10TH

I sit behind the thicket of shrubs under the trees whilst letting my ears succumb to the coming wagons and vehicles on the wide main road, following the plotted detail of the concluded plan that should make me succeed in getting into the city. The night is still deep and Otima is half-asleep, yet the City Vanguards remain wide awake upon the main entrances, just like what the young soldiers warned me of. I stealthily wait for them to reach the right distance towards the city entrance. That'll be their signal for me to move.

I prop one knee upon the dried moss-layered soil and peek above the shrubs I'm hiding behind to give myself a better view of the midnight scenery. A kilometer beyond is Otima's sturdy and sloped walls that shared the same rock composition as the Barrier's and just as what the young woman fawn said, its fertile outskirts are heavily guarded and crawling with City Vanguards, as well as atop the miles-stretching structure, even the low skies with Ravenbirds and aircraft — and maybe, even Ordinals. Though, it's better to try than stay put and waste time.

I turn my head to my right where the road continues to rumble peacefully with the wheels rolling by. My vision receives the figures of the young soldiers, where ahead of them is a carriage of wood barks. The men driving it wore the same military district attire as theirs. Things can't get more smoothly flowing. Taking it as a suggestion for me to move now, my legs embark silently rushing in their direction. As I reach the very edge of the road, I successfully sneak under the wheeled cart unnoticed and attach myself to wherever I can hold on to. This is it.

Frankly speaking, that Rhineigh of theirs indeed could have been having me on the run all the way to my mother already. Although, it can be a pain on the shoulders considering its extensive appetite despite being an herbivore. Plus, I have no supplies to survive the trip. I don't even want to add more to the weight the young soldiers already endured after those outcasts. And I can't turn back now either, now that I've come a long way and still have another long one ahead.

Dropping my head a little low for a quick second gives me the upside-down sight of the approaching gates of the main city wall borders. I see guards doing a quick scan of every vehicle, and I can say it's become a lazy habit of theirs. But that's an advantage for me.

"What happened to you, cadets?" One vanguard asks, obviously referring to the trio I saved.

"Outcasts," I hear the boy say. "We got separated from our squad and they ambushed us."

As they continue to entertain one another, the other vanguards are already on their quick scanning. My eyes then grow big when I hear growling noises. Trained hounds… Hounds! They smell things Wolf-breeds can't. Stupid of me to forget about that and I make myself fall at risk, including the kids. My mind instantly gets clouded with void as my heart rate rises and I feel its prominent banging in my chest. Both from my sides walk by are the four-legged carnivores, their quick breathing, and simultaneous growling reach my ears, and so do the weapons of the vanguards being readied. All I can do is keep my grip strength in my position, even though my hopes are about to diminish. I shouldn't have agreed to their plan. The Ordinals are going to kill me, for real this time.

The hounds' muzzles appear swooping almost in contact with the wagon, until then they sneak their heads underneath the wagon and I freeze. My gaze stuck directly on one's full brown eyes full of desperation to find the threat. Yet, it seems to have found nothing.

"It's all clear," I hear a soldier mutter.

What? What does he mean by that? I turn my head to see his elven guise as he's swatting and directly flashing his light right at my face.

I hover my hand over my face only to see the slightly blurred environment through my palm, though the very outline is somewhat seen in purple-blue tint, the same goes for my garments examining myself further. My brows form into a questioning furrow and utter surprise. I'm invisible. I don't know whether I should be mesmerized or what. But, I'm certainly not happy, either. This so-called power brought me so much misery already in a matter of days. It almost cost my life. My career is gone. And now I'm a wanted fugitive. I sigh with my eyes shut, pressing my forehead upon the wooden surface to dwindle the brewed anxiety. I have to focus. With one more release of concentration through an exhale, I travel my gaze around, finding that I've arrived in the familiar environment of my destination. This is it. The carriage comes to a stop, but I remain in place, waiting for the soldiers to distance themselves enough. They unmount, assisting the younger ones with their unconscious friend.

From here I see their footsteps shrink on the dry dirt as they walk away from the wagon, leaving me with only the snorting pair of stallions attached to the carriage. The unconscious Jane is rather carried by the older men who have fetched them and the two follow behind them, giving one last look in my direction. Can they see me though? I hope to meet them again soon if I ever get the chance.

As the area seems to be clear, I extricate myself from under the carriage to proceed to that narrow path, walled by huge cargo and barrels. Under the shade of the night comes the almost full moon's sun-reflected light where it casts my own shadow beneath me, and my eyes happen to come upon my skin, again, noticing it has resumed its perceivable appearance and it strikes me that I'm vulnerable to being spotted.

I scan the environment and fewer soldiers still roam around. It should provide more than enough window for me to find Kyla soon since she works around the armories and it's not far from where I am. I still remember where that is. Nothing has changed since my last visit with Grace. Until then, I have to keep my head low.

It would have been much more convenient if my invisibility hadn't worn off, but it'll be an extra waste of time finding out how to make myself do so again.

An opening comes for me to make my move and I silently sprint towards the near outskirts of the empty storage house, almost getting myself caught with soldiers I happened to not notice coming by. Right where I stand, my vision captures the view of the towering Cedanarra trees beyond the camp's facilities, warm lights aglow from cabins built upon their twisty, thick branches.

I proceed to make my way further, continuously passing by facilities and training areas, luckily not getting caught so far, until I finally arrive at the smithery factory. The heat and scent of forgery still linger in the atmosphere even though work hours have certainly gone by. Nonetheless, there are still workers there and I can assume my elven friend is, too. But if not, I can proceed to her tree cabin, instead. I stick my gaze on the entrances of every forgery hut, whilst keeping myself hidden in the shadows, expecting her to come out any time soon.

Please be here… Please be here…Please be here… 

In less than a minute, I see the familiar outline of my elven friend finally emerge from one of the huts, exhausted in her forging garments with her exposed arms and face smudged with mixed dust and sweat, though her bun-tied, auburn hair remains looking newly dried from washing, as usual. She mutters at them goodbye, muffled by the distance from where I stand before she parts from them and heads in the direction of her tree cabin. Since it's now just her in my vicinity, I leave my hiding place, sprinting silently on my stomping soles to her.

She happens to be walking by stacks and stacks of chopped barks as I reach closer to her and I take it as a good space for us to speak, but as I'm mere inches from making contact, she twists dropping her bag and the air zaps with a streak of silver. My reflexes react to save me and I'm able to catch her wrist before the weapon's edge even makes contact with my neck. Now, I'm dragging her to the available blindspot near us, my hand locked on her armed limb and the other holding her screams around her mouth.

"Stop!" I mutter loudly as she's behaving like a worm sprinkled with salt in my grip. "Kyla, it's me!"

Her struggling stops, seemingly have recognized me by my voice. Gently, I lose my grip on her and she detaches to turn to me.

"Kyvin?" Her guise shifts into disbelief. "W-What are you—"

"Shh! Not here," I exclaim with demanding gestures. "Can we take this to your cabin?"

She gives a delayed, blank stare still carrying the disbelief upon my presence here. There are obviously tons and tons of questions running around in her head right now, but I can't entertain them here. It merely takes a few more seconds for her to agree as I notice her see the pleading in my eyes. She leaves for a moment to retrieve the bag she had dropped upon the dirt.

"Stay low," She says, and we leave the spot with assurances of remaining unseen until we reach the one Cedanarra tree in which her cabin is meters high from the ground. A quick pulley rides to the top from the tree's base and we arrive. Most of the soldiers' cabins here are built upon branches. Her's? It's rather carved within the gigantic bark. Only those special enough can have them. One is sharing the blood of a noble family here in Otima. Much to her mother's impression — who is a Borough Leader in the city— she found it ironic that Kyla chose to pursue being a smith rather than putting herself on the front lines of the Divisions at the Barrier. Many say making swords is tedious work and doesn't have much recognition in the society. Her mother supported her, nonetheless. The inspiration rooted in her father was the only reason why.

She shuts the door behind her, but the urgency in her steps remains dominant upon the wooden floor as she approaches me again, only to catch me off guard with her arms' tight embrace. "What the hells, Kyvin!?" She exclaims in a shush "What are you doing here!? What are you wearing!? What happened to you!?"

Her questions are loaded, and they suddenly overwhelm me and I don't know which to answer first. "It's a long story, Kyla," I say and she pulls immediately. "And I can't stay long."

The confoundment in her guise elevates.

"I need a favor," I add and gently have my hands on the sides of her arms. "Are there any shipments or deployments to cross west?"

Her gaze narrows in further confusion. "What for? Why?"

It takes a short pause for me to answer, "I need to go home."

She gives an annoyed scoff. "Kyvin, I can't simply do you a favor without you telling me what's going on." She speaks in a soft manner but also demanding. "I need to know. I'm your friend."

"It's complicated," I say, urgently. "I—"

"Yeah, sounds to me, like you're being hunted down," She exclaims. She reads me too well. The obvious is always clear to her.

I'm silent. It pains me that I can't answer her completely. But, it's not up for debate. I trust her as much as I trust Grace, don't get me wrong. But I still cannot risk it. I cannot risk her.

"The entire city witnessed the explosion at the citadel three days ago," She says and I'm ever baffled. "What did you do?"

That catches me off-guard once more and I give her a questioning look. How did she know I was in there?

"I received a letter from Grace the other day," She says, turning her soles to retrieve a piece of folded parchment above a wooden desk next to her wool-made bed and holding it up to my gaze. "She mentioned what happened to you in the desert and Ordinal Three invited you to the citadel. Ordinal Three! Okay? Ordinal Three!" She then eyes my whole semblance. "What did you do? Were you the one who tried to steal an Immortal Armament?"

"No, I didn't," I answer immediately. "It's far different from that."

"So you do have something to do with the explosion?" She keeps her voice low despite how upset she looks. "Tell me."

Her assumption is the other way around. My gaze then sinks to hers where I find sincere eagerness, leaving me more conflicted and blank with what words to respond to. What choice do I have now? She's tempting my morality too much.

"They tried to kill me. Not for trying to steal or anything."

Her physiognomy returns holding the same verve of disbelief but remains speechless and so on. She parts her lips to speak but is not able to blurt the following words as a knock on her door abrupts.

I react in a split second, finding a place to hide. Luckily, her small kitchen sits right behind the wall segregating the area where we stand and that becomes my hiding spot. Kyla wastes no time approaching the entrance as I'm finally hidden. The door creaks open and a male voice greets her. My brows then furrow with curiosity with how suddenly Kyla's voice becomes lightened and giddy. And Mason? Who's Mason? My auditory then captures the man mentioning 'dinner'.

Their conversation lasts short-termed, and then I hear the door finally shut, followed by a sigh, though not obviously of relief, and her footsteps. She comes forth to my position and drags me further into the kitchen having my curious gaze fixated on her.

"What?" She asks irritably once she turns to me again, clearly having figured out the notion behind my expression.

"Nothing," I shrug, dropping the notion, too.

"What do you mean they tried to kill you!?" She mutters loudly, returning us to the discussion earlier.

The more she asks questions, the more I'm being tipped off the edge to explain. But how? How do I even explain to her how three Ordinals along with Ordinal One and a hundred other soldiers tried to kill a not-so-human Wall Sentry and managed to survive because he's deemed a darken-blooded being, which he happens to have inherited from his long-deceased father, whom he also never met? I'm only on the part where I'm processing that.

"Kyvin," She presses more.

"It's hard to explain, Kyla," I repeat. "Look, I can't stay long," I say again with the guilt of having to deprive the explanation she deserves. "And I can't put you to risk. The less you know, the better," Even though I'm still uncertain of that.

Now she's conflicted as well, seemingly undecided if she'd help me or not. I feel so guilty for doing this now. Maybe, I really should've just looked for another way, instead. She then sighs, her elven ears dropping. "There are cargo ships to depart to Cysainte soon."

Perfect. That's to pass by home. It would only take less than a day to arrive there by air transportation.

"Stay here until I say so," She adds. "I'll give you a window."

"Thank you," I say with relief. "Thank you so much. I owe you."

"An explanation," She completes demanding nothing else, and by that, she means by the time I could.

I nod sincerely, even though I'm not sure how there are things that I'm yet uncertain about. Thinking just about that alone already sends an ample amount of anxiety beneath my stomach again. The repetitive thought of how suddenly everything pivoted is still on the surface of my skull and am having a hard time finding its way to sink in. So much has happened recently and they're still being broken down in comprehension.

Kyla has departed the cabin, leaving me disposed of in thinking about those young soldiers. They're safe now, and their friend should be in safer hands especially since she's still in an unstable condition.

Moments pass, and I'm now reminiscing about the nostalgic look of the inn. It had been two years since my last walk in here along with Grace. The camps always allow visitors from other military armies.

I remember Kyla cooking food in her marble-walled kitchen and the three of us drinking ale on the tree bridges. Those days may have only happened in a span of moments, but it's enough for me to keep on pondering how time flew by fast and how fast we got older. However, this tree cabin did not seem to, not by a bit — perhaps because Kyla's always too neat with all of her classy belongings and cannot rest with a speck of single dirt or stain left unremoved.

I find myself settling upon the wool-made bed where exhaustion strikes me all of a sudden. I thought I'd have more energy. Perhaps it's the overthinking that has consumed much.

My body gives in to the bed's soft surface. The comfortable feeling of the bedsheet-covered bed in contact with my back makes me release tension from my lips, and my eyes start dozing off. But since I'll be leaving again soon, I fight it off, keeping my gaze focused on the cornerless ceiling and my thoughts active. I even contribute my fingers fiddling with the bed's cover. What I seem to be only aware of now is the steady rhythm of my breathing in sync with my blood-pumping heartbeats.

My ears then capture the strong but silent gust from the outside and seem to have found its way through the window as I feel it brush on my side. That somehow depletes my strength to fight my lids from shutting, but then I force them to remain open wide and I meet with faces barely perceptible and discordant voices of a man and a woman. They sound like they're in a commotion. Seconds pass on, and an infant's unhappy noises merge with theirs. My infant noises…

"You know yourself that this secret can't be kept from him forever," My ears comprehend the familiar male's voice, and then I sense myself being carried while still tearlessly weeping without any reason.

"I just want him to have what his father never got to have," Replied the female voice. "To have a normal life."

My vision then lands on her countenance, still barely perceptible combined with her own shadow casting upon me. Slowly, her face clears. Mom?

That is when I jolt awake for real, meeting Kyla's worried guise as she calls my name. She seems to have been attempting to wake me for a while now.

My still drowsy facade disappears instantly as she says, "They're here."