1973, Chile

The day after Aioros's death, September 11, 1973, all hell broke loose in Chile. The democratically elected president Salvador Allende was deposed and murdered in the right-wing coup; long repressed but anticipated violence tore through the nation like a storm. Sanctuary did not know of this. Sanctuary had always been aware even if non-intervening in secular affairs, but this time, Sanctuary was too wrapped in its own turmoil.

Sanctuary did not know until five days later when an express air mail addressed to Aioros arrived. The letter hailed from Havana, Cuba. If one was observant enough, one would notice how the pope's young, slender hand shook uncontrollably when he saw that letter. For a long while he held the letter in silence, as if wanting to open it and read it himself, but in the end he summoned Gold Saint of Leo, the seven-year old Aiolia.

The child Aiolia used to be the exact opposite of his brother. Where his brother Aioros was quiet, reserved, perpetually calm and wise beyond his fourteen tender years; Aiolia was loud, rash, proud like a lion cub and the very image of unruliness. But in the past few days, he suddenly and utterly quieted down; he seemed to have become like his brother in demeanour. Still proud, still fierce, still unyielding, yet never uttering a word until absolutely necessary; all of Aiolia's fearsome qualities were now distilled into silence the chilling gleam of his green eyes. Many say that Aiolia was indeed of the traitor's blood: he was now a splitting image of his shameful brother! Only the one hidden behind the Grand Pope's mask knew the vast difference between the two Demetrio brothers. There was a gentle kindness, a child-like beauty and warmth in Aioros that even his chiselled face and finely sculpted torso could not hide. Aiolia's seven year old face was so lovely that the word 'cherubic' seemed an insult, yet every part of him were cold and hard like tempered steel.

It was the same steely light that now invaded those young eyes green. Aiolia knelt down and said in a low voice, "Your Holiness, I ask permission to leave Sanctuary. My family has encountered a few problems and they need my help." With that he handed the letter to the masked Grand Pope, giving the silent permission for him to read the letter.

The flowing script on the letter went:

"Aioros, my dear little one:

How are you doing lately? Have you been taking care of yourself? Did you take all your medicine on time? Don't give me the whole your body is better off without antibiotics spiel. No one is above antibiotics, little one. If you come home again hiding this wound or that, your sister will most definitely have a fit. And how is our little cub? Somehow I am not worried about him: he has you behind him. If you would look after yourself with just a quarter of the care you give to little Lia, your sister and I would have nothing to worry about.

Now, little one, I am writing to you with a serious behest. I hope by now you have heard about what happened in Chile? If not, here is a quick rundown: the right wing and the military launched a coup few days ago, with CIA support, evidently. They deposed and murdered the president Salvador Allende and took over all major government agencies. The country is a mess right now; people are dying left and right. Anyone is in danger of being arrested, tortured, and executed for no reason at all.

Salvador was a good friend of mine, and it breaks my heart that there is nothing I can to do save him now: God has received him. I still have a few close friends and relatives in Chile who are now in dire straits. I longed to fly to them and take them out of that accursed country, except my presence in Chile right now would most likely start a war. The CIA would not like to see me anywhere, least of all Chile. So your sister volunteered to go in my place. She was thinking that with her connections and wealth, she would still be able to get around in Chile. I don't know what came over me, but I agreed. I am regretting my rash decisions with all my being at this point, but your sister is already landed in that hellhole.

There is nothing else I can do other than asking you to keep watch over her. I know Sanctuary has its rules and creeds, but this is almost a life-and-death situation. Only you can help. I have complete faith in you, little one. Bring my most beloved back to me safely. Finally, I know you took down a nuclear missile at the age of five, but I still have to say this: be very careful and stay out of tanks' way! Be safe, little one.

PS: Don't let our cub in on this! Aiolia will have such a row if he knows what is going on!

Your Loving Brother

Leonardo Castille"

The Grand Pope's hand trembled once more.

"Grant me the permission to go to Chile, Your Holiness." Aiolia said once more.

"Chile is in the midst of chaos presently." The masked master of Sanctuary finally replied, "Aiolia, you are young, and inexperienced, I fear for your safety in Chile. What if I send someone else to bring your sister from Chile? Pisces Aphrodite, or Cancer Deathmask?" The Grand Pope took care not to mention Capricorn Shura.

Aiolia's face turned faintly red and lovelier than ever, but the light in his eyes was frightening. "This is a private matter, Your Holiness." He said through gritted teeth.

A long, awkward silence, then the pope sighed and said, "Go, Gold Saint Leo Aiolia. I give you my blessing and the blessing of our goddess Athena."

Thirty-two year old Aiowyn Demetrio was certainly not driving like a thirty-two year old lady right now. In a fashion resembling crazy cars chases out of cheesy movies, she swivelled down the streets like a drunken teenager. Inside her small car there were five others, all looking frightened but still determined. Behind her jeeps filled with soldiers armed to the teeth roared. There were actual bullets zipping past her.

The jeeps were pulling up. Aiowyn gritted her teeth and stepped down on the gas hard. When she saw another narrow alley poking into the main street she was on, she turned the steering wheel with all her might. The car twisted and narrowly slid down the alley. But only five minutes later she cursed: the narrow alley quickly became no more than a single person path between high walls. She had driven herself down to a dead end.

Granted, the larger jeeps were forced to stop much earlier, but the well trained soldiers were fast approaching on foot. She almost despaired. It was then the child showed up, suddenly springing out of the shadows of the alley, golden curls glimmering in the dark with a fey light. Without a word he jumped in front of the approaching soldiers.

The others were already running and disappearing into the shadowed alleys, but Aiowyn could not but halt. "Aiolia!" She exclaimed with utter shock, "Sweet Lord! Lia, get out of there right now! Run!"

"Go! Just go!" The child shouted at her, raising a small fist. Charges zapped the air about his arm, tracing bolts of blue light. "Let me take care of them. Trust me!"

Aiowyn hesitated still. How could she possibly leave her darling little brother, only seven years old, to the hands of those cruel soldiers? Aiolia gave her one last harsh glance, before turning back to the soldiers. Then light exploded inside the shadowy corner between darkened walls. Involuntarily Aiowyn backed up a few steps. The white glare was so bright that it threatened to wring tears from her eyes. She tried to catch sight of her little brother, but only glimpsed a slender shape amidst the blinding light. "Please go, sister!" She heard to small boy shout once more. So she gritted her teeth and ran as fast as she could.

She didn't know how fast she was running, didn't know if any soldiers were still behind her, nor the exact direction she was going. Jumbled thoughts burned through her head. Dock! She must go to the dock: a ship would take them all away from this accursed place; that was the original plan. But Aiolia? Was that truly Aiolia or did she hallucinate it? Leonardo said he would write a letter to get Aioros here to help her. So why was Aiolia here? Just when Aiowyn was about to get angry at Aioros for leaving their little cub in Chile of all places, the said little cub suddenly appeared before her eyes.

"They are gone---for now." The child said, green eyes sharp and fathomless, "I assume you have some sort of plan to get out of this country?"

Little cub no longer, Aiowyn realized with a start. Her youngest brother was no longer the bright, happy, rash, chattering little boy that she once knew. The youngling had grown up: quiet, cold and harsh, and probably decked in golden armour just like his brother.

"We are going to the harbour," Aiowyn answered, still a little dazed, "A tow boat will pick us up and we will get out by water."

Aiolia nodded and said, "Good; let us go then. We have to move quickly."

With that he turned but Aiowyn gripped his wrist. "Why are you here, Lia?" She asked. "Where is Aioros? How can he possibly let you do this?"

Aiolia snapped his head away so quickly that he almost pulled a muscle in his neck. Adamantly he avoided his sister's eyes.

"Lia?" Aiowyn's smooth brow furrowed; instinctively she felt the air of great tragedy. "Lia, what's wrong? Why are you like this?" Suddenly she drew breath, "Lord, Lia, did something happen to Aioros?"

Still silence. Aiowyn could feel her last bits of sanity and calm, barely holding on after few excruciating days in Chile, literally crumble away at her little brother's grief. "God, Lia!" She raised her voice. "What happened to Aioros?"

"He is dead, sister." Aiolia still avoided her eyes, though his voice was perfectly flat and smooth, "Executed, rather. Because he betrayed Sanctuary and tried to kill our goddess. And sister, if you want to get out of this place, you really don't have time to be upset right now." That's all he said. Then the boy took his sister's hand in his own. Firmly he dragged his sister down the street towards the harbour.

God, is this my little cub, my sweet Lia? Aiowyn exclaimed wordlessly. How did he become so cold, so emotionless, so utterly harsh? Suddenly, she was afraid that both of her sweet, gentle brothers were gone with no returning.