"Well, that was educational."

Hallie nodded absentmindedly, keeping her focus trained on her feet. And Nikas's too. It's not like she was paying attention to where she was going. She didn't want to get lost.

Taryn was right. Of course, she was right. The Freed were the most discriminated against group in Synoliká.

Plus, the concept applied to Hero's recent stunt. She may have made Charax fire the Taktikoí because they were Taktikoí, but she got away with it because she was Kardián.

You think they listen to me?

No one could deny the truth in that statement. Or question. Rhetorical question. Yeah.

Suddenly, the pace of the crowd sped up. And slowed down. And remained the same. Éris struck again.

The Taktikoí heading away from the sunset kept their heads down and shuffled their feet as they speed-walked down the street. They muttered to themselves and clumped together in small huddles.

On the other hand, Sómata walking in the same direction slowed their pace. They held their heads high and toured with the same grace and smug superiority of one of the old gods. It almost made up for them being shorter than the Taktikoí.

The mortals heading towards the sunset eyed the actions of their fellow mortals and most shrugged it off. The few who didn't either hunched over to make themselves appear less threatening, squared their shoulders and straightened their spines to appear more threatening, or observed their surroundings with mild interest.

Hallie bit her lip at the odd behavior radiating off the mortals. She gravitated to Nikas, ready to use him as a mortal shield should the situation call for it.

"Do you know what's going on?" Hallie asked.

Nikas didn't answer at first. "No."

Hallie leaned closer to him - mortal shields never stayed in the same place - and narrowed her eyes. "You hesitated."

Nikas stepped out of the way of one of the sneering Sómata. "Well, I don't know for sure."

"Does that mean you have a guess?" Hallie asked.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Yes, but I don't like it."

They rounded the corner, and Nikas immediately tensed.

There was a group of Sómata in the street all dressed in black togas.

Nobody ever wore togas anymore, preferring to wear roúcha instead. They weren't too different in their design. Both of them involved wrapping a piece of fabric around your body. But roúcha had two rectangle-shaped blankets rather than one and were more comfortable.

Hallie only ever saw two mortals wear togas in her life, and they were white togas. It wasn't a pleasant memory.

Nikas tensed beside her, reaching out with his hand to grasp hers. Plan MS, or plan mortal shield, was ago.

Before Hallie could duck behind Nikas, one of the black toga wearers spotted them.

"Fellow Sóma!" they shouted, striding over to them. "Now is the time to act. We cannot let them trample us and take away our rights!"

Nikas cursed and began walking backward, leading Hallie with him.

"Wait, don't you want to take a stand?" The Sóma almost caught up to them. They popped a handful of seeds in their mouth. "By joining the Blessed and becoming a Blessing, you can help ensure we don't fall victim to the vile Taktikoí."

"No thanks, we're good." Nikas yanked on Hallie's arm, urging her to walk faster.

The Sóma remained unperturbed at Nikas's shut down of the offer. To what, Hallie still wasn't sure.

A closer Sóma spotted them and trotted over. "We are accepting to Mitecs and Kardiáns alike!"

That stopped Hallie in her tracks. She could feel Nikas's internal groan.

She cocked her head to the side. "What about Freed?"

Sensing an opportunity, the first Sóma jumped onto the question. "They are welcome to join! Are you Freed? Or perhaps know any?"

Hallie mentally kicked herself. Curse her curiosity.

The second Sóma pounced on Nikas like a hungry wolf, dragging him off to be swept into the center of the road and the clump of black toga-ed Sómata.

Before he vanished, he shouted over his shoulder: "Just keep talking. They aren't dangerous and can't force you to do anything. Especially you."

"You" must translate to "Kardián" which he should know better than anyone that she won't play that card out of sheer dread of mortals laughing in her face and calling her a liar. Nevermind the fact that she went nowhere without her birth certificate for that exact purpose.

First Sóma ignored Nikas, though their left eye twitched at his promise of them not being dangerous. A grand image to uphold.

"You've heard the rumors, have you not?"

Hallie could only sputter and make vague and ambiguous hand gestures in response. The adrenaline rush she associated with her curiosity spikes vanished from her system.

First Sóma furrowed their brow at her and walked away, not glancing away until they found another Sóma to pester about joining what Hallie could only assume was some sort of cult.

She sagged with relief and scanned her surroundings for any sign of Nikas.

The street was nearly empty now, void of all Taktikoí with a few Sómata milling about and engaging in intense conversations with - what did First Sóma refer to themself as? A Blessing? Yeah, that's right.

All those Sómata and not a single one of them was Nikas or Second Sóma. Maybe Second Sóma hauled them off the street to converse about getting Nikas to change his mind about the Blessed. Did she get that right? Oh well, First Sóma wasn't there to correct her, anyway.

Hallie stood there a while, mulling over whether she should just leave and meet up with Nikas tomorrow and share experiences then instead of waiting for him. Eventually, her boredom got the better of her, so she continued toward 'The Diamérisma'. These Blessings weren't good blessings if they interrupted mortal's commutes home.

Home?

Hallie froze.

Did she see 'The Diamérisma' as her home? She spent no time there aside from sleeping and staring at the walls, but it wasn't like she instinctively called her place of residence "home".

Did that mean she saw Kardiá as home? No. Then she wouldn't need to go home.

Wait, what did she say again? "These Blessings weren't good blessings if they interrupted mortal's commutes home." Ah, right. But was she referring to herself or the other unlucky bystanders who got swept up into whatever just happened?

Hallie shook her head. Analyzing her own thoughts shouldn't be this difficult.

She was about to continue walking when she felt a hand close around her arm.

"Nikas? Is that y-"

It was not Nikas. It was a middle-aged Taktikós with intense hazel eyes.

Sweat dripped down Hallie's neck. Why did she feel like this Taktikós was staring into her soul? As far as she knew, they couldn't do that.

"S-Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Do you need he-"

The Taktikós gave a sharp tug on Hallie's arm and yanked her into the alley.

"Um-"

The Taktikós said nothing, just held her in a death grip and pulled out a knife.

In a flash, the Taktikós was lunging for her throat, knife poised, ready to slit her throat.

Hallie screamed. Her instincts kicked in, and soon energy was flowing through her arm, fueling her muscles and giving her the strength to tug herself out of the hold of the Taktikós.

The Taktikós's knife missed, but they swung around to pin Hallie against the wall and straight-up stab her.

She lunged to the side and attempted to get out of the alley.

The Taktikós snatched her arm again and flung her further into the alley.

"S-Someone help!" Hallie shrieked as she sailed through the air and landed on top of something that felt suspiciously like a body.

She looked down and almost gagged.

It was a body.

It was a Sóma, maybe in their early twenties. Or they used to be. They were dead now. Long since dried blood stuck to their neck and hands.

Hallie turned around, face pale, just barely having enough time to grasp the Taktikós's wrist before the knife could take another life.

Their arm shook, forcing more and more pressure onto Hallie's locked arm as they waited for Hallie's enhanced strength to fail her.

Hallie grit her teeth and continued pushing back.

What organs could she sacrifice? She shut off her appendix, gall bladder, and left kidney.

The Taktikós remained unfazed. They just pressed down even harder, looking into her soul with a phlegmatic steel trap of determination.

What else? The fuel her body set aside for her tonsils, adenoids, and coccyx was the next to go.

How strong was this Taktikós? They met the added energy with vigor. If not for Hallie's ability to divert and convert energy, she would most definitely be dead by now. Although, she was suspecting that may be why the Taktikós was so committed to killing her.

She had to come up with a plan. The body of the Sóma was proof that the Taktikós wanted her dead and not just stabbed. Holding them off wouldn't work forever, she'd keel over from exhaustion in no time. She had to get away. Then, she could find someone to either stand as a witness to or stop her murder.

Energy coursed through her right arm, the arm not holding back the possible sociopath. She reached out and pushed with everything she had against the Taktikós's knife-wielding arm.

The Taktikós let go of the knife and it skidded to a halt deeper into the alley.

Hallie took her chance to bolt to the mouth of the alley, throwing herself to the side as the disheveled Taktikós lurched towards her to snatch the hem of her roúcha.

She steadied herself with a wall, transferred as much energy as she could spare into her legs, and darted out and down the street.

The wind lashed out against her face and demanded that she stop. But she didn't stop.

Hallie could barely see the odd looks mortals were sending her. Even Taktikoí took a break from prejudice to appear concerned.

She ignored them and pressed onward. Once she was far enough away, she let her body go back to normal. But she kept running.

She never wavered in her steps, not even when her stomach gave out the tiniest of grumbles.

---

Laothoe craned her neck as far as her body would allow and watched the Sóma disappear down the street.

She didn't expect that.

That Sóma was the only Sóma to get away that day. The others found out what it felt like to bleed out.

Laothoe sighed and went back into the alley to retrieve her knife.

She found the knife resting against the wall and pointing her eyes towards the body of the Sóma she killed about an hour before.

Sóma Number One put up a fight. Sóma Number Two didn't, opting to run away.

It was a shame Sóma Number Two didn't fight back. Then maybe she would have stabbed her like planned.

Laothoe sighed. She was lucky she lasted so long against Sóma Number Two. Those muscle training sessions with Orcus paid off. If Sóma Number Two had any more experience with their atrocious power, they would have gotten away quicker.

Laothoe picked up her knife and strutted out of the alley. She learned a long time ago to act like you have done no wrong, even if you committed an act so horrible the old gods would tremble in fear. That way, they were less likely to suspect her during an investigation.

The Blessed demonstration was still going on. Goodie.

"Hey, you!"

Laothoe turned to see a Blessing staring at her with murder in their eyes. Her lips couldn't help but quirk upward at the irony. Poor thing probably couldn't harm a fly. They also looked ten years younger than her. Her small smile exploded into a full-blown smirk.

She'd like to see them try to take her down.

The Blessing pointed down the street. "We thought we heard a shuffle - screams, too - and then a Sóma ran out of there as if she were on fire. Did you do something?"

Laothoe would be offended, but the clues did point to her being the one to initiate the "scuffle". Plus, they were right.

"We're fine. We have this ongoing game of tag, and my friend," She jerked her head to point to where Sóma Number Two ran off. "can be rather dramatic about it."

It was a ridiculous explanation. Therefore, it was more likely to be believed. Only a fool would mask an attempted-murder like with a cover-up story like that.

The Blessing glared at her and, with darting eyes, searched for a weapon, but they gave up quickly. Roúcha didn't have pockets. But there was nothing a sewing kit and an afternoon couldn't fix.

Laothoe walked away, picking up the pace when the Blessing ducked their head into the alley and gave a shout.

"Get back here, Taktikós! Just because you're weak doesn't mean you can go around killing the strong!"

Feet surged after her, but before they could catch up, Laothoe ran into another alley.

They chased her for a while, eventually losing her within the patchwork quilt of Synoliká's alleyways.

Laothoe stopped and wiped her brow, breaths coming out in uneven gasps. Her mind wasn't focused on that, though.

Strong? Weak? No, they meant powered and unpowered.

Idiots. Making out their evil power to be their one claim to be better than everyone else.

Sure, most Taktikoí would kill to do what the Sómata could do. Literally. From when the Sómata first emerged, there were reports of Taktikós and Sóma families alike drowning infants, so they could be reborn as a Sóma. And in the outer, Sóma-dominated city-states of Synoliká, it was still a common practice.

They brought their curse upon the world.

They were what caused so much fear when Taktikoí go outside.

They were the reason Synoliká was like this.

Laothoe inhaled sharply and hurled her knife into the darkness, relishing in the metallic clang as the knife once again skidded down an alley.

Sómata could talk all they wanted. It made no difference.

They weren't special.

They weren't all-powerful.

They weren't blessed by the old, nonexistent gods.

Laothoe let go of her breath.

"It's only a matter of time. We will rid the world of your malevolence. You may be 'strong', but you're not pure. And you never will be."

"Not like us."