Author's Notes
Thanks to everyone who read, faved/followed, and left a review c:
A little forewarning for a description of a dead body. Nothing too graphic, but it may be upsetting. It happens in the paragraph after "Used to eat here all the time." in case anyone wants to skip it.
The silence is marred only by the mechanical marching of the Magitek patrols and wind through empty streets. The brilliant glow of the sunset has faded since they'd left Rangi's apartment, and they're guided only by the light of the stars—so much brighter now without Insomnia's lights to drown them.
Perhaps their footing would be more certain if either of them had brought a flashlight, but that would have defeated the purpose of going at night. In any case, Aera feels safer in the dark—and she'd feel safer on the rooftops, too, if only she didn't think the Glaive might lose his footing and fall to his death.
"Is there even anyone else left in Insomnia?" His voice is hushed, and he speaks only when the sounds of the patrols seem far enough away. Aera expects no less from a Glaive, yet she can't deny her relief that her companion is competent.
Aera glances at him, pausing for a moment to tie off the end of her braid. It sits over her shoulder, dark strands blending with the black of her jacket. "Some were able to escape." She's seen the surge of people on the bridge the morning following the attack, before Niflheim began its patrols and blockages around the city. Yet, the crowd was small considering Insomnia's population, and the numbers of those who perished in the attack seems unfathomable.
Those who've survived cannot have fared much better. Aera's seen them, peering through covered windows, hurrying out of the streets, mourning for the people they've lost, sobbing over immobile bodies. It's impossible to know how many people remain in Insomnia, and unsettling to think of what may happen to them. "No one wants to be outside."
And yet—four walls and a locked door provide only an illusion of safety.
You can't save everyone.
"Can't blame 'em." A subtle nod to their right alerts Aera of an approaching MT, one that doesn't appear to have spotted them yet. She feels Nyx shift, and glances down to see the dagger in his hand and his shoulders squared in preparation for combat.
The tips of her fingers lightly skim the sleeve on his forearm; a silent command to stand down. The Glaive stills, looking at her almost impatiently. "Where there's one, there'll be more," Aera whispers, and redirects his attention to the alley behind them. "There's a way around." She doesn't wait for Nyx to agree before she changes route, backing into the alley.
It's a maze of shuttered store fronts and abandoned patios, where the air was once filled with the smells of greasy deep-fry and overflowing beers. Aera doesn't turn when she hears the Glaive catch up to her, focusing instead on her mental map of the paths ahead. It's a detour, but it's one that provides more routes for which to escape the attention of any patrols.
"Used to eat here all the time." The Glaive's voice surprises her, and Aera glances at him out of the corner of her eyes. Even with his face half cast in shadows, she can see the grief as he scans the darkened buildings.
Surely, he must have known he'd perish with this city. Aera had the misfortune of seeing the state of his body before whatever had changed, changed. Blackened skin stark against the bloodless pallor of his gaunt face, half of his body lost to ashes, scattered over the ruins of Insomnia. All miraculously repaired in the blink of an eye.
Aera fights the shiver that trembles through her spine, maintaining a languid smile as though her thoughts haven't fallen to such a dark place.
"They had the cheapest kebabs I could find anywhere in Insomnia." The statement draws a look of surprise from her companion, and he responds with a quiet chuckle.
"You don't seem like a back-alley kebab kinda girl." The teasing in his voice does little to veil the bereavement, but Aera doesn't try to ruin the moment.
Her hand glides along the brick wall beside her as she leads the Glaive towards their destination. "Oh yeah? Why's that?"
There's a quick pause as the steady rhythm of a Magitek trooper's patrol approaches, but it passes without faltering, and they both continue down the back street. "That jacket looks pretty expensive."
He's not wrong. The leather jacket to which he's referring cost a pretty penny—though it wasn't Aera who'd commissioned it. In spite of its thinness, it's perfectly insulated against the cold, and made of much tougher material than its high-street fashion counterparts—tough enough to have protected Aera from the wanting claws of the beasts outside the city. Not every girl hopes to receive incognito tactical gear for her birthday, but Aera's not complaining.
"Doesn't mean I can't enjoy good food." She meets his smirk with a small smile of her own, single brow raised as though daring him to state otherwise. He doesn't, responding instead with a low chuckle.
They emerge from the darkened alley, pausing only to ensure that the street is empty. Rubble has blocked off half the road, and Aera doesn't try to peer into the half-crushed car beneath the debris. It's a little difficult to say anything light now, especially when the memory of Nyx's body in the ruins starts merging with the image of whomever was likely crushed in that car.
As they draw closer to the city's heart, Aera's found to be proven right. Where the sound of a patrol was an occasional, passing thing, it's now a constant whir. The Magitek infantry march in perfect unison, the sounds of their workings a steady rhythm that would ward off any trespasser.
Aera is no stranger to the Citadel's layout, privy even to its secret passages; but the Citadel isn't their destination. This time, she's the one who's following, trailing beside the Glaive along the last street to remain free from the Magitek patrols, her mind tracking their location in the map she's memorized. They pause at each intersection, and she can see the mounting frustration on Nyx's features when each street they approach appears to be dominated by at least two MTs.
"Nyx." He stops instantaneously, turning around to look at Aera with a raised brow. "We're not going to get through the streets without alerting every MT in a two mile radius."
It's not a fact either of them can ignore, and Aera wonders if the Kingsglaive is starting to believe this endeavour is futile. His shoulders heave with a stifled sigh. "Are we turning back, then?"
Aera scoffs. "No. We're going to alert every MT in a two mile radius."
There's a moment of confused silence, before the meaning of her suggestion dawns on the Glaive. It's perhaps the first genuine smile she's seen from him, even if it's one of mischief. "What do you have in mind?"
"A short detour to the nearest power station." Her mental map places the power station in the opposite direction of their destination, which should draw most of the patrols away from where they need to be. "The generators are already compromised, so it shouldn't be too difficult to overload them." Fingers scrabble for a large enough piece of debris, and Aera tests its weight for a moment before sidling up to the corner of the building beside her.
Two Magitek assassins, their paths alternating down the same street. Eyes narrow at an aluminum trash can that's been toppled in a side street, located diagonally from where she stands. The distance between her mark and the street she intends to take isn't much—"we've got to move fast. You ready?" She catches his nod out of the corner of her eyes, and so she takes aim.
The piece of cement collides with the trash can as she'd intended, and she waits with bated breath until both of the troopers alter their paths to investigate. Aera takes off the moment their backs are turned, keeping low and scrambling across the street, stopping only when she's within shadows once more. A moment later, Nyx joins her, his expression carrying the thrill-wrought grin of an adrenaline junkie.
They move away from the Citadel, and though the concentration of MTs have decreased, both of them maintain their guard. The power station is situated across from a number of older buildings, surrounded by a flimsy wire fence. Every once in a while, the street is illuminated by a bright blue spark; proof that indeed, the generators are on their last leg.
Aera scales the fence easily, not waiting for Nyx before she continues to search for exposed wiring. A crackle and sizzle leads her to a grouping of electrical transformers, the metal casing in most of them dented. One is missing the covering on its panel, and sparks fly from the wiring within.
"...Do you know what you're doing?" The Glaive's voice seems to echo across the empty grounds, but there are no imperial patrols to hear him.
Aera casts a contemplative glance in his direction, then at the exposed panel. Lips pursed, brows drawn together, she's trying to go as far back as her school days to recall any information that might be useful. Drawing a blank, Aera realizes she'll just have to hope for the best.
"I think so?" She doesn't comment on the dubious expression on Nyx's face.
Narrowed eyes scan the ground in front of her, and ignoring the strange look her companion gives her, she scoops up some dried leaves. Masking her trepidation with a steady stride, Aera moves towards the transformer, pausing only for a brief moment before throwing the leaves into the panel.
She steps back, returning to her position beside Nyx. His lips part in question, but her eyes remain on the panel, watching the sparks fly again. It takes another few seconds before they catch on the dried leaves, and she smells the burning foliage before she sees the smoke and fire.
It catches quickly, the crackling of the electricity growing more fervent as the flames grow. There's an insistent hum in the air, like millions of cicadas descending at once. "Time to go." Before Nyx can react, she's got her fingers around his wrist, pulling him away from the building until they're both running towards the fence. They've barely made it past the station threshold when the ground trembles and a roar tears into the night.
Aera doesn't have to turn around to know that she's successfully overloaded the first transformer. More will follow, judging from the flashes of stark white light from behind them. Aera skids to a stop as she reaches one of the buildings, taking only a brief moment to catch her breath. The fire continues, as do the explosions, and already, she can hear the patrols gather at the source of the chaos.
"I really hope you're okay with heights." Aera briefly glances at her companion before motioning towards the iron escape ladder to their right. With the majority of the Magitek forces moving their way, there won't be much of a safe route for them on the streets.
Nyx gives her a resolute nod. He takes only another second to catch his breath before he launches himself up the ladder, deftly climbing to the roof. Aera follows, fingers tightening around the rungs of the ladder as another explosion causes the iron platform to shudder.
From the roof, Nyx extends a hand, and though Aera certainly doesn't need it, she accepts the gesture and closes her hand over his. He practically hauls her up the rest of the way, as though she weighs little more than a child.
He's glancing over her shoulder, a low whistle escaping his lips as he surveys the damage. The rooftops are illuminated with the flickering glow of flames and sparks; light that will, hopefully, last long enough for them both to make it to the armoury safely. Nyx's gaze meets hers, and he nods before taking off in the direction of the armoury, glancing backwards only once to ensure she's keeping pace.
And for her part, Aera keeps up without trouble, vaulting over the banister and revelling in the air beneath her as she crosses the distance between this building and the next. She can see the MTs below, weapons readied as they hurry towards the power station, but none of them notice the two figures leaping across rooftops only a few feet above them. The exhilaration elicits a grin, one matched by the one on her companion's own lips.
It's a much faster means of arriving at their destination, and they pause only to ensure that the street below is empty. Before he descends, Nyx fixes her with an appraising look, corners of his lips quirked as though impressed. "You do a lot of gymnastics in your spare time, Aera?"
"Something like that." The look with which he appraises her resembles that of a mathematician in front of a challenging equation. Yet, Aera's content to leave him guessing, one corner of her lips curving up into a coy smile. She doesn't miss the way his brows remain slightly furrowed whenever he glances her way, the proverbial gears continuously turning throughout the trek.
Where the night was marked before with the mechanical whirs of the Magitek troops, Aera finds the area almost perfectly silent, with the rumbles of the explosions sounding muted and distant. The building they're approaching is old, with a grand stone facade and an ornate entrance. It pales in comparison to the Citadel, and to the Crownsguard's own headquarters, but it's beautiful nonetheless. If only it isn't so pockmarked with damage from the invasion.
The halls within are empty as well, though Aera takes care to silence her footfalls. She's only been in the Kingsglaive headquarters once before, and with so little light filtering through the windows, her only sense of direction is completely reliant on Nyx. Apparently realizing this, he sticks close, glancing at her every once in a while to ensure that she's still there.
The corridor opens to a large courtyard to their right, and Nyx's pace falters. His gaze shifts to the courtyard, somber expression punctuated by the shadows the moonlight casts across his face. The surrounding walls are marred by scorch marks and nicks, though they don't appear to have been from the invasion. This must have been where the Glaives trained.
Aera might only imagine what's become of his Glaive comrades, but it's clear the loss weighs heavily on the soldier.
"C'mon." Her voice is soft, and her gesture is small; a light touch on his forearm. Without looking at her, he nods, and they continue onwards. About three turns and four doors later, they arrive.
The room is dark, but she can see the outlines of a handful of familiar weapons against the shadows. Nyx enters first, and Aera follows, careful not to stumble into anything sharp. He seems to know exactly where to go, and Aera's content to stand in the room's centre, trying to differentiate the weapons in the dark.
"The Glaives were deployed just before the invasion," he explains, and Aera can hear the dull thunk of wood clashing against metal. "So there's not much left. The batons are here, though." He hands them to her, and she dutifully shoves them into the backpack she's brought.
Nyx busies himself with a rack built into one wall, his hands gliding along the handful of stored weapons until they find what he's looking for. "I guess these will do," the Glaive murmurs as he straps the holsters to his uniform. He returns to scanning the rack for a moment before Aera sees him reaching for something else.
Brows raise in surprise when he turns to hand them to her. Aera's fingers close around sturdy leather holsters, and skirt over the curved dagger handles. Head cants, and though she's sure Nyx can't see her look of surprise, she can certainly imagine the smirk on his face. "Something tells me you're a little past trainee weapons."
He's perceptive, she'll give him that.
"Thank you." Though the weapons are unfamiliar, their weight as she pulls the straps around her hips certainly are.
The Glaive returns to her side and Aera can imagine the appraising look on his features as he shifts his gaze in her direction. "You up for another stop before we head back?" She can only guess the reason behind the hesitation underlying those words, and it seems she paused for just a moment too long. "It's fine, we can head back. The others are probably worried."
There's something dejected about the way he shrugs it off, which only continues to pique her curiosity. "They'll be fine. The night's still young." It occurs to her how dangerous it might be to be more or less blindly following a stranger—but Aera's no stranger to dangerous situations.
And if she can't even defend herself against a single Glaive, how might she even dream of achieving the task that's been given to her?
