TRASH

POV -> Caleb, status = moping

It was too sunny for a graveyard.

There wasn't a cloud in the sky to cover the sapphire blue expanse. The breeze was soft, and the gated area Caleb sat in was furnished with fresh flowers.

The few trees in the gated section were filled with birds that sang to one another joyously, and from a distance, Caleb could still hear some city goers that had seen him walk into the private graveyard trying to scream for his attention.

He approached a quiet mausoleum, the polished stone structure wrapped with iron vines that helped an assortment of climbing flowers make their way up the walls. Atop it was a statue, a man poised with his blade to the sky. Mythica. And in his other hand, a circular shield, the thin layer of gold it was plated with worn to grey. Svalan. Of the surrounding private mausoleums, this one was a cry for attention instead of a symbol of rest.

Caleb dropped a bouquet of flowers in front of the structure, then took a polished bench to finally catch a break from walking in the heavy armour.

"They're celebrating your biggest mistake."

He stared at the lifeless statue. The years had confirmed that Caleb looked just like his father. In a way, it was efficient. When he was inevitably done in by a powerful adversary, they would be able to stick him in the same mausoleum without updating the statue, and grievers would be none the wiser.

At least then it would actually have a dead body in it, and he could call it a grave.

After the Hells opened up and consumed Parov, Ka'zaz visited Caleb's mother a week later with Mythica. It was the only keepsake to his father's name. The Suneater had fled the islands with as many survivors as possible, and that meant the slain body of Ra'zerun's champion was left to the demons that poured out.

Ka'zaz stopped hunting gods after that.

In the coming days, Caleb had hoped Ka'zaz was wrong, but his worst fears were realized when he was sent to Ra'zerun's temple. The crowds roared and cheered so loud as his body was bathed in the starlight of an Archon's blessing that not single soul noticed he had cried throughout the entire ceremony.

And with Ra'zerun's gifts, he inherited the title of The White Knight.

His entire life had been dedicated to stopping a calamity that his father, chosen by Ra'zerun from talent instead of birthright, and Ka'zaz, a First Light of Rethalon had failed to stop.

There was hope once. But it had been cut down by the Witch of the Westlock's curse.

And even if it still lived, no one wished to see it. Not even Caleb.

He sighed, flicking a dead leaf off the bench. "Your grand-daughter killed about a hundred people a few days ago…"

He pulled a rolled letter from his bag, picking at the waxed seal instead of opening it. He knew the contents, Inprobus had told them to him personally. It was hard news for them both. Whereas the witch's curse had now taken both of Inprobus' children, and there would be no solution to their lives but the Psyche Ward, Justin was just a victim of friendship.

Caleb stared at his wrist, finding some comfort in the woven bracelet that he never removed. The three threads it was made of glowed soft with magic. One just a little dimmer than the other two.

"And your grandson is missing. Because I went to stop her… instead of visiting him."

A soft horn sounded in the distance, disturbing some of the singing birds. Caleb eyed the small group of people that had gathered to the sound, lined up in the ungated part of the graveyard. Black was the prevailing theme amongst the viewers, a few individuals, including Inprobus, fitted to their stark white uniforms as the concession walked ten coffins to their final rest. It wasn't unusual for Inprobus' squadron. Where Caleb had assigned himself to rescues, Inprobus' fieldwork specialized in hunting monsters with a Heroguard target on their back. A high mortality rate was plastered to his rank, but still, this incident had taken more lives than anyone would have ever wished.

And the monster responsible had escaped.

He placed the letter on the bench, grabbed his helmet, and shoved it back on his head, giving the statue one last bitter smile. "Happy Hells Day."

—- POV -> Katryna

Katryna pooled over a wide map of parchment she had glued together, crouched at an awkward angle to sketch little rooms into the body of a circular building. The study room had a large oak table that would have made her job easier. But the Wind blasted off any papers that covered the world map sitting on it. There weren't a lot of things it could use to state a quick point, so when it found one, it aggressively defended it.

She finished off the corridor of the third strike wing, placing a sharp red ex in one of the rooms. She had found her target, and mapped Eliza's walk.

There was one thing she needed to find in her nightly tour. Be it a window, or a back door. She needed to find the quickest way out.

Katryna picked the map off the floor, feeling a nauseous sway rock around her head. It was nearly the evening, and she had been so consumed in her task that she had completely forgotten to grab something to snack on. She carefully folded up the map and tucked it back into a book shelf, her gaze landing on a glass jar she'd left in the study room for late nights. It was half filled with flavoured taffies of various shapes. She remembered a number of them being soft candies, but the years of sitting out in Westlock had just turned the bunch hard as rocks. She grabbed a berry twist taffy. It would tide her over.

She popped the taffy stick in her mouth, returning to the nest of pillows in her room. The sun was setting. Anyone with a respect for themselves would have left work for the day, and the Psyche Ward would be ripe for exploring. She relaxed herself, sinking back into her distant clutch and opening her eight little eyes to stare at the bare and padded room she had left the little creature in.

The Follower had moved to the bedroll at the corner of the empty room, lying face up with his hands interlocked over his chest. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not. Hopefully, if he was, he wouldn't put up a fuss about her leaving for a little while. She maneuvered off of the web her familiar had spun, dropping into the air to shoot out a tiny parachut of webbing and drift to the door on the other side.

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The Follower made no motion to stop her, still lying on his back, peacefully still.

She skittered into the crack of the door, wiggling her way out the other side. Katryna quickly maneuvered the familiar to the ceiling, keeping as much distance between herself and the arcane hounds sitting by the door out. She crawled through a gap at the top of the door, keeping to the ceiling as she began her tour.

The halls were dimmer through her monochrome eyes, the few auras of magic she could make out trapped behind thick iron doors with engraved number plates. The main hall remained her path, until she crossed a set of doors that made the walls a different shade of grey.

And then, from a connecting hall, she saw a moving aura. The bright glow was unmistakable before the tall man stepped into view, Max chattering away with Eliza in hushed tones. They both checked the hall before turning off.

As though neither were supposed to be there.

The intrigue took over, and Katryna shifted plans, skittering after the sneaking pair instead. She managed to parachute onto Max's head when he stopped halfway down the hall to whisper into Eliza's ear, the two of them stifling kiddish laughter before continuing to their mysterious destination.

Eventually, they went into an office, slightly larger and definitely fancier than Eliza's. Max walked into the middle of the room while Eliza lingered by the door, staring through it as though ensuring no one else was possibly in the hall. It was true, in part. Katryna was stashed in Max's hair after all.

Katryna caught a glimpse of the engraved plaque on the desk. Maximus Demi.

She watched Eliza carefully close the door, and then approach Max with a strange look in her eyes. The next thing Katryna knew, she was fleeing the Archon's hair as the woman ran her fingers through it.

She fled into the man's collar, barely dodging a hand that travelled down his neck. She cursed her curiousity for landing her in this situation. While it was cute to imagine in her many novels, this was a little too interactive.

She made it down his collar, preparing to parachute away when the fabric she clung to fell loose with her in it. Her world went dark as she landed on the ground with the shirt on top of her.

Katryna ripped away from the connection, staring at her own room in baffled silence. It took her a few minutes to realise her mouth was hanging wide. No taffy to be found.

She stared at Jeremy, a berry twist taffy sticking to his fur from where it had tumbled from her mouth. He stared at her with seven wide eyes, and a single closed one that didn't want to be poked by the candy on his forehead. "Sorry Jer." She pried the candy off her familiar, sticking it back in her mouth and tuning back in. She just had to block out every sound and escape the room.

She closed her eyes, waiting a few more minutes… as a precaution.

A conversation reached her ears, muffled from the discarded shirt covering her.

"I can move her onto your list. She'll only be here for the week though, the strike session is scheduled this weekend."

Eliza's voice pitched with shock. "I thought it was a month."

Katryna felt the fabric lift off the ground with her in it. She leapt to the desk as she passed it, skittering behind an inkwell to watch Max button up his shirt.

The Archon averted his gaze to the ground, which seemed to fuel Eliza's anger. "An Archon requested to accelerate it."

"An Archon." Eliza mocked, adjusting the collar of her uniform. "Just say Inprobus. Sadistic fucker."

"He says there's a new creature he's been commissioned to hunt. He doesn't want to wait while it kills more people."

"Look me dead in the eyes and tell me Rikka deserves to be on her first strike."

Katryna stilled at the name. She remained behind the inkwell, praying for the conversation topic to live long enough to explain itself.

"I can't." Max sighed. "That's not my job. All I know is that people are more than what you see of them. Rikka is nice to you, that doesn't mean she's the same to everyone."

Katryna scoffed, and Eliza wasn't far behind with the same reaction. "I'm a good judge of character. Between you and me, I don't trust Inprobus. I don't trust anyone that sweeps their hair back like that."

"Like this?" Max grabbed his hair and pulled it back. He grinned at Eliza's frown. "Do I look incredibly suspicious?"

"Incredibly stupid." Eliza retorted, slapping his shoulder with one of her shoes. "If you put your hair like that, I will hit your shins with the meal cart every chance I get."

"I don't doubt it." Max replied, "I'm not saying you're wrong about Inprobus. But all I can speak to is his past. My dad always told me he saved the world-"

"Three times." Eliza finished. "Doesn't mean he's a family man, or a good person. Anyone that wants to keep living would save the world if they had the choice."

"He's a good friend of Caleb's, I'm sure that counts for something."

Eliza raised her finger, her voice sharp. "One word, Athansi."

Max sighed. "She had a breakdown. Fairies like that have lived for thousands of years, maybe where she's from, she just can't understand the weight of what she did. There's so many things that can trigger her. I mean have you seen her meal requests?"

"I don't care how long she's lived. A mother should never do that to their child. Breakdown or not, I don't care."

Max leaned on his desk, smiling contently at Eliza's frown. "You'd make a good mom."

"I'm bad with children." Eliza retorted, wiggling her shoe onto her foot. She fixed her hair last, stopping at the door, "You know… you're an Archon. This is your ward, not Sithech's. You can make it your job."

Max paid her a curious look. "What do you mean?"

Eliza leaned on the threshold, "Figuring out if Rikka is only nice to me. Bet you twenty slivs you're wrong."

"Should I pay you now?" Max hummed, waving Eliza farewell as she slipped out the door."

He waited for her steps to depart, his smile leaving with a soft sigh. Katryna rounded the ink well to stay out of his sights as he came to his desk, curiously watching him pack away a pass key that looked like a thin metal bracelet. The few papers on his desk pulled his attention as he thumbed through the reports, each page keeping his creased frown alive.

Finally, he sighed, spurring some panic in Katryna as he reached for the inkwell. She felt the object move as she clung to it, too terrified to peel around and get a full peek at what Max was doing.

She heard a drawer, and the flutter of a new piece of paper. It landed next to her with a little burst of wind, the worn parchment lined with little number filled boxes. A good portion of them had been crossed out with black ink. Max took his quill, making himself the clear culprit of the markings as he crossed out two boxes.

Despite the awful penmanship that was nothing like the numbers. Katryna could clearly see that every box had a name.

He waved the sheet a few times to dry the ink, any expression hidden behind the inkwell Katryna had chosen as her refuge. But she could hear the weight in his voice as he packed up the rest of his things. Attached to the words he spoke, it was a strange thing for an Archon to say.

"I'm sorry."

Katryna held her breath as Max packed the paper up, waiting until his aura left the room entirely. As she stepped into the open, she noticed two new objects sitting on the desk some distance from the stack of papers. Two little candles, their lights burning with a small glamour to make them seem as though they were alight with flames.

She paid little mind to them. Her mission was clear.

The pair had passed some plain doors on their journey to this office, all candidates for an escape route that wouldn't be the highly guarded front entrance. And now she had all night to explore.