Paragon

by Rowan Rook

  Anson couldn't keep himself from glancing down at the watch on his wrist—it was Jeriko's, but the Butterfly had loaned it to him. Still five minutes to go.

  Jeriko, Tayla, and the rest of Velvire's Butterflies were going to cause a ruckus on exactly the strike of the next hour. Not wanting to miss the deadline, the two Lyrum had hurried themselves to the audience room, but now that they were there, they had a bit of time to while away.

  He forced his gaze to stay on the king and queen. "There must have been a spark—the whole floor was ablaze in a matter of moments." He painted horror over his face, trying to think—but not too deeply—about the real fire he'd watched burn down his home so long ago. "The fire was extinguished as quickly as possible, but after the damage already inflicted during the invasion," he hoped they'd already received news of that particular tragedy, "there's almost nothing left of the labs. Not..." He let his eyes fall. "Not many of the scientists stationed there made it out."

  He kneeled on his knees in a polite bow. "As one of the few researchers who witnessed the events directly and survived, I was sent to inform you of the tragedy and humbly request funds to rebuild our labs."

  Come on time, tick faster!

  "It's true," Aydel stepped forward. "As a visitor, I watched the flames spread from outside after the main floor was forced to evacuate. It was nearly an explosion—the disaster happened in the course of a few seconds. The Academy couldn't have saved the labs."

  Silence.

  Prunella Eastoft scratched her chin. "I see. Tragic or not, it sounds as though the incident was the fault of you and your colleagues. Was it not dangerous to stow the chemicals near such unpredictable creatures and unprotected wires? Was it not ignorant of your soldiers not to realize the threat of the spill? We have maintained a good relationship with your Academy, but I'm afraid we can't simply go about cleaning up every mess you bring upon yourselves."

  ...How cold-hearted.

  Suddenly grateful he wasn't actually there in search of sympathy, Anson offered another bow. "I understand, but has the Academy not done its part throughout the years to advance not only Human technology, but also our safety and culture? The Academy has made Lusanthine—a place beyond the easy reach of your good soldiers—what it is. Is it not a fair investment to ensure its continued survival? I assure you, we will take every measure possible to ensure that such an incident never happens again."

  Wallace shook his head slowly. "You have our sincerest condolences for your losses, but I'm afraid we've already offered the Academy everything we can. Instruct one of your superiors —perhaps headmaster Blaker—to meet with us at the end of the year and update us on the situation. We may be able to send physical help or funds then." He frowned, his mellow gaze sharpening with suspicion. "Still, there is one thing you must clear up for me. My guards reported that you spoke of a confidential project assigned to your school by myself? I cannot recall authorizing any such project."

  "Well, I..." Sweat beaded on Anson's brow. "That is..."

  Come on, come on! He sneaked another glance at the watch. The Monarchs were dismissing him faster than he'd anticipated, and soon, they would catch him in his lies.

  Anson opened his mouth to offer more tall, tangled tales, but a sharp bang from outside interrupted him.

  A gunshot.

  A hush swept through the room.

  A second gunshot fired. Two more followed from opposite sides of the street.

  The Butterflies.

  The royal guards surged into action. A group of them swept the shaken king and queen away like dolls and guided them further inside the castle. None of the others left the room. Several stood in front of the doorway where the Monarchs had vanished, weapons drawn. There were eyes watching the audience hall from every angle.

  Anson cursed internally and shot a glance at Aydel.

  One of the guards glowered at them. "You two, stay here where we can see you!"

  Anson nodded, but let his mouth hang slightly agape. Aydel placed a nervously clenched hand over her heart.

  A second soldier looked their way, his voice more sympathetic. "Don't worry. This is probably a prank. Some kids with noise bombs thinking they can start mischief near the castle and get away with it—happens more often than you'd think. You'll be safe here."

  "Thank you," Anson sputtered, fresh guilt creeping up on him.

  Another round of gunshots echoed from outside.

  At least his faked fear was convincing—he stood frozen, unsure what to do. This would be the only chance they had to act, but so far, no clear opportunity had arisen.

  "Brother, come watch. You can see what's happening from here."

  It was Aydel, her tone tight and unusual. Bewildered, Anson spun to find her staring through a window. She gestured, much more forcefully, for him to approach.

  He obeyed, but there wasn't much to see beyond the window except for soldiers rushing madly about the garden and the streets several stories below. He could only hope that Jeriko and Tayla evaded discovery.

  Aydel, however, shifted her gaze until it landed on the velvet curtain framing the glass. Anson offered her a bewildered blink before realization widened his eyes. She nodded, then slowly meandered away from the window.

  Anson exhaled an uneven breath. They were going to act, and once they set the assault in motion, there would be no going back.

  He took a few steps away from the window, but his gaze remained on the curtain. He pictured it smoldering, catching on fire, filling up the audience hall with smoke. He pointed at it behind his back.

  Flames caught the velvet.

  "What the Hell?" a soldier shouted, breaking formation and hurrying toward the window. "Fire! There's fire!"

  Indistinct voices rose from the shocked guards. Like moths to a lamp, they all surged toward the smoke.

  Anson watched them, pretending to turn in surprise, himself.

  The soldiers surely wondered how the fire had started. After all, their guests had already been checked for arms and incendiaries, and it wasn't like the visitors were Lyrum. Anson couldn't quite suppress a satisfied smirk.

  One of the guards reached for his receiver.

  Hundreds of icy arrows shot through the room like a hailstorm of bullets, humming through the air. They danced past Anson, parting around him and kicking up strands of his hair and his clothes. They honed in on every soldier like predators diving for prey, ripping through armor with final, metallic shrieks. Red liquid and shards of ice dusted the room. Soldiers fell in unison, as if they had at once been stricken by the Author itself.

  Anson stared blankly at the bodies on the floor. Icy arrows jutted from their backs. Only two moved, gagging and gasping for a few final seconds but unable to scream. The copper, soiled stench of death assaulted his senses and tightened his lungs. Hot blood stained his lab coat. His wide eyes slowly turned backward, toward Aydel.

  His sister stood, her face as cold as her ice.

  A chill wormed through him, from the tips of his toes to the top of his skull. He'd been so preoccupied that even he hadn't noticed Aydel positioning herself opposite the window—away from every soldier's gaze. They were dead or dying, all of them.

  Before he could hold it back, an image of Shakaya flickered through his head. The soldiers lay discarded on the floor, their lives ended so abruptly and easily, as if they had been nothing at all. The enormity—the suddenness—of the death around him left him quivering.

  ...Was this a Lyrum's true potential?

  Lyrum culture was, by and large, peaceful. The species sought to defend itself and better its society, but the rebels aside, it wasn't out for blood. Lyrum loved life, not death.

  But Aydel was different. Was this what happened, then, when a Lyrum devoted herself to vengeance and hate? When she lived for power, the way so many Humans did?

  He saw his sister with new eyes. She wasn't just a Lyrum. She was a monster, too.

  Aydel smiled, even as she wiped sweat from her cheeks. "Humans are far too e
asy to fool for their own good."

  "You...you killed them!" Anson gaped. "You killed all of them!"

  Aydel nodded. "Tell me, could your Human pet have done that?" She shot him a bitter smirk. "Jeriko and the others are keeping the rest of the soldiers busy. We now have the opportunity we need."

  "You said we weren't going to kill anymore than we had to!" Anson stumbled back as the pooling blood spread across the marble tiles, sinking into his shoes. Scarlet drops splashed as he moved. His insides clenched. "I didn't... I didn't know you were actually going to kill them!"

  Sixteen people. Sixteen lives. Each of them had loved and was loved. Aydel had taken all of that away in a matter of seconds.

  She arched a brow. "You don't think this was necessary? If we hadn't taken care of them quickly, they would have alerted the rest of their ranks. We'd be the ones staining the floor. We couldn't have that, could we?"

  Anson looked away, biting his tongue.

  "We need to hurry," Aydel reminded, as casually as if they were late for an appointment. She glanced at the door they'd come through and gestured upward with her wrist. Ice erupted from the tiles, encasing the entrance.

  Anson's dark wonder swelled in his stomach. Aside from the hallway where the king and the queen had fled, the only other path inside the audience room was frozen solid, barring any backup from entry. They were alone.

  Aydel looked at him. "Come on, you hypocrite."

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  The Anwells' boots tapped a rhythm on the marble as they raced, side-by-side, through the royal hallways. Aydel navigated effortlessly, flying through corridors without hesitation. They met a few more soldiers stationed deep inside the castle, but Aydel made swift work of each with arrows. She stopped only to freeze several more doorways, further sealing the king's and queen's fates with each escape she blocked.

  Anson panted, his muscles burning as he fought to keep pace with his sister. "How do you know where we're going?"

  She smirked. "The Butterfly has been preparing for this day for longer than you know. Our Human spies staked this place out long ago. The innards of the castle hold no secrets for us."

  Anson only swallowed and stared straight ahead, not wanting to see the scarlet footprints he left in his wake.

  Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

  Aydel gestured toward a door hidden at the end of a long hallway.

  Anson understood. After sucking in a breath, he reached out and blew it away with a burst of flames.

  A bullet very nearly grazed his brow as the only barrier separating him from the Monarchs shattered.

  The two Lyrum threw themselves to the ground, seeking cover on opposite sides of the door.

  Several soldiers waited within the room, guns cocked.

  Aydel cautiously peered around the edge and shot arrows through the doorway, but the smoke obscured her aim. Ice clattered against the walls. She glared at Anson. "Whatever you do, don't let them escape! This is the only chance we'll have."

  Anson nodded. He closed his eyes and relied instead on his ears. He was close enough. He just had to listen for his targets, and—

  He pictured flames combusting beneath the sets of feet tapping the floor and gestured toward the ceiling.

  A screech pealed through the doorway. He'd engulfed at least one of the guards.

  "Lyrum fucks!" Wrath roared from within the room, "Next time you show your faces I'll blow them off!"

  Blind bullets hailed into the hall.

  Anson pressed himself against the wall, his heart almost as loud as the gunshots.

  The stalemate stretched on. Even as Anson's pounding pulse strained his body to its limits, his mind seemed to disconnect itself from the trembling contraption of flesh, muscle, and bone that was its tool, wading through a surreal swamp of anxiety and focus. As long as he didn't let himself think about what he was doing, he could focus. He could do this. It was a matter of waiting the soldiers out. Of being careful. Of keeping his wits.

  He listened for the clink of metal armor—trying not to think of Shakaya—and repeated the now familiar gesture. Heat erupted from the room as someone screamed.

  "If you're really connected with the Academy, that infection of a school is finished!" a soldier shouted through what sounded like pain. "I'll hang the headmaster, myself!"

  "We'll destroy your kind so completely that Lyrum will be erased from the history books!"

  Anson tried to remember to breathe, fighting against the black edges of panic, the black smoke sticking to his throat. Did the guards think this was some kind of revolt, like the invasion at the Academy? Why else would two Lyrum dare assault the Human Monarchy?

  "It doesn't matter what happens to us—you're signing a death sentence for all of your people!"

  ...Was that the queen's voice?

  "Anny, my barriers won't hold off backup forever!" Aydel's face was even paler than his, such immense Translation exhausting even her. "We need to finish this!"

  Minutes ticked by. Soldiers sent out bullets. The siblings countered with fire and ice. Slowly, the gunshots decreased in frequency, and the angry shouts gave way to coughs.

  The room beyond the doorway burned. The flames couldn't naturally spread across the marble floors, but wafts of smoke and the crackling of feeding fire poured back into the hallway, carrying away the ashes of Auratessa's finest furniture and perhaps its finest soldiers.

  Aydel stretched her palm toward the ceiling and drew a barrier in front of the doorway. Frantic bullets cracked uselessly against the ice.

  "Burn them!" Aydel's eyes were as hot as Anson's fire. "There's only a few left. There's nothing they can do!"

  Anson stepped away from the wall and looked through the doorway. Dark silhouettes stared back through ice and smoke. Bullets buried themselves in the barrier, inches from his face. He narrowed his eyes and willed all the fire he had left into existence on the other side of the shield.

  Muted screams echoed from inside the room. Red and orange light illuminated the ice. Vapor hissed and water dripped from the barrier, wisps of smoke melting through it.

  "Do you feel the Inkwells?" Aydel pressed.

  Anson shook his head.

  "Then keep at it!"

  Energy channeled through Anson's body. Tingles pierced his skin like thousands of tiny needles, as if he could sense the microscopic pores Word passed through. He couldn't tell if the cries of pain came from his victims or his own head. He exhaled a shout, covering up his horror with wrath. They hadn't come this far just to fail! He couldn't wake up from this bad dream until the king and queen were dead.

  ...Eventually, no more bullets bit against the barrier.

  Aydel looked at him expectedly.

  Anson barely managed to shake his head.

  Aydel's deadly glare gave him the order to continue.

  Anson willed all of his strength out of his flesh and into the fire—just as he had the night before in the fields—but the air all at once flew from his lungs. He gasped, doubling over. His body had had enough. The inferno inside the room sputtered, and only the flames clinging to furniture and bodies remained.

  "Nothing," he confirmed, still fighting for breath.

  Aydel hissed out what sounded like a curse. She pressed her palms toward the floor and what was left of her barrier melted as suddenly as it had appeared.

  "Did they escape?" Anson managed, his heart hammering against his ribs with uneven beats. Had the king and queen still been inside the room, his flames would've killed them.

  The siblings exchanged a glance. Sweat coated both of their faces with exhaustion, but Aydel's gaze was furious as ever. She sucked in a breath as shaky as his. "We're getting too old for this."

  Both of them peered through the doorway. With the barrier gone, smoke streamed into the corridor, stinging their eyes but thinning its hold on the room. Sunlight glistened faintly through a broken window.

  "Shit!" Aydel spat, already darting into the room.

  Anson willed his trembling legs to follow her, wad
ing through ashes. When he leaned through the window and looked down, the king and queen stood on a balcony far below them. The king noticed him first, staring back with disbelieving eyes and a face so pale he might've been dead already. Charred remnants of a rope laid at the Monarch's feet. They must have used it to climb down before Anson's fire had severed it. The loyal guards had stayed behind to hold back the intruders until the end.

  The Monarchs reeled, stumbling toward an entrance to a lower floor as fast as their capes would let them. Aydel reached down and touched the wall. This time, she screamed, wincing in pain as ice raced down the bricks to seal off the balcony from the rest of the building. Only the king made it inside before the doorway froze over. The queen gawked as her husband disappeared within the relative safety of the castle's walls. Once again, she was trapped.

  "Filthy Lyrum!" the queen spat, her voice broken by fear and fury. "You'll all die for this! All of you!"

  "Finish her," Aydel ordered.

  Anson stared down at the queen, trying not to register her words, her fear. "I...don't think I can reach her from here."

  Aydel scoffed, and with a pained shudder, held out her palm. Ice rose from the balcony below to meet her in a pole of frozen blue and white. She leaped through the broken window, grabbed the ice, and slid down it like an acrobat. "Hurry!" she yelled back, her hair flying behind her.

  Anson gulped, barely strong enough to hold himself steady, but after a final gasp, he threw himself after her. The ice slid through his tired grip so swiftly he barely felt it. His ankles nearly shattered when his feet hit the marble, his palms covered in cold burns.

  Prunella gawked at them, leaning against the railing. "Guards!" she screamed. "Guards, please!"

  Emptying his mind of everything but the scared, purposeful rhythm of his heart, Anson stepped closer and raised his palm.

  The queen charged toward him, smashing into his stomach and throwing him off his feet. She'd struck first. In his horror hypnosis, he'd been careless. His air escaped him as his back struck the marble.