rosie

“101, meet 109. Congratulations, you’re sharing,” is all the man says by way of explanation, as he shoves the little girl into the small space and moves to shut the door again. 

“Hey! This is my room! You can’t just put a newbie in here! I won the right to this place last week!” Sylus protests, leaping to his feet.

“Don’t care,” the guard drones boredly. The door locks with a resounding finality that makes Sylus grits his teeth angrily. He looks to his new roommate, analysing her from head to toe. She’s paper thin and weak despite being an inch or so taller than him, but when their gazes meet, there’s a glimmer in her eyes that feels like the clear surface of a mirror. It’s the same defiance that burns within his own crimson eyes. 

He scoffs, annoyed. “If you think I’m going to protect you from them, you can forget it.” 

She raises her chin and looks at him steadily, unbothered by his brassy demeanour. “I don’t need you to.”

Curious, he raises an eyebrow. “You can fight?” 

She looks at him as if he’s utterly devoid of wits. “Obviously. How do you think I ended up in here?”

A fair point. The only people that end up in this part of the Interstellar Arena are those fit to entertain the richest scumbags in the galaxy, beasts with a depraved taste for violence. Of course, the odd weakling has been tossed in for a little flavour, their screams echoing throughout the arena, an appetiser for the show to come. But it’s the fighters that make them salivate with anticipation. The excitement lies in the outcome they’ve bet on, the gore splattering the stands and the gladiator's skin with every strike, the crack of bones and the screeches of pain from Wanderer and gladiator alike. It’s a barbarians feast.

“You look weak,” he sneers, crossing his arms across his chest. “Bet they put you in here to become a snack. They’ve been itching for one for a while now.”

The girl glares at him, stepping so close that they stand toe to toe, her nose level with his eyes. Tipping his head up, he glares back, ruby eyes glinting sharply. “Wanna put that to the test?”

“Sorry. I don’t beat up little girls.”

“You’re literally shorter than me,” she fires back, standing straighter to prove her point. “I hardly qualify as little.”

“Now you are. Give it a few years. If you survive that long,” he shoots back.

“Scared you’ll lose?” she taunts.

Sylus’s gaze pierces through her, his voice as steady and sure as his fighting stance. He beckons for her to come at him with the flick of two fingers. “I never lose.”

-

The young girl is thrown into the fray much sooner than Sylus expected.

Her first match is over very quickly, and the only injury she sustains is a cut to the cheek. Sylus watches her from beneath the stands, tracking her every leap and dodge, agile and cunning as an alley cat. Her opponent is defeated within moments, the crowd booing her victory as she exits the arena, wiping droplets of blood from her cheeks. Undoubtedly, they were hoping for the whole affair to last longer and be much more violent.

It makes Sylus feel a little proud.

“Impressive,” he says nonchalantly, as they eat their meager dinner together that night. 

“Still think I’m weak?” she asks with an arched brow, taking a sip from her cup. 

“No,” he shrugs, then he grins at her crookedly. “But you’re still not stronger than me.”

Fire burns in her eyes, mouth set in a determined line. She points her spoon at him, not a trace of fear in her. Completely unlike the others. “One day, you and I will be the same. Then you’ll have to see me as an equal.”

Heat prickles at the back of his neck and his heart quickens a little. Something begins to pull him towards her but he manages to catch himself before he can fall into it. He scoffs and rolls his eyes, staunching the sensation in its tracks.

“We’ll see.”

Days blur into weeks, and then into months. The two of them are unstoppable in their own rights, both growing stronger and fiercer, able to fell beasts ten times their size. In that small, white room, the pair of them train, eat, and sleep at each other’s side, surviving each round they’re thrown into. 

Friendship begins to bloom along the way, burying its roots deep in their youthful hearts to forge a steadfast, unwavering bond. They still bicker and taunt one another, but there’s an air of teasing and playfulness to their jabs now. She helps him wrap his wounds, he teaches her the most efficient ways to take out the Wanderers in the arena. Together, the possibility of contentment doesn’t seem so far-fetched after all.

That is, until everything is snatched away from them.

The warden comes around every few days to escort them to the arena for their matches. Breaks between fights vary, but most commonly they take place every three to four days. Sometimes, the warden will only call for one of them. Sometimes, she calls for both, like today.

As always, the pair are blindfolded and restrained before being pushed out of their room, dragged along by a thick cable that hooks into the collars bound tightly around their throats. Sylus found out the hard way what the cable is for, warning 109 about them before she had been pushed into her first fight.

“Don’t struggle, or you’ll lose before you even get the chance to raise your fists.”

The two of them walk quietly side by side, their footsteps clicking loudly on the steel flooring that winds through the compound towards the arena. He’ll never get used to feeling like an animal being dragged along on its leash.

The back of Sylus’ neck prickles with every step they take. The air feels different today. The compound is always quiet thanks to the thick walls, but this silence feels different. It’s too still, like the bowels of an abandoned cemetery, putting Sylus on high alert.

Once they reach the passage leading into the arena, their blindfolds and restraints are removed. The warden looks down at them, an unsettling expression twisting her features. She’s the sort of woman that looks as if she doesn’t belong within her surroundings, plump and shiny-faced as she is, not at all like the stony faced guards she oversees. But that’s precisely what makes the two of them so uneasy— she’s completely unpredictable.

“The crowd wants something a little different today,” she says brightly, leaning down in a condescending manner. 

Sylus raises his eyebrow in question. “And what exactly is that?”

She gestures behind them with a jerk of her chin, her black eyes glittering with glee. The doors behind gladiators 101 and 109 groan as they slowly slide open, the deafening roar of the audience assaulting their ears. They both turn to look, eyeing the streaks of blood still painted haphazardly around The Pit. There are never any other traces of the defeated left behind– the Wanderers see to that.

“Well!” she says, clapping her hands together, thrilled that he asked. “Since the two of you are currently our top contenders, they’re just itching to see you both in there at the same time!!”

“You mean we’re fighting together?” 109 asks curiously and the warden nods emphatically. A subtle breath of relief escapes her and she glances at Sylus, their gazes meeting for the briefest moment before the warden is spinning them around and pushing them towards the entrance to The Pit. 

“Off you go!”

As they take their final step over the threshold into the arena, the doors begin to slide shut behind them. The warden calls out to them, sickly sweet. “Oh! Hold on! I forgot to mention something!”

Sylus and 109 look over their shoulders quizzically. The warden’s face splits into a maniacal grin. “The usual rules still apply!”

With a resounding slam, the doors close and the call for blood echoes around them. 

-

Sweating, bloodied and bruised, 101 and 109 pant heavily as the last Wanderer falls and begins to disintegrate. Sylus prowls towards the centre of The Pit, just as 109 does. Both are on guard, expecting a final, high-level Wanderer to be sent in. 

“Why haven’t they rang the bell?” 109 asks Sylus as the seconds tick by, her eyes flitting around the crowd that seems to be growing more restless and agitated.

“Not sure. Stay alert,” he says, panting heavily.

“Something’s not right.” 109 shifts uneasily. Their wrists brush together in reassurance, a spark of gold zipping around them unnoticed. She tightens her fists and raises them in front of her as her back presses against Sylus’. 

“Kill her!” Their heads whip towards the source of the sound, lost in the crowd of people surrounding them. 

Another voice echoes the sentiment. “Rip his heart out!”

More voices join in quickly, until the entire audience is encouraging them to turn on one another. Sylus turns to face 109, noticing the flicker of anxiety in her eyes.

“Last one standing,” she says hoarsely, recalling the warden's parting words. “Those are the rules.”

A new voice calls out clearly above the cacophony, deep and commanding, yet soft as a whisper. It coils around Sylus like a cold snake, taunting him, coaxing him into raising his fists against the girl he’s grown to care for.

“Go on. Kill her, and you can leave. You know you’re stronger.”

“I won’t!” he hisses at the disembodied voice. “I refuse!”

“You will,” the voice sneers. “That is your fate. That has always been your fate.”

“No!”

All of a sudden, Sylus’ surroundings begin to distort, colours smearing together. 109’s screams pierce the air and his heart simultaneously, as she’s lifted into the air by some invisible force, terror twisting her face. She reaches out for him, fingers outstretched and desperate. 

“Sylus!”

“Stop!” he yells, arms and evol both stretching out towards her. But the more he extends his energy, the further she grows out of reach. She’s dragged into the vortex of colour which swirls around him faster, until nothing but an endless void yawns around him on all sides. 

There’s nothing to see or hear or touch. It’s like he’s suspended in midair. 

All is still.

And then, he plummets.

-

Sylus’ eyes snap open, a sharp gasp escaping his lips.

He blinks as he slowly becomes aware of his whereabouts. Soft mattress, silk sheets, his eye mask twisted over his forehead. His bedroom is dim and silent, just the way he likes it when he sleeps. Taking a deep breath, he exhales, turns onto his side with a soft grunt, and reaches for his phone. 

11pm. 

That’s the third time this week that he’s had the same dream. And each time, after his younger self falls into the abyss and that long gone terror wrenches through him, he’s jolted awake. Letting out a long sigh, he swings his legs out of bed— now that he’s awake, he may as well start his day. 

“Mephisto,” he calls out as he slips on a charcoal shirt and trousers after taking a long hot shower to clear his head. The mechanical bird caws as he swoops in through the open window, perching on top of an armchair and ruffling his feathers. “Any update on their location?”

The bird squawks affirmatively, his right eye flickering to life like a struck match, projecting a video feed in front of Sylus. He watches closely as he fastens a watch around his wrist. The projection shows the halls of a research facility. There are researchers milling around, with some talking amongst each other as they flit between rooms, others with their noses buried in tablets and notepads. The scenery changes as the camera pans into one of the rooms, the sensor Sylus fitted Mephisto with guiding him through the building accurately. 

This room is quiet and dark, but not empty. Two researchers have their heads bent together over some documents spread across a desk, murmuring between themselves, unaware that they’re being watched. Behind them is a small, clear tank, just the right size to comfortably house something the size of a domestic cat. At the moment, it’s empty. Sylus knows that there are likely more than one of those tanks housed within the research facility, but they’re not what he’s interested in at the moment. 

A few feet away is another container, pulsating with a soft purplish glow. A small smirk curls at Sylus’ lips and his right eye brightens with crimson greed.

“Send the twins,” he orders the bird. “I need that protocore.”

-

By the time the twins return, the sun is rising.

It’s raining, as it often is in the N109 Zone, but the glow from the encroaching sun is unmistakable at this hour, even beneath the ashen clouds. A knock sounds at the door of Sylus’ office, disturbing the serene atmosphere he’s been basking in for the past couple of hours. He doesn’t bother to look up from the gun he holds, passing a silky cloth over the barrel again to buff out another smudge on the reflective surface.

“Enter,” he calls out. Luke and Kieran burst inside, both breathless and panting beneath their masks. Kieran sports a small graze on his hand but the two of them are otherwise unharmed. Sylus looks up and gives them both a once over. “Well?”

“It wasn’t the one we were looking for,” Luke says, shifting uncomfortably when his boss’ eyes narrow in displeasure over the top of his glasses.

“Oh? Mephisto’s scans showed that it was. Are you saying there’s something wrong with his sensors?”

“No,” Kieran says, shaking his head. ”They swapped it. Not sure how they even knew we were coming, but somehow…” He trails off with a shrug. 

“I see,” Sylus hums, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful look on his face. “Did you learn anything of note, or did you just waste your time?”

The twins share a glance, and Sylus knows that they’re silently communicating with each other through subtle nudges of their masked heads. Over the years, they have perfected the ability to not only influence one another’s senses, but also converse through them. It started as a means to survive, when EVER kept them as test subjects in one of their facilities, much like the one they’d just snuck into. Whatever one brother saw, the other saw too. Luke’s pain was Kieran’s pain, and so on. Over time, they learned to talk through their bonded senses. It’s how they managed to escape captivity on their own at just sixteen years old. How they stayed alive until they ran into Sylus and became his right hand men.

It’s how they silently bicker now as their boss fixes them with his unwavering stare.

“Spit it out,” he says impatiently, tossing his glasses onto the desk with a clatter. “I don’t have all day.”

“Well,” Luke starts uneasily. “We didn’t exactly learn anything, per se…”

“More like we… found something.” Kieran says.

“What?” Sylus says flatly.

The pair of them hold their hands up placatingly, as if to keep their agitated boss from leaping at them suddenly. He doesn’t often direct his ire at them like this. “We just need you to keep an open mind, boss-man.”

“Yeah, don’t freak out! It’s nothing huge.”

“It’s actually pretty small!” Luke adds, nodding at his brother.

“You might even like it!” they say together, hopeful.

Sylus’ chair groans against the hardwood flooring as he stands, making the twins flinch a little in surprise. He plants his hands on the desk and leans forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Is that so? Then show me.”

“Show you?” Luke asks, unease evident in his awkward laughter. 

“Yes. Show me.”

Luke and Kieran glance at each other again. “We, er… We can’t really show you right now,” Kieran says slowly.

Sylus’ eyebrows furrow dubiously. “Why not?”

The twins look at one another, unsure of how to answer the question. They trip over their words a few times before Sylus rolls his eyes, already bored with the conversation. 

“Fine. Whatever it is, deal with it yourselves,” he scoffs, waving them away. “Don’t bother me with such nonsense.”

“But-”

“Leave,” he grinds out, his mood having soured considerably in a matter of minutes. “I’m busy.”

With that, Luke and Kieran take their leave, arguing amongst themselves in hushed tones as the door swings shut behind them. Sylus shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ward off the migraine brewing behind his right eye. “Another failure,” he grumbles to himself.  “I’m starting to lose patience.”

Mephisto swoops in through the open window, landing on his master's shoulder and nudging his cheek with his beak. Sylus gently runs a finger over the bird's feathery little head, his mind wandering away from the failed mission. With two fingers, he taps Mephisto twice.

“Show me,” he murmurs softly. A projection flickers to life, and this time a live video feed plays before him. Something deep within him stirs to life as he leans back in his chair to watch.

He reaches out with his evol and locks the door.

-

The next three days pass without fanfare. Sylus’ nights are, mercifully, devoid of nightmares— for now, at least. He feels a little more rested and alert, dealing with business as usual in a swift and ruthless manner. After all, one does not acquire the title of ‘conqueror of the N109 Zone’ with niceties and pleasantness. When you make a deal with the devil, expect him to show you why he is known as such.

On the fourth night, however, the dreams return. It’s different, though.

A young girl spreads her wings as she flies through bright afternoon skies ahead of him, elegant horns sprouting from her skull like the branches of a silver tree. She laughs, reminding him of the tinkling of a silver bell, the sound pouring warm joy into his veins. As he watches her, it’s as if she sets the world around him alight, the colours around her shimmering vividly. She pivots and calls out to him, but her voice is carried away by the wind. Still, her smile is wide and carefree, and a sense of pride blossoms in his chest.

All too quickly, the scene shifts and darkens, as though someone has pinched the burning wick of a lit candle, snuffing out its glow. The blushing sky begins to bleed, a vivid shade of red that suffocates his vision. The girl with wings has gone, and all that echoes in his ears is her panicked scream. He looks around wildly, trying to find her.

“Iris!” he yells, her name rolling off his tongue naturally. She screams again, and this time, Sylus knows exactly where she is. The world around him blurs as he plummets to earth after Iris, hands outstretched to try and catch her falling form. His heart pounds loudly in his ears like a damning drumbeat, and just as his fingers graze hers, the scene morphs again, dumping him back onto solid ground.

This time, Sylus is cradling a body taking its final breaths.

The body has a gaping hole in its chest, oozing blood. It's cold and limp. With a shaking hand, he brushes blood-splattered hair back, only to see the light is leaving her eyes. He squints, trying to make out her features, but the face is muddled, ever-fluctuating between two sets of features. Both must mean something to him, for Sylus feels an unbearable pain in his entire being at the sight. The weight of the body in his arms feels all too real, the faces he sees resonating deeply with his soul even though his eyes refuse to comprehend them. His vision swims with hot tears, his surroundings closing in on him as he tries desperately to staunch the fatal wound with a black, clawed, bloodied hand to no avail.

An anguished cry escapes his throat, unlike any sound that has ever left him, and everything fades to black.

An unfamiliar weight sits on his chest as he swats at the lamp beside his bed to turn it on, squinting in the sudden brightness when it flickers to life. There’s a scratchy lump in his throat, and his skin feels damp with cooling sweat. He takes a few deep, steadying breaths and stares at the ceiling, willing the sensations away. But the weight on his chest remains, demanding to be acknowledged. 

Oddly, it’s warm. Soft, the way a cat is, and now that his mind at least feels a little bit clearer, he can tell that the thing pressing down on his lungs is compact. This wouldn’t be the first time a kitten has managed to sneak into his home, courtesy of the twins, so he fully expects to sink his fingers into fur when he moves to push it away.

Instead, his hand finds fleecy cotton. And skin.

When he finally decides to look, his eyes fly wide.

Curled up on his chest, comfortable as can be, is a creature that is most definitely not a cat. 

It's a human child.

Where the child came from, he has no idea, but the little trespasser is peacefully sleeping away as if familiar with using Sylus as a bed. The child looks like a little girl, judging by the haphazard, non-identical twin pigtails her hair has been tied into using red ribbons. Her little hands are curled into fists, lips parted, and her chubby cheek is squished against his chest. 

It’s not easy to take Sylus by surprise, but this little girl has managed it— with her eyes closed, no less.

Judging by the size of her, Sylus assumes that she is roughly a year or two old, which therefore means that any small movement will likely jolt her awake and make her cry, something he most definitely does not want to deal with. He has absolutely no experience with children, but he can deduce this much. After all, most small animals are easily spooked— how much more different can a human baby be? 

He watches her carefully, trying his hardest not to move whilst he figures out the best way to get her off him. For a moment, his hand hovers over her head. Soft wisps of moonlit hair curls delicately around her temples and nape, not unlike his own. The image of the young girl from his dream whispers through his mind and his fingers twitch. Coincidences happen, he tells himself, but there’s a quiet voice within him that rejects the notion. He quickly withdraws before he can dwell on it any further.

In the end, he settles on using his evol to move her, since it doesn’t have much of a tangible texture or weight to it. Tendrils of black-red energy slither beneath her form, gently curling around her, not unlike a basket cradling freshly picked flowers. Ever so gently, he raises her into the air and deposits her onto the mattress beside him.

He withdraws his evol with a short sigh, and once he’s sure that the little girl is still asleep, he shoves his feet into his slippers and stalks out of his room with a stony expression on his face.

-

“The next time the two of you find a child in a research facility, you inform me before bringing it to the base,” Sylus says in a low, dangerous tone. The twins visibly cringe, slowly turning around to meet the unhappy visage of their boss, still clad in his loosely knotted robe, his arms folded tight across his chest. 

“Well, you see…” Luke starts, scratching the back of his head nervously. He nudges his brother with an elbow.

“It’s… um…” Kieran adds unhelpfully. Sylus taps his foot impatiently, sparks of black and red dancing around his fingertips in a silent, threat. Their defence is simultaneous.

“We couldn’t just leave her there!”

“She was not part of your mission,” Sylus says evenly. “For all we know, they might have put a tracking device on her. The two of you should know what those people are capable of more than anyone.”

The twins straighten up, squaring their shoulders defiantly. Sylus arches a brow as they both remove their masks to face him head on. Kieran’s scars stand out starkly under the glow of the moon, pulling at his features that were once an exact mirror of his brother’s. “We know.”

“Thats exactly why we had to get her out,” Luke explains, Kieran nodding along beside him. 

“She’s even younger than we were.”

Sylus hears the part they don’t say out loud. She’s just like us.

“And anyway, we’ve already had Mephisto check for trackers and stuff,” Luke reports. “He didn’t find anything.”

“Internally?” Sylus asks.

“Nothing,” Kieran answers. “I don’t think they needed one, considering the fact that she can barely walk yet. And luckily, it seems like they hadn’t started anything with her yet.”

Sylus nods slowly. “I see. And what’s your plan?”

“Plan?” they echo, exchanging a look.

“You’ve brought a young, defenseless child into the belly of Onychinus. A child that still needs to be taken care of. Raised. She’ll need constant supervision.” Sylus cocks his head to the side as he watches the twins share a wide-eyed look as the reality of the situation begins to dawn on them. “Can you juggle an infant and work?”

They fidget for a moment as Sylus looks at them with a pointed expression. “If the four of us work together,” Luke says hopefully.

“I’m sure we can,” Kieran finishes.

“Oh?” Sylus drawls. “Four?”

The twins both smile at him in a way that has Sylus groaning and pinching the bridge of his nose. He could say no and tell them to send the child back to where they got her from, or send her off to wherever it is that lost children go. But he knows as well as they do— that is simply not an option. Sylus is many things; a leader, a conqueror, a nightmare; but one thing he is not, is cruel to the innocent. And he supposes he’s already given two strays a home. 

What harm could one more do?

-

It seems an infant is far more difficult to wrangle than the entirety of the N109 Zone.

Onychinus’ base has been turned upside down in a matter of days as Sylus, the twins, and even Mephisto, try to get their heads around taking care of a child.

Of course, he spares no expense in ensuring she has everything she could ever need, outfitting an entire wing of the base just for her in shades of pastel pink, equipped with plenty of soft toys. It’s like a completely different world in there when compared to the subdued tones and gothic flair of the rest of the base. 

The child runs the four of them ragged, bursting with a bottomless and wholly unanticipated reserve of energy. She gets lost in the base at least four times a day, taking endless joy in waddling with surprising agility through the halls, the twins hot on her heels. She even managed to slip into the Onychinus’ hi-tech vault once, after Luke had been sent in to retrieve something for his boss, not noticing that he had a little duckling trailing after him. Sylus found her not long after, surrounded by a myriad of sparkly gems from his collection. 

Ironically, she barely spends any time in the rooms Sylus had made for her, preferring to play in his bedroom or office. Within a matter of days, the little girl has infiltrated every corner of his daily life. Sylus is used to the quiet that comes with spending so much time alone, despite having the twins and Mephisto at his side. Where there was once the gentle hum of a classical record playing on his gramophone, now it’s accented by her claps and limited vocabulary, every note punctuated by her babbling. Dinner alone has become dinner with a high chair at his side, since she refuses to eat unless he’s within her sight. Even as he turns in for the night, she’s found her way into his bed, tucked under the silky sheets, clutching a stuffed dragon plushie. All of this is completely foreign to him, yet from the moment his eyes met hers, something in him knew that there had to be a connection between the girl in his dream and the young one in front of him. Aside from sharing features, there is something undeniable in the way she gravitates towards him, with such startling familiarity. 

He’s been testing this ‘bond’, curious as to why exactly the little creature seems so taken with him. Wherever he goes, she follows, always managing to find him without much effort. He’s tried to scare her too, with his most terrifying expressions, but she just smiles and pats his cheeks, chirping like a tiny chick. If she ever cries, she stops as soon as he places a gentle hand on her head. As if his very presence soothes her.

How absurd.

The very notion of fate shaping the paths he takes in his life is abhorrent to Sylus, but even he has to admit that some things are beyond his control. In fact, fate may be the only explanation for a few things after all.

For now, that is.

The dreams start to become more frequent after they take her in. Each night, he gets lost in fields of flowers, caves overflowing with treasures, and a haunting melody that worms its way into the folds of his mind. Sometimes, there is the young girl with the silver antlers. Others, there is the woman that continues to call out to him. The Interstellar Arena continues to plague him in between too. 

It feels like he’s playing roulette every time he goes to sleep. Some dreams are warm and sweet. Some become dark nightmares, haunting him even in his waking hours. But every single time, Sylus wakes up with the ache of longing buried deep in his chest, like a bullet he just can’t get out. 

Or maybe, it’s the weight of a little girl snoozing on his chest. Again.

Sighing, he gently lifts her off his person, tucking her in beneath the silk sheets beside him. Sylus doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to stop marvelling at just how small she is, a little ball in the vast expanse of his bed. He watches her for a moment, elbow propped on his pillow, observing the rise and fall of her body, the red triangular spikes running down the back of her onesie moving with her every breath. A lock of pearly white falls across her pinkened cheek, fluttering when she exhales. 

Her nose twitches. Sylus, without thinking much of it, reaches out with two fingers to brush it away, knuckles feathering over her cheek. A small smile touches his lips as he strokes her cheek again, fighting back the urge to pinch the fat between his fingers. It reminds him of mochi.

“How did you end up there?” he murmurs to himself. “I’ve been trying to search for your parents, but even I’m having trouble. EVER’s records don’t have a single trace. Just that they found you, abandoned.”

Her brow scrunches in her sleep, so he gently rubs a thumb across her forehead in a soothing motion. “Were you lost before they took you? Or are you like me? From a faraway place with no way of getting back. You’re not really supposed to be here, but somehow, it’s turned out that way.”

That seems to make her fuss a little, a wounded whimper escaping her. “It’s tough, isn’t it, little one?” Sylus continues, his tone dipping into something somber, eyes unfocusing a little. “Trying to make a new home for yourself. Somewhere that’s yours. A place that won’t reject you or try to hurt you for what you are.” 

“But you’re here now, and Onychinus will be a home for you.” His words seem to relax her, which brings a small smile to his face. His chest glows with tender affection, and he leans down, touching his forehead to hers as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You’ll be safe with me.”

But the tender moment quickly dissipates.

A searing pain pierces through his skull where it touches hers, a white-hot knife striking with swift precision. His vision spots, a gasp tearing free of his throat. It lasts for no more than a mere second, and when the ringing in his ears finally subsides, his surroundings have changed. 

Has he been teleported somewhere? No, this place feels far too hazy to be real, smudged in places like an old oil painting. But there’s definitely something about it that makes him feel certain that he’s been here before. His heart pounds in his chest, unaccustomed to being caught unawares as he whips his head around, rigorously taking stock of everything he sees. It helps him regain control of his focus, which sharpens the scenery too. With his next inhale, he catches the unmistakably sharp, metallic scent of blood, alongside smoke from a lit fire and something faintly floral. 

He’s taken aback by what he sees next.

It’s him. Unmistakably. He sees himself, though not as he has always known himself to be. This is a version that he has embodied in dreams alone. Long, black, bone-like horns curve out of his silver hair, along with a thick, pointed tail protruding from the base of his spine. Huge, leathery wings stretch out behind him, and there are red markings spidering over the planes of his body, converging into a single point in the centre of his chest where a fist-sized ruby appears to be buried.

The closest thing Sylus can liken this other version of himself to, is a dragon.

The dragon walks into the cave, tucking his wings away as he does so. Sylus catches sight of a tiny bundle in his arms as he walks past him, cradled gently against his chest. The dragon sets the bundle down on the ground and it begins to move around on all fours, almost like a cat— if a cat had tiny stumps on its head and a tiny tail poking out of its clothes, a lot like the dragon’s.

A baby dragon, then..

A baby, just like the one Sylus has been taking care of. A baby that looks almost identical to his.

Before Sylus can move closer, the scene changes, like a film reel on fast forward, spinning around him in a blur. When it finally stops, the baby dragon is seated in larger dragon’s lap.

“Would you like to know a secret, little one?” Sylus hears the dragon murmur softly. Moonlight filters into the cave, glinting off the many treasures scattered around their home. The little dragon raises her head, wide, rosy eyes blinking up at him as he tucks a soft lock of hair behind her ear with the back of his claw before drying her wet cheeks. “I have scary dreams too. It’s why I don’t like to sleep much at night. I don’t know what those vermin did to you, but you’re safe here.”

Sylus’ heart aches in his chest, and something far deeper echoes the pain. “After all, no being on Philos is scarier to them than the big, mean dragon, Sylus.”

The little dragon chirps, considerably more cheerful as she stands up on one of his thighs and rests her hands on his abdomen. His hand hovers around her middle warily, but she remains steady and pats him twice. She nods to herself and looks up at him with a serious expression before she speaks. “Sysy.”

The dragon cocks his head to the side and smiles crookedly. Sylus swallows past the lump in his throat. “It’s Sylus. Sy-lus.”

“Sysy!”

“You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? Just like her,” he murmurs softly, poking her nose. “You’d probably struggle to say my true name too.” She chirps and gnashes her fangs at him. “I wonder what your name is. Perhaps I should give you one?”

Her short tail wags, as if she agrees, and he hums to himself whilst she nibbles on his finger. “Let’s see… What name would befit a little beast such as yourself? How about… Dahlia?”

“Mmf.”

“No? Alright… What about Garnet, for your eyes?”

“Mmf!” She bites down hard, her little brows furrowed. 

“Very well, not that one either. Perhaps I should call you ‘The Devourer’ since you do so enjoy biting me and my belongings.”

Her teeth sink into his finger and she glares her most menacing glare. The dragon chuckles, unfazed. 

“You don’t like that? Hmm… What about Iris?”

The sound of her name ricochets off the walls of the cave and slips between the gaps of Sylus’ ribs, a well aimed shot that hits him squarely in the centre of his being.  All the breath is knocked out of him as he’s abruptly jerked back to the present, like the brakes have been slammed on a speeding motorcycle. 

He’s still laying in bed and the little girl is still at his side, though now she’s awake and blinking at him expectantly, waiting for his response to what he’s just seen.

Or rather, what she’s just shown him.

“Was that you, little one?” he asks after taking a moment to collect himself. He runs a thumb over her forehead, right where he had nudged her with his own before being catapulted into that vision. “You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”  

“Sysy,” she babbles, a giddy smile on her face as she nuzzles the pad of his thumb.

He looks at her with wonder shining in his eyes, responding in a hushed tone to return what belongs to her and cement it as her title in this world.

-

“We have to give her a name,” Luke says, plucking the girl off the floor and holding her high in the air, swooping her through it to mimic flight. She giggles and shrieks, exhilarated. “We can’t keep calling her ‘Tiny’.”

Kieran hums from his perch on the chesterfield sofa in Sylus’ office, poking his finger into the divots thoughtfully. “It should be something short and snappy.”

“Nothing too old-fashioned either,” Luke agrees, tossing her up into the air and catching her with ease. 

“Ooh, how about Kiera?”

Luke snorts at his brother. “You’re not naming her after yourself. What about Sylvia?”

“Sounds too much like the boss’ name,” Kieran shoots back, wrinkling his nose. Luke holds her out at arms length, cocking his head to the side. She copies, crimson eyes round and sparkly, smiling cheekily.

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Luke jumps at the sound of his boss’ voice, and suddenly, the baby is no longer safe in his grasp.

“Shit!”

Before she can hit the floor, Sylus catches her with ease, his evol snaking out to snatch her out of the air and dangle her in front of him by the scruff of her crow onesie. He makes a disinterested sound, hands stuffed deep in his pockets as he moves towards his desk with her still caught within the grasp of his evol. He sits in his chair and deposits her on the walnut surface, wordlessly handing her a gem-shaped toy from his pocket to chew on. “She already has a name,” Sylus says, leaning back in his chair as he watches her gnaw on the rubbery plastic with gusto.

“She does?” they both ask in unison, surprise colouring their words.

“Mhm,” he nods, softening around the eyes as she blinks at him. “Her name is Iris.”

The twins look at each other and then at their boss, noticing with interest how he watches the girl with a faraway yet tender look in his eyes, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm against his temple.

“I like it,” Kieran says.

“Yeah,” Luke nods. “It suits her.”

“I know,” Sylus murmurs, holding a hand out to Iris. She drops the toy and reaches for him instead, her little hands landing in his palm. She makes a noise of approval before she makes an attempt to stand on wobbly legs, using his hand for support. Once she lets go, she stretches her arms out to him and takes a few steps forward.

“Sysy!”

“Careful,” he warns, lifting her easily from around her middle before she can reach the end of the desk and placing her on his shoulder, like a little bird on its perch. She kicks her little legs out, one hand clamped around Sylus’ finger, tugging it towards her teeth to nibble, the other tangled in his hair. He chuckles as she scrapes and gnaws at him harmlessly. “Such a little beastie.”

“She really likes you boss-man,” Luke comments in awe.  

“Yeah, the minute you walk into a room, she forgets we’re even here,” Kieran agrees.

Sylus wears a nonchalant expression, quirking an eyebrow in lieu of shrugging his occupied shoulders. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Iris smacks his head with her palm, as if reprimanding him for telling such a lie.

Iris quickly becomes a cherished part of their unorthodox family. 

She brings a sort of brightness to Onychinus that Sylus didn’t think could exist within the boundaries of the N109 Zone. The city has always been devoid of sunshine but with her around, it’s like the clouds have been chased away. The twins view her as a baby sister, forming a different kind of bond with her than they have with one another, sharing their mischievous spirits and penchant for causing trouble. Even Mephisto enjoys her company, except for when she handles him with a little too much excitement and yanks out his feathers. He does his fair share of caretaking though, monitoring her when Sylus and the twins are away for short periods of time conducting business.

And for Sylus? 

Ever since his discovery, he can’t help but think of her as his own kin, his daughter in every way but blood. It’s as if a piece of him has been clicked back into place, one that he didn’t even realise was missing all this time. After seeing that vision, he’s been able to piece his dreams together more clearly and now, with the help of Iris and her evol, things are starting to make sense. 

Those dreams aren’t dreams after all. They’re memories, like the ones from his time at the Interstellar Arena. For now, Sylus is quite sure that Iris possesses a Psychic type evol, able to draw out those dormant memories in people through a physical connection. So far, she’s shown Sylus various memories of the two of them sharing a life together, of him raising her after he saved her, teaching her to survive and learning how to live again through her. He’s also seen the end of their story. The tragedy that befell them.

He never wants to see that part again.

It’s strange to think that the two of them have lived a life before this one. That even across the vastness of time and space, this tiny little girl found her way back to him, squirreling her way into his heart as if she was always meant to have a place there. Perhaps a soul can have more than one tie, if it wills it to be so. And a soul as greedy as his would definitely find a way.

Regardless of how the universe brought them together, if it had a hand in any of this at all, the past few months with Iris have been eventful indeed. Sylus can’t remember the last time he sat by the fireplace with a glass of his favourite vintage, listening to one of the records from his collection. He runs a finger along them, clicking his teeth when he inspects the dust he’s collected on the tip, scowling at the greyish fluff clinging to his skin. He’ll have to clean his shelves later.

Right now, he selects one of his favourite records, carefully sliding it out of the sleeve before setting it in place on his gramophone. The moment the needle caresses the disc, Sylus feels his entire body relax as a soothing melody pours forth from the antique contraption. He hums alongside it, pouring himself a drink before settling down in his armchair. Tipping his head back, he closes his eyes and releases a slow breath.

He’s listened to this piece many times before. He knows where it swells and where it lulls into a whisper. He knows its cadence like he knows his own heartbeat, well enough to recreate it with his own hands. Each note speaks to him in a language that can’t be translated, a story that thrums within the walls of his heart. He knows it so very well. The music transports him to a place he only remembers in his dreams, sitting with a person who he can now only see through Mephisto’s camera, waiting for the day where they will cross paths again. 

Sylus is so absorbed in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the little pitter patter of feet stumbling into the room. His attention is only caught when Iris pats his leg, clutching her favourite grumpy crow plushie that’s almost as big as she is. He glances down, brows arcing up in surprise.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, little flower?” he drawls, giving her a stern look.

“Up,” she insists, tugging on his trousers. “Sysy, up!”

He clicks his teeth disapprovingly but acquiesces. “Yes, yes, anything for her highness,” he says, placing her on lap. “Anything else you’d like, o’ great and fearsome overlord of Onychinus?”

She makes an affirmative noise and claps her hands, pointing at the gramophone as the song comes to an end. “Mm! Again! Again!”

“You want me to replay it for you?” he asks. “Well, I supposed you didn’t get to hear it all.”

With a lazy flick of his fingers, Sylus extends his evol to rewind the record and play the piece again. She lets out a content sigh as the opening notes ring out, turning to  curl up against Sylus’ stomach whilst snuggling her plushie. His heart squeezes in his chest at the sight and he huffs out a laugh. “It’s not a lullaby, little flower.”

Iris shakes her head, letting out a muffled ‘hmph’, as if she disagrees. “You think it is?”

She nods and he laughs again. “Such an odd little thing, aren’t you? Finding comfort in such a melancholy piece of music. We are quite alike, aren’t we?”

She peeks up at him, blinking in that inquisitive way that always catches him off guard. He pats her head gently, then passes his palm over her silky hair, almost as if petting a cat. Her eyes flutter shut as the music crescendoes, the sound of it reverberating within his chest in time with his own heartbeat. 

His own eyes close as well, and when he opens them, he’s in another memory. The song continues to play, the melody wrapping around him, only it sounds different here. There’s no instrument involved, but the sound of a girl singing it instead, her voice sweet and enchanting. The sound of her singing changes, becoming younger and younger, until it switches to a deep, masculine rumble that trembles across every note. 

Try as he might, Sylus can’t seem to find the source of the singing. It seems to be coming from all around him, seeping through the very walls of the dragon's cave. The song morphs again, this time into the deep hum of an organ until finally, from above, comes the sound of a woman's voice.

Sylus is drawn to her singing at once. It reminds him of spring petals on a breeze, of the delicate rush of water lapping at a pebbled shore, or the wind whispering through endless grassy hills. It tugs at his very soul, urging him to move closer and closer, until he finds himself in a field of deep red datura flowers, the sun rising slowly from the horizon. 

She sits a few feet away, perched amidst the dancing blooms as she sings, her voice clear as the skies above.

“Do I know you?” he asks, figuring he may as well try his luck. The woman looks up, and their gazes meet. Though, to be more precise, it feels as though she is looking directly through him, beyond his eyes. 

Her face cracks into a smile. “Sylus!” she laughs, waving him over. “Hurry!”

Sylus’ chest flutters and he steps forward. As he does, the other version of him bursts out of him, tail swishing happily at his back. He pauses as the dragon sinks into the flowers at her side, eyes glittering as she leans over and kisses his cheek. His tail wraps around her, pulling her flush against him. A thin thread of golden light wraps around their wrists as they lock their hands together, and the two of them turn their attention skyward as rays of warmth bleed onto their faces, growing brighter until he’s forced to squint.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s seated by the fire. Iris is still in his lap, looking up at him knowingly with her smaller hand covering his.

“That song,” he whispers, throat suddenly dry. “It’s her.”

Iris nods. “Now,” she says. “Sysy, now.”

He lets out a breathless chuckle, engulfing her hand in his own to anchor himself to the present.

“Yes. I think it’s time.”

-

Atop the chapel, Sylus watches the scene below unfold. Mephisto ruffles his feathers as he perches on his master’s shoulder, his mechanical eyes surveying their surroundings as he lets out a short squawk. Iris sits on his other shoulder, swinging her legs.

“Are they in position?” Sylus murmurs in a low voice and the bird squawks again, the tiny projector in his right eyes displaying holographic video feeds of their blind spots. Sylus nods once approvingly, still transfixed on the two figures below. He barely blinks as a man dressed in black stalks towards a young woman on the ground and brandishes a knife at her. 

Your face is curtained in shadows, the glow of the moon at your back. The tug in his chest is undeniable.

Not yet. 

Just a moment longer.

The twins flit out from the darkness, two disembodied whispers that taunt the man and he whips his head around, trying to locate the source of their voices. Before he can react to defend himself, Luke and Kieran strike, just the way they’ve trained themselves to, sharp and swift, alongside a little aid from the black-red mist that coils out from Sylus’ lazy finger. As the man slumps to the ground incapacitated, the twins examine the woman before them, curiosity evident in the tilt of their heads. Iris giggles, clapping her hands.

Bang.

The sound of a gun echoes throughout the grounds of the abandoned chapel. He points a silver gun directly at your forehead, his finger having already pulled the trigger, a look of triumph on his features. But it quickly morphs into horror. 

Tendrils of mist catch the bullet before it can reach its mark, disintegrating it with ease.  Sylus shifts Iris with his free hand so that her chin is hooked over his shoulder, making sure that she can’t see or hear the man's unsightly fate. More fingers of black and red coil towards the man. They take a hold of him, piercing through to his insides and raising him up a few feet into the air. Sylus curls his outstretched hand into a fist, reducing the man to flecks of ash. 

The bell tolls thrice, and from the shadows emerges your dark saviour. Slipping q hand into his pocket, Sylus leaps down from his perch, landing neatly on bent knee a few feet away from you, Iris held securely on his hip. His heart pounds in his chest as he raises his head and beholds you, though his expression is perfectly poised, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“Take out the vermin that are still running amok.”

“Yes boss!” the twins chorus and the pair of them disappear with playful waves.

“Boss!” Iris copies.

After all this time, after so many eons apart, his soul rejoices. He’s waited for this reunion for far too long and now that it’s here, he hopes you’ll meet him halfway, with the same smile you reserved for him in another life. He approaches slowly, tilting his head to the side as he looks you over.

He didn’t recognise the girl in the visions before, but now he sees that you’re one and the same soul. The defiance in your chin, the determination in your eyes blazing like wildfire, the strength he knows is hardwired into every facet of your being. Even though your physical body has been shaped differently by this new life, it’s still you. 

109.

“You’re… also here for the Core, right?” you ask him as he kneels to your level. You shrink back, slightly wary and his brow twitches. Your gaze shifts to Iris as he gently sets her down. You cock your head to the side, confused as the little girl waddles towards you. You let her press her chubby hands to your cheeks, endeared by the way her eyes sparkle. “Oh! Hello there,” you say, taken aback by how quickly she latches onto you.

Sylus holds his breath.

Any minute now, you’ll recognise him. The tangled threads of your souls memories will unravel under Iris’ coaxing, and his name will cross your lips once more, in that same loving caress that was his, and his alone. The confused expression on your face is making him antsy. Any minute now, you’ll see. 

Iris makes a frustrated little noise which worries Sylus. His brow pinches as the seconds tick by with no reaction from you. You pull your head back slowly, detaching yourself from her warmth. There’s a wary expression on your face that shouldn’t be there right now. 

Growing impatient, he tips your chin up with a finger and gazes deeply into your eyes, his right iris glowing red as he takes a glimpse at your soul, hoping it’ll trigger something. “Look at me.”

Sylus’ heart aches when you quickly yank your face back and look away from him, refusing to meet his eye. “What the hell?” 

“Wait,” he growls, grabbing your wrist instead.

“Let go of me!” It pains him to hear the slight tremor of fear in your voice as the Core in his eye glows again, but he holds fast, hoping it’ll uproot those dormant memories. Desperate times call for slightly desperate measures, and Sylus feels desperate. 

“No! No!” The moment Iris protests and her hands try to pry you both apart, a sharp cry leaves your lips. Threads of gold coil around your wrist and Sylus’ like handcuffs, joining the two of you together against your will. You yank at the connection, but it refuses to break. A look of disgust shadows your face, all of it directed at him. 

This isn’t how it was supposed to go. Not at all.

But this is how it begins, and Sylus can only hope that it doesn’t end in tragedy this time.

After all, you and he have always been the same. Two kindred spirits.