well.

A crunch of leaves beckons their attention. They snap their heads up, curious about who might see them at this moment.

Kyrah knits her brows together. While the pain still throbs, the clarity of her senses has gotten back to her once the vision had passed.

A young man shows himself in front of them. He looks disturbed at the sight of Kyrah and Kian, as if they have offended him by presence alone. His eyes are void of humanity, gray-blue eyes filled with nothing but hatred. Kyrah eyes the wooden stick he carries, sharpened at the very end.

"You..." The strange man begins, speaking in another language neither Kyrah nor Kian has ever heard, but they manage to understand his words clearly in their heads.

"The both of you are one of them," he spits, "Devils!"

Kyrah stops moving.

There is no way for that man to know what they are. Everyone that knows them is dead. It is the reason Ezra had even declared that anyone who inhabited the village Kyrah lived in needed to die. Otherwise, they would've had to endure descendants of bloodlines hunting after them.

"I can smell it on you, both," He yells, face twisted in disgust. The man steps closer, menacingly brandishing his wooden stake at the two of them. Kyrah fumbles on her back, scurrying away from the stranger. "The wretchedness, the filth!"

Kian hurriedly picks himself up. He then grabs Kyrah by the waist, setting her slightly behind him, positioning himself between Kyrah and the hostile.

He whispers to Kyrah, his eyes fixed on the man only, "Run. He wants to kill us."

Kyrah immediately grabs Kian by the wrist and flees, dragging him with her.

Her heart pounds in her chest loudly against her rib cage. She refuses to look back for even a second and runs forward, adrenaline heightened inside her.

Kian races a few steps behind her, checking over his shoulder to scout the other man's position.

The wind blows past their ears, blocking away any intricate sound. But, despite running far, Kyrah manages to hear his deadly whisper in the trees:

"I will rest at nothing until all of you are dead."

❧ author's note:

good news: this was my longest chapter yet 😋
bad news: this took so long due to me trying to fix my writing but i felt myself giving up as i wrote this chapter so i am v sorry

next chapter will focus more on ezra and mattias so i hope you enjoyed this one !!!  ... (if it's boring or terrible pls don't say anything)

OLD DEVILS (2023)
© romanoiogy