Hey guys!

School has been stressful so I have some good and bad news. The bad news is that I won't be updating often at all anymore just because my marks need to be 95+. Now before you even tell me I'll be fine if I get a 90, I'll tell you that I also got a job and I need 95+ marks in order to keep my job or else my parents are gonna force me to quit. You see, the good news was the fact that I have a job so I'll get my computer soon but it's also bad news too. Sorry! :(

I'll try to update as often though as I can. I already have drafts so I'll probably just use them for ideas if a new pathway arises or something :)

Have fun!

Dahlia POV

I lie awake, in bed, wondering about how Mom is doing. What she is doing. Or if she is doing anything.

People who have loved ones wonder what they would be doing if they were still alive. People who have loved ones who live far away wonder what they are doing at the present moment. Mom is no exception. Her prison, which would surely use Silent Stone, would have already restricted her of many activities. It must be boring. And painful. I know what the feeling of silence it like. It chips away at you, slowly harming your body if exposed to it for a long period of time. Mom is still alive because of the Skonos healers. Without them, she would have been long gone by now. But their efforts might as well be in vain. They can only do so much as extend her life for another few years.

Another few years. Time can be so fleeting. We can never have enough of it. It passes so quickly like sand flying out of your hand and into the wind, someplace else. Even I don't remember the last time I hugged my mother like a little kid. It's been . . . almost about a year if I think about it. I'm a lot less clingy compared to Clara. Sometimes I feel bad. Death doesn't wait for you to be done. The moments I have are limited. The idea of me not making the most of them hurts me.

After Uncle Shade died, Clara once asked me if I could redo moments of my past. I told her that I didn't know what I would do if I went back. She told me she wishes she could. Clara holds a lot of regret not being able to spend enough time with her father. I too wish I could see my uncle, but playing with time always struck me as something dangerous. It's a boundary I wouldn't cross.

But experience a memory is something I would do. It's been a long time since I've experienced a peaceful home life. A world without conflict. A world with equality.

A time when I was ignorant.

Although I never fully experienced a childhood, there are specific memories that I have. It reminds me how lucky I am to even have them. Some Reds, special or not, are not as fortunate. Their lives are spent wondering when their next meal is going to be, how long they can go without eating, or if they'll survive in the trenches.

That brings me to another question. Clara also asked me what I would do once the rebellion was over. It's a something I still need to think about. Being so focused on the rebellion has made me forget myself.

My cousin said she would probably use it to explore more of herself. She has a very exciting plan on her bucket list filled with traveling, trying new foods, and to do something as simple as to ride a hot balloon. If I'm out of ideas, I'll just go along with her. Perhaps her journey could also help discover me.

There are days where I want to stop fighting. Days where I feel as though I can do nothing but lie in bed. But I remember my parents. I remember the treatments of Reds in everyday life. I'm surrounded by others fighting. I have to go on. I have to do this for them, for others. I have no time to be selfish.

But I'm tired. I need to stop sometimes. And I can't. Both sides war with each other, each one fighting for dominance.

Speaking of rest, I should sleep. If I stay awake any longer I might be unable to function properly tomorrow. I've experienced not getting enough sleep before too. And I hate it.

I close my eyes, hoping that I can be whisked away into another world of my mind.

And I am.

Evgeny POV

There is just something that I hate about home life.

It's many things, namely the idea of my parents staying in the same house as me. But it's been like this for a long time, probably longer than I could have guessed. I've had enough practice to learn how to keep myself in check in this place of hell.

Despite hating this place with every fibre of being, I'm lucky I don't have to do anything but stay in here. I don't eat with my parents. I don't talk to them. Actually, I don't do anything but shut myself in my room. It's the only place where I feel like I could be myself without worry.

My room is quite simple. I have a bed, a desk, a shelf, and a singular light bulb from above. The balcony also gives me a nice view and some fresh air. There's a tree beside it, making it easier for me to make one of my night time getaways. That's because any place other than home is better. The only things that matters is that I'm away from my selfish parents.

There is one side of my room that is incredibly disorganized. Pieces of metal are scattered throughout from small snippits of steel to large blocks of iron. I don't do much with them other than keep them for my defense. But aside from that, I also have a bunch of blueprints dedicated to some weaponry. The most recent draft I've been working on is a gun. It has two parts that can be connected. In its mounted form, it holds incredible range and speed. In its dismounted form, it can function as a normal gun. The only downside is that it can only hold up to four bullets, making it hard to use in an extended fight. I might use it as an execute tool. Then the only thing missing is a target.

I holds both parts of the gun my hands. It must be ridiculous working on such weapons when I can fashion a bullet in the blink of an eye instead. But building things passes the time. I'm just thankful I'm not counting seconds. It used to be the only way to ease my weariness. But once I'm done a project, I have to find a new piece of inspiration. And I'm almost done this project. Boredom will soon set in.

Finishing a project also raises a new question; who will I give it too? Whenever I finish a blueprint and complete the entire process of testing it, I keep the final copy. There's no need for me to give this specific one to anyone. It'll be useless in combat with other Silvers. Other than being a flashy execute tool, it has no other practical function.

I sigh and set the weapon back onto the table. I spent a long time working on it, longer than anything before. I could probably also say that it's the only perfect creation I've made so far. It's also had the most planning. In the end, I might still have something good come out of it.

My hands find the gun again and piece both parts together. From there, I aim it at the target on the other side. The target has an image pasted onto it, the picture possessing a strange likeness to my parents. It brings out whatever anger I have inside me. And I always have some.

I pull the trigger, releasing the bullet from its chamber. It makes a loud bang as it meets its mark, right in the head of the dummy. The wall behind it remains strangely unharmed. There is no evidence of a gun going off besides the sound . . . or if someone finds me holding one.

Hurried steps can be heard from outside and the shadows in front of my door change. The door to my room soon wrenches open. I must have forgotten to lock it.

I turn to see my mother standing, her body casting shadows from the light behind her. She seems worried, frantic. Hearing the noise and seeing me hold a gun might have made have made imagination go wild.

"What are you doing?" Elane asks, her voice filled with distress. "Put that down now. I'm coming."

Her words only make me grip the gun tighter. It's probably the only defense I have against her if she even dares come close. And she does. She walks with slow steps to avoid startling me. It seems as though a mother's "love" can triumph over anything, even fear. Her hand grips my wrist and the hand that holds the weapon.

"You can put that down now," Elane repeats, trying to remain calm. I twist myself out of her grip and take a step back to gain some distance. The last thing I need is her touch. It'll infect me like a virus if she even lays a hand on me.

"Get out," I say quietly. "I'm fine. You didn't need to disturb me."

"But you scared me!" my mother exclaims, her eyes growing wide. "I came to check up on you."

"Does it look like it matters?" My response cuts through her cold heart like sharp metal. The worry in her eyes changes to sorrow instead. "You didn't care before. What makes now special?"

"I'm worried-"

I cut her off, ignoring whatever she has to say to me. "I don't even know why you even bother. You should spend your time accompanying Aunt Evangline more often. I feel as though she would like your presence more than I do."

Lady Haven stands there, looking defeated. Yet she bows her head and walks quietly out of the room. The door shuts with a loud slam. The knob soon follows. I flatten it with my ability and break the lock. I shut the lights soon after, pretending that I've gone to bed. They won't dare disturb me now.

I could repair the lock if I wanted, but it will serve as a defense for now. With a broken door, no one can enter without my permission. Ptolemus probably could but if he takes a step nearby, I'd jump out the window and run all the way to Leo's house. He wouldn't say no to me coming over for a night would he?

I press my back against the wall and slide down. No, he wouldn't mind. But the rest of my family would. I might get punished for it too. However, nothing is more painful than having an emotional burden. My heart is already so cold. I'm ready to endure anything else life throws at me.

The shadows beneath my door move, possibly indicating that Elane is still here. I don't know why she even bothers. To be honest, it would be nicer if both my parents died. I could truly be free then. Ptolemus always felt guilty to being a bad lord. I could do better. I could save our family name and restore our honour. Or I could run. I could forget I even had such a family to begin with.

Both options seem tempting.

The shadows casted also show another pair of feet join my mother. They move away slightly as they begin to speak in hushed whispers. I turn back to the door, eager to hear what they have to say. Slowly, I change the metal from a flattened sheet to an actual keyhole only to see my parents standing together.

"What happened?" Ptolemus asks, feigning concern. "Did he hurt himself?"

"He isn't physically harmed," Elane replies sighing. "But I know nothing more. He won't talk to me. He won't talk to us."

The former sighs. "He's been like that for most of his life. Always away from the crowd, from the family. Away from everyone but that Iral boy." Ptolemus looks down, unable to accept the truth he knows within himself. "We were too selfish."

I want to scream at them. Of course you were! You were selfish pricks who didn't care about the child you had. You were selfish pricks who only cared about yourselves and your own desires. Do you even care what people say about us now? Do you even care about what people say about me?

Yet I do nothing. I simply watch and listen.

"I feel like I've failed as a mother," Elane sobs. She's already begun to cry, powerless to hold back her tears. "It was wrong of us to indulge ourselves, I admit it. But have mercy on us and give me back my child!"

"Shh," my father says. "Elane, calm down."

"Even if I didn't give into my desire, I wanted him to lead a free childhood!" She cries, not bothering to wipe her tears. "Please-"

She's can't even finish her sentence. She even looks pitful and weak in this state. The only person supporting her is my father. If not for him, she might have already collapsed onto the ground, to sad to move.

"Considering the lack of freedom we had as children, I understand," Ptolemus replies, holding her. Even through his words, I can still see the struggle he's going through to stay strong. "Still, we were wrong either way."

"Ptolemus tell me, would you do it again?" Elane whispers soon afterward. "Do everything again?"

The older magnetron pauses for a moment to think. A storm of emotions cloud his face as he tries to formulate an answer that is neither hurtful or holds a sense of blame. But finally, he speaks.

"I regret a lot of things in my life," he says. "I wish I knew my own son better. I wish I could preserve the reputation of House Samos without the help of my parents. I wish for a lot of things." He sighs in such a defeated manner. "But there are definitely some things I will never change. And for one, I will never sacrifice my both you and my sister's happiness for my own."

The words seem to calm Elane down. She has the strength to smile a little bit. "Let's go to bed now. You must be tired."

"You must be too," Ptolemus says. "Don't think too much about it. Everything will get better with time."

They walk off, each one filled with a small bit of peace and resolution inside them. I, on the other hand, return to my bed, trying to forget everything. But the moment sticks to me. It tries to soften my heart a little and make it weak. Still, I'm always finds a way to grow cold. My parents left me when I was a kid to go off about their own lives. It was a way of giving me freedom; from what I know, both were monitered from sunrise to sundown. But the lack of guidance and love came along with it. It's their fault.

There was a time where I loved my parents once. There must be. It might be hidden deep inside my memory, something I wanted to shut away, to forget. Would it be a very early memory or a later one I built with them?

Elane asked Ptolemus if he would do it again. His response was in accordance to what his values were and what he wanted. He sacrificed his own happiness for his sister's and his wife's. Yet his decision ultimately led to my misery and unhappiness.

If the same scenario was given to me, would I still do the same?

I think I cry myself to sleep.

Dahlia POV

I have nothing more to do in this arena but watch. And if I hadn't gotten enough sleep last night, I don't think I would have the energy to even watch.

Sometimes I don't even bother watching. Although training with Silvers has made the newbloods better, they are still lacking in some aspects. They're still slow, a little less quick-witted, and lack balance in some areas. Even then, I cannot deny the fact that the control over their abilites has become second nature to them. Morritan can summon his flames faster. Jacob can makes things explode quicker. And my dear friend Ally has a winning streak. The improvement in our group is too much to even list in words. You need to see it to believe it.

Then there's me. I've never known defeat in this arena. Both Kiera and Ally have tasted failure here. Clara has too though she told me it was done on purpose. But I haven't. Yet. I don't think I can, especially with the training I've had imbued to deeply in me. Using bad technique is almost as though I'm learning a new skill. It's difficult, more than one would expect.

Part of me wants to experience what failure is. But when you're up so high, you're afraid to look down, to see how far you'll fall if you lose. That's the downside to sucess. But all my wins have lost meaning to them. There's nothing worth fighting against children. What else do you gain from the experience? A way to kill time? That doesn't help me. In my case, I don't have enough time. Better save it for other purposes.

Match after match goes by, each one paired with a victory and a defeat. Each one feels like an eternity. There is always something that sets me off a little as I watch them. It could be from the way a person's posture is like to the methods they use to fight with in unfavourable matches. It bothers me less nowadays, but it still gets to me when I least expect it.

I guess you could say I study things too much in a textbook like manner. It could be classified as something unhealthy; life isn't always about mechanics. Then again, I haven't had my name called yet. I'd better find a way of entertainment by watching and studying, the only possible thing I can do while sitting here. Wasting time is never on my to-do list.

"Evgeny, Arya."

Finally, something interesting.

Arya, a younger oblivion of only fifteen years, sighs at the match. It isn't one in her favour. And having experienced defeat so many times by the magnetron's hand might has already made her give up. She knows she can't win this and she is right.

"Do I have to?" Evgeny asks. His sudden question makes me blink. "I hate to say it, but repetitive frequency has sucked all the joy out of sparring."

He talks as though he has a plan in mind on how to steer the conversation. And if Evgeny knows what he is doing, that means he knows what he wants and how to get it. I already have a bad feeling about his possible request.

Instructor Arven looks up at the magnetron, watching him carefully. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Except for a select few things, you'll get bored of something eventually," he explains, casually. "I'd like something different to pique my interest in sparring again."

I grow nervous, my instinct telling me what happens next. Clara senses it too. She grips my hand tightly, almost as though she'll never let it go.

"So what do you suggest?" Arven asks, his voice barely a whisper. "What would you like me to do?"

"Instructor Arven, why don't you select someone else for me?" Evgeny says. "I'm sure you'll make an excellent decision."

The silencer smiles tightly, thinking. Some of the newbloods begin to grow nervous, praying that they aren't chosen. But they don't have to worry. There would be no way Arven could pair a person worse than a Silver with him . . . unless that person is like me. My instinct isn't wrong as Arven looks at me. The answer is clear. He doesn't even have to speak.

"That's ridiculous!" My cousin says, standing. Her sudden outburst draws the attention of the entire room, even from the Silver side. "Sir-"

I wave a lowered hand to stop her from speaking any further. She pauses, her face growing red with anger. Even if she means well, I don't know if her words will harm me in the near future. Besides, she needs to stay out of my fights. Involving herself in them would only make things difficult later on.

Instead of protesting, I merely smile. It's the polite, courteous kind, one that hides the discomfort and dislike growing inside me. "Instructor Arven, are you sure about this?"

I let go of my cousin's hand, trying to ignore whatever lingering feeling is left behind. It's better not to show feeling in such situations. The opposing side will use it to their advantage. Clara stares at me, questioningly. She knows I can handle it, but my decisions at the moment are very debatable.

"Are you questioning me?" Arven asks, his eyes boring into mine. Although he doesn't raise his voice, he makes his answer sound very much like a threat. "Or is it something else?"

"I wouldn't dare," I reply, still smiling. "I'm only concerned on Lord Samos' behalf. How can I, a Red, be a match for a Silver?"

Our eyes meet, and I shoot him the magnetron a polite smile too. Evgeny has been in the Silver world for long enough to know how to stand against words. Society trained him well. My smile makes him do nothing more but but make him smile too. Even if it is an imitation of sincerity, there can be no debate on it. There is no doubt that this will be a game of words more than anything else.

Words are also my favourite tools. It is easier to inflict pain on someone just by using them compared to an extremely sharp knife of excellent build. And unlike physical wounds which can be easily wiped away, mental and emotional wounds are harder to heal. They leave scars more often than not. Even if I don't know much about Evgeny personally, I can still hurt him with my word choices. If he wants to duel me, he'll have to try and get passed my barriers, words or not.

"That is true," another Silver says. I don't exactly who, but a flash of blue catches my eye. A possible Osanos nymph. "You shouldn't lower yourself to their standards."

"How interesting of a person whom I defeated more than once to advise me," the magnetron replies, his eyes flashing. The other Silver sinks back into his seat, unwilling to speak. "But your advice is indeed valuable. I'll keep it in mind."

I turn away from the crowd. "Please choose someone else if you could. I won't be of much use to you."

The strands of hair on my shoulder fall onto my chest, exposing part of my neck. I feel his gaze linger on my skin. It feels strange. I don't think I've ever experienced this before. Both Kiera and Ally watch me with curious eyes, waiting, watching, partly curious. But Clara knows what I'm doing. She remains calm, but her worried expression spells everything.

"If she doesn't want to fight, find someone else," my cousin says vennomously, stepping in. She has a habit of defending me when she thinks I can't do it myself. "Don't force her into it-"

"Clara," I say quietly. "Don't misunderstand."

She turns too look at me with shocked eyes. "I'm not misunderstanding-"

The look I give her silences any other retort she has for me. It's my way of saying, "let me handle it". I can't let her get involved any more than she is already.

Turning back, I smile politely, projecting an outward impression of neutrality. "Although Arven made a good pairing, whether is can take place or not is dependant on the participants itself. Therefore, this will only take place if both Evgeny and I decide to."

The arena's inhabitants, both Silver and newblood alike, hold their breaths, listening to my next words. I could succeed, or I could be digging my own grave at the same time.

Or it could be both.

I still think it's the latter.

My eyes meet his without a sliver of fear. I'm not like normal Reds. I don't cower at the sight of a Silver noble. He doesn't either. I don't scare him. In his eyes, I'm only a teenage Red with strange abilities. In my eyes, he's only a normal Silver with a noble name, who can also control metal.

"I'll do it if Evgeny wants to do it," I say finally. Leave the choice up to him. "I have nothing else to say."

"How generous of you to leave the final decision to me," the magnetron replies. He smiles. Choices must be something he enjoys making. "In all honesty, I would."

It was the answer I knew he would give. No one should be surprised. I'm sure Clara forsaw it too. Her hand, which currently grips the seat we're on, grows whiter. She definitely does not approve of this. If it weren't for her own head restraining her, I wouldn't want to think about what will happen.

But even if she does not approve, I do. Even if I don't like Evgeny himself, he presents himself as a challenge. Part of me hates him and part of me wants to fight him. The rest of the Silvers eye me, each pair filled with ridicule. I don't care. It's my choice.

I stand and smile, making my way to the arena. He follows.

Suddenly, part of me is transported back into a memory of mine. Dad's face swims before my eyes, speaking muffled words. If I think hard enough, I can make them out. And in a flash, it plays.

I'm in the Scarlet Guard's base, specifically in its training court. There, Dad is trying to teach me something about fighting admist the burnt targets and flying abilities as demonstration. We're definitely somewhere remote, hidden in the woods. I don't recall the name of the base but then again they hid information from me back then.

"Wait that doesn't make sense," I hear my younger self say, frustrated. "I don't understand."

"Fire has less defensive properties compared to lightning," he explains. "Creating flame shields is not very strong compared to lightning. It feels weaker just by sight."

"But burners are usually always on the offensive," a younger Dahlia says. "You rarely even need to use shields. Why even bother?"

"A good offense is sometimes a good defense," Dad replies, patting me on the head. "You'll learn that later on. But in terms of 'pure' defense, fire is weaker. Lightning on the other hand, is also one of the few elements that can do both."

That makes past-Dahlia tilt her head in confusion. "And what else?"

"Well," he begins not knowing exactly where to start, "magnetrons, manipulators of metal can do the same thing. They have unique fighting styles which shift as quickly as their element. Metal is also found everywhere too making their weapons numerous. Never let your guard around one of them. You never know when they'll strike."

My younger self frowns. "That's just mean. And the first bit is unfair. That means they'll always have weapons with them which can be very unpredictable."

"But you have unlimited power," Dad says. "Elementals are only as strong as their surroundings. The only limit you have if yourself."

"If that's the case, then I'm better overall aren't I?" It seems to amuse past-Dahlia. "I like being the best."

"Yes," Dad says, kissing me on the forehead. "Yes you are."

It makes me smile. The memory brought back a part of the innocence I once possessed. Although it's been a long time since, I'll always remember the feeling. Being around a child like that will always make you happy.

Then, in the blink of an eye, I'm back in the arena, watching the magnetron across. I need to focus on not losing this match. It's an entirely different mindset from the other matches I've had, but I'm more inclined on limit testing myself this time. Winning might send the wrong message across.

I might just have to trust the process.

And I might just need to lose.

Our eyes meet from across the room, each pair devoid of fear. I'm not afraid. I shouldn't be. If I need to lose this in a fight full of blood, I'll do it. It'll benefit me in the long run.

Unlike my previous fight's where I stand there innocently, I actually move. I need to stay alert for any attack that might pass by. Metal is quick, cold, and precise. It's not children's play. I could be alive one second and be dead in the next.

I never liked to initiate fights unless I was forced to. It's something about me. I prefer being the one chased rather than the chaser. I prefer having choices rather than giving them. In short, I like to go second. I like waiting for the enemy to move first. That way I can see how good they are just from the first strike.

The sharp metal dart comes whizzing by, passing dangerously close to my neck. If it met its mark, the fight would have already been over. But it wasn't done accidentally; it was done deliberatly. It's a warning. Soon, a little less than half a dozen follow. My instinct kicks in, conjuring a thin, electric wall in the blink of an eye. The darts fall onto the ground with a light clatter.

"Not bad," Evgeny says from across the ring. "Faster than I expected actually."

"At least I'm not below your standard," I reply evenly. "Quit playing around. We don't have forever."

He smiles as another spike comes at me, this time passing right above my head. "I'm done playing around."

And so the fight begins.

Anyone with basic knowledge of the elements can tell me that lightning is a conductor of metal on a general scale. Therefore, I already have the upper hand in this match. We both know it. It's why he's careful to keep any sort of metal off of him. Instead of the material attaching directly onto him, it hovers right above his skin. There's no point in electrocuting a metal piece now; he won't be touched by it.

Landing hits on each other is also not easy for both parties. Both of us are quick, reacting fast to whatever we throw at each other. I defend more than I attack, and he attacks more than he defends.

Like before, Evgeny moves like a well trained assassin, outlining his path with a mixture of leaps and bounds. I'm light on my feet like a fox, darting from one side to another in order to avoid the pieces of metal. It seems to work to an extent. Most of Evgeny's attacks are meant to pin me towards a wall with sharp needles, targeting the edges of my fabric more than me. Although my movements are slippery making it difficult to pin me down, they come close enough for me to be worried. One spike is all he needs to end this.

Unlike the majority of my opponents, Evgeny is still able to keep up with my dance. It doesn't surprise me. He is the best Silver fighter of his generation. He should be equipped with the ability to keep up with the pacing. I, on the other hand . . . wouldn't consider myself the best, but someone formidabble. Clara would say I'm being modest, but I disagree. There will always be someone who is better, lurking in the shadows or standing in plain sight.

The magnetron is the one who spills first blood. Even if a fox is an agile, flexible and a hard animal to hunt, one can wound it eventually. The cut on my shoulder begins to bleed, turning the torn fabric red. But I don't feel anything. I can't.

The tips of my fingers come together as I send a bolt of lightning as a retaliation. As usual, it does nothing. Evgeny creates a metal shield in the blink of an eye, soaking up whatever damage there might have been. The buildup was short therefore making it less dangerous, but it doesn't hurt to stay unharmed in this arena.

Evgeny sends out three, razored sharp daggers towards me, aimed for the head. I duck avoiding the worst of it. The metal touches the top of my hair, moving it by a slight bit. The daggers return and I shield myself with my lightning, disarming the pieces of metal if they ever come back for me. Luckily, they don't. I feel nothing pass through my shield as they return. The barrier mitigates damage as well as remove all crowd control effects on me. Hard to create, but it's worth it.

Minutes pass. Each of our abilities is mitigated by our defense. It's quite strange really. Although metal is a conductor of lightning they work surprisingly well together, even as enemies. I remain using my streaks of lightning for long range defense like a marksman. It isn't meant to do anything but keep him at bay. One shock and it's over. Evgeny is still able to weave through them, coming closer as the moments go by. On the other hand, I try to gain distance, away from him. I'm better at poking than I am at going all in. Poke needs range. Simple.

The first mistake I made was getting to close to a wall. I don't know why I did it, but it seemed like a better option. Although it provides better cover for defense, it can also be dangerous. And this mistake was not exactly forgiving.

The first spike comes towards me, pinning my left arm to the wall. The second one comes right afterwards, pinning my right arm to the wall. It leaves me unable to move, but not unable to use my ability, I could probably concentrate on keeping a shield on me while freeing myself. But this fight needs to end. And I need to lose.

Soon, a knife presses against my throat, deep enough to cut with the slightest motion. The metal winks, light bouncing off its lethal edge. I wonder how this must look like; a vulnerable, Red blooded, woman pressed to the wall with a knife at her throat. Wonderful.

"Yield?" His voice is barely louder than a whisper.

"Yield," I say with a smile. Defeat shouldn't make me happy. But showing Silver superiority has kept me safe. This defeat could be the reason why I won't be targeted.

He steps back, pulling away the knife. The spikes return to him too, returning to an amorphous shape. "I'll applaud you for your efforts. They were far better than what I expected."

"Then what did you expect?" The innocent, courteous side of me is cast off, replaced by my more usual self. "You set your standards too low for a Red."

"Nope, you set the bar too high," Evgeny replies. "You have too much talent."

"Thank you for pointing that out," I say, turning red. I don't need others to know of my skill. "You should return to the arena now that you have your victory."

He smiles. "And that I should."

Evgeny leaves, the metal trailing behind him. I just stand there, thinking deeply about what just happened. Wondering if it was realistic enough.

"Ahem."

I look up to see Arven staring at me, waiting for me to get to my senses. I quickly walk off with shaky legs, mumbling an apology as I pass him. I feel a pair of eyes watch me as I return to seat. But I don't want to look.

I just want this to be over.

"Are you okay?"

It's the first question Clara asks me once we return to the dorm. She didn't stop pestering me on our way here too. "You don't seem . . . okay."

"I'm fine." My voice has a tinge of annoyance in it. I appreciate her concern, but she shouldn't make it too obvious. It'll make people suspect and that's the last thing we want. If word gets out, it'll be a stain on both our reputations. It'll also make the higher class suspect.

"You're lying." The certainty in my cousin's voice makes my hair stand on end. "You always lie to me about this."

I turn to face her, unwilling to let her push into this further. "I'm seriously fine! Please just trust me on this."

"No I won't." My cousin glares at me, obviously angry at my dishonesty. I understand. No one likes being lied to. "Tell me what happened. Did he say something to you?"

"He didn't!" I reply, panicking interally. "Nothing happened, I swear."

"I don't believe you," she says, forcing me to face her. Clara seems on edge. I think the worst is playing in her mind. Although she's more optimistic than I am, she always thinks of the worst scenario when working. And even if it's good to prepare for the worst scenario, there has to be a limit right?

"Neither do I." My head turns to see Allison enters our dorm room, yawning as she passes us. "I heard everything outside. I don't believe you either Dahlia. Something's up."

"Nothing is up," I say firmly, shooting an angry look at Clara. She blew this all up instead of wraping this quietly. "I'm just worried that's why."

"About what?" My cousin's frustration finally dims down a bit. "Worried that he's gonna make you a target?"

"Yes," I reply. "I'm better than most Silvers. We all know that. And the fact that I was able to hold my own against Evgeny already sends a message to the rest of the Silvers that I'm good. They'll hate me for it. And you can't deny that he won't make the most of me for his own enjoyment."

The idea of that cuts the fear into my cousin's eyes more than anything. Her hand clenches into a fist, mirroring her emotions of anger and worry turning within her. She obviously needs some time to get a grip before she says anything ridiculous.

Ally on the other hand, yawns again. She seems undisturbed by the fact. "You won't need to worry."

Clara whips her head around to face the telky. Her words seem to set the jumper off. "And why's that?"

"Because you can gain an advantage," Ally replies simply, almost matter-of-fact. "If you're good, you'll climb ranks. And with more ranks come information."

More information. That's what we need right now, but it's also something that is dangerous to get. Without information, this entire operation won't work. Once I have it, I'll probably be scrutinized like mad. Only those who are above have such information. And they are monitored for every second of their life.

"Do you think Maven will allow a red blooded person to climb the ranks?" I ask, watching the both of them. "He won't and if he will, it's very unlikely."

I expected Clara to tense at the name, but surprisingly it also seems to set Ally off too. The changes are subtle but I don't miss the signs. She grits her teeth and looks away. Her efforts to hide it are quite good, but I still catch the signals and note them down.

"Regardless." Ally looks down at the ground, fearful. "If I were you, I'd do it."

"I wouldn't," Clara says, full of resolve. "Remember, living up there means less anonymity. We wouldn't be able to make any moves without being known."

We stand there in silence, mulling over each other's words. Each one holds a certain amount of truth to them. Things will turn out differently depending on which path you take. And depending on the circumstance.

"Forget it," Ally says suddenly. "We're not supposed to rebel anyway."

"We're you thinking of it?" Clara's straightforward personality kicks in, not even bothering to temper her words. "To be honest, I would understand."

The emotion on Ally's face crossess from familiarity to hatred then finally to pure blankness. "No. It was just an idea."

"I see," my cousin muses. We both can sense something off about her words. "Don't worry about hiding your feelings towards us though. Trust me when I say, we have more in common than you think."

"What Clara said is true," I send a reassuring smile to Allison, trying to set the atmosphere back to normal. "I'll also keep your words in mind. They might be handy in the coming future."

"I know that." But instead of smiling, Ally just turns away and walks to the door. She opens it to reveal the outside hall of our wing. "I'm going to find Kiera."

The absence of the illusionist didn't occur to me until it was mentioned. The lack of Kiera's presence suddenly feels like a huge gap within the group. How I did not realize it makes me wonder. Perhaps I'm thinking too much to the point where I'm ignoring my senses.

Clara nods her head and waves. "Sure thing," she says. "Hopefully she's not in trouble."

"Knowing Kiera, she probably isn't." Ally replies, stepping out of the room and into the hallway, casting a shadow onto the dorm floor. The light behind her flickers slightly before becoming bright once more. I didn't feel anything change electrically. Strange. Another observation to note down.

"Stay here please and thank you because I don't want to have to find you either," the telky says quietly. "Or else."

The door closes shut before we can even answer. It's almost as though Ally was in a hurry to leave us alone. She might even fear us. She might fear us for the implication she had left earlier in her speech. Because she doesn't know who we are. If she did, would she be this worried? Should we even tell her?

"Do you think Ally's like us?" Clara asks quietly. "I don't- I mean, it could be possible you never know."

"She isn't." I respond with such certainty, I believe it myself. "But I feel as though she harbours some hatred towards Maven. I don't know if you saw it, but it was very apparent when I mentioned his name."

I remember everything. The flash of hatred as Ally looked away was caught too. It seems I'm not the only one who hates Maven in this place. While others think of the palace as a haven, I think of it as a prison.

And Ally might share the same sentiment.

"Let's keep an eye on her," Clara suggests, watching the front door. "You wouldn't mind sharing our information to outsiders would you?"

I smile, thinking deeply. "I wouldn't."

There are two sudden possibilities that lie before me. If Ally isn't one, sharing information might save her if we succeed. Maven would probably interrogate both Kiera and Ally if we escaped, thinking that they had information. Keeping them ignorant will keep them both alive and well while also hiding our tracks.

If she is a rebel without an organization behind her, we can work together. Although Ally still needs to polish bits of her technique, she'll be a useful asset to the group just by existing. Having another person might make things slow, but it'll branch out connections and contribute more benefits. She's the only telky in our group of four just as much as I am the only electricon and Clara is the only jumper. Our unique skills will allow us to have a higher chance of success.

The only thing missing is trust.

My smile widens. "Let time do its thing before we move. That way it'll be cleaner."

A cleaner removal, a cleaner victory.

And that's exactly how I like it.

Please enjoy this chapter. I might be away for some time but remember, I'll get back as soon as I can. I might edit it to just in case, but I wanna get this chapter out before my history exam for music. I'm also under tons of stress at the moment but I promise I'll make it up to you all ^^

A/N Edit: No, Evgeny would never even try and kill his parents. His hatred isn't that deep. But he doesn't acknowledge them as parents when he spekas to them. He keeps that inside. Some facts just can't be denied.

I thought of giving Evgeny a section which explored his life at home because I thought it would be interesting. I hope it was. If any of you were curious, I guess here it is :)

Here's another thing: Evgeny is also an engineer. It's partly due to boredom, but also because small things like bullets have structure that he needed to learn. It's mentioned in the Red Queen series that Evangeline slept with a bullet around her neck for two years as part of her training. She could name the weight and composition of it by the time it was over.

Considering House Samos in general, Evgeny must have also had the same training. He knows what the feeling of a bullet is like and therefore knows its composition quite well too. The rest of his creations are partly just for fun. You know, he isn't going to bring an actual sword with him when he goes places. He just needs to memorize the blueprints.

Just as a fun fact, Evgeny prefers duelling with swords too. You know, not the heavy type of swords, but the smaller, lighter ones. Kind of like the thin needle ones. I mean, not too thin, but do you get what I mean?

Dahlia's scene about her home life is a contrast to what Evgeny has. He has a dead family while Dahlia's is vibrant or at least more colourful than his. It's a little bit of the balanced contrasts between the two. One's black, the other's light.

I like pushing for balance a lot because it's very important when talking about relationships. Knowing that your weaknesses can be supported by your cousin and your strengths can support her weaknesses gives you a sense of security. It can also be applied to brotherhood, and to relationships related to love in it's many forms.

I also didn't know how to really write a fight scene between a magnetron and electricon so I'm sorry if it does seem a little . . . dry. I did my best. Hopefully someone can give me some advice :)