Paragon

by Rowan Rook

  The memory of her lips on his left him lightheaded.

  What was that saying, that love left people blind? Was she doing this for him? Would he be taking advantage of her if he let her?

  In the end, his lips defied his unease, his guilt, and curled into a smile. "Thank you."

  Shakaya's expression mirrored his. "The Lyrum told you where this Riksharre is, I assume?"

  Err... "That's right," Amaranth lied. She hadn't told him, but he knew the way. It didn't matter. "Are you well enough to travel?"

  "Ah," Shakaya stiffened. "Yes. I'm feeling much better this morning, now that the swelling is going down."

  Come to think of it, she hadn't limped as badly on the way back in, had she? No, she hadn't limped at all. Huh. He hadn't thought an injury like that could make such a sudden recovery. He flashed on the Lyrum girl who'd healed his own wounds inside the mines. Still, there was no way Shakaya would ever subject herself to healing Translation, so...

  "Let's head out soon," her voice interrupted his thoughts. "If we're subtle, the others might not notice we've gone right away."

  A new tear spilled down her cheek.

  "Shakaya?" Amaranth blinked. "You are all right with this, aren't you? We don't have to—"

  "Yes. I want this, too," she admitted. "It's not just about you, or just about the colony. I have my own reasons."

  For a while, Amaranth only stared. "Reasons...?"

  Uncertainty gnawed at him. For all the years they'd shared, he still wasn't sure what she meant. He'd always been the one with mad ideas and restless flights of fancy. She'd been the one holding him back whenever he'd started wandering toward the edge of a cliff. But now... Something about her agreeing with him was nearly as scary as the prospect itself.

  She only offered him a bittersweet smile that said she wasn't going to elaborate. Her blue eyes were at once more familiar and more alien than they'd seemed in years.

  Amaranth reached over and brushed away the tears welling beneath them. "Well, whatever those reasons are, I'll stay with you." He tried to smile. "So don't cry, all right?"

  Shakaya laughed even while her eyes watered.

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  Amaranth staggered into the middle of the dirt road, dragging his left foot.

  The afternoon sun hung lazily above the sounds of clicking wheels and rustling gravel. The carriage making its way down the path was unusually big, adorned with banners suggesting it belonged to a merchant.

  "Excuse me!" he called as the vehicle neared. "Wait, please!"

  The well-dressed couple seated in front spared him no glance. He stood in their way, but they swerved around him instead of stopping.

  Amaranth grimaced, stumbling after them. "Please wait!" he yelled as loud as he could without sounding angry. "You're traveling to Hazza, aren't you? I'm injured and need to get back to town, but I'm not sure I can make it on my own. May I ride in your carriage? I'll pay you fifty Rune!"

  The carriage finally slowed to a stop, its horses hoofing at the dirt. The driver scowled over his shoulder. "Don't touch anything."

  Amaranth took that as a yes and smiled gratefully. "Many thanks." Not wasting time, he staggered over to the back of the carriage and climbed inside. He watched the couple through the curtains on the carriage's front window, waiting with a pounding heart.

  The merchant froze the moment his eyes returned to the road. His wife screamed when she saw why.

  Shakaya stood in front of him, her dagger hovering over his throat. She had approached quietly. In their distraction, they hadn't noticed her presence.

  The wife grabbed her husband's arm as if to yank him inside the carriage. She froze. Amaranth crouched behind them, leaning through the window with his gun in hand. The metal barrel brushed against the back of her head.

  "What is this?" the woman sputtered. The man's throat bobbed against the knife. "What the Hell is this?"

  "It's exactly what it looks like," Amaranth answered in the most authoritative voice he could muster. "Abandon the carriage, and we'll have no need to harm you." He tried not to smirk. Shakaya covered the husband and the front of the carriage while he covered the wife and the rear. The couple had little choice but to cooperate.

  "Leave one at a time, hands up," Shakaya ordered.

  The trembling merchants did as they were told. The wife stepped off into the street first. Her husband stumbled after her the instant the knife relaxed.

  "Well, that was easy enough." Amaranth lowered the gun and passed his partner a satisfied grin. In the context of what he'd done the night before—what he planned to do in the days to come—purloining a carriage didn't seem so significant.

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  Shakaya emerged from behind the divider in the corner of the carriage, draped in a mid-length white dress. "Well?" She arched an eyebrow, frowning.

  Amaranth and Shakaya were bound for Riksharre, but entering Lyrum territory while dressed in upper-class Human clothing and a soldier's uniform would've signed their death sentences. Their only chance at infiltrating the colony and locating the Councilors was disguising themselves as Lyrum. The two species weren't easily distinguishable by sight alone, and—as long as news of Morak Mayver's death hadn't yet reached Riksharre ears—it was unlikely the colony would suspect them.

  There was the complication, of course, that neither of them had packed any suitable clothes. It would take days to travel by foot, and they needed food and supplies.

  In the end, Amaranth and Shakaya had decided they could clear all of their obstacles at once by obtaining—that is, stealing—the right carriage. Many travelers and merchants who couldn't afford train fare made use of the old dirt roads running from town to town. The scientist and the soldier had simply hatched what they'd considered a proper scheme, hid themselves, and waited for a carriage that looked promising.

  Their prize stood in stark contrast to the motor vehicles of Elavadin. In the comfortable confines of the Academy, it was easy to forget just how far behind most of the towns beyond its walls were—there was alarming disparity within Human society alone. Neither Amaranth nor Shakaya were well-practiced when it came to guiding horses, but Amaranth did have just enough experience from his younger days to get by. They had strayed from the main road and traveled for hours before stopping at forested outskirts for the night. Soon, the terrain would become too rough to allow the carriage passage, so they'd decided to enjoy the comfort while they could. The carriage sheltered them from the evening wind as well as whatever wildlife lurked out there in the dark. In forests as thick and untouched as the southern wilds, there were plenty of beasts that saw both Humans and Lyrum as prey. They surely had the means to fight off any threat, but all the same, it was better to sleep in safety.

  Amaranth answered with a smile, "It looks a lot like the dress you always wore before you became a student."

  "Oh. I suppose it does." A strange expression passed over Shakaya's face, leaving him to wonder whether those days were pleasant memories or poor ones.

  "It's nice, but..." he sighed, "you just don't look like a Lyrum."

  Shakaya narrowed her eyes. "Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?"

  Amaranth was confused at first, but saw how she could take the statement either way. On one hand, Lyrum possessed natural beauty; on the other, he doubted she'd enjoy resembling what she despised most. "It's a simple observation," he countered. "You're too wellbuilt to be a Lyrum."

  She smiled slightly, apparently satisfied.

  It was, however, true. Lyrum were very frail, which was something Shakaya was not. The muscles defining her figure—earned through years of combat training—marked her as Human. While usually hidden beneath her jacket or armor, the low-cut dress also revealed the scars on her arms and between her breasts. A bit suspicious for a supposedly peaceful traveler.

  "Maybe..." Amaranth reached back into the boxes of clothes the merchants had intended to sell and fished out a too-big brown vest and tall tan boots. "Try these."

&nbs
p; Doing as he suggested, Shakaya slipped on the shoes and tied the sleeved vest over the top of the gown.

  "Better," he nodded. The boots' height and the vest's loose sleeves at least partially obscured her strong figure. "Just be sure to keep those on."

  A bit of a shame to cover the dress though...or rather, to cover what it didn't.

  He tensed, caught off guard by his own thoughts. Where had that come from? He hoped the heat hadn't reached his cheeks.

  She didn't seem to notice. "What about you?"

  "I'm spindly enough to fit in just fine," he answered with a painted grin. "We still need a few finishing touches, though."

  Before she could react, he was already tying a white ribbon in her hair. His fingers moved with precision, knotting the bow with ease. A bell jingled when she passed him a bewildered glance.

  Amaranth was already dressed in a loose green top with ties lacing the middle, long tan trousers, and matching shoes. They were fortunate—the carriage had stocked quite the selection.

  He added a few more bows to her hair. "Lyrum are very conscious of their appearance, but they don't have all the materials that we do, so they use a lot of trinkets—flowers, ribbons, stone bells—when designing their outfits."

  She blinked. "I thought you studied their witchery, not their culture. How complicated could it be?"

  "Every living thing has a lifestyle," he answered quickly, knitting a few beads into his own hair. "Even though I focus on Translation, having more information about the species helps put things in perspective."

  Amaranth hesitated before undoing his ponytail and pulling out his red ribbon. While bows were a common accessory for Lyrum of both sexes, that particular one wouldn't do. He tucked it into the pocket of the shirt he was wearing and promised himself he wouldn't leave it there.

  "Ama..."

  "Hmm?"

  "You are planning on erasing the Lyrum, aren't you? You're going to give Translation to Humans and then 'rewrite' them out of Auratessa?" Shakaya's voice lacked its usual strength, "Isn't that what you want?"

  "That..." That wasn't quite it, but...

  He bit his lip, not answering for a while.

  Was this really the right thing? He'd asked himself that question over and over since leaving that morning.

  After...after the murder in the mines, he'd decided he wanted no part in such grim fantasies, but Shakaya's enthusiasm had led him to a change of heart. Had he made a mistake? Had he been too impulsive? Could they even do it? After all, it meant... It meant he'd have to kill again, and it meant their lives as graduates of the Academy were almost certainly over. After getting involved with the Butterfly—and eventually, even attempting regicide—it was unlikely they'd ever be able to go home.

  He studied the cracks in the wooden floor. It looked so different beneath his shoes than the Academy's polished white tile. He'd made so many memories within those walls. Some were pleasant, some weren't, but either way, and for better or worse, the Academy had made him what he was. And now, if they went through with their plans, there was a very real chance he'd never see it again.

  His lungs tightened. The price of success was costly enough, but if they failed...

  "I want this, too. It's not just about you, or just about the colony. I have my own reasons."

  Was this truly just about her hatred for Lyrum? Whatever reason she carried, it had to be something immensely important to her.

  The Butterfly's voice weaseled into his head.

  "You've killed for years—don't act like you're on higher ground! I'm sure you already have a special place reserved for you in Hell. At least give your choices meaning. Embrace what you've become and redeem yourself in the only way you can. Kill him, kill all the others, and create the world you've always wanted."

  She was right. The Lyrum was right. When he stopped and looked at the daily happenings in the labs for what they really were, he'd lost any right to call himself a good person long ago. Even if he averted his eyes from the Academy's most gruesome work, he was still complicit in its killings. He chose to be a part of the school. No matter what he did, no matter how much he apologized, he'd never find forgiveness for the sins he'd committed in the place he called home...sins he knew he'd keep committing if he returned. He was a cruel, selfish man. With one foot in Hell, perhaps most of the world's paths were already closed to him. But if he stopped hesitating and started running—if he embraced the route he'd already chosen—then perhaps he could reach his destination before it was too late. Only then might he redeem himself, and in the only way he still could.

  "Yes," he lied. If he succeeded, the divide between Humans and Lyrum would close—the war, the violence, would end. So, in a way... In a way, the Lyrum that lived in her head—her monsters—would indeed be erased. A melancholy smile made its way to his lips. "I'll do that and more—I'll bring your family back, too."

  Shakaya was also cruel, selfish, but she could still be saved.

  If he succeeded, if he was able to rewrite Auratessa in the way he wished, he'd create a new life for her. One where her biggest fantasy didn't involve death. One where she found enjoyment outside of vengeance. One where she was content. At the very least, he owed her that much.

  A grin swept her usually stoic face. She stared at him a long while, her gaze holding his. He nearly expected her to tear up as she had that morning, "But we'll still be together too, won't we?"

  He forced a confident chuckle, "Of course we will."

  Another lie. He didn't know what he would do with himself yet, or if he'd even get the opportunity to decide, but he knew that whatever it was wouldn't involve Shakaya. She would never truly be happy that way. Their relationship was a strange, screwed up dream. A dream that was already ending. After the rewrite, she'd no longer even remember him—he'd make sure of that. No need for grief or goodbyes.

  Another hush washed over the carriage, but their gazes never broke. For an instant, he wondered if she might lean in for another kiss. Or if he might try it, himself.

  He'd never allowed much thought to it before—she'd seemed much younger than him when he'd first come to the Academy, after all—but while she sat beside him in nothing but the pale moonlight and her white dress, her blue eyes staring into his, something shifted inside him. Heat swelled in his chest and—oh lord—his loins, fighting against the lump in his throat. The taste of her lips stirred in his memory before he could brush it away.

  He swallowed stiffly. An unexpected, uncomfortable longing bloomed in his stomach, but so did guilt. The dread chained down the temptation. Such things were only dreams, as well.

  After all, there was still the possibility that he might fail. And if he did, time would still run out. What would happen to Shakaya, then?

  His skin crawled, a frown breaking him out of his trance. No. He couldn't allow such things to progress any further, not when it would only make either outcome worse.

  "Ama?" Shakaya leaned in closer, concerned.

  "It's nothing." He shook his head, trying to find something, anything, to say. This time, he couldn't stop his cheeks from heating. "It's...ah, all just a bit overwhelming."

  She reclaimed her small smile. "But it's exciting, too." She stood and stepped toward a shelf, something on it seeming to catch her eye. "It's like it's just you and me against the world."

  "I guess so," he answered quietly, his lips slowly mirroring hers.

  It was true. He couldn't deny the madness of what they were doing, but it was also the chance of a lifetime.

  He would burn the whole world down and replace it with his own. Their own.

  Shakaya returned a minute later, opened wine bottles in her hands. She held one out for him. "Cheers?"

  Amaranth couldn't help but grin. "Cheers."

  The hollow clank of glass hitting glass echoed inside the otherwise quiet carriage.

  ...If that made him a monster, then so be it.

  Chapter Eleven: Different Lives

  Amaranth and Shakaya hid among the folia
ge, using it as cover while they reviewed their plans one last time. They had abandoned the carriage early that morning and trekked through a largely unexplored stretch of wilderness. After hours of searching, they'd finally caught sight of the colony⁠—or rather, a wall of thorns in the middle of nowhere, under the watch of armed guards. Amaranth knew the colony was inside. The unnamed woods were disorienting and impossibly dense. Had he not already known the way, it was unlikely they ever would've found it. Even now, as shades of pink and orange painted over the sky, the forest breathed with birdsong and the rustling of branches and brush. Thank goodness they'd made it to Riksharre before night had found them first.

  "I can't believe it's truly here," Shakaya gawked at the barrier shielding the colony from sight. "The Academy's been searching for this place for ages." Her eyes found Amaranth's. "Whether we return to the Academy or not, we have to report this."

  He looked away. "If we succeed, there will be no need for that."

  "I suppose so," Shakaya sighed. "I wish we were here to burn the place down instead of spend the night like tourists." Fire flashed behind ice-blue irises. "Nearly all of Lusanthine's Lyrum supposedly live here. If we could destroy the whole colony at once..."

  Amaranth's tense muscles felt a size too small to stretch all the way through his body. "We are here in pursuit of the Council. That should be chaos enough. Remember⁠—"

  "We need to blend in," she frowned, "I know."

  He nodded, praying that she truly understood. If the soldier let her hatred get the better of her, they were finished. The two of them stood no chance against an entire village of Lyrum.

  Late last night, in the comfort of the carriage, they'd devised their cover story. Their names were Arwin and Sohna, and they were two sixteen-year-old Lyrum. The species more or less reached adulthood at twelve and appeared similar to early-twenties Humans for the remainder of their lifespan, so the scientist and the soldier had decided on ages much younger than their own for their aliases. They were also mates, and they'd been born and raised in Havventhale. Feeling insecure so close to the Human capital, they'd snuck aboard a ship to start a new life in Lusanthine. Amaranth had initially suggested they masquerade as siblings, but Shakaya had made a valid point by arguing that they looked absolutely nothing alike. The concept of marriage didn't exist in Lyrum society⁠—pairs coupled when and however they chose to, and sometimes not even in pairs, at all. Despite his reluctance, mates made for the most believable scenario. They wore their disguises and buried their weapons and their own bags in an oversized travel bag stuffed with clothes and Rune left behind by the merchants. Currency, at least, was universal.