Green eyes peered back at him and he reached out, tips of his fingers disturbing the image, and ripples ruined the face that was in his vision. The face of his brother turned to his face. Those eyes. The eyes they share. A gentle placement of his hand onto his cheek as the reflection matched the actions. “Why do I have to have your eyes?” Sometimes it felt like he could talk to him but he knew it was just a reflection. Deep down he felt like Ergen could hear him. His meek voice began to cloud with sniffling. It has been roughly six years since his brother was stamped a traitor and forever exiled, the Regia Guard wanted to hold the eldest child of the Ilkin family for his betrayal and force him into the Trials.

Ever since that day, many words have crossed the Ilkin family's path. Many words. Comments from his own family pierce the young boy's heart. Heavily. He never understood how to take any of them. Anything that had to do with his older brother was a distant memory but it felt so close and dear. Truly the boy cherished the fading memories that he had of his eldest brother.

Traitors!

Are your other sons going to be failures?

He looks a lot like him.

You have your brother’s eyes, Koca.

You have his face.

Koca’s expression faltered at the fountain and salty liquid began to stain his cheeks. I hate that I miss you so much, ” It wasn’t fair! None of this was fair. Why did he do that to himself? Why did he do that to us? Why did he do that to me? Smearing the clear liquid upon his cheeks, reddening them, and dampening his sleeves. It was upsetting. Every time he looked at his reflection, he was reminded of Ergen. Every time he did something… someone had to comment on how much he was like his older brother. How much he was like him. It was weird to have such a connection with a total stranger.

It was a strange feeling of euphoria and pure sorrow on the last memory he had of Ergen…

A smaller child looked up at his brother with wide green doe eyes and an expression that showed how enthusiastic he was. Ergen was home. “Up! Up! Please up!” Koca was bouncing at the door before it was even opened, and he could remember the light laugh that left his older brother’s lips. The smile crept around the door as it allowed light into the home. Pure bliss. “You do have to let me into the home if you want that,” Ergen nudged the door a little to show that he couldn’t fit through the opening without causing Koca to get pushed over.

The small child hopped over to another tile of the front entrance and the door opened wide. Within seconds, his feet left the ground, and he was swooped up with a padded — thump! —- to follow the action of his brother, who dropped his Academy bag by the entrance. Being held in the arms of someone so strong, Koca wrapped his arms around his brother as best he could. His little hands gripped at the shoulders of that white Wardana shirt. A groan could be heard when Koca put more pressure on his brother’s left shoulder, without missing a beat,

“Are you hurt?”

“Were you waiting here all day for me?”

Both of them began to chuckle with very similar smiles. “Don’t mind me. It’s nothing.” Ergen reassured his little brother with a warm smile and caring eyes. Koca responded by nodding his head — letting his brother go about his secretiveness and confirming that he has been waiting by the door all day.

“Is that a yes to waiting?” Ergen raised a single brow with a playfulness that crossed his smile and eyes. Such an expressive man. It was hard for him to hide his emotions with such control over his facial expressions yet there was always a blank mystery to the rest of his face.

Koca shifted in his brother's arms as he walked into the other part of the house, “Are you going to teach me another one? An i-i-k-kon.” They were plopped on the couch, and Koca found himself lying in his brother's arms with a yelp of fear but the quick realization that he was perfectly safe and fine. No harm. Ergen stretched out onto the couch while kicking his boots off. “I’m exhausted right now. Can I later?” Ergen whined while letting his head flop to the right side onto a throw pillow off the couch. Shooting up and sitting on his brother's lower chest and upper stomach, Koca’s brows furrowed, “You promised!” The little one protested with such a defeated tone. He promised. He would when he got home.

Ergen sighed with the realization that his brother caught him on his words, “Go get my bag,” Gesturing to what he left by the door and before he even finished his words, weightless, Koca was halfway to the canvas bag by the front door.

“Ergen, when did you get home?” A beautiful woman with amber eyes entered the room. She was middle-aged and had smile-enforced wrinkles. Showing a life of happiness while she crossed her arms, her shoulders accompanied by a salmon pink shawl, and Ergen sat up on the couch. “ Just a minute ago or two…” Groaning from the aches of his body. He trained a lot today. Trained a lot of people too. It took a toll on anyone, even the best, even him.

“You better not be teaching Koca anything new. He got in trouble last week because of you —” A sigh was let out with a long blink of her eyes, “— I’ll make you some tea. It should help.” Glancing over her shoulder, a mother always knows. She knew what they were up to. Koca was halfway into his brother's bag, digging for all the things he needed to learn something new.

A mischievous grin appeared on Ergen’s face, “I promise, I won’t mother,” That was an instant lie and they both knew it as he forced his weight onto the back of the couch and allowed his one arm to hang limply while watching the older woman disappear around the corner and hearing from down the hall. “Keep your promises, Erie. He’s already in your bag,” Her voice was stern but full of love and understanding. A chuckle could be heard from her eldest son.

Waving his hand from Koca to come to him, “ Come before she changes her mind,” A loud whisper could be heard only between them as Koca pulled the items out of the bag. This caused a few items to fall out and some papers to lightly scatter in the air on the tile floor before finding temporary destinations. Koca ran up to the back of the couch, and Ergen hoisted him up. Getting them into a position where he scooted up to the arm of the couch and found himself in that v-crook between the arm and the back. Koca was on his lap already opening the book with the many ikons his brother had created.

On the very first page, only this could be read. єгﻮєภ'ร ן๏ยгภคɭ ๏Ŧ เк๏ภร. “You cannot open that unless you tell me what that says. Do you remember?” Ergen’s chin rested on his little brother’s head as they both looked into the leather-bound journal.

Koca’s brows furrowed in thought. He knew it was his brother’s language to protect the ikons from others. Only Ergen truly knew what was in the journal and he somewhat knew the code that his brother created. “It’s… Your journal. Ergen’s Journal.” Koca seemed conflicted with saying these words and looked up to his brother who was smiling down at him.

Ergen's Journal of Ikons.

“Close enough. Open it up to a page you want to learn about,” Gesturing to the book as Koca begins to flip through the book of secrets and ikons and his brother's mind. Then he found a page. A page he wanted to learn from and pointed at it. That was when the magic began to happen. His eldest brother began to teach him the code of his journal and what the ikon(s) on that page did. Bringing over paper and ikonomancer’s chalk for him to practice and try to properly perform the ikons.

Then an explosion happened. Something went wrong. The whole room was covered in sludge. They were covered in brown to black sludge. It was as cold as mud and as gross a feeling as snot running down your face. It was everywhere. Ergen began to laugh loudly, and his laugh always carried. At first, Koca wanted to cry, but his brother let himself slip into a fit of contagious laughter that he followed. The young boy’s laughs were nervous giggles at first, but they turned into a similar laugh to the one he was hearing.

A shout from the other room could be heard from their mother, “What did you two just do!?” She was far from happy in her tone, but the boys couldn’t stop their laughter as she came into the living room to see it was all covered in an icky, slippery, sludgy material. “You better clean this up,” Her furious tone was directed only at her eldest son, who was covered in the substance. She set down the tea on a side table before shaking her head and walking away.

“I will be, mother! I promise!” Ergen called to the woman hoping she could hear him. “You better!” Was the last thing the two boys heard before they began cleaning whatever substance was created on everything.

Stepping away from the fountain as he heard a familiar voice call for him and the first thought that popped into his head: Mother. Beginning to wipe his tears away as quickly as possible the young boy made his way to where he heard his mother’s voice be called. Without realizing it. The slight pain of landing on his backside ran up his spine as he ran into someone. Looking up. Father. His green eyes widened in surprise and fright. ^{Did he know I was crying? Would he be mad if I was crying about Ergen!?} The child quickly began to become a stuttering mess. Only noises and I’s and Eh’s and Uhms’ were coming out of his mouth before he shot up to his feet. Something finally came out. “Popsie.” That was not the right word — Gunhan hasn’t allowed any of his children to call him that since their eldest brother, Ergen, became a traitor to the city. Fear circled in the boy's eyes and Gunhan’s brows furrowed more with confusion even though it appeared to be anger to Koca.

Koca dashed around his father and ran into the Ilkin family estate’s home as he went to find his mother.

Popsie was said in such a variety of ways from Ergen. They grew up calling Gunhan father or Baba or sometimes Pappa but for some reason, Ergen called the man Popsie. It wasn’t a usual term in the city but Ergen was reading older texts one day and he thought it was a beautiful reference to a father. How it was used in the book between a child and father. A story. He was young when he read it and decided to continue to use it.

The boy moved quickly through the house with bare feet and the little padding of his feet barely echoed throughout the large home. “Koca!” His mother waved while he ran right past the room she was in. The kitchen. Backtracking with an awkward smile. It broke her heart to see him stand in the doorway. His chest pointed forward and his one shoulder pointed at her. His head turned with those green eyes. Ergen. That was the thought that passed her mind. The youngest of the Ilkin family reminded them, especially their mother, too much of her eldest son, Ergen. It was a heartache each time she caught behavioral traits only her eldest would do or looks with those specific green eyes like he would make. She could feel tears coming to her eyes so she closed them and stayed silent. “I made your favorite. Rose chicory bread.” Rose chicory bread was made from rose chicory a soft yellow berry in the first ring. Only found in the first ring on one bush in the garden. It was a sweet berry that grew in clusters and tasted sweet with a bitter and sometimes sour aftertaste. The bush smelt like roses. Fruity roses. The first and second-ring children would refer to them as sweet-tart candies.

The bread was made exactly how Ergen enjoyed it as well. Rose chicory berries with swirls of honey. She was beginning to cut it while Koca walked into the room with a suspicious look on his face. “Why are you looking so intensely at me?” A light nervous laugh was heard from his mother while Koca shrugged his shoulders.

He didn’t know what to say about her actions and her appearance. Shrugging his shoulders as he glanced down to the floor. His chin threatened to touch his collarbone as he began to shyly explain himself. Similar to how Ergen did at his age, “I don’t-t know. You s-seem s-sad.” His eyes looked up from under his dark brows as they grew slightly wider. He didn’t want his mother to be sad. Hoisting himself up onto the stool on the other side of the counter, he awkwardly tapped the counter before smiling, “We could share the bread!” his excitement died in a flash. “_{If you want too…}” He whispered and almost mumbled all of those words and his mother expressed concern and gentle expression.

“I would love to share it with you. Do you want to join me on the balcony?” This seemed to cause Koca to perk up right away and he nodded his head yes without hesitation. His smile grew into a grin. Ear to ear. The boy could catch when his mother was spotting similarities to his eldest brother. She usually didn’t want to do things with him after that. This was a treat.

They went upstairs and sat on the balcony furniture. The sun was beautiful, but he could see the storm from their position. “I heard the Wardana students say that a storm surge hasn’t happened in a moon cycle,” Koca was too old for his age. His mother’s eyes showed bits of concern while she flushed that away with a few blinks and a change of emotions. “You are too young to worry about those things. How about we sit here and enjoy and you go play with your friends after this,” She handed him a plate with rose chicory honey swirl bread and a cup of juice. Koca decided to stay quiet as he and his mother shared a peaceful moment together. He didn’t have friends. Not really… Unless you count books, then he had more friends than anyone else had!

The Council
The news was spreading like wildfire that three revolutionists were in custody and that they all would be standing trial within the week. Three individuals have been very important and have dedicated their lives to the cause that Ergen Ilkin_PC has been running behind from the shadows.

A few Wardana have been speculating that if Ergen was truly alive that this was going to draw him out from the shadows. Expose him. More than that laugh because he was pronounced dead long ago and only “false” sightings have been seen of him. Nothing that anyone could register as the truth. He was like a fairytale at this point. The revolutionists were caught by two of the Regia Guard with the help of a Wardana Captain and their team.

It was exciting news except for the delay in storm surges. The Trials have not happened in almost half a decade or so. Roughly eight years have passed since the last person to be put on trial.

Fourth Ring Happenings
Other than the revolutionists that are so dear and eager for their cause to be placed on trial. Word is getting around about a murder. A group that was murdered in the fourth ring and Wardana have been told to keep an eye out for anyone looking suspicious. A singular Wardana captain has been told to keep their eye out on the Cult of Assassins to make sure they are not dabbling in mass murder.

All information seems stirred when it comes back to the Wardana on the investigation but the young and talented Yasemin Sari_NPC along with her team is on the case: Asya Ilkin_NPC and Dilmen Gumus_NPC. They will be keeping an eye on the fourth ring as the majority of their tasks for the time being.

Royal Council Ikonomancers

Information that is mainly spreading in the upper rings: first and second. The royal ikonomancers have informed the council and the royal family that they believe the next surge is happening today at four-thirty in the afternoon. This information isn’t spreading fast or really at all except for the two rings and it doesn’t seem to be dwindling in the third and not at all in the fourth.

The Prince's Decision

The royal council along with Regia himself is calling on Prince Zavala Zeras_{PC - @BeastofDestiny} to make the first decision about the revolutionists and what the first trial should be. All twelve council members along with the Regia are waiting in the royal courts upon the arrival of the prince.

For the past half-decade, Ergen has been studying the chaos of the storm and the sporadic natural occurrences that it has. In his time in the Wardana academy, all of the elders would always inform the apprentices and students that there was no pattern to the storm. That no one could ever record it. Standing in the large room underground in the forgotten city beneath the ground layer of the Nameless City. He stood on a 2D white-chalk replica of the city above him. His hand on his chin while he paced around the area scanning his eyes to everything he has recorded from the storm over the years. How much it moved with each storm surge. How many storm beasts came from that singular surge and all the different variables he could get out of his observations. Data points. All of this was important even if it looked like a jumbled mess on the floor. It was a chaotic mess only he could decipher. His usage of his own language caused it to look like some ancient ruins except it was current —- the current state of the city.

A moon cycle.

Why the hell is the storm been delayed for a moon cycle? and there was no feeling of a storm surge coming. Throughout the years, he looked at each layer he placed about the storm. How it affected the mass of the fourth ring, how long the surges were for, and so much more information but he was standing there bewildered. “”It doesn’t make sense…” Mumbling to himself as he bent over to place a finger under some undecipherable words. _{One week and three days.} Was what the words said and that was currently the longest time in between storm surges the city has ever seen or at least has seen in a little over five years.

The man sighed heavily while stroking a hand through his hair and closing his eyes, “You have been working on something for the whole month the storm hasn’t happened. It could happen any minute and the longer you are down here, the more unlikely it is you activate those ikons in time,” Ergen decided that he needed to get back to the surface because the Forgotten City was actually underground which seemed protected from the storm. He found that he could wander to where only ruins under the fifth and sixth could be seen. Was that a smart thing to do? No. He did it for research. The storm did not touch the undergrounds and if everyone worked together, they could live down here, but he knew that was asking too much of anyone in any ring.

Plus the majority of people were terrified of the underground city because of the ethereal under it. If you fall into the void… you never return. It wasn’t like the storm. It wasn’t like the sun. You could see reflections of yourself that you didn’t want to see in its water-like appearance. The only thing that it brought was uncomfortability and anxieties to boil up in individuals. Staring at it too long would cause madness.

Going through the passageways, Ergen knew of the rare few entrances to the underground city from the fourth ring. There were slightly more in the third. A few more than that in the second. Only two passages that he knew about in the first. This allowed him to get from point to point with ease and not be captured by the Wardana or Regia Guard.

Climbing up an uneven stonewall, it was slippery, and icky in texture. Bumpy and slimy. Stretching his body to press something that looked unmoveable, it shot back within the stone it was in as he put his middle finger in the finger-sized hole. A click could be heard and a turning of dials was sounded before he quickly took his hand away and the stone began to move on its own. Before it was done opening, Ergen propped himself up and pulled himself to the surface. His hand stroking stone that appeared like it had nothing as slightly covered ikons began to glow from his touch. The stone door began to close.

He wasn’t able to stand up in the area that he was in and if he tried, he could only stand on his knees, so he stayed sitting. The floorboards above him allowed ikon-induced lights to peak through and dance across his face. Whispers from a handful of people were muffled through the floorboards. The man crawled for about ten minutes before gently moving a false floor. A false floor that had a rug on top of it and was in a room. Standing up, he seemed surprised, “I didn’t realize you would be waiting,” Ergen let out a smile as he hoisted himself up into his room and put the false floor back. Lifting the rug and doing something with a personally made ikon that caused it so it appeared like there was no false floor at all.

Dusting himself off as he finally could stand up straight —- Ergen asked Alora to wait for him. It wasn’t like she just magically appeared in his room or came in without permission. No one came into his room except a select few and those select few were not allowed in his room without permission. Ergen did not want anyone coming in and taking his work or what not even if it would be very difficult to find. “Are you ready?” The man began to move his shirt. He needed Alora to write a string of ikons from shoulder to shoulder on his back and he probably could do the ones on his front. The trick he was going to pull when the storm surge happened… it had to happen, was not one that anyone would probably do. He calculated his chances of living through that much electricity going off even with the protection ikons he had, Ergen discovered he probably had a fifteen percent success rate. It was worth taking!

Going and sitting on the stool in front of his desk which had a mirror attached, he looked over to Alora with a mischievous and almost smug smirk. He knew she didn’t want him to do this. Multiple people didn’t want him to do this but he needed to do it.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alora let the faintest close-lipped smile linger as Ergen pulled himself up from the hole in the floor, her heart fluttering with relief. She trusted him to be careful in the Forgotten City, but that didn’t mean it didn’t make her nervous for his return every time. In fact, she was nervous for him most of the time, but especially today. “Of course I waited.” She said softly, watching him cover up his little secret tunnel once more.

Her white-furred ears flicked backwards as he spoke, portraying her negative emotion as he asked her if she was ready for what he had planned. “Ergen…” She sighed heavily, “Please don’t do this.” Her voice was faint and somber; she was not looking for an argument with him, though she fully expected him to push back on the matter. Typically she had been known to bicker with him, but this time felt different than the other times. The risk was so much higher now. “What if something goes wrong? What if -” Alora’s piercingly blue eyes locked onto his green eyes, her vertical cat-like pupils dilating just slightly as she stared back at him. “How am I supposed to live with myself if….” She trailed off, unable to bring herself to talk about his probable death.

The protection ikons have already begun to form on his skin while his finger danced around his collarbone. Shaping. Moving. Connecting. How he worked looked perfect and easy when in actuality it was a dangerous game with ikons —- ikons being placed on the body was even more dangerous. If you placed one wrong or accidentally made a symbol with another one. Everything could go wrong. Ikons activating on the body that shouldn’t be attached could be fatal and more times than not it was.

Listening to Alora caused his expression to fade even more than it was. It was sometimes hard to tell if he was positive or negative since his face of thought was so neutral. Glancing up when she began to change her tone and act as if he had no rate of success at all. The man stopped writing the ikons on himself and he grabbed a rag to wipe his hands off. Placing it back onto the desk before standing up. “If you believe I won’t make it. That slims my chances,” He uttered in a soft tone before standing only a few feet in front of Alora.

Before the storm-touch woman stood a man of dedication and he knew he couldn’t run away or ignore something that could possibly help the city. Gently reaching out and placing the curved knuckle of his pointer finger under her chin. He led her to look up at him even with her ears forced back in such a distasteful way, “You know your ears tell me a lot about what you are thinking and feeling —-” Ergen gave her a faint smile of reassurance, “ — I promise that I will come back. I cannot promise that I won’t be hurt in the process but that’s what healing ikons are for, no?” His tone of voice became lighter with a playfulness. Clearly aiming to calm her spirits. That reassuring smile grew on his face to show his teeth. “Though, I will not force you to help me. If you do not wish to, the door is right there,” Ergen gestured since he was going to need peace and quiet while he applied these ikons. If he did any of them wrong, it could go very wrong for him. A reason he was being extremely careful with what he was using to write them on his body and how he was writing them. Shoulder to shoulder on the front and back of his body. Each decorative band would start from the center of his chest and then work to the left before coming back and working to the right. Same for his back except it would start in the middle of his spine. All of this would hopefully save him from the electric shock. If it didn’t. Oh well… that would definitely suck. Definitely hurt.

“Tch…” Alora clicked her tongue and tilted her face away from his hands. Had she not been so worried for him she might have blushed when he touched her, but her anxiety was too high to think of anything else but his safety for the moment. “I'm always going to help you.” She muttered, her voice still soft but this time laced with a touch of sass.

Walking back over to the desk and sitting on the stool, Ergen began to focus on writing the symbols that he was connecting with himself. “[color=aa36a]You cannot think of what-ifs in this life unless you want to be fearful and do nothing at all, Alora. I’ve been planning this since the last storm surge and if my calculations are correct —[/color]” The man used his other hand as he grabbed a notebook on the desk and flipped in the pages. “ —- the next storm surge should be happening at five fifteen this afternoon meaning that we have a few hours,” Glancing over his shoulder at Alora, he flashed another smile before it turned into a serious expression and he went back to working on the ikons on his front. “I have to help the city. If I am able to help the city. I might be able to help Zavala not turn into his father,” Ergen knew from the readings of the past that there were two vessels that kept balance. The balance was fine. The two individuals were sometimes siblings, friends, lovers, or enemies but they kept balance beside each other. When the royal family in those days began to fight, hell broke loose, and Zavala’s ancestor failed to protect the other vessel. A tragic death that caused the ancestor to go mad —- sorrow, rage, and not wanting to replace his counterpart. The ancestor began to sacrifice each possible vessel of the other god to the Great King for guidance and help. This continued for the man’s whole life till he died sometime in his eighties and his eldest child took over. His daughter.

She was the first individual to lose consciousness and become a lifeless husk. Being in her forties made everyone think that she would live a decent life like her father. No. She ended up passing because of ‘natural causes’ from harboring the Great King at the age of sixty-eight. Her son died in his early sixties. His child died in his late fifties. It began to dwindle and dwindle more. For the past while it has been a variable of the Regia dying in between thirty-five and forty-five.

The current Regia and royal family were not that old. They had Zavala young. They had to have him young. His father could die tomorrow if fate had that in store or another five years maximum.

Alora frowned as she listened to Ergen. He was right, but it hurt her to think of what might happen not only to him, but to the entire state of the world without him in it. She couldn’t argue with him, though. She had always believed in his cause and had grown to admire him for how selfless he was at heart. Grew to love him, even. “I guess someone has to look out for you, if you won’t look out for yourself.” Standing, Alora joined Ergen at his desk and dipped her fingers into wet grey clay that had been gathered into a container. Stepping behind him, she carefully began to draw an ikon symbol with the clay along his shoulder. She had been up-close and personal with his body many times, covered him with protection or healing ikons more times than she could count, but still she felt the butterflies swirl in her stomach any time she touched him in such a delicate way. The luxury of intimacy wasn’t something she had allowed herself to have, this was always as close as it got, so she took quiet appreciation for his physique.

“I’ve spent years trying to keep you alive. Don’t go messing up all my work, all right?” She teased, running her fingers down his back gently as she moved on to the next ikon.

A smile followed along with the woman’s words since he appreciated her, “You know you do not have to do that though I do appreciate your dedication and believing in me,” Someone had to believe in him because he did not believe at himself in the moment. It was an understatement in both categories — he had no words to show the woman how much he appreciated her being by him — and he had no words that explained the anxieties coursing through his blood. He spent the whole month going around the outside of the fourth ring, praying the storm would not come till he was done, and a few days ago that prayer came true. The storm still has not come. His calculations meant that it would be coming today and he had to get ready.

Ergen had been waiting for an outlier in the pattern that he had recorded from the storm and it did not feel like he had enough time. Going around the whole outer ring of the fourth and writing ikons into the stone for the past month, praying, and hoping that the storm would stay delayed. It was an odd thing to pray about. A storm to be delayed when everyone knew the storms were always worse when they were delayed. It’s been a month… a sigh left his lips as he thought about that. A whole month where a surge hasn’t happened. What would happen? How strong would this surge be? All the variables that dealt with the storm were terrifying to a point because a storm surge hasn’t been delayed like this in a long time. It was a thing in history books.

“Alora,” His tone was soft when he spoke her name. Softer than usual. It might have caused the opposite effect that he wanted; comfort. “If this doesn’t work and you are not able to heal me. Burn my room. Burn everything,” Glancing over his shoulder and connecting their eyes. He was being very serious about this. The man needed to know she would do this for him. “Promise me you will burn everything in this room without hesitation. No one should ever find my journals or anything, especially the royal council and guard,” His voice turned stern when he stated these words. He needed to know that she would do this. If she couldn’t. He would have to think of something.

Alora looked up from her ikonic symbols to meet her eyes with Ergen’s as he looked over his shoulder. “I promise, Ergen.” She said softly back to him, holding his gaze for a few moments to affirm with him that she was taking his last wish seriously. She hoped it would not come down to it, but she would do what he asked of her. Even if it would kill her inside to erase everything they had worked on together for years. Everything would be lost to flames should something go wrong, she’d be sure of it.

Turning her eyes back to the symbols, Alora carefully finished drawing out several more until the string of ikons crossed from one shoulder to the other. With the last ikon done, Alora steeled herself to the emotion that suddenly threatened to rise to the surface and make her cry. She did not want him to leave, but she knew he had to. What else was all their work for if not for today? Feeling a grip on her heart, Alora thought about pulling him into a hug from behind, but she did not want to accidentally smudge any of the ikons. The risk was too great. Instead, she took a step back from him to give him some space. The strain on her heart grew tighter and the feeling of weight on her chest only grew heavier as she put distance between them.

“Promise you’ll come back to me alive?” She asked quietly, knowing that she was asking him to make a likely impossible promise. Still, her heart wanted to hear it more than her brain could reason her out of it.

For some reason, her promise did not simmer in him properly and he would do what he always did when leaving his room. Set up a trap that would burn the whole room down if someone entered it improperly. When he was being hidden from the government figures of society, most did not ever try to enter his room, but he took precautions. If his life's work got into the wrong hands — he had no idea what would become of anyone or anything.

“You know I cannot do that,” Ergen stood up when the woman asked him to promise such a thing. Shrugging his shoulders while he turned towards the blonde-haired woman. Looking into her eyes. The man seemed like he was trapped in thought but he was still focusing on her. “Though, I can promise I will always come back but it might not be in the form you wish for me to be in,” Ergen was hinting towards other forms. Death. Cremated. In pieces. Not alive. Alive but okay. He knew that she had feelings for him so he didn’t want to keep her hopes up with promises that he knew he couldn’t keep.

Then he stepped closer to her and looked down at her. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her tight against his chest. “Do not worry about me. Everything will be fine. Worse comes to worse. You might have to be healing for the next few weeks. That’s if these protection ikons don’t hold up against lightning or copious amounts of electricity running through a human body,” He chuckled at his own words but that chuckle sounded more nervous than relieved. A part of him was constantly hoping that he did not get these protection ikons wrong or it was going to hurt. Hurt a lot. A lot more than he wanted to feel.

Alora let herself be pulled into him without resistance at first, closing her eyes as she buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso - careful with her hand placement. For a few moments she let herself enjoy the moment for what it was and listened to his breathing and heartbeat, took in his scent, and tried to imprint in her memory what his body felt like against hers. The moment was short lived, however, as logic and reason began to set into her mind again. This was torture. Over the years she had never been very physically affectionate with him and often purposely put distance between them, despite wanting the opposite. She had seen Ergen reject many women over the time they had spent together and she expected the same fate should she ever voice any sort of love that was deeper than friendship level. She had slipped up here and there with certain things she would say, but had never allowed herself more than small missteps. Ergen was too focused on the bigger picture to be thinking about trivial things like love. She couldn’t blame him for it - it was one of the main reasons she admired him.

Feeling the emotional wall build up around her once again, Alora pulled out of his embrace as he nervously laughed. Ergen had never been great at being comforting. She shouldn’t have wished for him to comfort her - it wasn’t in him and she had known that for a long time. Stepping away, Alora walked to his desk and made herself busy by putting the container lid on the clay they had used for the ikons and wiping her hands clean with a nearby rag. “Hmm…” Alora forced a smile on her lips, trying her best to entertain his “joke” although her ears pressed back against her head said otherwise. “I’ll be here when you need me, then. Like always.” She grabbed the container of clay and started to walk for the door. “What else can I help you with, before you have to go?”

Seeing how her ears folded down was a clear indication that she wasn’t pleased with something he said or did. Dammit… you idiot… Ergen stroked both hands through his darker hair and forgot that he had clay on one of his hands. Feeling how the strands of darkness stuck to his hand as he slicked them through. Glancing over at the mirror, he had a gray streak of clay through his hair.

Glancing back at the woman, he shrugged, “No. I don’t need anything else for the moment. You did a wonderful job. Thank you. I really appreciate you,” Ergen didn’t like seeing Alora’s ears go down. It always bothered him. For some reason, he found himself in this position a lot. She usually never vocalized any complaints or issues, sometimes negative emotions would dance with the silver specs of her eyes, but her ears made it the most clear that she was displeased.

Ergen was never good with personal relationships or communication. He was no stranger to love on a platonic level and maybe even a sense on a romantic level but he was horrible with social cues. Even with all of his awful observation skills with certain things, there was no denying that Alora had feelings, and he didn’t know how to approach those at all. Through about a half-decade of interactions with the woman working closely with him, Ergen only discovered she had feelings after a little fight they had in the gray market a few months ago. Someone else pointed it out and that connected the dots.

“Alora,” He grabbed his chin with this thought. Getting more clay all over himself. “After this… do you want to have a conversation? We can’t have it now. I… it’s stupid. I know. I think we need to have a talk after this,” Ergen was feeling guilty but he knew that he needed to discuss it with her even if he didn’t know how to necessarily do that. He would figure it out when he gets there. First, he needed to see if this theory of his would help improve the Nameless City at all.

"A talk?" With her hand on the doorknob, Alora paused to look over her shoulder at him, feeling her emotions switch to defensive now. There was nothing to talk about, not to her at least. Her brows furrowed as she fixated her icy eyes on him, "About what?" She questioned, turning her body to face him again, bracing herself for what he would say next.

"Oh- Ergen…" She lightly smiled, noticing the clay smeared in his hair and on his face which relaxed the tension building inside her. She shook her head and set the box of clay down next to the door before moving towards him again. "You've got clay everywhere." She giggled a bit, her fuzzy white ears popping back up into their normal stance now. Reaching behind him, Alora grabbed the rag on his desk and then stood on her tippy toes to reach his hair and gently wipe out what she could. Moving down, she used one of the clean edges to gently wipe his chin. As she searched the rest of his face to see if the clay had spread elsewhere, she found her gaze lingering just a little too long on his lips. Her heart was shouting at her to kiss him while she still could, but her mind would end up winning the battle for the millionth time. Upon realization, she took a step away and pushed the rag into Ergen's hands so that he could use it to clean his hands off. "There." She said, quickly turning from him and heading for the door again. The situation Ergen was putting himself into was making her feel desperate and she hated it. Since she became storm-touched she had worked so hard to never feel desperate again, yet here she was. Her heart was in agony while her mind screamed at her to save her dignity for someone who could feel the same love for her.

Ergen noticed the switch in demeanor and atmosphere between him and Alora. The man began to majorly regret in an instant saying anything. He shouldn’t have spoken up. They didn’t need to talk about anything. Maybe he was thinking too much into it and someone got him hung up in his own head. There was nothing to talk about, right? How she seemed to become suspicious of his breakage of words caused him to have slight anxieties boil. Anxieties that he never really felt before and it caused the center of his chest to feel like there was phlegm in it. Stuffy in a way.

As she approached him, he stepped back only a half step, and he looked at her while she reached up to his hair. Then he noticed she was doing this because he had clay all over him like a child. He probably looked like a kid getting out of pottery class for the first time in their life and he settled down. His shoulders relaxed at that realization. A faint and awkward smile happened when she began to wipe the clay off his face, “You don’t have to do that…” He mumbled while she finished up. She was so motherly and caring sometimes. It was hard to tell what she was feeling. Ergen thought of Alora as a very caring person — a caretaker. She was. That’s the main reason he thought she was nice to him. Not because they were friends or she had potential feelings but because he felt like she felt like she had to help.

Yet out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed how she lingered on his features, and being this close to her caused him to freeze sometimes. It was an odd sensation being stared at like that. There. That was what he wanted to talk about. “That. That’s what I want to talk about. You stare at me like that.” Ergen was pointing out the look she was giving him. He didn’t necessarily know the exact location she was staring at his face but she was so focused on him. He didn’t mean to blurt it out but his mouth took over his mind for a second. She was already heading towards the door and he understood that there was business to attend to.

Alora's heart sped up in her chest as he spoke. 'Don't….' She thought, pleading both for him to not pursue this conversation as well as with herself to not have an outward reaction to him. She pulled the door open, feeling a tinge of anger bubble up inside her. Did he really not know why she looked at him the way she did? After their spat at the grey market, he still couldn't wrap his mind around it? He could be so smart and so dumb at the same time. "You-"

“Nevermind. We will talk later. I need to get going… I have to make it to the mother symbol before the storm surge starts,” Ergen went over to his bed and began to gather his outside clothing. Putting it on. Covering himself from head to toe in the yellow-moss-made fabrics. His whole face was covered. Scooting past the woman and into the hallway of the hiding house they were in. “Make sure that door knob clicks when you shut it,” Ergen quickly moved down the hall as he found himself in a damp and dreary alleyway within seconds.

Alora stepped aside as Ergen moved past her, feeling second in the list of priorities again. 'As it should be, considering… don't be selfish. ' She reminded herself, shoving her emotions away as best she could. Silently, she nodded in response to his request and pulled the door shut, hearing the click, and watched him leave without a second thought. Dutiful Ergen was off on a mission once again and Alora was left alone to wonder if he'd manage to make it out alive this time.

People were staring and darkness was growing in the sky. The moisture was almost too much to bear from how aggressive this storm surge would be. The static electricity was building up in immense ways and winds were gusting and whipping around the corridors of the city. Mothers and fathers and caretakers were beginning to call children and others into the houses and ruined buildings for protection. This was going to be bad.

The beginning signs of the storm surge were already forming and that meant he had less than fifteen minutes to get to the old statue of the Great King. Shit… Ergen thought as he began to pick up the pace and run through the slippery alleyways as splashing could be heard from others running the opposite way of the storm. He was heading right into the darkness. Everything was becoming heavy with chaos and the sugary sweetness of the storm touched his lips as he found himself standing only a few feet away from a wall of pure black. Void of life. Looking up as far as he could see clouds of gray began to fill the skies even more than they usually do.

Ergen began to run to the right to get to the old statue of the Great King, a landmark that he used to know where the mother symbol was, and he could feel how his heart rate began to pick up from keeping a solid pace to get to his position. If he did this. He would be in danger and everyone else that was attached would be in danger as well. Zavala would know he is alive. Sliding to a stop at the half-standing statue of the Great King. Part of his face was gone and a hand that reached out once before was a stump and depleted to dust long ago. An ikon has hidden under moss as he began to dig it out. The moss wanted to consume everything in its path. A reminder that the storm would do the same.

Zavala would have entered the great throne room in the spire as the sun did not shine upon the throne like usual. A large glass window in front of the throne, higher up in the room, did not allow its colors to dance like usual. Only whispers and quiet shouts could be heard filling the room as the prince entered. Some hushed down and allowed their eyes to follow the prince across the tile floor which was decorated with tans and browns in an eccentric design amongst the gleaming white of the off-white marble.

As the Great King spoke through what once was Zavala’s father, it sounded like many voices spoke at once with him, “Do not attempt to entertain on such a weary day,” The man which was once his father raised a hand to stop him from speaking anymore — if he was going to continue anyways. His eyes were as bright as the sun that stood above them and his expressions faded from what Zavala would have once recognized. None of his father was in there anymore or at least it didn’t appear like the man was in there at all. The darker skin upon his hands was decorated with the golden eccentrics of the process to become the Great King’s vessel and keep the vessel as a fine habitat for the god.

His booming voice seemed to silence the whole room to an eerie scale of silence. “If you wish to appease me. Show the individuals how they have failed at prayer and support. Lock off the fourth from the inner rings and allow the storm to consume what has already been lost. The people of this city need to face consequences for weakening me. They will realize that my power is fueled by them and their prayers have become silent compared to old, do this, and I will place fortune in your future,” With those words, uproar began to come from the royal council members.

Blocking off the fourth ring!? We lost the fifth only a decade ago!

You are punishing the fourth for what!? For what!? When the second and first barely put an eye to you!?

There were voices over voices of concern yet there were silenced individuals that had smug faces in the crowd of the council. In the council, there were people from every ring. One of the royal council members was someone from the fifth who lost their whole family to the raging storm. That person looked mortified. The individuals from the fourth and third showed concern for many reasons. The council members who were from the second showed less care for the fourth and more smug looks of how they believed the fourth deserved it.

What did it mean for the people of the fourth? The people of the third? Blocking off the fourth from the third meant that the Great King was sacrificing the whole outer ring to the storm without hesitation. “SILENCE!” The Great King hushed everyone in the royal council and the small crowd was in the throne room as his sun-scorched eyes met those amber ones of the prince.

“What is your response to this?” The Great King clearly had a response that he wanted but could the prince truly give him what he wanted? A sacrifice of that many people? The largest ring of all the rings that had been presently existing. That meant thousands upon thousands of people dying. Tens of thousands.