ONE FELL SWOOP - Chapter 6

Genre: Drama, Fantasy, Romance, Action

Author's Note: Now I know that a lot of this fanfic seems like it's based upon long, drawn-out conversations between a group of individuals, and despite the genre of "Action" I classify it under, there isn't a lot of "Action"...yet. I'm still doing a lot of development between the characters, so I apologize if the pacing is a bit off. Please, feel free to provide me with feedback in the Review section below if something about the plot or story or characters bothers you.

Anyways ... read the damn chapter already XD.

Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Brotherhood and Lies

The Armor was every bit as hideous as Amina had described. With ominous metal spikes growing from all over, including out of his shoulder plates, arm guards, and waist guard, Kaleb looked like a monster. The rest of the armor consisted of some sort of tight body-suit. It stuck to his skin as if it were part of his actual skin, and when he moved around, it felt as if it morphed with his motions.

"Adaptive Organic Metal Fabric. It's like an extreme version of woven chainmail. Each individual fiber is so thin and so tightly knit together that it feels as if an actual type of fabric. The suit adapts to your body's movements down to almost an instantaneous response. It reacts to the smallest kinetic energy that your body gives off, immediately imitating the outer structure of your epidermis, which gives it its "adaptive" nature. Think of it as an impregnable extra layer of skin. Except for the fact that it's not completely impenetrable." The Golden Watcher informed him.

"And would you care to explain to me why you — or Taric — decided not to just make the entire suit using this one material? What's all this fancy, unnecessarily bulky décor?" Kaleb tried to sound as critical as possible.

"Oh the spikes and guards? They're not simply for show, boy. The guards help channel your void-energy properly. Think of them as control stations, or checkpoints for the energy to pass through whenever you move. They prevent unnecessary outputs or exertions of the energy so it doesn't escape the vicinity of your body. Through experimentation, Taric determined that the highest points of energy leakage took place at your waist, shoulders, and forearms. The spikes — well, perhaps you could argue that they are for show. They do add character to your stance." Amina chuckled to herself. "Besides, they do provide additional offensive support, assuming you decide to do something as stupid as tackle your enemy. To be honest however, I cannot think of a situation where physical contact is necessary, especially when one possess abilities such as yours."

"What a hassle," Kaleb muttered.

"Oh I'm sorry, did you say something?" the Golden Watcher tilted her head to one side.

"Nothing. I meant to ask you why the hell this over-bearing helmet is necessary."

"Oh this?" the spirit plucked the ugly, brutal helmet out of the air, which was previously suspended within one of the golden circles she had drawn. "This is your lifeline. Normally, when out of combat, you would only have to wear your AOMF body suit and the bottom half of this helmet, which is enough to regulate your typical energy-output. The bottom half acts as a breathing-mask. The two metal tubes on each side filter the air you breathe in from the void-energy lingering on the surface of your skin that would usually contaminate the oxygen and upon inhalation, swiftly kill you. But in combat, an overwhelming amount of void-energy will also pass through your head and consequently, your eyes, effectively rendering you blind. The top half, visor-part of the helmet reduces the void-light perceived by your eyes and allows you to discern images as you regularly would, except perhaps a shade darker than usual."

"Then would you care to explain to me why I'm currently breathing perfectly fine without the mask?"

Amina shook her head with disappointment. "Your progressive stupidity never ceases to amaze me. You can breathe without the mask right now because you're not even in the realm of Runeterra yet. This place is what you humans would probably call an alternate dimension."

"What if I—" Kaleb began but the feminine spirit was becoming impatient.

"Just close that foul oral orifice of yours and put the mask on. You won't be tied to this plane for any longer than one or two more minutes. Unless you truly wish for death."

"Uhh, hey Golden bitch. How do I put it on if you're holding on to it?" Kaleb was practically bleeding with spite.

The Golden Watcher glared at Kaleb.

"Perhaps I chose the wrong person to save and should simply incinerate your spiritual remains right here so you have no hope of returning to the physical world."

"Just give me the damn helmet."

. . .

POV - START

Everything around me was a blur. As if a vague memory within a dream, which blotted out a significant portion of my surroundings. It was extremely difficult to focus on one subject. My eyes flicked from side to side until they landed on a man sitting behind a desk before him.

"N—name?" The man enquired nervously.

A tall figure wearing a tight midnight-blue body-suit loomed over the registration official. The official, who had a small name tag labelled 'RIOT EMPLOYEE – REGISTRATION CONSULTANT' clipped to his dress-shirt, grew pale. The figure cast a dark aura about him, and every breath he took through the oxygen-mask-looking device that he wore, an ominous sound that somewhat resembled a vacuum of sorts seemed to suck the life out of the atmosphere around him.

"Kassadin."

"K-a-s-s-a-d-i-n. O-okay, I've got it down. And yo—your title?"

"Title?" the figure's voice boomed, causing the man to flinch. The man recovered.

"Eh, how do I put this? It describes who you are. Uhh—what people will refer to you as."

As the overbearing figure exhaled and pondered, the man felt goosebumps all over his body. His heart was pounding. I could hear it, each beat getting faster than the previous one.

"You can call me the Black Phantom."

"Okay. Uhh—" The man's fingers nervously tapped at the surface of his desk as he tried to remember what he was forgetting. An important part of registration. "Ah! Yes. My apologies."

The figure tilted his head in question and the man hurriedly continued.

"Um, your name—er—title is subject to change, depending on how the impression you give the League as you fight."

"Understood." The figure's reply was curt.

"Is there anything else you need?" the man asked, blinking rapidly, as if his eyes were drying up.

"Yes. One more request. I would like to request a censor."

"Excuse me?" the man seemed panicked.

"Yes. I require a censor over my name."

Shifting in his chair, the man bit his lip. He was quiet for a full minute. When he finally spoke, it was in a whisper.

"Sir might I ask— how exactly, did you know of this option? Only those of rank MASTER or CHALLENGER are informed of this option. They are forbidden to distribute such information. The system also tells me you are unregistered."

"Does it matter?" the figure sighed, or seemed to sigh, if you could call the soft purr of exhaling machinery sighing. He leaned closer to the man, whispering back. "I have my informants. And I know the League is more than just an organization for fighting pits."

The man was flustered. "V—very well. What are you conditions of lifting the censor aside from manual removal?"

The figure seemed to chuckle in his own, unique, robotic way. "The censor will be lifted only on two conditions. If I manage to rank first on all leaderboards and maintain that position for a year — OR, if someone manages to defeat me."

"B-but — ahh, I should mention that because of these . . . erm . . . unique circumstances, I will have to notify the Council of Head-mages, who will review and examine your status before we can approve this censor."

"Suit yourself."

I don't know how, but suddenly, I felt as if I knew that the looming figure was smiling behind his mask. And not a very pleasant smile. But at the same time . . .

I instinctively touched my own lips and felt myself smile. In unison we smiled. And not a very pleasant smile. I felt a wave of fear suffocating my very being as suddenly, my body, no my existence in its entirety was thrown towards the looming figure. A silent scream echoed behind me as I somehow collided with the looming figure and all of a sudden, I was the looming figure. I shook my head clear of its nauseating pain and as I opened my eyes, they were miraculously cured of any mystical visual obstructions. Though with a shade slightly darker than usual.

I stumbled back, experiencing an intense vertigo. To my surprise, nobody else seemed to notice. It was as if I wasn't even there. Then, I felt only a subtly, almost completely inconspicuous tugging sensation before I truly disappeared entirely.

POV - END

. . .

As Kaleb came to his senses, he found himself staring up at a plain gray ceiling. The first aspect of his surroundings to strike a bell within him was the smell. It was a warm, pleasantly dusty smell that resembled a light vanilla aroma. It was — homely.

Where . . .?

His vision blurred in and out of focus and when he tried to move his limbs, they were nearly unresponsive, only somewhat twitching. He was lying on a small bed with a soft white mattress, obviously built to suit the slumbering needs of only one individual. A thin blanket was pulled up to his chest and fit snuggly under his arms. For some peculiar reason, the blanket seemed to be emanating a strange, yet comfortable, cool aura, as if to ward of the rather heated autumn weather. The right side of the bed was adjacent to the wall, which was painted with a light teal hue.

Where . . .? The last thing I remember . . . was watching a figure wearing my suit registering at the League headquarters . . . then I became the figure itself? When did this happen?

Kaleb looked to his right, where a large window revealed a clear blue sky with light trails of butts among the vibrant sea of azure. His chest suddenly flared in pain and he winced, groaning softly. He gently, almost hesitantly touched the spot in which the pain had occurred with his fingertips. Immediately the memories of the series of unfortunate events rushed back to him. He adjusted his arm to support his body weight as he shifted to sit up but his arm immediately buckled as his vision swam and his head, plagued by an intense, pulsating migraine.

When his vision cleared, he looked out the window. A familiar endless plain of tall grass welcomed his sight.

"Where—" He vocalized his thought.

"I see you've finally regained consciousness. Seems like the voidstone embedded in your chest is starting to work."

Kaleb turned his head to see a young man that couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than him, dressed in black from head to toe, sitting on a stool propped up against the wall opposite of the bed. The man greeted him with a warm, handsome smiling face. Kaleb's eyes traced the man's outline aimlessly until they fell upon the man's hands. They held a white porcelain mask.

The boy immediately curled up into a protective like stance — as self-protective as one could be whilst sitting on a bed.

"Crow Prince." He said, keeping his tone as bland as he could without betraying the unstable emotions that boiled underneath his calm demeanor.

"Now, now, you know you can call me by my real name, Kaleb. Or should I call you Kassadin?" the young man chuckled.

"It's been a very long time. And I think it will take even longer before I call you anything."

The young man sat in silence. There was nothing he could say to such a declaration of passive aggressive hostility. After a full minute of awkward silence, Kaleb spoke again.

"I thought you were supposed to be watching over Rayven and protecting her."

"Rayven?" The young man's eyes lit up. "Ahh, yes of course, she must have changed her name to Rayven when she registered to become an official Mage under the League."

"Aren't you supposed to be Rayven's guardian?" Kaleb rephrased his question to avoid repetition.

"Hmm, the Golden Watcher must've told you of my past situation didn't she. Well, you see, that mission was brought to an end when you happened."

"What are you talking about, Crow Prince?"

"Well, I can't possibly both watch over her AND act as your Mage, can I? Even that — golden lady — even she understands the feasibility of the situation, despite her heartless way of going about things. Amina gave me two choices and I chose you over Rose—ah, I mean—Rayven. Besides, Rayven's been . . . outgrowing me. I can't hide things from her forever so I guess I'll just have to run. You can probably say this is my way of running."

"Crow Prince . . ." Kaleb trailed off.

"Stop it, Kaleb. To be honest with you, it hurts me when you call me that. It really does—" the young man pressed his hand against where his heart was. "—hurt."

Kaleb avoided the man's gaze, looking out the window at the endless plains instead.

"Did you forget that we were brothers, Kaleb? Did the three years we spent together along with Karma, mean nothing to you?"

Kaleb said nothing.

"Kaleb, please, at least look at me as a . . . as an . . . acquaintance. We're going to be working together for at least the next year."

"You left us." The reply was short and sharp.

"I had no choice—" the young man began but Kaleb interrupted him.

"Old man, Rivello. You don't know how much he suffered, how much he aged when you left!"

"Even our old man knew that that was the best option we had." The man's voice was rising.

"You left without so much as a notice!" Kaleb retorted.

"It was that or I would have to DIE!" the young man shouted at the boy. As if suddenly hit with the realization that he had yelled at his younger brother, he looked down shamefully.

"I'm sure you know how things work with Amina, Kaleb." He said softly, though the pain was evident in his tone. "You can call me a selfish man. But I don't—I don't want to die."

"Hmph." Kaleb exhaled, attempting to contain his anger.

He sluggishly propped himself up against the side of the bed and pushed with his legs in a feeble effort to stand, but to no avail. His legs quickly grew numb each time and he slid back down in a slump. Sighing, he looked around the room searching for an object that could serve as a makeshift crutch. As his eyes hunted for a suitable object, his mind wandered elsewhere, momentarily forgetting the anger. Somewhere in the back of his head, he found the room hauntingly familiar. Had he been here before? If he could explore what appeared to be a house in which he was located in one of its rooms, he could possibly make out his approximate whereabouts.

"What are you doing, Kaleb?" the question was meant as a challenge to force Kaleb to stay in bed, but it had no force behind it.

After a few frustrating minutes of crawling about, Kaleb found an umbrella sitting underneath the bed. He painstakingly hobbled towards the door and in one final, desperate effort, turned the knob of the door and pulled. The young man simply watched him from his stool.

For a moment, Kaleb vision blurred as the last of his energy flushed out. When it cleared, he stared into a relatively long hallway with stairs on the right leading down to the main floor. Kaleb did a double take.

It was his own house. Yet—it wasn't. Something was different about his surroundings, something . . . wrong. The paintings that lined the wall of the hallway were absent and instead of a bare wooden floor, a long carpet winded its way from one end of the hallway to the other.

What happened?! Is this some sort of vision? It couldn't be a vision though. The pain in his chest, in his arms, the cool air about the house, and the warmth of the sunshine that shone through the window in the bedroom and seeped into the pores of his skin—everything was too real. Especially the argument he just had with Zachariah . . .

"Ah, you're awake. I knew I heard two different voices upstairs."

Kaleb whipped around and in the process of doing so, his legs numbed at the perfect moment and he tripped yet again, ending up lying on the ground, clutching his poor arse and groaning more in irritation more than pain. He did locate the source of the voice though—standing before him was none other than an ageless man dressed in a thin white kimono. The man held a small plate that held a fancy cup filled with steaming liquid.

"Care for some tea?'

Kaleb sighed exasperatedly and resigned to lying on the floor.

"Master Zilean. Please don't scare me like that."

Zilean smiled innocently, as an old man would smile upon his grandchildren.

"This place is called a Diachronika replica. A form of suspended animation applicable to any object or building. If users of this technique are powerful enough they can even cover entire areas, possibly even whole cities." The man explained. "This is one of the only safe havens that can keep you hidden, although only temporarily, from the eyes of your Watcher.

Kaleb scratched his head in a vain effort to grasp the concept.

"Are you doing this?" the boy asked.

"Yes—and no. You can say I once did this, in the past, but once I've done it, and as long as I'm alive, this timeless replica exists indefinitely. It will be one of my last teachings to you."

"A timeless replica . . ." Kaleb repeated dumbly.

"Yes, a timeless replica," confirmed the man patiently.

"Hold on—what are you—how did you get—wait, why are you here?" Kaleb sported his classic confused expression.

"Well I was already here," said Zilean, "Zachariah simply brought you to me. One of my final requests before I surrender both of my previous students to that awful, albeit all-too-powerful golden lady. I plan to finish our training together."

Kaleb turned his head to see Zachariah leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom. The young man was still looking down, avoiding Kaleb's gaze as the boy had avoided his. He turned back to face his mentor.

"This last teaching, how long is it going to take?" he inquired with a neutral edge to his voice.

"Well—" Zilean scratched his chin, "You've already progressed halfway through this teaching without you realizing it. A regular person wouldn't be able to recognize the distinct features of the Diachronika replica. When they enter this realm, their memory and cognitive capacity are scrambled by our spells to prevent the Distortion Effect, which cripples the individual's ability to differentiate between reality and fantasy. A powerful, observant individual could perhaps achieve a delayed realization; their subconscious would reach an epiphany when inaccuracies are pointed out by their superior mental capacity."

"But I―" Kaleb stuttered.

"No, you actually did the exact opposite. Your brain immediately registered your surroundings as foreign and only later did your subconscious mind recognize the similarities to its realistic counterpart. Your mind is hardwired to prioritize and recognize the imperfections of these re-creations. That way, you can instantly determine between the actual form and its emulation."

Zilean let out a long sigh.

"Master?" Kaleb asked with concern.

"Ahh, worry not my young pupil. Ironic as it is, I'm somewhat disappointed to see you learn so quickly. For it means you and Zachariah will return to Amina's callings sooner than I anticipated. Some moments, Kaleb, you must learn to cherish, for not even a chronomage can preserve such moments."

"What do you mean?"

"It means I won't be able to see either of you for a very long time."

"You can help me. Help me escape from Amina—we can—we can all work together to fight against her!" Kaleb hesitated, then looked at Zachariah, who's expression remained as gloomy as ever.

"Kaleb," Zilean said kindly, "Even if I tried to help you, it would be impossible. Don't you remember? She is the one that gives and takes away. What she gave you and Zachariah — your lives — she also has the power to take them away."

"Then what other way is there?" Kaleb exclaimed.

"We must be patient." Zachariah finally spoke.

"What?" Kaleb said in disbelief. "Patient? How can I be patient when I've left my two best friends behind?"

"Kaleb, think harder. Do you remember the events that took place before we got here?"

"We were—"

Kaleb was for a moment, at a loss for words.

"You experienced a vision of sorts didn't you?" said Zachariah.

"Yeah, so what?" Kaleb said in a challenging tone.

"That wasn't a vision. It actually happened. The reason why you thought it was a vision was because Amina used golden hypnosis and put you in a trance. She literally controlled you telepathically and forced you to register yourself as a censored champion in the League. That's the difference in power between her and us right now." Zachariah turned away and walked back into Kaleb's room. He sounded frustrated.

"Look, Kaleb. You're strong. And you were right in saying we have to work together. But we have to be patient. Bide our time under Amina's control and grow stronger. There's no other way."

"Hmph." The younger boy made a disapproving expression but gave in. "Fine. I just have one question."

"Oh ho, I have a bad feeling about the question," Zilean commented from the side, smiling innocently.

"Why isn't Rose affected by Amina's power?"

Zachariah froze and gave Kaleb a dumbfounded, clueless face, which annoyed Kaleb even further.

"What, you don't know?" said Kaleb, irritated. "Didn't you spend three years protecting her as her guardian or whatnot?"

"Well, I'm not sure how, but I think she broken her conditions. It was one of the reasons I chose you over her. Because I simply couldn't choose to protect her any longer."

"Do you want to explain what the hell that actually means?" Kaleb rolled his eyes.

"Well I don't know for sure, but I don't think Rayven actually knew she was under Amina's control. Probably due to the fact that Amina didn't need to control her at the time. The Golden Watcher was most likely reserving Rayven for a time of greater need, but before she could make use of that asset, Rayven unknowingly broke free of Amina's control."

"But how did she do it?" pressed Kaleb.

"Like I said," Zachariah dragged his hands through his hair, "I don't know for sure. A year ago, she disappeared from our safe house and left me a vague letter saying she could take care of herself and that she'd grow stronger on her own by finding her own power."

"That's—" Kaleb paused and stared straight up at the ceiling. "That's around the time I first met her. She was dragging Ekko around the Ionian Capital when she bumped into me and straight up asked me to join her dream."

"What did she look like?" Zachariah asked abruptly.

Kaleb gave the older man a strange look. "What do you mean, what did she look like? I mean, she was—" he froze and blushed.

"What? She was what?"

"W—why are you asking such weird questions?" the red hints on the younger boy's cheeks began to grow more evident.

"Why are you getting embarrassed all of a sudden?" Zachariah sounded genuinely confused. "Just describe how she looked."

"P—pretty, I guess?" Kaleb grew flustered with each passing second.

Zachariah slapped his forehead conveying a countenance that said oh my goodness, kill me now.

"Well of course, but did she look any different from—" the young man reached into the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out a small photo. "—this?"

The photo was of Rose, with hair down to the upper part of her neck, giving a shy smile to the camera. Kaleb tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. Definitely. Like, it's not a major difference, it's just that she's grown out her hair—it's all the way down to her shoulders now—and she's significantly paler. In the photo, she looks . . . warmer."

"That confirms my suspicions. Something, or maybe someone, changed her between the time that she met you and Ekko and the day that she left my side." Zachariah shifted uncomfortably. "Did she show you any of her abilities?"

Kaleb thought to himself for a moment. "Now that I think back, I've never actually seen her do anything special in person. I mean, she's capable of entering into sync with me when we fight in the League, and apparently, she really proficient at establishing a stable connection but even I don't know how mages do their fancy spells. I just listen to her voice in my head when I fight."

"You've fought in the League?!" Zachariah was more disapproving than shocked.

Zilean laughed out loud and placed a hand on Kaleb's shoulder. "My young friend, this boy has already broken Jax's record of straight consecutive wins. He hasn't lost a single match with Rayven yet. Alas, he may have not lost a match but we are losing time, the more we continue on this conversation. You'll have to save your questions for later Zachariah."

Zachariah nodded reluctantly and mumbled something about 'duties to the Order'.

"Excellent!" Zilean gestured for the two young men to follow him. "Shall we get started?"

. . .

The rain was heavier than the forecast had predicted. Then again, the rain was the least of Ekko's worries. Even as the skies were darkened by storm butts and the rain fell endlessly onto the rough stone road, the only thought on Ekko's mind as he and Rosalyn trudged towards the gates of the League's HQ was that of Kaleb.

Kaleb, who he considered a close friend, along with Rosalyn, was like a giant piece of their puzzle as a team, and his abrupt death had brought not only grief into the boy's heart but also anger. He could feel the rage within him, itching to spring forth and hurt those who had hurt his companion. He could feel each drop of rain pounding on the hood of his coat, and with each drop, he felt increasingly unhinged.

Why? He questioned no one in particular. Why must the world take everything from those who work the hardest to gain just a little something?

Thunder struck, startling Ekko, who tumbled forward, colliding into Rosalyn.

"I'm sorry!" he apologized instinctively. He flinched on the inside, expecting a sharp complaint from the girl but what he got instead was even more heart-breaking. Rose simply adjusted her balance and walked on without looking back.

"Ekko, just watch where you're going." The chillingly empty, effortless remark felt like a spear of ice that had pierced him through the heart. Worst of all, it reminded him of the conversation he had with his female friend in the morning.

"Why are you acting like this, Rose?" He had questioned her.

"What do you mean? I'm not sure I understand Ekko. We should hurry up or we'll be caught in the rain storm before we make it to the League's Headquarters." Rosalyn had replied as if Ekko had asked a silly, pointless question.

"Don't talk bullshit with me. I mean, why are you acting as if nothing had happened since the news Kaleb's death arrived yesterday?"

"Kaleb. That boy has nothing to do with us any longer. He was too weak and thus, failed to keep his promise. If you ask me, it's him that was full of bull feces, spouting all that nonsense about being strong enough to carry the burden of our goals. He couldn't share the burden, much less, carry it on his own. He failed, Ekko, and that's that. He would've been a nuisance in the future so in fact, it's good riddance."

"Are you hearing yourself, Rose? Are you hearing your—ugh. I don't even know what to say. You're unbelievable. And I don't even use that word—unbelievable. Rose, what has gotten into you?"

"How about you stop being such a child and move on? If you are so insistent on feeling that our team isn't complete, we'll go find another individual to fill Kaleb's place. I'm sure there are many more out there willing to dedicate themselves to our cause. Okay? Does that satisfy you? We'll even go look for a third member right after we finish our promotional matches."

Ekko remembered the expression he had given Rosalyn at that moment, very clearly. It was of utter speechlessness, incredulity, his jaw dropped wide at how apathetic Rose was. That was when he ran out of Rose's house, onto her unsheltered porch, discovering that the rain was already pouring, and finding that his tears flowed so freely down his dark cheeks that he couldn't tell the difference between the rain and the rivers of his anguish.

Ekko looked up. Rosalyn had stopped before a giant black metal gate that towered over them, easily fifty meters into the air. They had arrived.

I guess it's time for our first match. Ekko sighed to himself. He was doing a lot of sighing lately. He felt his spirits brighten up slightly when he suddenly remembered something his mother had told him when he was younger.

"Ekko, my beautiful boy. Every time you sigh, you give up a part of your soul. Eventually you'll grow to be a soulless person! And mama doesn't want her beautiful boy to grow into a heartless man." She had reminded him this every night before he went to bed.

Unfortunately, the slight flicker of positivity disappeared within the next few moments as he noticed a tall woman in a light purple kimono with an insignia of a lotus sewn right above where her right breast was, walking towards them from within the enclosure. He had a bad feeling about this.

As she approached them, she called out to Rosalyn.

"Young lady over there. Excuse me. Are you Rayven?"

Rosalyn simply nodded as the woman signaled a guard to the side, who opened the gate from a hidden panel on the wall. As Ekko got a closer look at the woman's face, he realized it was in fact, not a woman but a young lady. The young lady couldn't have been older than twenty years of age.

He wasn't sure whether the young lady pretended to ignore him or was actually oblivious to his presence, but in all regards, chose not to spare him even a single glance, much less speak to him.

"My name is Karma. I've been waiting for you. To be honest, it took quite a while to find you due the fact that we were unaware Kaleb had any friends outside of the Order. But I'm glad my hard work paid off." The young lady had plastered an oddly fake smile on herself, as if she was trying too hard to look satisfied.

"We're not his friends." Rosalyn replied swiftly. "Simply former acquaintances."

"Well whatever you are to him, he sounded like he cared quite a lot for you."

Is it just me or does she sound kind of bitter in that last bit? Ekko gazed intently at Karma, trying to size her up. Perhaps it's simply the rain throwing me off.

Wait a minute. Sounded?

"Hold on, you were there when Kaleb—?!" Ekko blurted out before thinking.

"No, no, of course, that's not what I meant." Karma replied a bit too quickly to hide her panic. "I mean—I was, but—it wasn't my fau—"

Oh now she speaks to me, huh, Ekko fumed.

"You're not being consistent, were you or were you not there?" He practically shouted over the rain.

Karma looked down with an ashamed look dawning upon her face.

"I was there."

Ekko's eyes widened and he immediately glanced at Rosalyn to see if her expression had changed but to his extreme disappointment, she showed no signs of human emotion. As cold as ever.

"I mean," Karma corrected herself yet again, "At least, I was there to hear the last few words he had to say."

"And what did h—what did he say?" the boy trembled with anticipation.

"I think he wanted to apologize to Rayven, and probably to you too. He mumbled something about a promise or a dream or something along the lines of such. I'm sorry, he wasn't really making any sense at that point but he was insistent on me passing on the message and I'm not one for breaking promises."

Ekko buried his face in his hands. He understood what Kaleb's last words meant. They were so simple that it was ridiculous to think anyone would misunderstand them.

"Ekko."

Rose said his name once, sternly. He looked up from his hands that were already cupping a pool of tears and rainwater.

"I trust that you are strong enough to keep the promise that Kaleb was incapable of keeping. Prove that I am right about you and stop showing signs of weakness."

Ekko wanted to glare at Rosalyn and shout something rude at her but couldn't bring himself to do so. After all, part of him knew that she was indeed correct.

"I'm sorry, can you both please listen up, because I wasn't finished." Karma interjected impatiently. "That's not the primary reason I took the stupidly difficult task of finding you two."

What the fuck now? Ekko was fed up with the darkness that was suffocating him.

"Kaleb's body was stolen before the Order of the Lotus could preserve it for his funeral ceremony."

This time, Ekko actually voiced his thoughts.

"What the FUCK?" He bit his lip so hard that it began to bleed.

"Witnesses report that a hooded black figure was seen flying away with his wrapped body during the late hours of the night. It was a perfect retrieval. I mean, we had extremely tight guard shifts placed on a 24-hour basis—"

"Why would a—" Ekko swallowed hard before he continued. "—dead body need guarding?"

Karma seemed to hesitate again before answering, throwing Ekko's sense of suspicion into further disarray.

"Due to our ongoing investigation on the peculiar circumstances of Kaleb's death, we placed a tight rotational system of guard shifts to prevent any tampering of the on-scene evidence. But as if the perpetrator were familiar with the ins-and-outs of the Order's operational methods, the heist was virtually flawless. We didn't realize until it was too late."

Ekko suddenly noticed that Rosalyn had frozen in place.

"Because you were acquainted with Kaleb, we had reason to suspect either of you for committing this—" Karma then also noticed Rosalyn's stiff pose. "—hey, are you listening? Rayven?"

It was obvious that she wasn't listening. She stopped listening after Karma mentioned the flying hooded black figure. And she had become completely oblivious to her surroundings. The sensation of dreadful rain seemed to dissipate into thin air and the words from Karma, muffled and finally silenced. She was, what she would call, trapped in her own mind.

She knew from the moment Karma mentioned him, the perpetrator's identity. With her eyes fixated on the distance, her expression betrayed a flare of poorly repressed fury.

Crow Prince, she thought spitefully. Damn you to hell, Zachariah. Were all those kind words about your everlasting support for my goals regardless of the situation—were they all LIES?

Did you lie to me, Zaki?

Did you?

These chapters just keep getting longer and longer! I just get so caught up in drafting the conversation that I find myself unable to stop writing sometimes. Hopefully, you made it to the end and if you're not asleep, hurray!

I'll be balancing my time between work, this story's next chapter, AND my other, more childish writing pursuits (i.e. Reunions), and depending on my mood, I'll spend more time either on this fanfic or the other.

Peace!

~Nightrous