Chapter XXVII: Defiance

IX October, 545 AUC

"Another great victory for our brave legionaries!

At the sound of war horns, cleverly-hidden elements of the IX Legion rushed headfirst against the Scum forces besieging Aesernia. The barbarians were caught wholly unprepared. Fighting was prolonged—continuing until nightfall in some sectors, with barbarians falling by the dozens and retreating all around the outer city walls. By the end of the day, the enemy was driven back long enough for much-needed supplies of food and medicine to reach the beleaguered garrison.

Speaking from her temporary headquarters in Urbe, Aesernia Governor Ariel Haxorus assured the public that "The garrison will be fine. They better. I didn't let them use my villa for grain storage just to lose the damn siege."

-Front-page article for the news publication Urbe Cotidie.

Thermae Himerae

Flame could only watch and stare as the night's sickly grasp engulfed all that he saw, from the city square to the marble steps he sat on. A nearby column found itself as the new home for his temple as he leaned against it, the pungent odor of sweat drafting up from the encampment below.

"… Flame?"

He shuddered as a brisk wind scraped across his scales. Fatigue ached across his whole body—when was the last time he slept? One final shimmer reached out from the tents within the square, its departure signalling the last of many to fall to sleep's temptation. Flame cringed at the silence, its overwhelming presence having grown to the point of becoming painful.

"Flame."

Flame wanted so desperately to bring himself to anger, sadness—anything. Instead, all he could muster was to feebly clench his claws and grind his teeth. He and his team had come so far, disobeyed the fate that the world had presented them, and for what? All for their hopes and dreams to come crashing to the ground in a destroyed, burning mass?

"F-Flame, plea—"

"What?" Flame snapped, finally answering the Dragonair's pleas only to make her flinch. "What do you want me to say?!"

The sudden terror that filled Alice's eyes almost made Flame look away. Almost.

"I—I don't know," Alice shrank back, her voice a near squeak. "Something… Anything."

Flame merely grunted in reply.

Slowly, he looked down at the palm of his hand. Tiny grains of soot covered an oily surface, sneaking in and out of his scales. Truth be told, his entire body bore the marks of his short, chaotic life: small cuts, chips in his claws, scrape marks, the faint scar on his cheek, the huge one down across his belly…

All that, to end up here. On these steps.

"I should have known," Gaius grumbled to himself.

Flame raised his eyes and cast them to Alice's side. The Grovyle was laying down with his head on his bag. He glared up at nothing in particular, but in those red eyes, there was a new sense of… something. Flame couldn't quite tell.

"Shoulda snuck away when we had the chance," Gaius murmured on, unmoving. "Before the interview. Could have joined some underground crime group. If I see that metal bitch again, I'll—I'll…" Gaius slammed his good fist to the side.

Alice's spent, red eyes were little better. "I d-didn't think it possible…" She shook her head, slowly and dejectedly. "This was supposed to be our home. Our salvation. By the gods, I ruined it all." There was a shimmering in her eye. "This is all my doing."

Gaius seemed to actually consider those words for a second. "Forget what I said in there," he muttered. "I was a fuckin' idiot. Wasn't thinking straight."

Another bitter gust buffeted them. Flame stared dead ahead, gaze lost in the dark shapes of the surrounding buildings. He couldn't ignore his teammates, yet couldn't bring himself to listen. And how could he? They had so many new problems at hand. So many he had yet to fully wrap his head around.

For one, where were they supposed to go? Winter snows were about to set in—less than one week away, Alice had told him. She and Gaius would never be able to bear them. And if that weren't enough, the Praetorian Guard was surely still out there! They had to buy food and water and equipment for—

"Flame?" Alice's frail whisper broke through his thoughts. "You blame me, don't you?"

"What?" Flame blinked. "I…"

He tried his best to hide the frown that slowly overtook him. He couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes. "... no. No, you couldn't have known."

Logically speaking, that was true. Why, then, was he bristling under his scales?

"... Is it because of my past?"

Flame let out a ragged breath. He bit the inside of his lip. Focus. He had to focus on more immediate problems. He had… to…

"F-Flame, I swear, I meant to tell you! Th-the chance simply never came, and, and—how does one even broach a subject like that?!"

"I did, once." Flame gritted his teeth together. "You lied to me."

That seemed to make Alice squirm. "B-because…" She looked away. "I was sc-sc-scared of how you'd… what you're doing right now…"

"You told me," Flame snarled, "that your family were petty nobles in Urbe. Petty."

"Just stop," Gaius murmured emotionlessly.

Flame shifted his glare to regard him for a moment, then focused right back on Alice. "And I believed you. Gods, I was—I'm ready to spend my life with you! And I just now find out you're a princess?!"

Staring straight down the stairs, Alice attempted a weak laugh. "P-princess is a bit of a strong term."

"Oh, shut it…" Flame muttered, and placed his arms around his knees as tension festered in his chest.

Even now he wasn't sure if it had fully sunk in. Heck, it still sounded ludicrous to his ears. She, daughter of the very Adrian whose likeness and whose name was etched on every single coin, on every public building. The one he'd sworn loyalty to upon joining Civil Protection, then the Imperial Army. Alice. His Alice.

It felt utterly impossible. The Emperor was a Dragonite—but, but surely there were thousands in this world! Why was he the only one speaking out over this? Why wasn't Gaius…

Flame froze. He felt his very pupils dilate. Slowly, he shifted his eyes to the Grovyle.

"You knew," he muttered, more statement than question, "didn't you?"

Though still glaring at the heavens, Gaius' face seemed to soften a little. "She told me when we first met. Back in basic training." He cracked a dry laugh. "I thought it had to be bullshit. But the way she spoke, and being a Dragonair… I dunno, it was worth the risk. Figured it'd be an easy road out of hunger." Gaius glanced down at his stump, and quickly hid it with his good hand. "Guess I forgot you didn't know."

Flame listened and said nothing as he did so, merely sat there and tried his best to breathe. Breathe. Why should Gaius have told him? It wasn't his onus to begin with. Frankly, he should not have even been surprised by this entire situation. He'd already known how elusive Alice was about her family past. Perhaps he should have expected this. Perhaps…

"What else did you lie to me about?" he muttered thoughtlessly.

"F-Flame…" Alice croaked, almost out of breath, but he paid her little heed.

Do you really trust me so little? He wanted to ask that aloud, but he couldn't find the energy nor the motivation.

Slowly, but gradually, the unbridled rage tickling his scales morphed into lethargy. The sheer exhaustion of everything that had happened today trickled back into his muscles, minute by minute. Awaking at sunrise, marching across two different valleys, up two and down two mountains, letting his excitement get the best of him once in the city, then having his dreams shatter around him shortly after. It all felt like three days rather than one.

With a heavy sigh, he chose to bottle it all up and drew his aching knees closer. "Whatever. We'll come back to this tomorrow."

"I-I never even intended to tell Gaius! I only did so because I was desperate to… to find work, and I was cold, and I was hungry, and nobody… would… I, I thought I'd have the courage to tell you. But I didn't. When you asked I got nervous, and I panicked, and—"

"I said," Flame snarled, "tomorrow. Can't you see the state we're in? In a few hours, we'll be out in the wild again. We'll have to figure out where to go, and how long the trip'll take, where to get food and… and…"

And suddenly, Flame couldn't find the energy to glare any longer.

"Gotta be somewhere close by that'll take us in." Gaius raised his good hand above him, clenching and unclenching his claws. "Some cave rock-type community, or a backwater village."

Alice merely shook her head. "The Praetorians are after Flame, and there is a non-zero chance that the Teutonii are as well. It is imperative that we build as much distance as possible."

Flame felt like groaning. Ah, great. As if our lives weren't exciting enough already.

"Where, though?" Gaius grumbled. "West and south is where the war's at, and north is just Scum territory."

"Teutonii," Flame shot back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Epiphany flashed on Alice's face; she sprang from her coils, standing tall for the first time that evening. "East! We head east, to the Numidian desert!" With a huge smile, she slithered onto the next step down and turned, her eyes flying between them both. The sheer exhaustion that had been there moments ago seemed lifted. "There is a string of oasis towns and trading posts where we could lay low. With the war raging elsewhere, the Imperial Army garrison must be severely depleted!"

Beneath the tiniest of smiles, Gaius huffed. "Finally, somewhere warmer."

Flame, on the other hand, wasn't smiling. "A desert?" He gawked. "But, Alice—we're at the thickest point of the Tartarus Mountains, where could…" He felt his tail fire shrink behind him. Something dropped in his stomach. "… How long will it take?"

Alice hummed, and tapped her nose with her tail tip.

"I don't know," she conceded after a while. "Three weeks of travel, at a minimum. Perhaps more."

Three weeks? Flame felt his tail fire shrink behind him. That left him a few degrees colder. He scrambled to recreate that journey in his mind, trying to trace a mental map that took them to the sands of the Numidian desert from the… deep… white…

"Alice," he whispered, deadpanned, "do you remember what colour the Tartarus Mountains are on the map?"

She tilted her head at that. "White."

"And tell me: why do you think they drew them white?"

The orb on Alice's neck flashed blue. She splayed her head wings and squeezed her eyes, where her crushing exhaustion from before had returned. "I realise why they're coloured that way, Flame. Do you believe I'm so oblivious?" She breathed a heavy sigh. "Yes, the mountain passes will be frozen over by now. There might even be snowstorms, and feral ice-types will have migrated back. And we're going to make it."

Flame sat agape. "But, you and Gaius…"

"There's always a way," she said, dreamily. "We've survived many Aesernian winters. It can't be that much worse here."

Gaius shrugged. "Fuck me, it could be our last winter. Ever. That sounds worth fighting for."

"Plus," she smiled up at Flame, "we have you now. That's one difference from past winters. Expect that tail of yours to be used very thoroughly."

Flame would have smiled if it weren't for the sheer tension gripping his chest. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't sure if there was anything he could say. Did they realise what they wanted to do—march through the thick snow and sheer cold, day after day? For weeks on end?!

Flame clutched his temples, shaking his head fervently. "There has to be another way. There has to."

"What do you propose, then?"

"Hell, I don't know." Flame rubbed his forearm nervously. "Wh-why not live with the Teutonii? I swear, they're really kind! We'll get a job, housing, all the food we… want…"

He couldn't finish when he saw the serious expression on their heavy faces.

"No." Gaius said plainly, almost glaring with his reddened eyes. "We're not staying with the Scum."

Flame resisted the urge to squint. "They're called Teutonii."

"Call 'em what you want. Point is, I want nothin' to do with them."

But I'm one of— Flame had a half mind to say that aloud, but he couldn't muster enough energy to feel angry. His mental reserves were long depleted. All he could afford was to glare down at his tail, at the fragile yet oblivious flame at its tip. Even the hue it cast on the milky marble steps seemed of a washed-out orange.

"It's madness," he whispered uselessly.

"We've defied fate once," Alice smiled weakly from her coils. "We shall do so again. I'm certain of it."

Slowly, Flame shifted his unfocused eyes up and up into the night sky. "… So that's what we're going off of? Blind optimism?"

"Why," quipped Gaius, his voice raspy, "what was goin' through your head when you made us jump off that bridge? Huh? Did ya have some sort of big plan then?" Despite some leftover tears, Gaius actually squinted at him. "Bloody hell, Flame, you sound grumpier than me…"

Flame was too tired to react; he merely sat there, glaring a hole down into the marble.

"Gaius!" hissed Alice.

"Bah, sorry." Gaius mumbled. "It's just… no point thinking like that."

For his part, all Flame could muster was to curl his claws into a fist.

"Flame," Alice said. "Look at me."

He didn't want to. Thus it was Alice who slithered into his field of view, placing herself right in the trajectory of where he'd been staring emptily until now. Flame merely breathed in sharply, and glared at her instead. He was almost surprised by how heavy the bags under her eyes were. Then again, his own couldn't have looked that different.

"We trusted you when it mattered most. And… we were right to do so. You saved our lives," she whispered, and he could have sworn there was a certain warmth to those heavy eyes as they stared straight into his. "So please, trust us. Just this once."

Despite the sudden closeness, Flame could have sworn he felt his tail fire swell briefly. Trust. After everything that had happened—after hiding her past from him.

"I—" Flame looked in her eyes but his mind was utterly blank. He pressed his forehead in his claws, groaning. "Tomorrow morning. Please. I can't do this right now. I can't…"

"Naturally," Alice said with a tired smile. "Tomorrow is a big day. We should strive to be rested for it."

"If that's even possible." Gaius rubbed his eyes with his good hand.

Arms around his knees, Flame said nothing. That was it. He was never going to convince them. Worse yet, he couldn't think of any other way.

I guess we're doing this. Going off on another… crazy, suicidal adventure.

He watched as Gaius fetched the creased woolen blanket from his bag, and Alice her own. They both rapidly bundled under them on the naked asphalt, and even Flame flinched as he imagined that coolness on his own scales.

"Show-off." Alice giggled weakly, only her snout peeking from under her blanket. "At least come here and help us poor, destitute non-fire types."

Flame merely stared at her, wondering if he was feeling happy or irritated at hearing her laughter.

"Huh? Is it…" Alice's smile wavered. He could have sworn she'd stopped breathing. "T-tomorrow. After we leave. I'll tell you everything there is to know. Just… please, try to understand…"

He couldn't bear to look at her. Trying to distract himself with anything at all, his eyes eventually fell on his leather bag. Something clicked in his brain.

He couldn't sleep yet. There was still one more thing left to do.

Seizing the excuse, Flame stood up abruptly. He snatched his bag, slung it over his shoulder and hurried down the steps, towards the tents.

"Have to think," he muttered, whether to himself or to them. "I have to think…"

The myriad tents pitched on every possible space of the square felt distant, oh so distant as Flame walked down the large city avenue. Arms wrapped around himself, he tried to ignore the vague feeling of dread that came from being the only soul in sight for at least an hour. He walked and walked, but the cold never truly went away.

Somehow, that felt wrong. Were fire-types supposed to feel cold?

The avenue around him, for its part, did little to distract him. The buildings that flanked the cobbled road all felt the same: houses with thatched roofs and whitish stone, either attached or with narrow dividing alleyways, few more than two storeys. The farther he went, though, the more brick apartment towers sprung up between the quaint historic houses: they rose to five or six storeys, few plastered or painted over, and almost all still walled by scaffolding.

As he went, trembling a little, Flame glanced upwards at the relative behemoths. He remembered the Bisharp official promising them a room if they agreed to enlist; that must have been why so many of these were springing up everywhere. Even as his gaze returned to earth, he couldn't help imagining what his room would have looked like.

What it could have looked like.

Damn it all, Flame growled to himself. What am I even doing here? I'm supposed to be sleeping for tomorrow! We need to buy supplies, figure out our direction of travel, and how long it'll take, and, and…

Flame breathed sparks through his nostrils out of sheer frustration. How could it have come to this? They were supposed to trust one another with their lives. It was the oath they'd made; a sort of implicit blood pact that one undertook when deciding to become a fugitive. Heck, just until a few hours ago, he'd been ready to spend the rest of his life with them!

Flame stopped abruptly. He had abandoned his people. He had jumped off that bridge. He had nearly drowned. He had come this far—all to be with those two.

And now…

Flame stood there, in the middle of the avenue, letting the chilly wind blow past him for a while. Now he was alone. In truth, he'd felt alone even back at the square.

Was it… was it because he was a Scum? But he had already asked them, and neither of them seemed bothered by it. He was different, Gaius had said. He was family. Those words had sounded so sincere.

Hesitating, he looked up at the star-speckled sky; looked up and around, finding heavy storm clouds approaching from the horizon and the crescent moon barely peeking above one of the distant apartment towers. He dreaded to think what sunrise would bring. They would be unceremoniously shoved out of the city gates—and what then? Sycorax and his Praetorian Guard were still out there. If they somehow managed to evade them, what awaited them was a three-week trek through the coldest and harshest mountain passes in the Empire!

Teeth gritted, Flame hissed—producing a little steam from the cold air—and kicked a pebble along to take out his frustration on something.

Yet if there was hope, it lay in the desert. He had to cling onto that. Even if his teammates didn't trust him; even if all of this was insane. Even if he had no idea what tomorrow would bring.

With a sigh of finality, he scanned around him and settled on the closest alleyway. It would do.

He slipped in the murky sliver between the buildings, his tail fire forcing back the shadows previously occupying it. It was finally time.

Daedalus…

He barely moved for a couple of heartbeats, as if petrified by that glowing mental glare of his. With tepid reluctance, he inched a hand into his bag, fishing out his badge moments later. He studied it for a few moments: the heraldic eagle encrusted on its back betrayed imperial origins, yet its gold colouring had been scratched off, as had the writing above it.

This badge he had lacked the courage to throw away for so many days, ever since he'd found it, tucked at the bottom of his bag.

This badge… Daedalus had left it to contact him.

But what could he say? He was about to leave this place for the desert. There was no convincing his teammates otherwise. Would he call, after all these days since the ambush, just to deliver the bad news?

Flame grimaced down at the badge. That just felt… cruel. But then, that meant, if he wasn't contacting Daedalus…

Flame squeezed his eyes; he shot up on his feet. If I don't throw it now, I never will.

Curling his claws around the badge, he turned around to the other end of the alley; there, a row of metal rubbish bins. It was as if fate was beckoning him. Teeth gritted, he hesitated.

If there was hope, it lay in the desert. He wasn't coming back.

I have to let go.

His clenched fist trembled at the sight of the open lid. He had to be strong.

At some point, I'll have to let go…

Just as he could feel his muscles working, something hit him. A memory.

Suddenly he was in Neuhoffnung again, that tiny barbarian village. He was sitting in his house. It felt strange to say that. He was sitting in his house talking to Daedalus and then… and then Daedalus embraced him. Shivers ran through his spine as he recalled the strange feeling of his skin; so cold, rough, yet somehow warm…

And that was it; tears were welling in his eyes. He couldn't do it. Daedalus didn't deserve that. Not after all he'd done for him. He, he would—he would tell him the truth and then toss away the badge! Yes, that sounded right. Quick. Painless. Relatively.

Flame slid down the brick wall, and settled into a sitting position. There was a heavy knot choking his breath. New doubts rushed in to fill the old ones he'd just resolved. He wanted this, for sure, but—what would he even say? If already he was freezing up like this…

Flame squeezed both his eyes and his badge. I'm not coming back, he recited to himself. And… I'll thank him, Brynn—heck, all the Teutonii, for what they've done for me. That I'm sorry for abandoning them. And that, despite not being together for long, he…

He would say the lines, then depress the button. He wouldn't even have to hear the pain that came afterwards. He'd utter those words and then chuck the badge in the rubbish bin, never to hear or see Daedalus again.

It was simple enough. He could do it.

With what few shrivels of courage he'd gathered, he felt for the little switch on the back and flicked it. Then, with a breath of finality, he pressed the transmitting button.

"Daedalus?"

Nothing. For the longest time, Flame stared blankly at the badge, his heart beating a little faster each second.

"... are you there?"

More nothing. He depressed the button, then squeezed it again, harder.

"P-please respond."

By the fifteenth heartbeat, Flame could hardly breathe any longer. They couldn't be… dead, could they? No. No, no, no; it had to be the badge. The water from the river had damaged it. That meant they couldn't speak anymore, but—but at least they were still alive, right? It was impossible. Flame whimpered at the thought, squeezing the badge tight to his chest.

You're stronger than Sycorax. His eyes glazed forward. Even if he was surrounding you, he… No. You… you can teleport. You would've figured something out. Staring down at his badge, the first tears blurred his vision. You wouldn't let them all die like this!

The badge erupted in screeching static.

"FLAME!"

Flame yelped, tipped back onto his tail and scrambled away instinctively before stopping to gawk at the badge he'd just dropped. "D-Daedalus?" he squeaked. "You're alive?!"

"Where on earth have you been?" Daedalus boomed. "Tell me—have you paid a single modicum of thought to how scared you've left me? Five days have passed!"

Despite the weight in his chest, and the leftover tears in his eyes, Flame croaked a sound of joy. "I'm sorry," he whispered happily. "I—I've missed you so much! There were just so many things on my mind, and I could never find the right t-time, and—" He squeezed the badge with his claws, hunching closer to it. "S-sorry. Hearing your voice again, it's…"

"We shall deal with this matter later. At the moment, it is imperative that we bring you back with us. Where are you? Have the Praetorians found you?"

Flame first darted his eyes around, then bit his lip. "N-no, no. I'm somewhere safe. I'm… okay."

He didn't know whether to laugh, or cry at what he'd just said. In a way he was already doing both. Okay? Everything was falling apart.

"My child." Daedalus' voice had lowered considerably. "You sound pained. Please, are you injured in any way?"

Flame's lip trembled. "I said I'm fine."

He was already lying to him. Not fifteen seconds in and he was lying to Daedalus' face, not to mention wasting time. He had to tell him, didn't he?

Darting his eyes left and right, Flame took another breath. "What, ah, happened to Brynn? And the others we were with?"

A small pause. "They are alive. The Praetorians retreated soon after you jumped; we stalled them as much as we could. I can only assume they wished to begin their search for you."

A joyous tremor washed through Flame's body at those words. As if on trigger, a quick succession of images flashed through his mind: Daedalus' embrace, Brynn's innocent smile, his comrades huddled with beer around a campfire. The lake by Neuhoffnung…

He felt his breath leave him.

"So you're saying," Flame shook a little, "th-that my plan worked?" Staring wide-eyed at the badge, he kept breathing in and out, in and out, as his mind processed everything. "It worked? Nobody died!?"

"Your 'plan' was suicidal and reckless—but that's not important. What matters now is bringing you home."

"It worked…" Flame whispered, eyes glazed downwards. Slowly, a huge smile spread across his face. "They're… alive…"

"Please, child, we do not have time. Where are you?"

It took one question to wipe away Flame's smile. He had to tell him. He'd promised himself: say those lines, then throw away the badge. It was now or never.

"I'm s-somewhere safe," he said breathlessly, then winced and cursed between his teeth. "M-m-my, ah, teammates are here t-too." He couldn't breathe as well. "You, you don't have to worry."

"Tell me—what do you see around you? How far have you walked from that river?"

Flame's claws started to tremble. "Daedalus. I… I can't tell you that."

Silence. A silence that cut deeper than any word, that had Flame's chest wound tight as he braced for the inevitable.

"… Why?"

He squeezed his eyes. There it was. That gut-punch, the hint of betrayal underneath the simple confusion of that word. Yet it was all for Team Phalanx, he reminded himself. For the hope of a better future.

Somewhere. Somehow.

"B-because…" He squeezed the badge tighter for comfort. "I'm not coming back."

Flame paused and braced for the inevitable hurt that would follow. When it didn't come, he took it as a cue to continue.

"I've talked with my teammates. We decided we're going to leave for a new home. I don't know where that is yet, but it will be far away. Somewhere far from the war, far from the Praetorians, far from… from…" Flame's eyes lost focus. "Everything."

With a tone as shaken as it was seething, Daedalus replied, "Stop with this childish fantasy. Tell your friends that they will both be safe with us. We do not have time for this."

The sheer hurt in those words brought Flame to immediate tears. He clutched the badge tight and repressed a half-sob.

"It can't work," he whispered, shaking his head maniacally, "They think our people are savages. Murderers! They would never want that." He brought the trembling badge closer to his mouth, partially because his own voice was close to a whisper. "They're everything to me, Daedalus. Even if…"

Even if it didn't go both ways, apparently.

"Flame, you cannot—"

He flicked the switch on the back of the badge.

This is for Team Phalanx. This is for Team Phalanx. It's all for Team Phalanx…

Stillness set in. Flame said nothing, but merely stared. He stared at the red brick wall in front of him, and in that moment it sank in where he was: alone, sitting in this dark, grimy alleyway with only his tail fire for light. Now, his only form of company was gone.

Of course, he could have simply turned the badge back on. But after hearing that voice's pain, the anger of it all…

No—it was over. He'd told Daedalus the truth, the Teutonii back at the ambush were alive, and he could finally rest easy. That was all he'd set out to accomplish.

Now, there was only one loose end left.

With a strange numbness, Flame half-crawled back to his feet. His eyes dropped to the badge for a moment. Eventually, he lumbered over to the closest metal bin in the alley. It reached just under his chest and emanated an ungodly smell—urine and fermenting food, for sure.

Trying his best to ignore the smell, Flame shut his eyes and extended the badge inside a clenched fist, until it hovered over the open bin. It was all for Alice and Gaius, he reminded himself. No matter how much he wanted to scoff at that. All for them…

… Why, then, did he feel so empty?

There was so much he still wanted to say to Daedalus. He would have preferred to relay those words in person, but he knew that if he turned that badge back on, he could never handle the pain Daedalus must have been feeling.

With little alternative, Flame resorted to looking wistfully at his clenched fist where the badge resided. Perhaps hoping that somewhere, somehow, the Dusknoir would receive his message.

I promise, he told himself in his head, that I won't forget about our mission. I won't let the Presence get to me. I'll be safe.

For the second time that day, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what he'd just said. Safe? They were about to cross the Tartarus Mountains passes, with winter snows but a week away! And he had the gall to use that word.

Immediately his mind drew back to visions he'd been trying to bottle up. Visions from their time in that ice cave. Once again he saw Gaius writhing on the icy ground, too weak to cry out. He saw the frost on his green scales and the ice seeping into his hand. He was staring into Alice's eyes again and saw nothing but agony; a slow, unrelenting, cold, sapping agony… Flame quivered at the memory, quivered so violently that for a moment he forgot his animosity for the two.

But he knew they would never accept any other plan. He'd heard it from Alice already: if there was a future, it lay in the desert. He didn't have a choice.

He didn't… have…

…

Flame's gaze darkened.

He did.

In a moment of impetus, he flicked the badge's switch with a claw.

"—ell me that you're listening, I beg you!"

"Daedalus." Flame wasn't listening. His eyes were glazed, his claw firmly on the button. "I'm in Thermae Himerae."

No reply. Only Flame's own throbbing heartbeat as he sat there, eyes shut and mentally bracing himself for what was to come.

It was almost twenty heartbeats before Daedalus spoke up. "Remain where you are. We are departing for your location immediately."

Flame merely kept breathing, in and out. "H-how quickly can you get here?"

"Expect us there before noon. Exit the city while it is still dark. Do not let anyone see you—the Praetorians may still be out there."

"O-okay." Somehow, his gaze lingered downward. Some time passed before he snapped back into focus. "I'm sorry. For saying those things. I'll… I'll explain everything."

"Later. Right now, all I want is to see you again."

Flame nodded absentmindedly. He figured he should have blushed at that. "Please bring some food," he muttered. "Maybe Leppa Berry. Gaius likes those."

"We will. If anything happens, contact me immediately. I'll see you soon, my child."

Flame could only stare as the badge fell silent with one final batch of static, leaving him alone with his frantic heartbeat.

He quickly crumpled against the brick wall, eyes drawn up towards the night sky. The cloud cover had grown considerably thicker. Perhaps he was too exhausted. Perhaps the full ramifications of what he'd just done hadn't yet sunk in.

Whatever the case, as Flame gazed up from that frosty alley to the sliver of starry night, he somehow found reason to smile.

End of Chapter XXVII