Season of Starlight

Third Month

The Downtown District

The City of Kaleno, The Cronia Region

2326

Ollie sat on the rooftop of his apartment building, dangling his legs over the edge.

Colourful creatures paraded down the sidewalk beneath the soles of his boots, blurred and without detail.

He placed his hands behind him, fingernails digging into the concrete surface while the spring wind tickled his neck and tussled through his dark hair.

Above him, birds pirouetted in the cloudless sky, his ears immune to their enchanting melodies.

The last time Ollie had come to this secluded retreat was when his mother died. It was a tainted memory, the events replaying like a record on repeat. The frightened cries of his mother, the deadly anger of his father, the gunshot...

Bang!

...and finally, the dreaded silence.

It was the first time Ollie had seen a murder.

It was a foul creature, overtaking his father in a brief moment of blind rage as he picked up a pistol and pulled the trigger.

The malicious act was abrupt and sudden. However, it was not unlike his father to fall victim to violent tendencies. Ollie had a few scars to show for it, but he considered himself fortunate.

Ricky had suffered worse, being the oldest, after all.

Burying the memory, Ollie recalled his exciting adventure with the purse snatcher earlier that day.

His adrenaline was still pumping after the encounter, rippling through his body. He lowered his chin and raised the cotton mask that drooped in his right hand.

To many, Ollie was an ordinary schoolboy, but beneath the mask, he felt unstoppable. The power gave him exhilaration, but the mantle of vigilante signified purpose.

He had never been popular.

Having a deranged father garnered unwanted teasing, but his reliance on El Olam brought the downfall of his social acceptance. To other kids, it was absurd. They didn't understand Ollie's reasons, but because their parents looked upon the Prophet Society with a wrinkled nose and sour lips, they naturally reciprocated similar feelings.

Ollie didn't care, or at least he told himself he didn't.

He wasn't relying on society to determine his future. He had a destiny and someone looking out for him. Besides, he wasn't born with his powers. They were gifted to protect him.

Now it was his mission to protect others.

Ding!

Ollie's ears perked at the sound of a shop door opening.

He looked down to see his brother emerge from the small building across the street, Dina's Bakery, a humble storefront overshadowed by the elegance of its sought-after neighbour, Rossetto Boutique, which was twice the size and wore a glossy coat of purple paint.

By the downward arch of Ricky's spine and silent stumble, Ollie knew it hadn't gone the way he had hoped for.

Discretely and using the shadows cast by the darkening horizon, Ollie descended the side of the apartment building and landed softly on his feet. He straightened his black silver-buttoned jacket and proceeded to cross the street.

Ollie approached Ricky, who leaned against the bakery's exterior wall, swindling a pedestrian for a cigarette. He got the elderly gentleman to light it and, after a long inhale, blew out a cloud of green smoke.

Ollie plucked the cigarette from his brother's lips, extinguishing the flame on the ground before picking it up and throwing it into the nearest trash bin.

"Disgusting."

Ricky tensed his shoulders. "Hey, I was using that! The government has approved Ecosav as a sustainable medical remedy to reduce stress. In case you haven't noticed, I am jobless and very stressed!"

"They also use it to fuel motorcarriages and machinery," Ollie retorted, disbanding the green cloud with a forceful wave of his hand. "The government is poisoning you. I've done you a favour."

Vroom!

The growl of an engine startled them both.

A black motorcarriage pulled up to the sidewalk curb, a luxurious Alpine with hefty tires and sparkling silver rims. The driver behind the wheel wore a yellow cap; his buttoned uniform shrouded behind the tinted windshield.

The door of the Rossetto Boutique opened, and Jezebel Croftdale stumbled out, wearing a pink satin dress and a white feathered shawl over her shoulders. Her hair was styled in an elegant updo, and diamond earrings brought awareness to her youthful appearance.

Through the articles in the paper, Ollie had discovered that the recent widow was approaching fifty, yet only the slightest wrinkles tainted her flawless skin.

For years, the newspapers begged for her secret, but Ollie concluded it was the result of never showing emotion.

Lady Croftdale was always strictly posed as if she had been delivered the most devastating news.

While he initially felt compassion for her over the loss of her husband, Ambrose, Jezebel's vibrant attire mere weeks after his demise declared the short-lived mourning process had come to a swift end.

"Young man, you shouldn't stare," Lady Croftdale said, leaning against the motorcarriage. She opened the door and threw two large shopping bags into the back seat.

"Lady Croftdale," Ricky said, nudging Ollie until he broke his trance. "You look well."

Croftdale reached into her purse and retrieved a small tube, applying a clear gel over her lips. "I wish I could say the same," she replied. "Ricky, darling, you look famished. It appears a shower and makeover are in order."

Ollie opened his mouth to protest, but instead, he watched profoundly as Lady Croftdale pulled out a pouch of golden doubloons. He recognized them immediately from their indigo packaging.

Doubloons! The most valuable currency in Cronia.

Croftdale tossed the pouch to Ricky in a casual manner with a flick of her wrist.

"Spend it well."

She sunk into the Alpine and closed the door. The motorcarriage sped off moments later, leaving shock and awe in its wake.

Ollie was thunderstruck.

The last couple of minutes had felt like a blur, over before it had truly begun. He stared at his brother, blinking. "Is it real?" he asked.

Ricky pried open the pouch and glimpsed inside. A breath escaped his cracked lips. "It's real," he said. "It is very, very real!"

"Ricky," Ollie chuckled. "Since when are you acquainted with Lady Jezebel Croftdale?"

"We occasionally met at the museum," Ricky said, emptying the pouch as he counted the coins in his palm. "I was polite, and she took a liking to me."

Ollie snorted. "I bet she did. Judging by the mass of her charity, you made quite the impression."

"Oliver, don't be so childish," Ricky scolded. "This solves all of our problems. I thought you would be happy for me."

"Doubloons are not exchanged out of generosity," Ollie said, causing his brother to stiffen. "They are a matter of payment. A reward used by the wealthy." Ollie squinted his eyes. "What did you do?"

Ricky replied with a twist of anger. "I made a deal to look out for this family."

Ollie shook. "Ricky-"

"Drop it, Oliver. I took our fate into my own hands and secured you a future. What more do you want?"

"Nothing! I want to know what the hell is going on," Ollie said. "Is that so much to ask?"

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Loud footsteps bounced off the sidewalk, hurrying towards them.

Ricky and Ollie turned, intrigued to find the frantic figure of a priestess panting for breath. The growing darkness of night cloaked her in shadow, her dark robes bleeding into the black void until only her pale face remained, floating midair.

Two skeletal hands reached out and latched onto Ricky's forearm. "Please, you must help me!"

"Get off," Ricky scowled, pushing her away.

"Stop it!" Ollie said, coming to the woman's aid. "What's wrong?"

It wasn't until the bakery lanterns illuminated the priestess that Ollie discovered her hands were bruised and soaked in blood.

"Help, it is after me!" she cried. A golden medallion dangled from her neck.

"Who?" Ollie asked.

"Save me!"

The priestess wailed and clung to his jacket.

Ricky clutched Ollie's shoulder. "Go get help," he said. "I will stay with her."

Startled by the blood bleached into his skin, Ollie didn't think twice. He felt the cold touch of Ricky's hand against his cheek, and then the next moment, he was running.

"Help!" he shouted. "Please, anyone!"

Ollie swept around the backside of the Rossetto Boutique, nearly making it to the end of the alley before he heard the priestess scream. He stopped.

"Oliver!"

Ollie's blood ran cold when Ricky's terrified voice reached him. He stood paralyzed, convinced the wind was playing foul tricks.

It wasn't until the second scream that panic began to infect his mind.

"Oliver, help!"

A growl roared in the distance.

Ollie launched into a full sprint, pumping his arms desperately to enhance his speed.

"Ricky!"

He flung around the edge of the Rossetto Boutique, knocked to the ground by a passing figure gliding through the air.

Thud!

Ollie wheezed, clawing for breath as his lungs momentarily repelled all air.

When he finally revived himself, Ollie tore his gaze to the boutique's entrance.

The priestess collapsed on the ground spurting blood from a deep wound in her neck.

"Ricky?"

Ollie found his brother's tarnished coat beside her body.

Ricky was gone.