Out of all breeds of mages, those known as "angelic mages" are the most revered and celebrated. It is a famously beneficial title to carry as their healing capabilities put them in high demand. A talented angelic mage can not only find a well-paying job with relative ease, but they will also be treated with respect and favor.

Alister was an angelic mage. The instant Eugene found out, everything changed.

Eugene suddenly started advocating for Alister to leave their little group and pursue a better, honest life. Bari recalls being confused at first— how could he not be confused? This was the same man who constantly insisted that thievery was the only way for the four children to survive. Eugene had tried his damndest to cement that idea as fact in their heads, and for the most part, he was successful. The young children saw their lives of thievery as an undeniable, unavoidable reality.

Flint eventually became the exception to the four's passive acceptance.

After Bari's and Flint's confrontation with the aristocrat, there was a shift. Flint wanted nothing to do with thievery, and he didn't want his younger peers to spend the rest of their lives living an inherently risky lifestyle. Whenever he voiced his desire to seek a different path, Eugene promptly shut him down. Bari recalls their arguing vividly. It became so commonplace it was almost routine.

But no matter what Flint said, Eugene stood firm. Theft was the only choice, the only way.

Yet somehow, Alister's magic was able to tear through Eugene's unwavering philosophy. Alister, and only Alister, became the exception to Eugene's rule.

The day he was set to leave, Alister was only nine years old. He was to take a train to Hosa city, where he would enroll in a school that specializes in healing magic. From there, he was to abandon his roots and become a fully realized medic.

The morning of the departure, Bari slipped from everyone's watch and fled into the nearby forest. Believing to be hidden away from the world by the bushes and shrubs, the boy sat in the dirt and ran his hands through the grass. He hoped nobody would search for him— he hoped they would go about their goodbyes without him. As boring as it was sitting in the middle of nowhere doing nothing, he preferred it to helplessly watching one of his best friends leave forever.

He didn't know how many hours it took. Perhaps it was two? Or maybe it was closer to three? Regardless, he eventually heard the sound of leaves crunching underneath someone's feet. Bari stiffens and holds his breath, hoping he'd blend into and become one with woods.

He did not become one with the woods.

"Bari? Bari! There you are!" Flint pushed past the shrubbery with his cheeks puffed out in a pout. "You're really good at disappearing, you know that?"

Bari grumbled as he pulled his knees to his chest. He didn't look up.

Flint waited for an acknowledgment that he wasn't going to get.

"...Okay?" Flint raised a single brow. "What's up with you? You know we've got to see Al off today, right?"

Bari silently buried his face away in his arms.

"...Alright then," Flint said. "Well, his train leaves in a couple hours. We don't have long. So..."

"See him off without me," Bari muttered. He kept his face hidden in his arms, hoping to hear the sound of footsteps fading into the distance.

"...That's not fair to Al." To Bari's disappointment, Flint sat down next to him. "It'd hurt him real bad if you didn't show up to say goodbye. He'll think that you're mad at him because of the choice he made. And he'll think you'll be mad forever."

Bari let out only a short groan in response.

"...Are you mad at him for leaving?" Flint asked.

Bari didn't move, keeping his face hidden away. It was a long shot, but he hoped by remaining motionless, Flint would eventually give up and walk away.

Flint folded his arms with narrowed eyes. "Well?"

Bari knew his plan was destined to fail. Flint wasn't going anywhere.

"This would be way easier if you just told me what's wrong—"

"How the hell are you okay with this?!" Bari snapped, jolting out of his curled position.

"Huh? What do you—?"

"What do you mean what do I mean?! You know this is unfair! It's so unfair!" Bari hopped onto his feet and slammed his fist against his chest. "You should be mad, Flint! You, out of everybody, should be pissed!"

Flint remained settled on the ground. "...That wouldn't do much good."

"But, but, but, but why Al?! Why just Al?! Why is he the only one who gets to have some better life when we can't?! You're not upset about that?! We're getting left behind! Eugene doesn't think we're good enough to be anything but thieves!"

"That's not..." He turned his head and looked out into nothing. "The only reason Al has Eugene's blessing to leave is because of his magic. It's not because he thinks less of us."

"But I have magic, too! I'm a light mage! So why isn't Eugene sending me off?"

"You know the answer to that question. Bari, you're not fully—"

"I don't care! It's not fair!" Bari stomped his feet like a toddler, one after the other after the other. "We're supposed to stick together! Thieves are supposed to stick together! It's not fair!"

Bari stomped and stomped and stomped until his face turned cherry red. Flint watched without saying a word.

"It's not fair! It's not fair! It's not fair..."

Bari collapsed back onto the dirt, slumping forward with a hunched back. With his remaining frustration, he slapped his hand over a short pile of dead leaves. The following cackle was dull and unsatisfying.

A hand gently rested on his back. The boy raised his head, and looking back at him were two deep green eyes that bled of understanding.

"You're right. It isn't fair. It isn't fair at all," Flint said. "But it's the way things are."

"It shouldn't be!" Bari protested.

"It shouldn't, but it can't be helped." Flint pulled his hand back. "And you shouldn't take it out on Al. He was really struggling with this choice. And in the end, he chose what's best for him."

"But... you're not upset with him at all? I mean, he's getting what you want! What you keep fighting with Eugene for! He doesn't have to be a thief anymore!"

"...It'd be wrong of me to get upset at Al for that. I told him to go for it. Multiple times."

The words to respond with did not come to Bari immediately. It was only once the statement had been fully processed and solidified within his mind that the question popped out of him at maximum volume. "You what?!"

"... I told Al to go and become a medic. Get a better life." A deep frown dawned on Flint's face, creating a somber infliction in his expression. "It's not like I'm not jealous, and it's not like I'm not upset that we're still stuck living as thieves. If I were to have it my way, we'd all be able to go after different paths. But Al is the only one who has a direct path open to him right now, and I don't want to hold him back from taking it. I don't want him to keep risking everything as a thief when he doesn't have to."

Flint's voice was low— the type of low Flint would only use when he was knee-deep in sorrow. The overt dread on his face was easy to read, making Bari's chest burdened with an abrupt weight as if it were about to drop to his stomach.

What Flint said... made sense to Bari. Still, he wanted to get upset with him for not getting angry, for giving Alister a blessing of his own. At the same time, for such a reason, he knew getting bitter at Flint wouldn't be right.

But it was so hard to swallow bitter tastes.

"...Alister is only doing what's best for him," Flint said. "He can't be blamed for that."

"But still! It just isn't fair! And I can't stop being mad at everything! I'm... I'm so mad, Flint!"

"... And that's fine. That's absolutely fine."

"You don't get it—! Wait." Bari interrupted his own pained cry. "It's... fine?"

Flint nodded. "Yeah, it's fine. But the thing is, there is always a time and place to let your emotions loose."

"... Um."

"What I'm trying to say is, well, Al is only leaving once. You won't have another opportunity to say goodbye, and I could assure you that you don't want to miss this chance. I highly doubt you'll be this mad forever, so once you calm down, you'll definitely regret not saying goodbye."

Bari hung his head with lips tightly pressed in thought. Flint picked himself up, hovering over his friend with his fists in his pockets.

"So... you should ignore your anger for a bit. Force a smile and bid Al farewell. Then afterward, you could be as mad as you want." Flint extended his hand out toward the boy. "Whaddya say? Shall we see our friend off?"

Bari lifted his head and met Flint's eyes. He slowly unwrapped his arms from his knees and reached out to his friend. He grabbed his hand.

"...Yeah. Let's go. But I'm totally going to be super mad again later. Like, even madder. Madder than you ever thought possible!"

Flint laughed. "I'm sure of it."

* * *

There is always a time and place to let your emotions loose.

Bari clings to those words with every ounce of willpower in his being. There is always a time and place to let emotions loose. Now isn't that time.

He has to keep it together. If he lets his emotions run wild now, he doesn't know if he'd be able to stop himself from blasting beams of light at every living thing in his vicinity. If he went on that rampage, not only would he be inevitably subdued, but he might be perceived as a threat by the guardsmen.

That, or he'd die from hacking up too much blood.

Either result would make matters much harder in the long run.

That tiny voice in his head keeps saying he needs to think as Eugene would. It keeps saying that the impulsive Bari way of doing things won't work here.

The anger building up in his chest insistently tries to drown out that voice. His surroundings only add fuel to that fire.

After his encounter with Risha, Bari had been thrown into the same isolated cell he had found Flint cowering in earlier. Locked in with no way out, he is stuck sitting among the remnants of Flint's torture. There's still a lingering scent of blood. The trail of red that laid on the floor has dried and gone dark. The abandoned knife still rests on the ground as if it has any right to be there.

It's all a constant reminder. The image of Flint's terrified face and the sound of his pained cries haunt him, refusing to disperse. Alongside the frustration and stress, the flow of magic that courses through his veins goes into overdrive. It races to his palms and his fingertips in a desperate search for an outlet.

He could feel the energy's heat. It's like his hands are melting from the inside out.

The memory of Flint's arms and the strange burns that covered them suddenly flashes through his mind. A horrid thought follows suit. The color drains from his face.

It couldn't be...

He needs to test this theory.

Bari holds his breath and presses two fingers into his palm. He grits his teeth together in preparation before letting pure concentrated magic burst out from his fingertips.

His palm flails away at the instant pain. He holds back a shriek from escaping through his throat.

He breathes through the residual pain and lifts his hand to survey the damage. It's just as he feared. His magic left behind a burn on his palm that wouldn't appear unusual, except for the mysterious pale blue residue sprinkled on top of it like clumps of sugar.

It's identical to those strange burns that coated Flint's arms.

The rage is all-encompassing. Bari can't feel the pain of the burn anymore, nor can he gather his senses. Now, he could only feel his heart pounding and his magic pulsing violently underneath his skin. Everything he sees goes red.

It had to be that blond man. Risha, the man who has taken Flint's eye... he's also...

Bari throws his face down onto the bed and screams into the stiff mattress.

As if on cue, Bari hears the door unlock. He looks up and upon seeing the man's face, he wonders if his muffled screams have summoned him from the depths of hell itself.

"What's with that look? Not happy to see me?" Risha tilts his head with a slight smile. "Don't tell me you despise me already. I haven't even put the work in yet."

There is always a time and place to let your emotions loose.

Those words repeat again and again in Bari's head, but they slowly fade into white noise. He presses his thumb into his burnt palm, hoping the reignited pain would keep him grounded.

He stands up while biting his lip, not saying a word.

"Nothing to say? Interesting. You seemed to have plenty to say earlier." Risha steps further into the cell with crossed arms.

Bari presses his thumb deeper into his palm. "...Are you here to give me a dose of your 'thorough discipline' or whatever? Just get on with it."

Risha laughs. "Tempting, but no. Not yet, at least. The warden has requested I give you a simple warning."

"Then warn me already and leave me the fuck—"

Risha points a finger forward as a white blur zips through Bari's peripheral vision, leaving behind a modest trail of blue particles in its wake. The boy feels something warm and wet sliding down his cheek and onto his chin. He peeks over his shoulder to see a bright, glowing crystal jammed into the wall, slowly disintegrating back into nothingness. He reaches to his cheekbone to meet a cut that stings at the touch.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of the Risha family?" Risha's hand remains poised in the air. "I would assume you have, but judging by your accent, you're not from around here."

Bari watches the crystal fade completely out of existence. Everything slows down, even the mix of rage and magic boiling within him.

The crystal Risha had just shot at him was the creation of light magic. Bari has conjured many crystals of light just like it before (regardless of the consequences to his body). He knows when he's looking at one. He knows when he's looking at light magic.

And Risha just used it.

...So it's true. Bari was right. The evidence has just slashed him across the face.

The boy's anger, red as the blood sliding down his cheek, grows more ravenous.

...Is this some sort of joke? Being of mixed blood is unforgivable but using magic to torture people is completely fine?

A light shines from the tip of Risha's pointed finger. Another crystal is conjured and shot past Bari, narrowly grazing him and colliding with the wall behind him. Blood trickles down a newfound cut on the boy's arm.

"I asked a question, you know," Risha says. "I highly advise you to answer. Or don't. I'm quite good at forcing answers out of people."

Bari wants nothing more but to release another scream. He speaks through his clenched jaw. "No, I haven't heard of em'. But I assume it's a family of light mages."

"Ah, so you do have a brain. You are correct. We are a family of light mages— a well-known, esteemed family, at that."

Risha's posture straightens as he places his hand on his chest. His smug expression fuels Bari with potent hatred.

"I am Keres Risha, the proud fifth grand-nephew of the current family patriarch. I am the perfect product: a pure-blooded, full-fledged light mage. For that, I am not only to be feared but respected. You haven't the slightest clue what I am capable of."

Risha lets out a short giggle— the type of giggle that could easily be attributed to childlike mischief. But this is nothing of the sort. The sinister smirk and crinkle of his nose make that fact clear as day.

"So, here is my generous warning to you. I'm good at my job. Between my magic and my bare hands, I know how to make one suffer over the most trivial of misbehaviors." He steps closer, once again stirring an instinctual anxiety within Bari that blends with anger. He stops mere inches away from the boy, looking down at him with glee. "I can make you wish you were never born."

Even as the man looms over him, even as the man's black eyes make the anxiety increase to an unbearable degree, the words fly out from Bari's mouth with ease.

"Thanks for being so damn sweet and giving me a nice warning, but I'm still calling you what you are. A fucking monstrous bastard."

"...Wow." Again, Risha laughs. The sound pierces the boy's ears. "Insolent, bold, and stupid. I love it. You remind me of how he used to be— you know, that boy you dragged through the halls. Ah yes, Flinty boy used to have quite the mouth on him."

Horror dawns on Bari's face, and Risha revels in it. Like a heinous creature feeding off of it, euphoria consumes his features completely.

"I fixed that right up. Took a little time, but I purged him of all of that sass and backtalk. Oh, I also killed that little fearless facade of his. It was such a cute little display— he'd try to act all tough but then he'd break down crying in minutes. Eventually, he stopped trying to fool me with such pitiful performances. Now he just cowers in fear. I made great work of him, wouldn't you say?"

The man's voice overflows with vicious pride. Bari bites down on his tongue. A coppery taste floods his mouth.

"I'll admit, he's a favorite of mine," Risha continues. "Tormenting him never gets old. And I get to do it all the time, considering he's always misbehaving. It's the perfect arrangement. Or rather, it's the perfect condition for him to become my magnum opus: the result of all my best work. It's like training a dog, just a little less pretty."

There is always a time and place to let your emotions loose.

The words pound against Bari's skull vehemently. They are the only thing keeping him from wrapping his hands around the man's neck.

"Stop." Bari had meant for the word to be a command, but it escapes his lips as a soft plea. "Just stop."

"Oh? Why? Am I upsetting you?" The malicious edge to Risha's expression subsides and is quickly replaced by intrigue. "Or perhaps I should ask why you're getting upset on that boy's behalf. I can't imagine that you know him, and I could assure you he isn't worth the energy. But still, you risked your own skin by running through prison halls with him in your arms. There must be a reason for it."

Risha leans forward, somehow making the tiny cell feel more claustrophobic. Every muscle in Bari's body tightens. His eyes shut tight.

"Nothing to say again? Come now, you must have some sort of explanation. I assume you just happened to come across that pitiful mug of his while going on your little adventure, no? Why bother with some lost cause you happened to find? Did you feel sorry enough for him to play his knight in shining armor? Or were you hoping to boost your own ego by helping that fool?"

Bari sucks in a massive breath of air, filling his chest to the brim. It is nowhere near as soothing as he hoped.

"... I could spend all day and night explaining why I did what I did, but it wouldn't matter. Wanna know why? Because unlike someone like you, I have empathy. I doubt you're capable of comprehending such a thing."

Risha doesn't respond immediately. At first, he just stares blankly at Bari. Then, he stifles a laugh like someone caught off guard by a good joke.

"You're lucky I have things to do, or else I'd make you bleed for that. You do not talk down to me, boy. No one does." With a shake of his head, Risha slowly turns his back to Bari. "I'll be sure to drill that fact into your head next time we meet in one of these cells, because I know there will be a next time. You reek of trouble."

Even as Risha steps away and walks toward the door, Bari finds no relief. The man spares him a mocking wave as he exits through the doorway.

"Farewell for now," he says. "I look forward to breaking you."

Risha slams the door shut, leaving Bari alone once again.

Still, he finds no relief.

He falls to his knees, palms pressing against the floor. He lets the built-up magic seep through his fingers, leaving black marks and blue particles on the ground underneath. As the magic leaks from his body, his chest and stomach slowly start to ache as if a fire is burning within his core. Blood trickles down from his nostrils.

It's not fair.

Risha was born with a blessing that leads to inherent opportunities. It was a gift that Bari could only dream of possessing. Why did someone like Risha receive that blessing only to use it in such vile ways?

Risha is horrible because of it, absolutely horrible. Yet, Risha can live an easy life simply because he could use light magic.

It was the same easy life Bari was denied.

Why was Risha favored by the gods as opposed to Bari?

For that matter, why was Alister favored by the gods as opposed to Bari? They were both just simple young boys. There was nothing that made Alister fundamentally better than Bari. Yet, for some reason, Alister was the one gifted a birthright that would make his life a breeze.

It's not fair.

Bari's being selfish, and he knows it. How could he think about how unfair his life is when his friend is suffering at that man's hands? Still, ever since he came to Zau, Bari can't stop thinking about how unfair it all is. He was destined to be tossed to the side like human trash before he could even say his first word.

And it was all due to a fault he had no control over.

Angry tears fall from Bari's eyes. They burn like fire.

* * *

"So, care to explain why Eliza is saying you refuse to eat?"

Mei reclaims her seat at the foot of Flint's bed. The boy doesn't look up at her, keeping his gaze on his hands resting in his lap. A full tray of neglected food— a bowl of soup, stale bread, and an apple— sits at his bedside.

"I'm just not hungry," he muttered.

"Hungry or not, you need to eat. You're going to wither away into nothing at this rate! My bet is you wouldn't weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. And that's being generous."

Flint fidgets with the trim of his bedsheet, twisting and untwisting it with his fingers. He doesn't say a word.

"Trust me when I say you'll be much better off if you just eat of your own accord. Eliza's talking about force-feeding you, which I nipped right in the bud. You've been through enough lately and we don't need a repeat of that disaster. Then we have Jenson going on about bringing in Risha to threaten you into eating, which made me nearly punt the guy. I left before I could hear whatever Isabelle's grand idea was. I don't understand them at all. We're nurses! We shouldn't plot to cause our patients stress! It seems like no one's willing to try applicable, peaceful, reasonable solutions anymore."

Mei finishes her rant with a soft exhale, her brow creased in annoyance. Flint keeps his attention on repeatedly wrapping the bedsheet's trim around his fingers before repeatedly unraveling them.

"To their credit, I'm very unreasonable," he says.

"I suppose that is a fair point. Do you enjoy causing trouble, my friend?" Mei's thin lips curl into a teasing grin. "You're having a bit of fun with this, aren't you? You can admit it. Don't be shy."

Mei giggles, bouncing up and down in her seat playfully. Her smile quickly shifts into a resigned glower as her upbeat energy fails to brew the desired effect.

Flint does not reciprocate her banter. Rather, he stays dead silent. His expression is at ease, but something about it (maybe the hair shielding his eye or the bloodied bandages that cling to his face) gives it a somber quality. The air that surrounds him is heavy and melancholic.

Mei has seen Flint despondent on plenty of occasions— more than she could count. However, these last couple of days, an inconsolable emptiness seemed to persist within him. And it won't seem to fade.

"Oh, Flint. What am I to do with you?" Mei takes an exasperated sigh as she puts a hand to her cheek. "You're making me depressed just by sitting here."

Flint looks off to the side. "I'm sorry. You don't have to hang around if you don't want to."

"I actually do. I'm supposed to change your bandages. And even if that wasn't the case, I wouldn't leave this spot until I got you to eat something."

Mei stands up. Like a shadow against a spotlight, her dark hair pops out against the contrasting white, sterile infirmary walls.

"Let me be blunt. I, Mei, your favorite nurse among the bunch, have protected you from the vile schemes of the villainous nurses Eliza and Jenson. Thus, to thank I, Mei, your most favorite nurse, you should eat your food so you could become big and strong and, god forbid, tall. It's only fair, correct? Correct."

Mei picks up the food tray from the side table and slips it into Flint's lap. She goes to step away but abruptly pauses. Her hand hovers over the bowl of soup.

"Oh goodness, how long has this been sitting out here? It's ice cold. I should go heat this up for you—"

As Mei starts to lift the tray, Flint reaches forward and pulls it out from her grasp.

"No, no," he says. "You don't have to bother yourself with that. I'll just eat it as is. It's clear you've already gone through enough trouble for me."

"Nonsense. We have a microwave in the staff room; it'll only take a couple of minutes—"

"It's prison food, it's going to taste like crap regardless." A shadow of a smile touches Flint's mouth before fading in an instant. He lowers the tray back into his lap. "So don't worry about it. Don't go through the extra trouble. I'll just eat it as it is."

"...There is no arguing with you, so alright."

Mei scoffs with a gentle smile on her face.

Mei sits back down on the foot of the bed while watching Flint eye his food. His face twists and contorts as he slowly begins to pick and chip away at the meal.

"Try not to look so miserable while you're eating," Mei says. "If you keep scowling like that, your face might freeze that way."

Flint lets out a huff as he gnaws at a piece of bread. "Pick and choose your battles, Mei. You've managed to get me to eat. Don't push it."

"That is fair. I won't push it any further... as long as you clear off everything on that tray."

"My stomach is already killing me."

"It'll feel better once you finish."

"Willing to bet money on that?"

"No."

Mei snorts as Flint looks back at her with puffed cheeks. Despite the teasing gleam in her eyes and the queasiness toying with his stomach, Flint keeps shoving food down his throat.

It takes time, but the tray is eventually cleared. Flint sets it aside while Mei beams in satisfying victory.

"Nice job!" She cheers. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Incredibly hard."

"I'd figure you'd say that. Either way, good boys who clean their plates deserve rewards for their efforts. Wouldn't you say?"

Mei reaches into her pocket and retrieves a small sweet wrapped in red foil. She holds it out for Flint to take.

"There's a sweet shop by my house. I figured a little chocolate might help lift your spirits."

As the boy stares at the treat, his eye goes wide as if he were looking at something alien. "You really got this for me? I could have this?"

"Of course you could have it."

Mei nods with a sugary sweet smile. For an instant, she could see a bit of excitement grace Flint's features.

He reaches for the sweet only for Mei to quickly retract her hand, keeping the sweet from his grasp.

"On one condition," Mei continues. "I want you to make me a promise."

Flint impulsively folds his arms, causing instant regret to flash in his eye. The pressure on his healing burns sends waves of pain through his arms, but he tries not to let it show on his face.

He tries to hide the pain behind an exaggerated pout. "Don't tease me."

"Can't help it." Mei innocently shrugged with a playful little grin. "But I am serious about making a promise."

"Go on."

"Well, to be upfront, I know you're set in your ways no matter what I say to you. I have no way of stopping you from trying to leave again. And I have no way to protect you from the aftermath."

Mei tries to maintain direct eye contact, but Flint averts his gaze and stares at his lap. The woman looks to her feet.

"What I'm saying is...trying to ask you to stop altogether would be pointless. But I want you to promise me that you'll at least behave for a little while. At least wait until all your wounds are healed before you start being rash again. Will you please promise me that?"

Flint doesn't respond immediately. At first, he quietly returns to playing with his bedsheets while keeping his head down. When he finally does open his mouth to speak, he is promptly cut off by Mei breaking the silence.

"You could wait for a bit, can't you? You can. It's not like you'll get very far if you're in pain, anyway. So really, it's for the best if you just stay put until your body's all healed up! I know you're antsy to get out of here, but you'll probably have a better chance at success if you take your time. Patience is key, they say. And also—"

"Sure, Mei." Flint cuts into her rambles. "There is no arguing with you, so alright."

Mei stops and lets his words register. Her wide eyes blink before a knowing smirk stretches across her face from ear to ear.

"Good. I'm grateful to have managed to make a deal with someone just as bull-headed as me."

In return, Flint manages to muster an impish grin. "You're a worthy opponent in that regard."

"What an honor," Mei laughs as she re-extends her hand. "Here you are. A deal is a deal. May I pat your head?"

Flint raises an eyebrow as he takes the sweet from Mei's palm. "Pat my head?"

"I would just go ahead and do it, but I don't want to startle you."

"O-oh. I mean, if you want—"

Mei springs up from her seat and places her hand right on top of Flint's head. Instinctively, he tenses up at the touch.

"Enjoy your chocolate— oh! This should go without saying, but this stays between us, m'kay? You don't want to get your favorite nurse in trouble." Even as the boy continuously flinches, Mei pets his head with gentle pats. "But again, do enjoy. I'll be right back. I have to go fetch fresh bandages."

The woman twirls around and takes off, leaving Flint behind in his bed. The boy lifts his hand and rests it on the top of his head, staring blankly at the spot where Mei stood moments before.

He speaks just beneath his breath.

"...Thank you, Mei."

* * *

Bari hasn't the slightest clue on how Flint managed to survive this place. It's a living hell.

Days have passed since Bari's last seen him. After a short stay in solitary confinement, Bari was quickly thrown back into the wilderness known as Woodgate. Then it all became a waiting game.

Bari kept a low profile as he waited for Flint's return to commons, continuing to jot notes on his surroundings. It didn't take long for him to loathe just about every guard in the facility (more so than he already did). Scuffles and violence between the inmates are common, sure. But from what he's witnessing, most of the facility's conflicts are caused by the guards' hands. They all seem downright obsessed with flaunting their power in often cruel ways; it varies from small gestures to overt abuse— Bari has lost count of how many times he has witnessed inmates begging for mercy while they're being dragged off by guards. An hour couldn't pass without someone getting mocked or hit. The cruelty is constant and the misery is never-ending.

Bari already feels a desperate desire to be anywhere else. Anywhere else.

But that desire must pale in comparison to Flint's. Bari couldn't even begin to imagine how badly Flint wants to escape the constant brutality that surrounds him.

...Is Flint being treated well by the medics? Bari desperately wants to see that he's okay.

Bari was never one for patience, but he managed to keep his head down and play this cursed waiting game this long. He's not going to act up now.

And so he waits. Seconds tick by at a snail's pace as Bari sits alone in the middle of commons. Internally, he wishes and wishes for the soul-sucking wait to come to a miraculous end.

Then, miraculously, he watches the main door that leads out from commons swing open. A small boy is pushed in through the opening, bandages wrapped around both of his arms and concealing half of his face. He trips over his feet but manages to regain balance as the door is slammed shut behind him.

Bari sprouts up from his chair with such speed and force that it falls backward. Before the thought to do so even crosses his mind, he is darting straight at the boy while calling his name.

"Flint!"

Flint looks up to see a blur heading in his direction at top speed. His body automatically shifts into a defensive stance, though it does little to protect him. Bari firmly grasps Flint's waist and lifts him up into the air like a young child.

"Flint!" Bari's eyes brim with tears as mucus clogs his throat. "Flint! You're okay—"

With a panicked, shrill shriek, Flint clasps his hands together and swings downward. Bari feels his brain rattle against his skull once Flint's intertwined fingers bash the top of his head.

"Gah—!"

With a shriek of his own, Bari drops Flint from his grip. Flint manages to land on his feet, stumbling backward to get a good look at his "assailant."

His face goes as white as a ghost, as if he has seen a ghost.

"Ow, ow ow ow!— What was that for?!" Bari rubs the top of his head, messing up his already scruffy hair further. "That really hurt!"

Flint blinked and blinked, eye wide and pupil dilated. His guard drops, his arms falling to his sides and his mouth opening slightly.

As Flint takes in the sight before him, Bari wonders if he grew a second head and just hasn't noticed yet.

"...Um, why are you looking at me like that? Are you alright?— No, no. That's a really dumb question."

Bari switches from rubbing the ache on the top of his head to incessantly scratching his neck. He speaks to fill in the dead air as Flint continues to do nothing but gawk at him.

"Uh, did I scare you or somethin'? I'll forgive you for hitting me, but only because I'm so happy to see you right now! An apology would be awesome, though. I mean, I was serious when I said that it hurt. I mean, it really, really hurt—!"

Bari's mouth snaps shut once Flint closes his eye and begins to slap his own cheeks with his palms.

"Um, Flint—?" Bari takes a step forward.

Flint recoils, his eye popping open and focusing on Bari.

"You're... actually here?" Flint asks, his voice broken and hoarse. "I'm not imagining this? You're... real."

"...Yes. Yes. I promised you, remember?" Bari's hands hover in front of him, wanting to reach out and give the boy a reassuring squeeze. Flint's overt jumpiness forces him to restrain the urge. "I'm here. I'm real."

"So that means... what happened in that cell. That... that happened? That actually happened? W-with the knife a-a-and your neck—"

"Yeah, yeah, that was real, too. I'm really here, Flint. Real enough to hit in the head, anyway." Bari manages a grin and snickers at his own quip. "I'm still waiting for that apology, by the way."

Flint takes in a deep gulp of air and breathes it out, the shock beginning to subside. A shift occurs in the boy's disposition. The vulnerable, panicked demeanor Bari was starting to get used to seeing takes a back seat.

Flint's brow lowers as his hands land on his hips. "Are you crazy?"

"...What?" The shift happens so fast, Bari questions if he might be the one seeing things. "What are you talking about?"

"That stunt you pulled! Letting me hold a knife to your throat— what were you thinking?!"

"It worked, didn't it?! It got you to calm down!"

"But what if I didn't calm down?! What if I actually slit your throat?! Then what?!"

"Then nothing! Because it worked!"

"But what if it didn't!?"

"It did!"

"But what if it didn't?!"

"It did!"

The two glared at each other with scrunched-up faces. Bari leaned towards Flint, arms crossed and lips pursed. Flint stood firm, hands remaining on his hips and cheeks puffed out.

Then Flint's eye grew damp, shimmering in the flat lighting. The staring contest came to an end as he turned away and wiped his flooding tears.

"We're arguing like kids." Flint holds back a sob. "You're as reckless as ever, Bari. You... have no idea how much I missed you."

"Flint..."

Bari opens his arms and steps forward for a hug, but Flint unconsciously quails and immediately leaps back. Bari stops in his tracks.

"...I'm sorry." Realization emerges on Flint's face. "I didn't mean to— I didn't— I'm sorry. For acting like this... a-and for hitting you, too. I just... I don't like being touched."

"...Oh."

The air, again, goes dead. Flint sniffles as he turns away with his hands jammed in his jumpsuit's pockets, his hair shielding his remaining eye. Bari crosses his arms, gnawing the inside of his cheek.

He doesn't know how to approach this. He's been waiting so long to see Flint safe and sound, but now that the boy is standing right in front of him, he finds himself tongue-tied. He had a million questions he planned to pile onto him, but with the dejected, resigned look on Flint's face, he began to think such an approach would be detrimental. There has to be a gentler way to proceed. Bari only needs to think.

"So..." Flint peers back at him. "Um... I'm really happy to see you again but... uh. How did you end up here?"

Bari immediately stops thinking.

"How did I end up here?! How did you end up here?!" Bari raises his voice, causing inmates and guards alike to look their way. "We all thought you were dead, Flint! That fire... we all thought it killed you!"

"You thought I was...? Because of the...?"

"Yes! But clearly, we were wrong! So what happened? How'd you wind up here?! In Zau, of all places! We were nowhere near Zau! How'd you get trapped here?!"

Flint places a hand over his mouth as his eye shuts tight. He gags on his spit.

The burst of frustration that overcame Bari vanished.

"Flint? Are you—"

"Fine. I'm fine," Flint says as he lowers his hand from his face. "This is all just... so much. And looking back at what happened is... I'll explain it all. Not here, though. We've already got people staring at us."

Bari looks to his side, now just noticing the multiple sets of eyes that were locked on him. Blood rushes to his face and warms his cheeks. When he looks back to Flint, he comes to find that his friend is already marching his way past the other inmates and halfway through commons.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Bari scrambles to catch up, nearly slamming into multiple people along the way. Flint doesn't turn around, continuing to walk forward with his hands in his pockets.

"Where are we even going?" Bari pants.

"My cell. Figured it's the best place we got for talking."

* * *

It was only Eugene and Flint inside the motel room. Bari and Robin playing outside, as children their age should.

"Eugene—"

"No, Flint."

Flint had no idea that this would be the last day he would see his family. If he had...

"Huh? I didn't even say anything yet."

Eugene didn't look up from the newspaper he was reading. "You don't think thievery is safe. You want to try and find a different course in life. We've been over this again and again and I'm getting sick of it. You know my answer."

"Maybe it would change if you would just hear me out for once."

"I have been hearing you out." Eugene flipped a page. "But you don't know what the real world is like. You're barking at the wrong tree."

Images played through Flint's mind— images of violence and cruelty that have played right before his young eyes. He's watched his mother slowly die from illness, he's had to beg on the street to somehow support his baby sister, he's been attacked multiple times for his thievery, shot at for thievery, he's watched his younger peers put their lives at risk for thievery.

A wave of anger nearly knocked him off his feet.

If none of that counted as the "real world," then what the hell did?

"Asshole," he muttered.

Eugene's head shoots up as the paper drops into his lap. "Excuse me?"

Flint froze— he hadn't realized he had said it aloud. The look on Eugene's face, stern and dead-fucking-serious, sent a shiver up his spine. He buried the strong urge to apologize and run away, choosing instead to stand his ground.

"You heard me," he said. "I'm not some sheltered kid, I know how terrible the world could be. You should know that."

"You say that, but you still come to me talking about naive daydreams. I've told you over and over, the world isn't kind to people in your position. You're not from a rich family, you've got no education, you don't even have a last name. Theft is your best option. You're lucky enough to have been properly trained."

"I don't feel very lucky," Flint huffed. "This sucks."

"Now you're just acting like an ungrateful brat, and I do not appreciate it."

"I'm not—!" Flint groaned mid-sentence, trying to keep himself from saying something else foolish. "I don't mean to sound that way, but this just... I don't want to spend the rest of my life this way."

"It's not an option for you. Flint, you need to grow up. You need to support not only yourself but your little sister, too. You have Robin to take care of."

"I know that!"

"Do not raise your voice at me, young man—"

"I'd do anything for Robin! I've done everything in my power to take care of her!" Flint shouted. "But I don't want her to have to live like this, either! She deserves better! She deserves much better than this!"

"Raise your voice at me one more time—"

"Why won't you understand?! Listen to me! I don't want her to live in constant danger! I want her to have a better life! I don't need to grow up! I'm not being ungrateful! I just—!"

Eugene threw his fist against the armrest of his chair. The resulting sound echoed through the room. He threw the paper to the side and stood up.

Flint's mouth snapped shut.

"The alternative is panhandling. The alternative is starving to death. That's it." Eugene crossed his arms with a glare, and Flint knew any chances he had at arguing back were vanquished. "I don't want to hear of this again, understand me?"

Flint held his breath.

"Understand me?" Eugene's voice was seething.

"...Fine! Fine! Thieves forever, fine, fine!" Flint threw his hands up in the air. "That's great! Perfect! You win!"

Flint twirled around and stomped towards the door. He reached for his coat as Eugene's booming voice calls out to him.

"Young man! Where do you think you're going?"

"That fancy hotel," Flint answered coldly. "If I'm going to be a thief forever, might as well make myself useful, right?"

He stormed out the door. The stage was set. The road was paved for regrets.

Had Flint known that was his last chance...

If only Flint had known...

The regrets keep singing in his head.

* * *

Flint is different.

Well, he's different from how he was different before. Does that make sense? Bari hardly knows. He's struggling to keep track of everything.

This Flint still isn't the Flint that Bari remembers, not even remotely. But this Flint isn't acting wild or crazed, either. Rather, with his dull eye and the dark circle underneath, and his sunken cheeks and blank expression, Flint looks detached and grim. The energy he gives off is overwhelmingly dreary and dark and hopeless, as if he were followed by a massive storm that wouldn't dare dissipate.

It's contagious. Bari's heart sinks and shatters.

Flint leads Bari into his cell, which looked identical to his own... aside from the crumbled notebook pages that are scattered across the floor. Some of them look to contain actual written words, most are just frantic scribbles drowning the page in black.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Even Flint's voice is flat and joyless. "Feel free to take the bed."

"Are—"

"Yes, I am sure."

It hits Bari that Flint speaks with a bit of a Zau accent— how long has he been here?

Flint sits in the chair positioned right next to the desk. Bari sits down on the bed. Almost instantly, something small and fuzzy zips past his legs, causing him to flinch and pull his legs up onto the bed. His heart skips a beat.

"R-rats?!"

There are five of them, all round and gray with beady little red eyes. They flock around Flint's chair, standing on their hind legs like begging dogs. Their long, pink tails remain still as their noses twitch.

Flint doesn't react.

"Ew, ew, ew! What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?" Bari frantically looked side to side before his sights settled on his shoe. He frantically ripped it off his foot and readied his aim. "If this don't kill em', it should at least scare em' off!"

"Bari, don't."

Flint looks up with a serious stare. Bari slowly lowers his shoe, confused but obliging.

It all clicks together once Flint reaches into his sleeve and retrieves a lump of bread.

"Don't worry, I didn't forget you guys."

Flint rips the bread to pieces and scatters them across the floor. The rats chase after the pieces, squeaking as they grab them with their little hands and shove them into their mouths.

Bari watches. He does a double-take. "Flint... why are you feeding the rats?... Flint... why are you petting the rats?!"

Flint shrugs as he continues to lean over and stroke a rat's cheek. "They make good company."

"You— okay, okay, so this is a usual thing. What are they, your pets?"

"Something like that."

"...Don't tell me you've named them."

Bari presses a hand over his forehead like a disapproving parent. In response, Flint points to the nearest rat.

"Brenda."

"You did not."

Flint points to another. "Hielo."

"You actually named them."

Flint points to another. "Roddy."

"You actually fucking named them."

Flint points to another. "Poppy."

"How do you even tell them apart?!"

Flint points to the final rat. "And Spot."

"God..."

Flint scoops up "Spot" and slips it into his lap. He slides two fingers down its back. The sight makes Bari wince.

"How could you actually touch those things? They might bite your fingers off! And then they'll give you the plague or some shit?!"

"At least if I get something as contagious as the plague, I can take everyone down with me."

"But— I—but— they..." Bari stumbles over his words before reaching a resigned sigh. "Just... keep them away from me."

Flint nods, continuing to pet the rat sitting contently in his lap. Bari waits— again, he finds himself tongue-tied. They came here for his questions to be answered, but with that persisting melancholy look on Flint's face, he again finds himself hesitating.

Internally, he screams at himself to snap out of it.

"So... anyway." Bari tries to make eye contact, but Flint keeps his gaze on the rat. "Will you please explain to me how you ended up here?"

"..." Flint cups his hand around the rat and pulls it towards his stomach. "...Okay."

A long, long string of silence follows.

"...Flint—"

"Remember when I left for the hotel? You know, the last time we saw each other? I think its name was... 'Vanhala?'"

"Yes, Vanhala... continue."

"Well... when I got there, there were a bunch of these weird-looking guards storming the place. Turns out, a prince was staying in one of the suites. I think he was in Fyrai for diplomatic reasons or something? I don't know. Regardless, at the time he was out at some dinner so... I assumed his room would be empty. I figured out which room it was and snuck in."

Flint lifts the rat up to his chest. He rustles his thumb through its fur.

"I found the safe... and there was some nice loot in it. Not only money but, like, pretty stuff. I guess I was so fascinated that I didn't even hear the door open."

"...You were caught red-handed," Bari says.

"Yeah. They were going to take me to the local jail, but then the prince showed up and insisted I be brought to his home country. Something about Zau's royal integrity? Apparently, messing with Zau's royalty in any regard is a huge no-no."

"So... it was Zau's prince you stole from? That's why you're in Zau?"

Flint nods. "When the prince and his men went back to Zau, they brought me with them."

"That means... you were gone before the fire."

"Mhm... they accused me of starting the fire, you know." Flint's gaze becomes unfixed, a haze clouding his eye. "It made no sense. I was gone long before the fire started, and they knew it, but they accused me anyway. They accused me of wanting to assassinate the prince, but I didn't! They kept asking who I was associated with, or who I was working for, but I didn't have any of the answers they wanted! The accusations were so dumb! I didn't even know there was a fire until they told me about it! But they kept demanding and demanding and demanding and I didn't know what they wanted me to say! So I— so they—"

Flint dropped the rat back into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. His head drops forward as his breathing grows turbulent. The color drains from his face. Bari feels the color drain from his own face, too.

Bari buries down every initial instinct he has. He clutches the side of the bed, forcing himself to remain seated when every bone in his body tells him to jump up and run to his friend's side. Touching him would be a detriment. He doesn't need to make matters worse than they already are.

"Flint, Flint, listen to me!" Bari tries his best to speak loudly, softly, sternly, and lullingly all at once. The result is pitiful at best. "I need you to calm down! Take deep breaths with me, alright? One, and two. One, and two. One, and two—"

Bari repeats those words until Flint's breathing falls into their rhythm. The boy's posture eases as he wraps his hands back around the rat.

"There we go..." Bari lets out a sigh of relief. "Would you like a breather? There's no rule that says you have to tell me all at once—"

"No. I'm okay. I'm okay, let's get this over with."

Flint sucks in a deep breath of air.

Bari notices a few stray gray hairs in Flint's bangs— that can't be normal.

"So uh... after all of that... they found me guilty of theft. Then they sentenced me..."

"What was the sentence?" Bari asks.

"Life," Flint says.

"...What?"

Bari's eyes go wide. He leans forward, but Flint refuses to look up at him.

"What do you mean life? For theft? That's ridiculous!"

"It's because it was the prince," Flint mutters.

"Still! What were you, twelve? They sentenced a twelve-year-old kid to life in prison just because the guy he stole from was a prince?!"

"If it weren't for my age, I would've been hanged instead."

For the first time since their reunion, Flint smiles. It's not genuine— rather, it's wry and sarcastic and mocking.

"Life was the merciful option, apparently. Honestly though, if you were to ask me, I would've been way better off hanged." An empty chuckle escapes Flint's throat. "Compared to this, the gallows would've been merciful"

Something overtakes Bari. He lunges forward and grabs Flint's shoulders with a death grip, causing the boy to let out a frightened gasp. He tries to pull away, but Bari's hold remains firm as he stares at Flint with burning eyes.

"Never, and I mean never, say anything like that again."

"O-okay..." Flint struggles to speak as his body goes rigid. "I won't. So please... le-let go of me now."

The panic in Flint's eye pulls Bari to his senses. He releases Flint's shoulders and slowly steps back.

"... I'm sorry. I just..." Bari throws his hands over his face as he holds back the scream in his throat. "...Shit. Shit, man."

Bari paced around the tiny cell, running his palms from his face to the back of his head. All the building frustrations at— actually, he doesn't even know what he's frustrated about anymore. He only knows that it keeps building up and up.

Still, he can't afford to explode. There is a time and place for that— now isn't the time.

"...Hey, Bari. How many years has it been?"

The question hangs in the air. Bari looks to Flint, who only spares a sheepish glance.

"I... stopped counting at two," Flint says. "So I honestly have no idea how long it's been."

"...Seven," Bari answers. "It's been seven years since you disappeared."

"...Seven years. Seven years of this."

Flint's voice quivers as it echoes Bari's words. Flint's bitter acknowledgment sends ripples through Bari's soul.

"...Whatever." Flint chokes at his own dismissal. "It's... your turn now, Bari. I have questions for you."

Even though tremors still shake his body, and despite the urge to punch the wall until his fist is raw and bloody, Bari manages to force himself to sit back down on the bed. His feet tap sporadically against the concrete floor.

"Yeah, that's only fair. Fire away."

"...My sister. Eugene. How are they?"

Bari gurns. "Ooooo, a tough one to start with. See, I haven't seen either of them in a while."

"Oh..."

Bari can't stand the clear-cut disappointment written across Flint's face.

"When did you see them last?" Flint asks.

"Robin I haven't seen in ages. She told Eugene that she wanted to try and make a life you would've wanted her to have, so Eugene pulled some cash out of his ass to enroll her in the only boarding school that would accept her. Took em' years to find the place, and took a lot of bribing, but they managed. Haven't seen her since."

Flint sighs, though instead of disappointment, his sigh resonates with relief. "Good. That means she is safe. But... it's surprising to hear Eugene would support her choice."

"...Yeah... well... your 'death' really changed him. The guilt crushed him. Like, it really fucked him up."

"The guilt...?" Flint shook his head. "But it wasn't his fault."

"In his mind, it was. You never would've gone to that hotel if it weren't for that argument you guys had. So he blamed himself. The man went catatonic for a while. I was the one who had to take care of Robin right after you 'died.'"

"... I... I didn't expect that. I never blamed him for any of this. A-actually, all this time, I've been wanting to apologize to him. You know, for those stupid things I said that day."

"I'm sure he feels the same way. I know for a fact he doesn't hold any of it against you."

"...I hope you're right." Flint takes a short pause. "Um, did he ever... get better?"

"Eventually, yeah. It was a major relief... even if it meant him going back to being an absolute hard-ass," Bari huffs. "Kept getting on my case about magic. He kept threatening to send me out on my own if I kept being reckless. A couple of years back he... followed through on that threat. No idea where he is now."

Flint furrowed his brow. "He just left you on your own?"

"Kinda, yeah. As much as I want to be angry about it, I get why he did it. He was protecting himself from more grief—"

"It's still not right. He's the one who taught us the mantra of 'thieves stick together.' For him to leave you on your own like that... it's just not right. Have you been handling yourself okay?"

Bari can't imagine why, but Flint looks back at him with concern. How could he possibly be worried about anybody else in his condition?

"Yeah, I've been fine. It's lonely being a lone thief, but I've carried on just fine. Managed to avoid getting caught, at least."

Flint nods, though the concern in his expression is still blatant. "Until now. What happened?"

"Oh, we won't count that as getting 'caught.' I purposely got myself arrested. I saw you gettin' caught in the city square, so I came after you!"

The instant those words leave Bari's mouth, Flint's expression changes into something caught between anger and shock.

"You what!?"

Bari jumps— Flint's reaction is not what he expected.

Bari opens his mouth to respond, but he is cut off by the sudden sound of the scurrying feet of rats. Four of the rats scamper across the floor, dashing away into the cracks and crevices of the cell. The fifth rat pries itself from Flint's hands, climbs up his chest, and dives into his jumpsuit through his collar.

Fear eclipses Flint's anger and shock. He keeps his head low and folds his hands.

"Bari, don't say anything stupid."

"Huh—?"

The ring of a third voice seemed to shake the cell's very foundation. If he was standing, Bari's certain he would have stumbled.

"Awe, so you've finally managed to make a friend. Impressive, Flinty boy, considering your repulsive personality."

Flint keeps his head down. Bari could see the sweat building on his forehead— is he too afraid to look up?

Bari can understand why. Risha's malicious smile is an eyesore, and he shamelessly wore it as he leaned against the cell's doorway.

Bari shoots up onto his feet. "Look who's talking."

Flint sends him an icy glare that he promptly ignores.

"That attitude of yours is intact, I see," Risha cackles. "You might want to be careful, though. Getting me upset now would be foolish. What if I decided to take it out on him?"

With a laid-back motion, Risha points to Flint. The boy shudders as Bari stepped in front of him.

"Don't you fucking dare."

"What's driving you?" Risha asks, glossing over the inconsequential drop in the sea that was Bari's threat. "It's pity, yes? He's like an old starving mutt at the side of the road; you just want to put it out of its misery and shoot it."

Bari bares his teeth. "In that scenario, I think I'd rather shoot the man starving the dog."

"Bari!" Flint snaps under his breath.

"How clever of you. But that doesn't do much to answer my question. Surely he must've already tried to push you away. I would have thought you'd realize instantly how soul-sucking it is just to stand next to him."

Bari snorts. "It's much more soul-sucking to stand near you."

"Heh. I was right about you. Words do nothing. There is only one way to teach brats like you anything."

Risha steps forward, and Bari preps himself for whatever is about to come. Panic only sets in when he hears a chair slide back. Flint pushes past Bari and stands in front of him, becoming a barrier between the two blonds.

A lopsided grin stretches across the man's face. "I highly suggest you move out of my way, Flinty boy. You're not the one I was talking to."

"R-Risha..." Flint keeps his eye glued to the floor. "Don't hurt him."

The slap is so quick and unexpected it makes Bari's mind go blank. Flint holds his stinging cheek. He keeps his head down.

"You do not give me orders, little thief." Risha lowers his hand. "You obey mine. You did hear me, yes? I didn't cut off your ears, did I? I told you to step aside."

Flint doesn't move. "I-I'm not ordering you. I'm asking you. F-for this one thing, please, I'm begging you. Bari... he's just not thinking. Please don't hurt him. Please..."

"Insisting on insolence, are we?" Risha cocks his head to the side. "And you don't even have the resolve to look me in the eye as you disobey me. What a joke you are."

"B-but... you always hit me when I look you in the eye—"

"And I hit you when you don't do as you're told. You have the gall to do one, but not the other? Does that sound right to you? Hm?"

Flint doesn't answer.

Risha scoffs with his smile ever persisting. "I'm afraid silence won't help you here."

The man raises his hand to strike Flint again.

Bari acts.

He doesn't think. He just acts.

He grabs Flint's shoulder, pulls him back, and throws him behind him. Flint falls to the ground as Bari's hand glows white.

"Fuck off!"

He waves his arm in an attempt to hit Risha's face with burning magic, but Risha steps back in the nick of time. Risha's face contorts in something new— something outside of malicious joy:

Surprise.

"That was..." Risha's expression eases back into a more controlled state. "Never would have guessed. What a waste of a birthright."

The light emitted from Bari's palm fades.

It slowly dawns on him that he probably shouldn't have done that.

Risha approaches Bari, extending his hand towards him. He lays his palm gently on Bari's cheek, causing the boy to go still. What the hell was he—?

"You're an interesting one, I'll give you that. But don't think you have the power to back up that mouth." Risha's smile returns full force. "It's such a waste, really. That blessed blood you have amounts to nothing when it flows through the veins of someone young and inexperienced."

Heat fills Bari's cheek. He realizes it too late. By the time he pulls away, Risha's hand had already left a considerably large burn on the side of his face.

"Ack! Shit!"

Bari cusses and curses as he watches Risha lift both arms and point his palms in his direction. A powerful gust of silver wind knocks Bari into the wall. As pain shoots through his back, he leans against that same wall while he collapses.

"You do not disappoint. You'll sure as hell be an entertaining one to break."

Seemingly satisfied, Risha again turns his attention to Flint. The boy still sits on the ground, head down and eye wide. Even when Risha walks up to him, he doesn't move.

"Not so bold now, are we? Not going to stand up and protect your friend? Going to sit back like the coward you are?"

Risha kneels down in front of Flint and places a hand on top of the boy's head. Every muscle in Flint's body instantly seizes up.

"It's okay, little thief. You're much better off that way. Don't kid yourself. You're not suited to have a friend, much less protect them. So just be a good boy and cower."

All goes silent, and Risha doesn't move. It's only when the tension in Flint's body begins to ease that Risha roughly grabs Flint's hair and jerks his head upright, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Next time you decide to play defiant, I'll make sure you live to regret it. It's all fun and games until someone loses an eye."

With that, Risha releases Flint's hair and stands back up. Before walking away, he kicks Flint in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The boy curls into a ball as he coughs and hacks.

"By the by, Flinty boy." Risha turns his back to both boys and slowly paces to the exit. "The other day, I could have sworn I heard some rats scampering about. I hope it's not your doing... or else it seems we'll need to repeat history."

The man snickers before exiting the cell. The instant he's out of sight, the five rats crawl out from their hiding places and flock around the coughing Flint.

It astounds Bari. How did the rats know to hide from Risha? Did Flint somehow teach them to do that?

The astonishment and the questions hardly linger. Bari pushes himself back onto his feet and begins to stumble his way to Flint.

"That fucking bastard," he mutters. "Fucking bastard."

By the time he arrives at Flint's side, Flint has managed to catch his breath and sit up. A hand hovers over his stomach.

"Flint, are you alright? Do you need—"

"Bari. What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Flint shoots up onto his feet in seconds, hands curled into fists and teeth bared. Bari freezes in place— the anger in Flint's voice is like nothing he's ever heard.

Nothing about that boy is intimating. Not his height, not his face. But his voice is enough to make Bari shudder.

"Were you trying to piss him off?! Were you trying to get yourself hurt?!" Flint stands on the tip of his toes to add height, although it does very little. "I told you not to say anything stupid! And the first thing you do is insult him?!"

"Well, I uh, couldn't help myself." Bari holds his hands in front of his face as an offering of peace. "The guy had the balls to insult you after all he's done to you. I couldn't just let that slip."

"Seriously?! You putting a fucking target on your back isn't going to solve anything! It's bad enough you purposely got yourself trapped here, and now you're going to march your way right onto Risha's radar?! You literally attacked him! Why would you fucking attack him?!"

"I... come on, Flint. Was I supposed to just let him hit you?"

"Yes."

"...Yes?!"

Bari's own blood begins to boil. He raises his voice.

"You actually expect me to just sit back and watch that?! Are you nuts?!"

"Probably! But I don't care if it makes me nuts! You do not jump in! I don't care what happens to me, you do not get involved!"

"No, Flint! I'm not going to sit back while that bastard treats you like his toy! I don't care if that puts me on his radar or whatever—"

Flint's voice goes low and stern. "You don't know what you're saying."

"...Yes, Flint, I do know what I'm fucking saying."

"You. Don't."

"Yes! I! Fucking! Do!"

"You don't!" Flint's voice rises once again. "You don't know what it means to have Risha's interest! You don't know Risha!"

"I know the kind of man he is! He feeds off fear, so I won't give him the damn satisfaction! I'm not afraid of someone as pathetic as that!"

"You still don't know what you're saying! You're not hearing me!"
"I hear you loud and clear!"

"No! You just don't get it!"

In a sudden movement, Flint grabs Bari's collar and yanks it down towards him. Bari is forced forward with a short surprised squeak.

"You don't get it! You don't get it at all!" Flint unfurls further and further, tears rolling down his face as he screams. "Risha will destroy you, Bari! That's what he does! He picks apart every last piece of you until there's nothing left! He'll find whatever hope you've managed to keep and shatter it over and over again! And he'll love every second of it! He'll relish making you so beaten and defeated that you become someone unrecognizable! I don't want to see that happen to you! I don't want you to get hurt so badly you lose yourself! I don't want you to go through the hell I've been through! So don't put yourself in that position because of me! Why even defend me anyway?! Why trap yourself here?! I'm not who I was! I'm not the person you knew! I've got nothing to offer you! I'll only give you problems! So I'm not worth it!"

Flint's knees buckle beneath him. He releases Bari's collar as he tumbles to the floor, his breathing heavy.

All Bari wants to do now is cry. The sound of Flint's sobs eggs him on.

But he doesn't. He kneels beside Flint while trying to steady his shaking breath.

"I—um— you look pale. This stress can't be good for you since you're, um, still healing and stuff. We... We can talk about all this serious stuff later. Y-you should lay down. Mind if I help you get into bed? I mean, since you probably shouldn't stand up on your own and stuff."

Flint doesn't answer, but he doesn't protest either when Bari wraps a securing arm around his waist. That's enough affirmation for Bari.

* * *

Was it two years in? Three years in? Time was beginning to blend into a giant messy blob.

Flint found happiness then— or at least, a tiny ray of sunlight. Amidst all the agony and despair were two little rats. It was a simple exchange. Flint would give them food, the rats would offer their company. Eventually, they let him pet him. Then they began to sleep by his pillow at night. Then they would sit on his shoulders and hide in his pockets.

Flint loved them.

Then that one night came. Flint was locked away in solitary, sitting on the bed as he feared the worst. When the door opened and he saw Risha's face, he braced himself for a night of pain and screams.

But he could never brace himself for what happened next.

Risha stepped inside with his hands behind his back. He walked up to Flint and dropped the corpses of two dead rats into his lap.

His rats.

Something deep inside Flint broke apart that day. It was something instrumental to who he was, and it was something he knew he would never get back.