The staccato rhythm of the artillery units echoed in the darkness of the evacuation center. Parents and children huddled together under the crimson flicker of the emergency lights. A blast reverberated through the secure hold… One less defense unit. 

A chorus of cries erupted from those too young to know better. Their call for comfort was deafening. Baleful glares were cast to the parents of the unruly young. Quiet them, lest they be silenced before they call the dark hoards to them. Mothers and fathers pulled their young to their breast, dampening their fear into whimpers while hushing the soothing lullabies that had worked in less dire circumstances.

The refugees of Clearwater dared not voice their rage with the enemy at their doorstep. This time, there are no weapons for the panicked survivors to take matters into their own hands. One disaster averted in favour of another.

Astral, an eight-year-old girl, with long ebony hair sat in a corner watching the survivors succumb to the transformative nature of their circumstance. She watched as friends and neighbours became monsters in human skin. 

Her Sunday best was stained and torn, her legs and arms scraped from a nasty fall when the initial stages of panic set-in over Clearwater. She was one of the lucky ones. She cradled her trusty teddy bear between her legs and her chest, keeping her constant companion close, making herself small. Humans were unpredictable in their fear. It was a wise decision to avoid the notice of the strangers with familiar faces.

Somewhere out there, beyond the walls of concrete and steel, her father was fighting a losing battle against the legion of freed demons. 

Children fought against their parents’ smothering love. Too weak to make any significant impact, their bodies slumped in their parents’ hold. Better to pass with love than to suffer the torment of the demonic forces that were bound to take them. 

Approving nods with a mix of disdain replaced the hate of the residents of older, well behaved, well controlled, children. In times like these, there was no room for compassion when selfish lives were at stake. 

The spark of life drifted from the children, dancing above their parents, confused and frightened. ‘Hush now, children, your sacrifice was not in vain.’ Astral’s moist blue eyes stared up at the void that had been her imaginary friend. ‘Why?’ her eyes wide, she begged for answers she could not voice. 

‘Because of you,’ her imaginary friend replied. ‘Did you think they wouldn’t follow? Did you think that choosing a Hunter as your Guardian would change anything?’ It was a cruel thing to imply that the razing of Clearwater was the fault of a child. Imbedding the sense of guilt and duty now, during such a formidable time of her identity was crucial. She should not have the option to deny the severity of the threat at hand, nor should she pass her role to lesser hands. The girl had the memories of the time before, a rare condition that most children learn to forget. Not this child. Her memories would serve her well.

The sparkling souls of the children danced around the dark shapeless void, waiting for instruction. 

Another blast shook the dust from the ceiling.

“It’s not my fault.” The child’s voice was less than a whisper, her ancient accent still present even after eight years in the new world. Not a whimper in her tone. 

“Henry!” a desperate mother cried out, shaking her son’s limp body. “Wake up! Somebody help -” 

A loud crack silenced her cries as a good Samaritan broke her neck. Her body hit the floor and residents returned to their families.

Silence was the golden rule. All the Council’s information channels said so. Don’t say a word. Don’t breathe. Stay absolutely still. It was all a lie. The demons would sniff them out.

Another blast signaled Clearwater's losing battle. The machinegun fire stopped.

Astral tasted the subtle change of fear to despair. Fear was an acquired taste, but she couldn’t stand despair, with a few exceptions. 

Ash danced down from the ceiling like snow and the pungent scent of blood and feces overtook the room. Cracks formed on the concrete walls. The lights flickered out. It wouldn't be long now. 

Glass shattered against the steel shutters. The deep wallowing howl of the Zephyr called out, and pure silence fell onto the evacuation center. These people were lost.

The steel shutters resisted the onslaught once, twice, bending and warping a little more with each thunderous attack.

'Daddy's not coming.' The child stood up, her loyal teddy bear in her grip. Breath held, she moved through the refugees toward the shower of broken glass. No-one dared stop her.

‘Do it like I told you,’ her imaginary friend pulled the souls of the young with her, trailing after the child. Her pulse filled the room as she allowed her senses to wash over the people. Oh no, she most certainly did not care for their flavour at all. Astral’s racing heart pounded as she watched the metal twist above them. 

‘Breathe slowly. Use their fear to guide you. Anchor your purpose within them.’

Astral’s breath was short and hollow. Her heart threatened to burst under the pressure. The child’s unnatural hold over the people was slipping. 

Black ooze trickled into the center, pushing its way through the cracks in the concrete wall expanding the small openings into fissures. It flooded the room, herding the flock of refugees to the heart of their tomb.

The ooze pushed its way toward the cowering residents. It pulled itself upright like a living mass before diving onto the townsfolk and the bold child who stood against it. 

‘I’m sorry’ the imaginary friend told the child before pouring itself into her tiny frame. The transition was painful. Ten years was a short time to forget the everyday aches of the physical world. Time stretched out in all directions forming a nebula of twilight. Past and future versions of Astral approached the child. She had forgotten what it was like to be four feet tall. She had forgotten how imposing she had been as an adult.

The voices of her many incarnations filled her mind, sharing multiple lifetimes of knowledge all stemming from this moment. The best course of action mapped itself out for her and the versions of herself blinked out of existence, save for the masked one which stood at the greatest distance, swathed in shadows worn like a cloak. This one traced a symbol in the air and nodded with the grace of a god.

“They are MINE!” she roared to the darkness, her consciousness returning to the present. The ooze fell back, pushed away by the raw energy the child unleashed. 

She shook the dizziness from her head. She felt the original soul of her Vessel fighting her hold. It was strong. Good.

The metal sheet tore from the building, revealing thick dark clouds circling the sky above. The refugees had vanished from the center denying their original existence. “You want them!” The child pounded her chest. A savage smile spread across her face. She jutted her chin toward her target. “They’re in here come and get them!”

The ooze rushed toward the child, rose over her and blanketed her in its hate. The ooze turned hot, boiling with fury. Inside it plunged hundreds of needled into her small body, where it formed new threads filling her veins and forced the meat from her bones, working to consume her. She would be made to suffer for as long as her body could withstand death. 

It drove deep into her, searching for the taste it craved. The ooze paused in its assault, realizing too late what it had tasted. It recoiled violently, releasing the child from its hold, leaving her in a clear ten-foot vortex of open space devoid of its wicked presence. 

Like a second skin, the souls of the last vestiges of Clearwater sparkled over her small form, reshaping her. The luminescent glow of her stigma-infected gaze betrayed her unnatural origin.

The ooze’s fluid mass solidified in seconds, poisoned by the soul it had tasted. It shattered and fell to the ground as a heap of black sand. 

Howls as deep as insanity, long and mournful, filled the broken center. Black sand danced around the child. The fight for Clearwater was far from over and her time was limited.

2: Chapter 2.1: Memorial

Astral’s world was one of several shades of darkness. The stigma had transformed the way she saw the world. It ate away at colors, shapes, and textures, replacing the contour of objects with auras and lighting living beings with the vibrant hues of their soul.

Mathias Mathers, her summer tutor, had a pure soul, pale blue with a frosted aura. It lit him up from his heart with the same casual intensity of a living room lamp. She could see that the humidity had pulled on the thirty-year-olds dark hair, torn between being weighed down and curling in random directions. A Red Order Master was never to be seen outside of his uniform, for this fact; she felt sorry for him. His Victorian styled coat, neatly buttoned to his neck, revealed his crimson red collar, proof of his ties to the Order.

"Visualize the energy in the forest around you," Mathias instructed, his words slow and calm, gently tumbling into existence. His voice might as well have been a light breeze in the humid air. "Picture the blades of grass, the trees..."

Eyes opened, eyes shut; the world remained the same; which made this summer's series of exercises that much more frustrating. She suspected that there was a reason she was made to practice her visualization exercises at the Memorial site, which lay deep within the forest surrounding the rebuilt town of Clearwater.

Clearwater was a devastating reminder to the remnants of humanity that they were losing the war. Naturally, the first order of business on the political docket was to erase any evidence that the demonic forces had penetrated deep within the established safe zone; as though some chalk line drawn on some map made it so.

Rebuilding a replica of the previous town was crucial. She was never entirely sure how the memorial project managed to get approval. In the years it took to get the Council's approval, her grandfather had worked diligently on the blueprints, implementing forbidden old world superstitions into the design while playing them off as old world architecture and art. He finally sold the project as a tribute to the lives and cultures lost to the demon hordes.

Over the past four years, little by little, the pieces came together and now the site was one of rejuvenation; a promise to the fallen that the living would keep moving forward. They would rebuild. They would not be defeated.

Twenty-seven Torii gates circled the site. An intricate stone path ran between the Torii's massive granite legs which had grotesque gargoyle totems carved into them. At the top of each pillar sat a crimson red roof, with wooden rafters that arced toward the sky.

In the center of the roof and the pillars rested a tablet with the names of the deceased, the only element of the Memorial that paid real tribute to lives lost that day. Astral's name should have been among them, but somehow, for the second time in her life, she survived impossible odds. She knew their names by heart. She would never allow herself to forget.

Astral could name each significant element of the design and state with confidence what the intended purpose of the symbolism was. Her grandfather had made it very clear that a hunter must be knowledgeable in more than the art of killing.

Her stigma made it easy to see which superstitions were performing their intended role. On a clear day, her stigma would allow her to see the rippling veil between the worlds, like an aurora borealis, shimmering invitingly. Six years ago, the veil was tattered and stained. Now it hovered thirty feet above the forest canopy and resembled curtains caught in a summer breeze.

A rope bound the inner circle, effectively acting as a visual barrier between the outside world and the center of the memorial. The rope was made with pure materials. Rice rope was the traditional application for this series of binding rituals, but in a place where rice no longer grew, it made substitution a requirement. The rope had to be handmade and blessed simultaneously. The experience had been draining on her grandfather, uncle, and Mathias. Their efforts didn't go to waste. Along each coil, she could see their prayers in the form of arcane glyphs wind its way around the rope until both ends were tied together, sealing the binding spell. No ordinary demon would be able to break through the bright blue barrier.

Old fashioned metal lanterns hung from the ropes instead of the blessed charms that were traditionally used for the binding ceremony. At great risk to himself and his career, Mathias had petitioned the families of the deceased for funds to have these lanterns crafted. Four years later, Clearwater now hosts the yearly lantern festival for families who have lost loved ones in similar tragedies. The lit lantern was designed to act as a beacon for lost souls. The lantern light flickered in the night, struggling against the dense fog that swayed with a life of its own.

As part of Mathias' nightly routine, he would offer a prayer while lighting each one. He'd usually finish just as the last of the sun's protection shrank away. Despite all of their efforts to keep the real threat contained, the locals rarely ventured to the Memorial. The air at the site was oppressive and bitter, and they couldn't quite get rid of the smell of burnt hair and rotting flesh.

Once Mathias was done with lighting the lantern, her lessons would begin. The solitude made the toxic area an ideal location for Astral's hunters training, both the theory and practice. There would be some tracking if an opportunity presented itself, a dash of mythology and history, followed by meditation.

Astral frowned as she took stock of her surroundings. She breathed in slowly taking in the poisonous air around her and then released it to the world as purified puffs of cold crisp air.

She wasn't sure what Mathias was driving at with these sessions. Night after night, while he performed his routine, she would proceed with the maintenance of the garden along the Torii's outer ring, removing dead plants and transplanting younger, healthier stock. This past summer she felt like she was spending more time digging up plants than planting.

The intricacies of the wards they were building served to strengthen one another. The combination of rock cress, buttercup, hollyhocks, geraniums, aster, lavender, and lupines among many others would attract life spreading insects such as butterflies and bees. These fuzzy insects would pollinate and reseed new flowers, which would strengthen the ward.

Butterflies had a symbolic reference within the supernatural, never something evil, but served as a guide or indicator of the thin veil between worlds. With each beat of the butterflies' wings, the division between the spirit, demon, and human worlds were mended and the invisible tapestry they worked to create rose little by little.

With the insects came the birds who also served the plants in spreading seeds. In some folklore, it was said that certain birds, such as the sparrow or crow would act as carriers of lost souls. In other lore, the birds were said to be trapped souls who could not transition to the next phase. It was not uncommon to see several flocks of birds perch on the arched roofs to observe the few people who would dare to visit the site. Over the past month, Astral had seen fewer birds in the area, noting that they preferred the town over the tranquility of the forest.

She felt that Mathias was trying to get her to see something specific. She ran through the list one last time.

'Barriers one, two, three: fully operational.

Gargoyles: on duty.

Beacons: lit, very shiny.

Binding: all good.

Butterflies:... butterflies? Slackers.'

The forest around her shimmered with the souls of millions. Every insect, every flower, every blade of grass, every tree had a soul of its own. Spiritual energy ran up each tree aiming to reach each branch while attempting to push just a little further passed the tip, and finally flowing into the veins of each leaf.

The forest around her lacked the vibrant colors that it once held when she was a child. She didn't know if the continued decay of her natural sight played a role in how she perceived this side of her gift.

The flow of energy felt lethargic. She could feel herself slipping away to the part of herself that terrified her. She couldn't hold on to the ground beneath her feet as her soul's vision attempted to drag her upward above the forest canopy.

“Tell me what you see,” Mathias instructed.

'Thank god!' Astral cheered as her soul fell from her core's grip.

She gasped welcoming the toxic air back into her lungs, relieved to be able to feel her toes and fingers again. She knew by the worried expression on Mathias' face that she had reached a trance state. His hands were firmly on her arms, pinning them tightly against her body. He had been shaking her, attempting to free her from the trance.

Relief washed over the young Master. “I told you not to hold your breath.”

Her lungs felt like they were breathing in fire. “It would be easier if you told me what you wanted me to achieve with all this,” Astral croaked, swallowing the pain. That statement was only partially true. If she didn't go too deep, she wouldn't wake up her other self. As long as she didn't go too deep, she could stay in control.

Mathias stood up, brushing off his coat and attempted to shed himself of some of the uncomfortable heat by running his fingers through his dark hair as he turned away from her. She watched the rise and fall of his shoulders, watched the slowing of the pulsing flow of his soul resonating with his heart beat. He moved this way, and that, grabbing empty trays at random just to look like he was moving on with his routine. The subtle changes in the hue and intensity of his aura betrayed the rapid change of emotion he was experiencing as he worked on rationalizing the lesson.

The Master was in his early thirties. He was considered too young to hold such a title by the Red Order, but too talented of a Hunter to deny the appointment. As of yet, he had not been officially granted an apprentice of his own. As far as his superiors were concerned, he was acting as a tutor to the Councilmen's young charge in all things worldly and spiritual.

He stood a full foot and a half over the fourteen-year-old. She had been trained to look meek and delicate. Her porcelain skin suggested that she suffered a sheltered life within the safety of the capital walls, deep underground where the sun could not reach them. Her black hair had a mind of its own, straying in random directions of its own accord as though exploring its limited surroundings. Even in this heat and with her long hair tied back, strands were opting to make a bid for freedom. It ruined the carefully crafted illusion that her grandfather had worked hard to maintain.

The stigma had eaten away at her formerly dark eyes, changing them to a crystalline blue. Over the past year, the symptoms grew to include a dull glow deep within her eyes that never faded.

"That's enough for now," Mathias relented, piling his arm full of empty trays into a wheelbarrow.

"It would help if I knew what you wanted me to do with the training," Astral offered kindly. Knowing that much, she could avoid her core self and focus on providing Mathias with what he wanted to hear.

"A stable frame of mind is needed for a hunter." He paused to give the scenario some thought in a way that she might understand. "Think of demons as though they're adrenaline junkies. Their sustenance is that chemical that gives us our boost of strength and speed when our survival instincts kick in. With a clear mind, you deny them their meal. They'll either use more energy to force you into the desired state or lose interest."

It made sense. Demons needed a great deal of energy to punch through the veil; they needed more to manifest in order to feed. Weaker prey wasn't nearly as satisfying as someone who held their ground. The series of emotions involved would be vastly different and quite possibly enhanced through the adrenaline, Astral continued to reason. Which emotions the demon preferred was a matter of taste, maybe even as far as cultural upbringing. They would no doubt have to learn how to bring the desired flavor to the surface.

3: Chapter 2.2: Memorial

She couldn't wait to get home to riffle through some of Mathias' journals. This new concept could change the way she researched and stalked her prey. She looked forward to returning to her grandfather's hidden archives to see if what she suspected was written in the ancient journals this whole time. She narrowed her eyes at thought, if that were true, why didn't anyone tell her? Her family had been in this line of work for countless generations.

"Are you okay?" Mathias asked.

"Peachy," Astral smiled, rapidly hiding her thoughts.

He turned to the center of the memorial, his fists resting on his hips as he took a mental snapshot of their progress to date. She knew he didn't see the world in quite the same light as she did. She knew that the small foot thick inlay was only a decorative waterway to him. For her, she could see the brilliance of the barrier it created just because it was constantly flowing, always moving through a circuit of pumps and drains. In lore, flowing water prevented spirits from crossing over it.

It was a good thing too, because the number of dark spirits shuffling in the memorial's center had risen to a full two dozen over the past week. They moved like people who had no control over their limbs, with the exception of staying still. The temporary inhabitants of the inner ward were human shaped caught in an eternal black wisp. At just the right angle, their eyes would light up in bright yellows and reds. It was like being watched by a bunch of trapped wild animals.

Astral smirked at them as they stared at her. She was very much their captor. She had suspected Mathias of otherworldly talents, but much to her disappointment, he had yet to react or even acknowledge the presence of her captives. If he asked, she would respond that she felt inclined to test the wards strength. But he never asked.

She would have to do something about them soon. Though she was confident in her work, she wasn't fool enough to discount a seemingly random series of events that would break the demon gate below.

To normal people, the central area of the memorial site was made up of an intricate stone design. For someone with Astral's abilities, she could see the narrow fissure below the ornate pattern. She could see the shadowy hands reach up to grab onto the edge of the world and pull itself up. Larger demons would be attracted to the gate but would not be able to get through. They would send lesser demons or dark spirits to attempt to pry the gate open.  

This ability of hers was one more talent that set her apart from her fellow hunters. A Master Hunter such as Mathias was expertly trained to take out a demon who had manifested into the human world. Manifesting was the term used to indicate that the demon had gone from ethereal to physical. It was implied that once the demon hit a physical state that it could be killed. So far, Astral saw no reason to disagree with the theory.

Astral was one of the rare few who could see the demons before they manifested. There were plenty of people in the past who could sense the otherworld. Throughout history, there had been only ever a handful of people who could see the spirit world as clearly as they could see their own world.

She didn't see spirits though; she reminded herself. She saw demons, not ghosts.

Mathias broke the silence. "When I was your age, this level of training seemed basic. So much so, I ignored most of it, thinking myself superior to my peers. Meanwhile, I had inadvertently missed out on the critical foundations on what it is we do."

She wasn't sure if he just insulted her intelligence, her skills, or if he was driving at something important. She wanted to shout out, "Stop being so damned cryptic! I want to know what you know! Just tell me!" She opted to take in a deep breath and redirected her attention to not so much what he was saying, but to the meaning behind the words, to the meaning he didn't know he was expressing.

"You see, I had learned how to hunt from a very young age. Granted I was hunting live animals, which I firmly believe should be a part of every demon hunters training," Mathias asserted in an accusatory tone.

It was true; she couldn't track a deer to save her life, or take out a goose or forage for food. She didn't know how to build a fire or set up a shelter. She had no idea how to survive bad weather or how to find her way home if she got lost. Survivalist, she was not. But she could fashion a weapon out of a couple of twigs, set up traps, climb trees and scale steep ridges with little more than her bare hands. That had to count for something.

"You can imagine how full of myself I was after the first few months of my apprenticeship," Mathias chuckled while shaking his head. "I think I would have given William a run for his money."

Astral couldn't help but laugh. Mathias' relationship with his son was strained at best, but he did go out of his way to avoid talking down to him or about him. In a way, Astral felt that Mathias was trying to tell her that though William was a royal pain at this point, he could grow to be a decent man.

"It didn't help that my monastery praised me as being some genius prodigy. The man who would become my Master saw through all that. I hated him for years. In truth, it was because I thought he hated me. It turned out; I needed a teacher who saw me for what I was, for where I was at in my training, and capable of strengthening my weaker areas," Mathias continued. "My point is: I can't help you refine your skills if you don't tell me where you're at." He squeezed her shoulders, certain that they had reached a silent understanding.

"As you well know, you're going in for some field training of a different sort this year. You'll have access to a wide range of professionals, many with firsthand experience on the war fields. Learn from them," he bade her.

"I don't want to go," Astral replied sullenly. She felt ridiculous in her worries. What if they didn't like her? What if they did like her? What if she was found out to be a fraud? It was maddening to think about all the possible scenarios in an effort to mentally prepare herself.

"Calm your mind," Mathias bade.

She took a slow deep breath, forcing the ‘what ifs’ from her mind. There were so many lives at stake, why couldn't they assign someone with more social experience to the mission? The new assignment was so different from tracking and hunting a single demon or scouring the countryside for a nest. The threat itself may not even be demonic in origin, why did she have to get involved!

"Better?" he asked.

"No. Now I'm angry," she fumed.

"Try again," he advised.

She rolled her eyes. "You're telling me that the ultimate hunter feels nothing at all."

"Very good," he clapped his hands. He stopped suddenly, noting the piercing icy glare cast at him. He opted to carry on with his lesson. "For the hunter, there is nothing but the mission. It is our destiny to slay demons and to ultimately be slain by demons. The goal is to take out as many of them as we can before we succumb to our fate."

It wasn't news to her. She couldn't see herself living a normal life. For her, the hunt was an obsession. The very idea that this was not the case for all hunters, who craved normality, families, and day jobs, made her feel that much more alone. The very fact that Mathias once had a wife, and now a teenage son added to her resentment to those hunters who would deny their fate. Why were they allowed, but not her? Why had it never occurred to her to want something normal? Why couldn't she stop sneaking out at night for the kill? 

Mathias' reply didn't explain why she had to be the one leading the mission, but the pieces were starting to fall into place. The hunt was all she could think about. If demons were coming, she'd see it long before those other hunters would, even without her gift.

"I thought that once you become a hunter, you are a hunter for the rest of your life." She wondered if she had missed something in the fine print.

He nodded grimly. "That's true. The day I slew my first demon, I signed my contract with Fate."

"But you chose to deny this?" She struggled to understand. Why would a man who was considered a prodigy drag innocent lives into the mix?

"My circumstances were not entirely of my choosing," Mathias admitted. "As reward, I was given a wife, a home, and eventually a child. At the time, I thought, I had been blessed." His voice cracked forcing him to clear his throat before he could carry on. He met her attentive icy gaze holding it as though wishing for her into his past.

She continued to stare up at him expectantly, wanting him to carry on with his story. "My wife was the first of many victims of my failure to recognize the importance of my mission. Sure, I hunted. I performed my required duties as the Red Order representative in the community. But... I did little else."

"Then you and your father came to Clearwater, warning us of a demon gate. I have to admit, I..." again he stopped to collect himself. "All those lives lost because I was too stubborn to do my job properly."

She never blamed him for the gate fiasco, but if self-blame was what was keeping him on the mission, than she wasn't going to reassure him.

He forced a smile and rubbed her head, messing up her dark hair. "Enough of this! Let's finish this section and call it a night, shall we?" He winked at her. "I have it on good authority that there may be ice cream at home."

Astral tingled with excitement. The joy was short lived when she realized that she had already discovered his stash of ice cream and may or may not have eaten quite a bit of it. She'll have to feign innocence and have the signs point to William.

Her attention fell to the trays of wilting lavender and rock cress strewn across the walkway in something that didn't quite resembled order. The patch she was meant to tend had already been prepared earlier that night. Under normal circumstances, the savvy gardener would have dutifully set to work on this task at first light, giving the plants plenty of time to naturalize. Normal was reserved for the townsfolk who knew better than to cross the threshold between civilization and the wilderness surrounding their homes.

It's almost as though they could sense the threat that lurked in the area; too weak to surface but strong enough to have a presence. Astral narrowed her eyes at the idea. Were people innately sensitive to such things? Did they inherently flock to safer territories or could their perception of 'safe' be altered? She wondered if a demon could emotionally influence more than just one person. Could it spread to a household or a whole town?

Tracking demons had always been a physical pursuit which gave off scents and textures. Topics of possession belonged to the Red Order, who adamantly denied any such occurrences; one of the few issues that the Council and the Order wholeheartedly saw eye to eye.

4: Chapter 2.3: Memorial

"Something wrong?" Mathias inquired, noting the teen's expression as she gathered the healthier looking flowers.

She shook her head in response, digging her hands into the moist soil, the candle lit lantern flickering behind her.

She stopped in her work, listening to the world around her. Mathias was preparing the next section between Torii eighteen and nineteen's outer perimeter. He breathed out as he used his foot to force the shovel into the earth, breaking it apart. Breathed in as he lifted the soil from the ground to discard it in the pile of dirt he had been building.

She listened to the silence around her. None of the normal night time sounds greeted her. It was late, sure, but she was certain that all of the nocturnal animals didn't suddenly decide to call it an early night. The lamps swayed behind her creaking and clanging as they struck one another. The forest did not sing. Not a branch swayed, not a leaf tumbled from the sky. There was no breeze to allow for such movement.

She watched the forest fog twist and swirl with the vigor of a sloth. It felt like the density of the fog rose with the humidity. The fog cast a deep red haze over the trees a few feet from her; the forest beyond was near impossible to make out.

She reached for a plant from her tray, noting their withered state. There was no saving them. She glanced at the flower beds that she and Mathias had repaired earlier that evening. One by one, the souls of each of the plants flickered out, leaving behind a withered husk of dried leaves. She frowned.

Something was draining the life from the area. Her failed gardening skills wasn't the first sign either, but it was the easiest excuse to explain away the not so unusual phenomena. If she were to propose the issue to Mathias, she'd have to present a series of valid reasons to have him investigate the issue. Up until her father's passing, her hunches had always been enough to go on.

Rationalizing the hunt frustrated her. She understood that resources were limited, so much so that Mathias was the only official Hunter for the Clearwater region, and there were strict laws against unlicensed hunters.

The rapid death of the healthy plants suggested something out there was gathering energy for something big. The lack of life in the area suggested that the animals had fled or have fallen victim to a predator. The increased number of dark spirits at the center of the memorial, granted trapped, was not a good sign either.

She reached for the ground closer to the fog, pulling dried grass and crumbling moss. The earth was dry and powdery. She tasted the earth. It had an ashy flavor.  She sniffed at the air, forcing her nose to detect the scent of water. Fog after all was made of water; it should have been an easy feat. It smelled metallic with a mix of rancid fruit.

She was sure that a demon was present. She wasn't sure which demon it was. She was sure that Mathias wouldn't be able to deal with it until it manifest, which meant if she could figure out where it was before it did so, they could interrupt the demon’s plan. At a distance, she might be able to see exactly which areas were affected and most importantly where the demon was going to break through the veil.

"May I go home?" Astral asked.

Mathias stopped digging, one foot resting on his shovel. The request caught him by surprise.

She looked at the trees again, watching as the flow of energy fail to climb the network of branches.

"Something is feeding here," she told him.

Mathias nodded, indicating that he had known for a while now. "Tell me you know where the source is," Astral sighed.

He shrugged. "Look at me as support, Miss Daamon."

Her stomach twisted. What was he trying to accomplish by making her do all of the legwork? She was supposed to be learning from him, not the other way around. "I want to see your solution," he told her. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you of the consequences of failing."

No, he didn't. This skill test was in a real world arena. One stray demon could destroy the town in a few hours. If she failed to track this demon and stop the energy drain, the barriers that they had worked so hard to build would eventually fade.

She glanced at the shield and much to her relief found them well intact. Without a Hunter to fight off the demons, they would be free to tear down the wards, even if it promised to take the next decade. Once a town fell, neither the Council nor the Red Order would send people to recover the territory.

She took a deep breath to steady her mind and shut her eyes, blocking out the outside world as she analyzed the information she was certain of. The souls were being devoured, killing the affected. The rapid death of the forest left it empty, unable to resist possession if the will of the source was strong enough. No, she was wrong.

It wasn't the souls that were being devoured; it was their life force; a subtle but important difference.

The energy had to go somewhere; it had a flow like a river. If it flowed like a river than in theory if she followed the dried up river bed, she'd find the blockage. What if it wasn't blockage? What if the flow of energy was just being redirected? The idea that it could take from one place and reassigned to another seemed unnatural, but humans had been doing it for centuries with waterways.

She could discuss her theories with Mathias and attempt to glean the right answer. She couldn't imagine he'd just let his town suffer because she made the wrong decision.

"I need you to teach me how to see the flow of energy," she requested. It was foolish to believe she could gain mastery of the skill in a single session, but she did hope to read Mathias for key indicators in his body language.

He considered her words, searching his limited knowledge for references to such practices. "Energy is something you feel," he decided. "You can only see the results of energy being put to use."

"I suspect that in this particular case, this is not something we want to wait to see the results of," she replied sternly.

He scowled, disapproving of her tone. She was on the verge of a solution; she just didn't have the knowledge to execute it on her own. An idea struck her, melting away her frustration. If he could not understand the importance of the request, she would have to manipulate him into complying.  "Conjure a protective circle," she ordered and pointed to the inner circle of the memorial site, "in the middle there." He frowned. Her demands were rarely without reason.

He pulled his hands together, lowered his head and closed his eyes. "Oh, Father, who art thou in Heaven, ..." There were several variations of the protection prayer that Red Order relied on. Astral thought of them like spices. Any spice could be used to flavor the food, but an excellent meal relied on the right combination of spices to enhance the dish. Each prayer had a specific role, though that was subject to interpretation. If the prayer was performed in front of a large gathering, the priest was encouraged to use one of the many old world languages. To the people who had never heard anything outside of their native tongue, it added a level of holy mysticism that served to awe and inspire, weaving hope or fear through the masses.

This practice was the foundation of Astral's shared energy theory. Until now, she had never felt the need to look for the flow of energy from one host to another. In Astral's mind, a prayer was little more than an incantation.

She could see his faith in the prayer, falling from the sky to the ground striking the center of the lingering specters. They spooked, running for the wards as the first of many ripples caused by the prayer, pushed its way toward them. They hit the ward like it was a solid wall. The impact caused the rope bindings and lamps to rattle.

Mathias frowned, stopping his prayer. "Keep going," Astral ordered, watching the terror that they were inflicting on the dark spirits.

"Help us!" a voice called out, breaching the veil for a second as a fleeting call over a non-existent breeze.

Mathias glanced to the forest behind him. "Keep going," Astral bade.

"You didn't hear-?" he pointed to the forest.

Astral shrugged and shook her head.

The spirits managed a brief reprieve, but she could torture them all night with a protection prayer for as long as Mathias was willing to entertain her whim. He knelt down, returning to his prayer. The droplet of faith fell into the center of the ward. The prayer sparkled with the same increased intensity of Mathias’ soul. The escaped cries of the dark spirits had sparked a sense of urgency within the Master Hunter.

The prayer dove into the ward, pushing a wave of brilliant energy toward the spirits. Their wails of agony called out over the Memorial as the purified energy tore through at the dark spirits causing them to burn away leaving spectral ash to catch a breeze.

The prayer stopped at Astral’s feet, caressing the toe of her shoes with a shimmering ring. Mathias continued to pray, unaware that he had been successful in banishing the evil that tainted the inner ward, much to Astral’s disappointment. While the prayer was in play, she might as well inspect it.

She crouched down, nose an inch from the ground. She squinted hoping to see the sigils that formed the prayer, but found that the ring that now circled the area was whole. She had assumed that, like spells, prayers were a construct of the manipulation of elements. She deduced that prayers while similar to an incantation, was  an entity in of itself. She theorized that the prayer would require the energy of the faithful to fuel it, but she found no strings or particles binding the wish to Mathias.

"Is it- is it there? Can you see it?" Mathias asked.

She sighed before sitting up again, disgusted by the lack of progress. She waved away his question. "Yeah, yeah, it's very pretty." She idly wondered if removing the faith of the caster would reduce the power of the prayer. She sized up Mathias. Her only real advantage would be that he wouldn’t see it coming. She’d look it up; maybe one of Dezmond’s books had something on the topic.

She was close to figuring out how to track the flow of energy, and she knew it; she could feel it at her core. Maybe she was over complicating things. "Should I patrol the forest, maybe?" she asked her tutor.

His shoulders sagged the weight of the world having been added to his soul. "Astral, you can put this off for as long as you like. In this matter, I will not be hunting this target." He added after a brief pause, noting Astral's insult. "I'm not equipped to deal with this sort of demon."

"But you won't tell me anything about it," Astral challenged. "How is that helping?"

"Why don't you tell me what you know, and I'll tell you why I can't help you," he offered, hoping to appease her frustration.

"It's an energy class demon. Judging by the way the area's life force is draining, I'm going to guess that it's on the verge of ascension," she offered.

Mathias looked as though his heart had dropped to his feet. There was nothing in his body language that made her doubt that he didn’t believe her. "How do you know you're not dealing with multiple demons?" It stood to reason that he wouldn’t want to deal with such a huge threat.

Astral grimaced. In truth, she didn't know, but her instincts were telling her that this issue needed resolving fast. "What would it matter," she challenged, "even if it were a coven, a great deal of energy is being harnessed to do... something. Some demons can merge to form the vessel of a larger more powerful demon."

5: Chapter 2.4: Memorial

"Now tell me why that isn't the case," Mathias instructed.

Astral sighed and looked to the sky, seeing nothing but fog. "If that were the case, there would have been a spike in demonic activity. They would have been drawn here like moths to fire."

Mathias nodded. "You're positive that energy is being drained, and you seem to be sure that this for ascension. Are you maybe neglecting another possibility?"

"There are a couple of others. The energy could be used to attack the shields and break open the gate, but that energy would have to be gathered nearby or else they'd risk losing it in transit."

"Unless they use a focus," Mathias considered.

"Could multiple vessels be used as a focus?" It's true that the vessels could move to the desired location, but they'd have to release their energy simultaneously which would be the equivalent of suicide. The vessels would have to be zealots for that scenario to play out. From what she understood of vessels, they were people who are imbued with the essence of a god. ‘Or wannabe god,’ she added to herself. It would counter-intuitive for the god to sacrifice parts of himself. It would cripple him...wouldn’t it?

Mathias’ soul was flickering. Astral suspected that the idea frightened him. "I don't think there was ever enough energy here to allow for a single vessel, not to mention a coven of them. If there were a single vessel wouldn't we be able to sense it?"

The light of his soul dimmed and flushed with fuchsia. "I believe the vessel would have to be active in order for our primal instincts to pick it up," he hesitated to volunteer.

"In the scenario suggested, they would have to be active in order to contain the energy. Vessels are short lived once they become active. If they're particularly well built, they could up to a year. " Astral continued, watching the way the pulsing of her tutor’s soul slowed, returning to its calm state. "It'd be too risky. They have to be sure that the vessel belongs to the right entity. One false move and one of their minions could turn out to be a double agent. Besides, they aren't exactly a dime a dozen. Would it be possible to possess multiple vessels at the same time?"

Mathias’ left eye began to twitch. He rubbed his left temple to ease the strain. His soul had stopped pulsing altogether.

Astral smiled sweetly at her tutor. She was enjoying this.

"Ascension sounds good," he croaked. "Let's go with that."

"But you suggested that wasn't the case," Astral offered, concerned. She was happy to explore alternatives, if only to watch the changing hues of his soul.

"Now that I think about it, the only other alternative is birth, but energy demons don't give birth," Mathias volunteered, speeding things along.

Astral fell silent. 'How would an energy demon reproduce?' She wondered. It seemed strange to her that they wouldn't find some way to replicate. If reproduction wasn't possible, the energy demon they were planning to face off with tonight would have had to have been around since...

...since forever.

They could help her with her history assignment! Mathias soul calmed as the idea struck her. Her rueful smile broadened, but she thought better than to toy with her tutor any further. He would never agree to such a selfish reason to keep a demon alive. She'd have to agree, of course; history was built on perspectives, not truth.

Before she knew it,  Astral began her trek down the memorial path to return to the town center which was a little under two hours away on foot.

Heading directly back to town wasn't her plan. She had another four hours of darkness to pursue her prey during its active period. With the exception of powerful demons who could tolerate the lights harsh punishment, most demons could safely manifest in darkness. It meant that a hunter's work hours was between nightfall and daybreak. 

She reached for her core, her inner-self that held all of the answers when it came to hunting. She hoped she wouldn't need to go too deep to retrieve her answers, lest the thing that lurked inside of her wake.

She considered her other-self like a sleeping beast who happened to sleep talk groggily before going back to into its deep slumber. She slipped into the ether of her mind, flowed through the currents of her soul. It was getting easier with each session. Each time she feared that she would lose a piece of herself to the thing inside of her. She feared allowing it to manifest into the world beyond her mind.

To her surprise, her core felt alert. In times like these, she felt as though her core treated her like an investment, and it was in her core's best interest to keep her alive.

For the time being, she was able to maintain her distance from her other-self. In her mind-eye, the mimic of herself stood down the path from her within sight. With each session, her core was learning how to adopt her shape. The concept frightened her above all else. One day, this mimic would become her, and she would cease to exist. And yet, she couldn't help herself to turn to her core for guidance when her tutors and resources failed her.

Though it had her shape, her core was a void, the pure absence of light. It had no physical presence. It didn't need one. One day, it would have hers.

It stared into the forest, watching the shifting fog dance away from the false image of herself. "Do you remember when you first saw the light?" her core asked.

Astral could feel it smile as though cherishing a precious memory. "Show me where it is," Astral ordered her core.

Her core gestured to the forest with a broad sweep of her arm. "Give it a reason to manifest," her core instructed. "But do it in place where you have the advantage. You're still... squishy."

The truth stung. She was good at her job, but that didn't make her invincible. Despite her ultimate fate, she liked the idea of living with all of her limbs intact. The image of her core vanished from her mind, leaving her alone on a clear path purified of the scourge.

'How do I make an energy demon manifest?' She wondered. It had never been a problem before. She could see the  monstrosities cleverly hiding their bulky mass in shadows, hungrily lurking over their unsuspecting prey. But this demon was different. This demon she could not see.

She went over the checklist as she traveled further down the path toward the town. Typically the demons could manifest physically when they were going in for the kill. There were instances when this wasn't the case, but if a hunter ran into those exceptions, it was unlikely that they would come out of it alive. A demon who could maintain a physical body in the human world would have to be powerful. She allowed her thoughts to linger on the concept a bit longer. Her grandfather had tales of ancient demons lurking in hidden alcoves deep underground, catered to by dark sects, humans who would willingly feed these entities human sacrifices in exchange for their dark hearts desires.

She stopped suddenly at the sound of crickets. She looked to the sky above, clear with sparkling twilight above with no moon in sight. What if she could see the demon, but just wasn't aware of it at the time. The path to the town was clear, the lanterns were vigilant and still. She peered down the path toward the memorial, the tall roofs peeking over the forest canopy. It was clear. The red hue that she had mistaken for fog was gone.

She ran back to the memorial, detaching a four inch rod from her belt. She flicked her wrist, triggering the mechanisms inside to come alive, extending the rod to four feet before she interrupted the process with sweeping downward arc, balancing the extra weight with her free hand. The top of the rod readjusted, pushing a clear double edge curved blade from it that matched the length of her arc.

Mathias couldn't fight an energy demon, though she wasn't entirely sure why that was.

There were deep gashes in the cobblestone path, leading into the forest. Broken branches and overturned earth made tracking easy. There was no blood at the initial point of impact; she assumed Mathias was likely okay, given that it would want to feed on the Master Hunter until it drained the life from him.

'Why would it need to manifest?' she wondered, dashing into the forest, dodging branches and low dying foliage which would threaten to trip her. In the darkness, where the average hunter would have to tread carefully, her stigma gave her an advantage. With dying ember light of the forest around her, she could see her way through the forest. She could see the streaks of black, where plants were torn from the earth.

'It smelled of copper' she reminded herself, pushing the ever-present scent of rotting flesh from her mind in an attempt to find her prey.

Perhaps, if she got higher up, away from the ground where the dead lingered for months before a purification team was sent out to give the deceased a proper burial. Astral shortened her scythe, reducing the awkwardness of managing the weapon at its full length. She attached it to her belt, using a spare buttoned belt hoop, before climbing up a sturdy looking tree like an experienced squirrel.

6: Chapter 2.5: Memorial

 A gunshot echoed in the darkness, giving her a clue in the direction to travel. Through the dying souls of the forest, she made out Mathias' soul, a deep blue, with an electric red aura. He was still for a moment, his stance strong. His soul shuddered with surprise and flushed with anticipation.

He was more like her than she realized. He lived for the kill. She wanted to get a clear sight on the demon before interrupting the tides of battle. She kept her eye on the swift movements of her prey as she moved  through the forest, careful to avoid announcing her presence to the demon's heightened senses.

She crouched down in the shadows, keeping her presence small as she watched her tutor expertly anticipate the demon's attack. He fired into the humanesque shape made up of a torn crimson red gown and cloak. Its swollen belly reminded Astral of a pregnant woman. It was difficult to separate the robes from the demon. The red melted into the reshaped claw where it shifted to black midway down its claw. It's legs were wiry and spread wide almost in a permanent crouching position. Claws had broken free from the demon's boots, now barely maintaining the appeal of sandals.

Mathias fired a few more consecutive shots into the demoness, before she plunged him into a nearby tree, rattling  dying leaves free. She screamed at him, her mouth extending ferociously at him, large enough to rip his head from his shoulders with a single bite. The scream was wrong in Astral opinion. The matron demon cried out in agony, her grip on the Master Hunter weakening.

Mathias slumped to the foot of the tree. He took in a few heavy breaths before trying to pull himself to his feet as the demon retreated from him, calling out again in agony, cradling her swollen belly.

Astral could feel a shift in the energy, like a sudden deadly shift in the current. The teenage girl launched from the shadows of the forest, extending the length of her scythe as she swung the blade, severing the beast's head from her shoulders. She spun around and pulled the weapon through the middle of the demon's body before it could hit the ground. "Protection prayer now! But visualize it backward. Seal it here!" Astral ordered the dazed hunter.

From the trees it fell, colliding into the teenage girl who blocked with her scythe. She didn't have time for games. She couldn't count on Mathias. In the battle arena, she was on her own. The real energy demon moved and swayed like the fog, tangible but not. It swayed around her, surrounding her. She tugged on the center of her scythe causing it to break in two; the blades shortened as the duplicate smaller versions mimicked one another.

She moved with the dark energy around her, feeling her world melt away into the very darkness she was fighting. Dodging blows and moving as though possessed by the shadows themselves, she glimpsed the shimmering light of the prayer forming around the combat area. "Bring it in closer!" she shouted.

"Stop!" she called when the prayer was ten feet wide. It would have to feed on her if it wanted to survive at this point. It would need to manifest or die fighting her.

Energy demons are different from normal demons. Energy demons don't require a physical form to feed, but they do need one to lure prey and defend their nests. This one was losing. "Manifest already!" Astral roared as ferociously as any demon could. The fog dissipated for a moment out of fear.

She felt hungry, craving that thing that she couldn't quite put words to. It's attacks changed from aggressor to defender. She could see the dimming strength of the prayer, Mathias' strength wouldn't last much longer, and if the shield fell, the demon would have an easy feast and their opportunity lost.

She stopped her assault, reaching for the one trump card at her disposal. She reached for her core and opened herself up to the world. The demon saw an opportunity, reshaping itself to deal the final blow with everything it had. It lunged toward her.

Caught in her current, she pulled the demon into her, consuming what little was left of it, just as the prayer vanished.

Her world spun. She willed herself to stand upright as she took several slow deep breaths. With each labored breath, a puff of purified air escaped her lips. Little by little, the life of the devoured returned to the forest.

She fell to her knees and wretched, the fowl taste of finely rotted demon meat lingered on the back of her tongue. It would be weeks before she'd be able to get the taste out of her mouth. Her stomach growled calling out ravenously to the world. The thought of food made her wretch again.

Blood trickled down her face and arm, damage she was unaware of during the fight. She could feel sting of the humid air against the open wounds.

Mathias climbed to his feet and approached his charge. "Are you okay?" he asked, crouching down next to her. She looked away, afraid that the stigmas' mark had gotten worse. "I'm fine," she lied. "Just give me a second."

"I have bandages with our stuff." Mathias told her. "Come on, it's only a couple of hours before daybreak. You did a good job."

'Like some pet let off its leash,' she thought bitterly.

From her prone position, she glanced at the rotted corpse of the first demon that had manifested. She bored the colors of the Red Order, one of the two items that remained in recognizable condition. She reached for the head, prying the transformed mask from the skull. This woman was a member of the Crimson Knights, the elite Hunters of the Red Order.

She placed the skull in her lap, carefully stroking its hair from her eye sockets. She was with child when she was turned into a husk. She fed to keep her child alive. Her child fed until it was strong enough to birth. What a demon it would have been.

The mask would have born the resemblance of demon face as depicted in the medieval era. It used to be made of metal and plated in gold for show. Now it was the face of a demon, and it's metallic surface transformed into bone. Still it had only been one face of two that this husk had shown to the world. Some part of her held onto her humanity, perhaps the part of her that nurtured and fed her unborn child.

"Do what you need to do," Astral told Mathias, tossing the woman's skull to join the two separate parts of her body. "That woman needs to be purified, cremated then buried."

It was going to be a long night.

7: Chapter 3.1: Clearwater

It was almost noon on one of the hottest Saturday's that William could remember in his fifteen years. He pounded on the attic door with the impatience of a hungry teenager, bellowing: "Lunch is going to be ready in 5 minutes!"

He waited to hear signs of life from beyond the door, but heard nothing. He peered into the darkened room. The attic was converted into a third bedroom, specifically for his father's summer student. Short of the summertime stuffiness that came with being on a higher floor, the room was much larger and nicer than his own.

It was refurbished with a polished hardwood floor, and the walls had been painted shades of lilac and white to give it a feminine touch. Overlooking the room was a single large window which suggested that the former homeowners had always intended to use this space as something other than storage. The window had a charming little reading nook that doubled as a storage space for extra blankets for the colder winter months. A collection of miss-matched stuffed bears stared back at William from their seat in front of the window. He wasn't sure if his guest ever opened curtains to let the sun warm the already stifling room.

On the right side of the room was a standing wardrobe and a work desk for her summer studies. Her desktop was password protected, and no doubt had severe parental locks installed, restricting the digitized surface to approved areas of study and guardian surveillance. Its surface had been kept clean, save for a couple of his father's books that she was made to study from and the row of teddy bear companions who occupied the furthest part of the desk. There were no decorations, no paintings, no posters, nothing that made the room feel like home. It was a clean, functional space and that was all. Everything in its place, like a carefully crafted illusion of what he was meant to see.

He narrowed his eyes at the sleeping girl, bare leg hanging over the side of her bed, as a string of drool pooled onto her pillow. In his opinion, Astral slept a lot. Far too long for the average human being. If she had a super power, it would be sleeping. If he slept as much as she did, his father would have grounded him citing: "I'll give you a reason to be so damn exhausted."

Yet here she was sleeping the day away without repercussion. He listened for his father. Content that the master of the house was still in the process of preparing their meals, he crept up on Astral's sleeping form. She had a teddy bear pinned under her arm. It was a little worn. It's ear had been sewn on crooked, and he was missing a button eye. Her shirt had left her back bare, winding its way up her torso in a failed stranglehold. Her pajama shorts bore a teddy bear pattern.  He didn’t understand why she wore such childish things.

He guessed that someone might think she was pretty if they liked the clumsy skinny unkempt sort. He noticed the bruises on her legs and cuts on her arms. 'Stupid kid, she probably tripped when she was outside yesterday.' She was taller than him by a couple of inches. He didn't think that was fair at all. He was supposed to be taller than her; that was just the way things were supposed to be. Boys are taller than girls. The end.

He looked around the room, carefully considering his options on how to best to wake her. He could just spring open the curtains, blinding her with sudden light. He could go downstairs and get some ice from the ice box. Or he could just pounce on her while roaring his best demon roar and scare the living daylights out of the rich priss. Two of his three options would get him into a world of trouble with his father.

He snuck over to the window and pulled the curtains open, singing "Rise and shine sunshine! It's a beautiful day!"

Astral's face rose from her pillow to look at the clock on her nightstand next to her bed before sagging lifelessly back into position. William frowned. If he pulled that stunt with his dad, he'd have been dragged out of bed by his toes and made to do weeding all morning.

He jumped on the bed, careful to avoid her lanky legs. She bounced to the floor, teddy bear firmly held to her chest. She glared up at him. "Dad says it's time to get up," William taunted, "better hurry because I'm super hungry. You might not have any food by the time you get downstairs."

Astral grumbled something inaudible as she lumbered toward the nearest bathroom while scratching her exposed back.

Stupid kid.

*****

William helped himself to a second helping of fruit salad, ignoring the way Astral was rolling a grape across her much smaller portion. She was always a picky eater. It was like nothing was ever good enough even though his dad went out of his way to make sure that she was always served meals with the freshest possible ingredients. Sure his father was no gourmet cook, but it wasn't like it was bad.

"Eat up," Mathias urged patiently. "We've got to head in town this afternoon and I don't have time for pit stops."

Astral looked like she could pass out on her lunch plate. William smiled. 'Welcome to the country princess.' It wasn't like she shouldn't be used to it. Every year since he was ten years old, she'd turn up for the summer. When school started, her granddad would come get her, pay Mathias his due credits, and they wouldn't see her again until the following year.

He once made the mistake of asking how much Mathias made for babysitting the rich brat. He had to do volunteer work all year until Astral came back in late June for her regular stay. He didn't really understand why her grandfather wanted Mathias, of all people, to tutor his granddaughter, but maybe there was something in having a Red Order Master teach your kid.

"So..." William decided to try a conversational approach to wake his sleepy guest. He liked day trips into town, particularly if they were unsupervised. By his judgement, he was old enough to see friends on his own and hang out where ever he wanted. Getting into the Council's Academy made him popular in town. He was the first from Clearwater ever to attend the reformed military school since the Council took over. He'd idly wondered why no one managed to get in before now. The exams were hard and crossed a large range of topics that he felt no average kid would know about. Hard was an understatement.

Of course, the exam wasn't the only way into the school. He was well educated by his school mates that everything had a price and for those who could afford it, entry into the Council's Academy only meant making the appropriate donation.

It came down to being an issue of pride for William. He wasn't wealthy; his father's employer didn't believe in education outside of the Red Order mandate, so the logical conclusion was that he got in because of the marks on his exam. He got in without even trying. He got in when his peers couldn't. That made him special. "...I guess you're headed back to Serenity in a couple of weeks."

Astral shrugged and rolled a strawberry onto it's back, exposing it's middle before idly spearing it with her fork. "Just a few more bites," Mathias cooed, "then go brush your teeth."

She hesitantly popped the strawberry in her mouth as though carefully trying not to taste it. She chewed a few times and forced herself to swallow. She turned green in an instant. She dashed up the stairs and slammed the bathroom door shut. Father and son pretended not to hear the young girl vomit her first meal of the day.

"She may have the flu," Mathias told William casually. "It's probably best if you were extra mindful of your cleanliness until the bug passes. Though, they do say that the contagious phase ends when the symptoms manifest."

"I think that she thinks that she's too good for us," William replied, sliding her small bowl in front of himself. "She's always giving you a hard time with meals. Sometimes she's a vegetarian, sometimes all she wants is meat, the bloodier the better. I mean how are we suppose to plan around someone's eating habits when they're all over the place like that."

"She has the flu," Mathias repeated firmly.

The sound of Astral furiously brushing her teeth followed by gurgling filled the stern silence.

8: Chapter 3.2: Clearwater

It was hard not to boast about being from Clearwater. It was one of William's more impressive features, right after his long list of failed attempts at well...everything. Through his friends at school, he learned that Clearwater was one of the nation's larger towns due to the natural resources nearby. For example, he now knew that they were one of the largest lumber exporters. But unlike the typical resource management scheme set by the capital, much of their products were shipped to surrounding townships to aid in rebuilding projects. Materials sent to the capital from Clearwater were often for tailor-made luxury items to meet the unique demands of the denizens of the metropolis, which in turn lead to a flourishing crafts trade. A skill that he had not inherited through the ever popular study of osmosis, much to his friends' dismay.

His hometown was also in the unique position to not have to pay out tribute produce in exchange for food supplements. Instead, they could trade other raw materials such as ore, seeds, or pre-grown plants that included flowers, shrubs, and trees for the purpose of transplanting and revitalizing less than prosperous areas. He was vaguely aware that this was part of the government plan to bring life the northern regions in hopes of increasing natural food sources. He felt that jobs like that were better suited to the kind of worker who felt fulfilled by a day of ridiculously long hours, backbreaking work, and pay that would never be able to support a single person, not to mention a family. Yeah...jobs like those belonged to suckers. William had an ambitious career track in mind, though he wasn't entirely sure how he was going to go about it.

There was definitely a sense of pride that swelled in his chest whenever he saw the local folks smile and wave at his father, offering a "Good day, Father Mathers," and engaging in meaningless small talk. As Master Hunter of the Red Order, there were definitely some solid perks to the job. The people knew exactly who to thank for their continued safety and wouldn't hesitate to offer gifts as thanks. They owed it to the Master Hunter too. One day, it was going to be William strutting in his father's place and the people would be bowing their heads at him.

He felt important, even if it was residual. It was much in the same way Astral was important just because she was related to the Councilman. He noticed how their whole act would change when they would inevitably find out his guest's heritage. Astral referred to it as 'the culling of the disingenuous'. He thought it was stupid. There was no way to get ahead in this world unless you were useful. That was a reality that she needed to learn to accept.

The three of them were dressed in their finest today. His father wore a neatly pressed suit that was far too simple in William's opinion, even with the silk crimson red tie to serve as the mark of the Order. Overall, it gave Mathias as casual, approachable feeling, though did little to reduce his obvious importance within the town.

Astral was encouraged to wear the clothes that she had worn when she had arrived earlier that summer, as her summer wardrobe was often torn, patched, and stained by time she due to return home. It was definitely not befitting of a Master Hunter and his family to be seen with such unclean company. It came as a huge disappointment to William at just how clean she could appear if she bothered to give her looks some thought. He resented that next to his father and despite being shorter and thinner, she still gave off the impression of personal importance. Maybe it was the way she carried herself, one long leg striding in front of the other, her feet following a narrow invisible path. Maybe it was the way she looked ahead instead of at the paved walkways. Or maybe it was the fact that no one could see her eyes behind tinted lenses. He was told that she had to wear protective eyewear because her eyes had become sensitive to the light. He figured it was capital city thing; a direct result of being cooped up in a place where natural sunlight couldn't reach them.

Much like Mathias' wardrobe, Astral preferred less elaborate designs and flat colours. It was clear where she hailed. Her clothing was very modern, broken up in strong vertical line running up and down her body. She wore knee high black boots and black trousers to hide the cuts and bruises on her pale legs. She wore a white vest jacket which was probably emblematic of her families ties to the governing Council, much in the same way that Mathias had to wear a piece of crimson red to mark his allegiance. Her collar was done up to her neck, adding to her rigid importance. It hung open from her navel, likely to allow some youthful allure to her otherwise overly mature appearance.

Luckily she had ruined the look by insisting on bringing her teddy bear packsack. Not quite satisfied with the odd accent, he had conveniently pulled and lost her white hair ribbon midway into town, causing her wild hair to tumble loose and cover the teddy's accusing eyes.

He wore something similar to his father, a basic grey vest suit combination with no jacket. It was too hot for a jacket. His clothing didn't allow him to opt out of wearing a shirt, which stuck out from his trousers in a way that he felt made him look cooler and mature, hopefully more mature than his summer guest. He left his collar unbuttoned, favouring being able to breathe overlooking 'smart'. Besides, his tie had been conveniently misplaced.

Mathias pulled a palm sized hand tablet from his coat pocket, quickly checking the time as he nodded to another "Good afternoon, Father Mathers."

It was par for the course on a day out on the town. His father had to pay his respects to the people who kept him employed. Being visible gave the appearance that all was well and that the people had no reason to fear a demonic onslaught.

An older woman moved toward them making every attempt to appear as though there wasn't any urgency in her purpose. William smirk, noting the hungry look in the woman's eyes. She was some twenty years older than his father, with a niece who had publically rejected her local suitors, pretty much ruining her chances at a local match.

"Good afternoon, Master Mathers," the woman greeted, bobbing her head respectfully with a touch of a curtsey in her footing. She wanted to maintain control of the conversation by reducing her height ever so slightly, albeit, briefly, but maintained the stiffness in her posture and did nothing to reduce the amount of space she was taking up. She wore black, the traditional dress of widow. She would be made to carry on wearing the colour until she remarried. As a practitioner of the faith she was sure to abide by the rules, especially if she wanted to impress the Master Hunter.

She lowered her eyes, casting them toward the shorter William, to whom she nodded respectfully and offered a slight smile. William nodded to her, as he was expected to do. He noticed how quickly her nose moved skyward when she saw Mathias' summer student. The woman returned to her full height; her gaze fixed on her target.

"Good morning, Mrs. Archer," Mathias smiled. "How's that niece of yours? Fairing well in the big city?"

The middle-aged woman smiled like a fox about to snap up its prey. "Graduated this past June and completed her Oathing ceremony! Oh to the Red Order of course, like I needed to tell you," she laughed a hollow rehearsed laugh. "It was a risky choice, but you know Kaitlin, once she gets her mind on something she's just set to it. I'm glad you asked, actually. She's due back any time now; I'm off to the station to pick her up, if you'd care to join me."

Most of the town was built around walkways. Motor vehicles caused too much noise pollution and could attract demons. The city center held most of the commercial outlets reserved for the locals, such as grocers, tailors, and the only restaurant. The house of worship, town hall, and shelter were also part of the central landscape. Schools were closer to the inner town but dotted residential areas often accommodating as many as a thousand children per school. Larger production outlets were on the outskirts well passed the residential districts. The Mathers' household existed on the outskirts, which was a series of duplexes once called townhouses. Their proximity to the eminent dangers of the unknown made these dwellings less than desirable. Their neighbors were often migrant workers there for a season, gone the next. Some capital city company was said to own all of the houses on the outskirts and had been buying up property for years, pushing toward the inner town. No one complained, possibly because there were laws against too much wealth acquisition.

The train station was one of those buildings on the outskirts. From there, a person could book a shuttle to a nearby town or right to the capital itself. They could also rent or a bike or small cart for the day. There were other similar small outlets throughout the town, all with a limited supply that came from the train station. The only other way to Clearwater was by road, but so few people owned a personal vehicle, due to the aforementioned threat of attracting a demon, it was a rare sight. Those people would be made to park their vehicle within the station's parking garage, and they would have to proceed on foot or via bike to their intended destination.

Mathias took a step away from the woman's extended hand, placing a hand on his charges as though proving he had other plans. "I'm afraid I have quite a bit to do this afternoon," his smile broadened. William couldn't help but smirk at the indignant expression that had flashed across Mrs. Archer's worn features. She was a middle-class woman, with middle-class prospects. Women like her were always on the look-out for a better arrangement, if not for herself than for her family. It was probably no small coincidence that Mathias had carefully planned every outing to include a long list of errands and the company of his two charges.

Mrs. Archer wasn't the only one eyeing up the Master Hunter as a potential step up. She was quick to collect herself, smiling with frosty warmth behind a wall of pearly whites. "We're planning quite the party this evening. It'll be the talk of the town. I would very much like it if you would do us the honour of blessing the event."

William resisted the urge to nudge Astral in a shared joke, but she was watching something off in the distance, ignoring the exchange entirely. He'd have to catch her up with why this party was such a joke anyway. No one in their right mind would want to attend, least of all any available bachelors. Not after the last time...

Mathias smiled in the way a parent would when they try to avoid making their child feel stupid for trying something that was destined to fail. "Now you know I'm not that kind of priest." He sighed and looked to the heavens as though seeking answers in the clouds spotting the otherwise clear sky. "I do believe that Father Hubert owes me a favour. I can make a request if it still suits you."

The woman's frame sagged with disappointment and the warmth from her eyes vanished. William had to commend her on maintaining her smile. "That will do nicely. Please, Father Mathers, if you're able, we would be very happy to have you attend." Her eyes lingered on the inattentive Astral longer than they should have, causing feelings about the student to melt away her false smile. "Your...charges are most certainly welcomed." The smile returned.

"That's generous of you," Astral spoke and nodded to her respectfully. "However my grandfather has made it abundantly clear that I am not to socialize with...umm..." she looked to Mathias whose cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

"What she means to say is that the Councilmen is very particular with whom Lady Daamon is acquainted," he added hastily. William glanced to his companion, 'Lady?' He hoped that it wasn't an actual title; rather it was just one of those polite things people said.

"I see," Mrs. Archer eye narrowed and pursed her lips. "It would appear that you have more in common with my niece than I would have at first thought." She bobbed her head respectfully to the young Lady and a second deeper bob to the Master Hunter.

They watched Mrs. Archer's form disappear in the bustling crowds of the city center. Mathias roughed up Astral's hair. "I think you've earned ice cream," he told her giddily.

"Seriously!" William shouted in surprise. "I would have gotten in trouble for talking to her like that!"

"So would I!" Mathias cheered. "Thank god one of us doesn't need manners."

"Bite me," Astral bristled.

"We're not going to tell your grandfather about this," he told her. "If he asks, I'll tell him that you've been thoroughly reprimanded."

She considered his offering and nodded in agreement. "You're an enabler, you know that right?"

"Do I get ice cream?" William asked.

"Of course!" Mathias smiled. "Ice cream for everybody."

'Uh oh!' William had this sinking feeling that the ice cream his father was referring to was quite possibly the stash he had polished off last night. His excitement waned. In his defence, most of it was already eaten by the time he found it. Maybe he could pin the blame on Astral, she'd get into less trouble.

9: Chapter 3.3: Clearwater

Their outings often brought them to Clearwater's central shopping district. It was only place where Mathias could get the bulk of his weekly shopping done in one outing while maximizing his public appearance. The shops in this area formed a large circular court, the store front windows facing the large decorative fountain with no real significance apart from showing off the town's collective wealth.

Children were playing, screeching and laughing under the supervision of a watchful parent. Mismatched couples gathered, window shopping for things that they could not afford, but dreamed of owning one day. It wasn't uncommon to see older men courting women as young as sixteen. William would have to wait until his return from the war before he would be eligible to select a wife. Unless another arrangement was made, the earliest he could participate in the matrimonial contracts was at twenty-three assuming he didn't need societal rehabilitation. He had a girlfriend now. Nothing serious, just something to pass the summer months. He'd need to break up with her in a couple of weeks; he reminded himself. Parents were often leery of teenage love, often making some dire accusation of their daughters. Their worth on the matrimonial market lay in their virginity. He had no idea why. By being the son of the Master Hunter bought him privileges that the local boys didn't have, and that meant a lot less sneaking around and fewer angry parents. In fact, for whatever reason, it was going to be his girlfriend's fault when he breaks up with her, allowing him to escape guilt free. 

The shops were two stories high; the top floor reserved for the business owners' living quarters. The roofs were set up to allow for heavy plant growth, showcasing the town's real talent in beautification through a process called re-greening. Over the years, Clearwater's green architects had given the town the appearance of living in harmony with nature. Flowers had failed to bloom this year, and the bushels of green were a bit on the sparse side, revealing the steel and stone surfaces beneath it. It gave the impression that nature had enough of its one-sided relationship and was in the process of packing it's bags for another town.

The overall failure of a thriving greenery had a huge impact on Clearwater's local green architect. Believing that it was just a bad year, William's father had decided to commission the local garden center for large weekly orders that he would collect and transport to the memorial site.

A customer stormed out of the shop, nearly colliding with the sliding doors that were only a half second from being too slow. "I don't give a damn about the weather conditions! You better find a way to fix it, or you'll never work in this town again," the patron raged with an unjustified self-importance.

William relished in the drama, waiting with baited breath to hear the old man conjure up some clever rebuttal. He wanted to know if the patron actually had the sort of pull to honour his threat. He imagined himself in that sort of position, shutting down businesses he didn't approve of. He'd start with Vincent's parents shop, just to prove that the little toad had no right to humiliate him in front of his classmates the way he did.

William smirked at the old man who shuffled out the door to greet them. The light in his eyes had dimmed, and he was looking his age this year, marking his face with deep worry lines at his mouth and forehead. There was no confidence in his stride, no smile in his eyes or joy in his stance. "Sorry, you overheard that," the proprietor sighed. Astral stared up at the old man as though peering into his soul.

The old man froze, aware of his young patron's frosty glare.  "Grandpa wants some flowers," she said after some thought. She pulled her bear from her back and riffled through its contents to find her palm tablet. She fiddled with the device pulling up the message with the order and presented it to the old man.

He read it carefully. "I would love to fill the order, Lady Daamon, but I doubt that they'll survive the journey." He admitted.

She stomped her foot, snapping the old man out of his self-pity. "Make it work. If one bad year is all it takes to break you, I'd hate to think my family has wasted their time giving you their business."

He recoiled; wide-eyed. She was loud, intentionally so. "You will fill this order. Granddad is showcasing your work at his gala, and I will not have any of these stupid rumours impact the event. Do I make myself clear."

The people had stopped mingling to watch the young teen reprimand the business owner whose eyes watered as his face lit up. "Of course, Lady Daamon. I'll have the order sent this evening. Shall I send the invoice to the councilman?"

Astral nodded and returned the device to her bear. She had lost interest in the old man, apparently achieving whatever results she had meant to.

He bowed his head and returned to his shop before Mathias had a chance to speak with him. "Astral!" He growled. "You shouldn't talk to people like that."

Astral glanced up at Mathias as though noticing him for the first time. "Didn't you mention something about wanting him to do something to memorial? Hanging baskets or something..."

Mathias narrowed his eyes at her. He was thinking; William could tell, by the way his anger with the student melted away with the concern that he may have forgotten something important. Astral shrugged. "His personal touches should probably be added before the Lantern Festival if he wants to show off his real masterpiece."

The anger was gone now. "Right, thanks for reminding me." He made a note on his pocket tablet. "You need to be nicer to people," he reprimanded her dutifully.

"I don't know what else to do. Throwing money him isn't dealing with the real problem. I see side effects of the core issue," she told Mathias cryptically. "I'm led to wonder if the intention was to build an ecosystem of sorts."

Mathias arched a brow as the idea struck home. William wasn't sure what Astral was talking about, but he was sure animals weren't the issue of the old man's failed plants. "That's nothing you need to concern yourself with," he told her while casting a glance to flowery display in the window. His father was right; the garden center's business was none of her business. It was better off dying out if it couldn't keep up with the changing environment.

Mathias led them to a little shop called The Atelier. As the name implied, the shop was home to a tailor. Old man Humphrey had become a tailor when he retired from the war and still does custom orders. The bulk of the business was handled by Mr. Humphrey's daughter-in-law who was a custom designer and expert seamstress.

Many of her custom designs were on display in the window featuring a strong Victorian influence combined with modern design. Every year, she'd select an era from the history books and feature fresh takes. It was hard to tell if her designs were popular since the people of Clearwater often favoured practical, durable clothing that was designed to last, not exactly a feature that worked in The Atelier's favour.

The charming little shop liked to keep a classic approach to running their business. A small brass bell enthusiastic ring announced the arrival of new patrons. Imported fabrics of a wide variety of colours and textures were on display on large rolls on the furthest wall. In the center of the fabric display, was a door that led to a private fitting area. Patrons would be treated like guests visiting friends as the seamstress worked her way around hems and waists to get just the perfect fit.

Behind the cashier's counter was a door with a beaded curtain that lead to the stuffier area of the shop. William could make out the shape of the aged Mr. Humphrey inspecting something under a magnifying glass.

The shop always felt old to William. He couldn't tell if it was the choice of colours, the custom fixtures, or the fashion showcase. Mrs. Humphrey emerged from the fitting area in her custom-designed ensemble ripped from the pages of history. She was a tanned woman in her late sixties with thick white hair, neatly tied up in a bun that propped up a cute little hat. Her dark eyes lit up at the sight of her patrons, but she never broke the character she was playing, at least in terms of movement.

"Early, as expected, Master Mathers," she greeted warmly.

"Sorry to inconvenience you, but I have a few errands I have to get sorted before nightfall. If you would be so kind to get started with William's fitting," he asked. William didn't see how it would be an inconvenience.

"It should take an hour," she told him, the smile never fading. "Will you be so kind to allow my daughter to accompany you. I have errands I need her to run as well."

'Subtle,' William thought.

 Mathias nodded. It was a fair exchange.

"Kendra, darling," Mrs. Humphrey called, pushing aside the beaded curtain.

Kendra was in her late twenties, her eyes bore the hallowed look of someone who had seen too much but had recovered enough to exist in everyday society. "Yes, mother," she replied timidly. Her mother placed a gentle hand on her daughter's shoulder, before lifting her daughter's chin so that her averted gaze would recognize her mother.

Kendra used to be a vibrant young woman, or so William was told. She had left the village a few years before he had arrived to live with his father. Her tale was one of warning for the young local women, her failure to catch herself a husband before her eighteenth birthday got her sent to serve in the war. She was one of a handful of survivors from Clearwater. Since returning from her tour, she was a shell of her former self, preferring to stay well away from people. She gave William the impression of a carefully manicured doll. Not a single dark hair was out of place, done up in an elaborate combination of braids and knots. Her clothes resembled the modern Victorian combination presented in the window, whose rich colours made her cinnamon skin look smooth and flawless. He imagined her mother caring for her, gently stroking her hair while speaking softly to her in the hopes of calling out the daughter she had lost to the war.

"It's okay, Kendra, darling. Master Mathers will help you if you need it," her mother cooed while smiling if only to hide the tears forming in her eyes.

Kendra lowered her head and walked toward Mathias, who offered his arm. She wrapped her fingers around his arm and allowed him to lead her out. Playing timid and submissive the way that she did was a clever ruse to fetch herself the most available man in Clearwater.

"William," the seamstress pulled the boy from his thoughts, "if you would meet me in the fitting room. We can get started on your uniform."

"Right," William nodded. He glanced at Astral, who had set herself up at the counter to rummage through her nap sack. A teddy was half hanging out with its stuffing escaping onto the counter surface. He assumed that she wanted her bear mended. Stupid kid.

William stepped into the fitting room. The room had a simple decor with three doors leading to change rooms. There was seating for family, if needed, and a small table where tea and snacks would be served. He stepped onto the platform.

Mrs. Humphrey knelt down, placing her kit to her left and going over her tablet for William's records. "Stand absolutely still," she warned.

William held his breath. He knew that he didn't have to stay still; it was just a part of the game they played. The platform sprang to life, breaking apart as the components rose up to scan him, circling his body from head to foot. The platform rose up and slowly fell as it gauged his weight.

"I heard this joke the other day," she told him as part of their routine. "how did it go..."

She was terrible with jokes, she knew it too. That was part of the fun. He'd laugh because the joke was so bad, or she'd start with the punch line, or forget a whole section of the joke. He swore she did it on purpose. This time was no different.

"Looks like you've grown a few inches," she announced with a note of triumph in her voice as the platform returned to its dormant state.

"Really?" he glanced in the mirror ahead of him and scrutinized his height. He didn't feel taller. It didn't matter because Astral was still taller than him. It was obvious to him that she had to be some sort of freak.

"Looks like we don't need to do too much in the way of adjustments...," she said to herself, making some notes on her tablet as she wandered off. She returned moments later with one of his school uniforms. "I think just the one will do, we can make the adjustments on the others when we do the fitting."

He slid his arms into the white blazer with shield emblem over his left breast. He puffed out his chest, admiring how the jacket looked on him. Piece by piece, the vest, shirts, pants, and coats were meticulously measured to be the perfect fit for just him.

"Hey Astral," William called, "come check out my uniform." He wanted to taunt her with something her grandfather would never allow her to have: a normal school experience. Astral entered the room and gazed up at William questioningly. "Check it out!" he puffed out his chest. "I look cool don't I?"

Astral glanced to Mrs. Humphrey as though silently asking what she was meant to say in this situation. "You look so dashing, Mr. Mathers," Mrs. Humphrey cooed, squeezing his cheek. He felt properly foolish.

"Dad finish with your order, Lady Daamon?" Mrs. Humphrey always spoke to Astral with a similar gentleness that she used on her daughter. Astral nodded. "Yes, he said it'll be ready in a couple of weeks."

"That long for a bear!" William blurted.

"He needs major surgery," Astral explained in a tone that was far too serious for a child. "And recovery time."

"Whatever, you need to quit being a kid," William growled. This concern with her teddy bears wasn't going to win her any boyfriends, and it made her look stupid and weak.

"Hush now, William!" Mrs. Humphrey warned. "Dear, you need to hold on to that innocence for as long as you can, you hear," she told Astral. "There's no telling what direction life will take you, so you had best enjoy the little things for as long as you can. You're all done, Mr. Mathers. If you would do me the honours, Lady Daamon." She gestured to the platform.

Astral stepped onto it, taking William's place. He peered over the seamstress' shoulder to look at the data she was collecting. Astral was 157 cm (5'2") and weighed 50 kg (110 lbs).  Mrs. Humphrey's gaze slid from her tablet to the watching William. The seamstress hid the contents of her tablet behind her ample bosom. "A lady never reveals her secrets," she told William with a wink.

The store bell chimed. "Don't worry it's just us," Mathias called to the fitting room. William's father spoke with Kendra, encouraging her to take down his order. He spoke softly to her, guiding her through each step and patiently waiting for her to finish each item on the list. She was playing him like a harp. William ignored the pair; there was nothing he'd be able to do about it anyway. It's not like his dad ever listened to him.

"We're all done here," Mrs. Humphrey announced. Astral took the seamstresses hand and hopped to the ground.  "Got the Master's order, darling?" she asked her daughter, who nodded while keeping her eyes on the tablet in her hands.

"Thank you for your patronage, Master Mathers," Kendra squeaked. Kendra raised her eyes just as Astral entered the room, for a second they shared a silent conversation, and the timid woman's demeanour changed from frightened mouse to serene. She smiled to herself. "Thank you for your patronage, Lady Daamon," she said a bit more firmly. "We look forward to doing business with you in the future." Her eyes fell back to the console in her grasp, and she proceeded to the back room.

"Thank you for taking our orders," Astral replied firmly just as the seamstress' daughter disappeared behind a veil of beads.

"That was weird," William announced. "Anyone else think so." William couldn't quite put his finger on why he felt so weird about the way she spoke that line, but he got the impression that it was code for something.

Mathias cast his son a dark look. "It's the small gestures that help war veterans like Kendra. I don't want to hear that tone from you again, do I make myself clear?"

"We have your orders. They'll be ready for fitting in a few days. I will send a message to schedule your appointment at that time," Mrs. Humphrey smiled. Business concluded; it was time for them to leave.

10: Chapter 3.4: Clearwater

Evenings in the Mathers household were dull. Though curfew was set an hour before sundown, they had to be home much earlier to give Mathias time to prepare dinner and set up for his nightly routine. Astral would often confine herself to her room, leaving William to fend for himself.

"I promise I'll be back before curfew!" He was getting desperate. He hadn't expected his familial duties to have taken up his whole day and had already made arrangements to meet with friends. He hoped that he could still make it in time, but his odds were fading by the minute.

"My answer is no, and that's final," Mathias stated firmly while sniffing the contents of a mystery box, checking for freshness. The corners of his father's mouth retreated to his ears in a grimace, his nose would have joined them but settled for trying to make itself smaller. His eyes watered. "We won't be having that," he croaked, attempting not to breath in the putrid fumes.

William plugged his nose. "What if I brought Astral?" She was usually his trump card for everything else.

"Definitely not," Mathias glared at him. He clearly struck a nerve. Sure she was terrible with people and he got the impression that people in general didn't really like her, often keeping a pretty safe distance just in case they were to catch whatever social disease she had. He didn't get it. She didn't seem that bad, and nothing terrible has happened to him by just being around her.

"She needs friends dad!" William tried again. "I could introduce her to mine. You don't want her holed up in there the whole summer do you?"

Mathias sighed opting to use up the remains of last week's veggies and a small portion of the meat they were allowed for the week. "Your grades came in," he told his son dutifully. William stepped out of arms reach of his father but knew better than to run. Running would admit to his slacking, and by association guilt in intentionally not performing at his best while resolving to not do anything about it. "I'm sure I don't have to tell you how disappointed I am," he told his son, chopping away at his veggies. William felt that the chopping didn't need to done so firmly. "You clearly need to develop your work ethic. I've requested the summers remedial studies of your failed classes. You've also been enrolled in a work program to pay for the extra cost for re-examination, assuming, of course, that you don't want to repeat the classes entirely."

Education was not the reason he was so adamant about attending the Council's Academy. All he needed to do was find a wealthy benefactor to sponsor him, and he would be saved from the service in the war. Going to that school meant connections to wealthy people, people of influence. "You don't get it at all dad! It's not how it used to be when you were my age!" William rolled his eyes. A work program would cut into his schmoozing time.

"I studied at the monastery, William," his father told him. "My experience is bound to be vastly different no matter my age. For grades like yours, I would be made to do servant's work until my grades improved. It was believed that if I didn't desire to better myself, than all I would be good for is menial tasks. It was believed that I lacked the intellectual capacity and self-discipline for harder work. I didn't make it as a Red Order Master Hunter by hanging out with friends and skipping classes."

William narrowed his eyes at the Master Hunter, his fists balling up in his pockets. "YOU DON'T GET IT AT ALL!!!!" He raged and stormed off, thudding loudly up each stair. Slamming the door to his room didn't do much to ease the knot in his chest. The oppressive demands of his father behind him, he felt that this wasn't going to be the last time he was going to hear this series of arguments.

His room was much smaller than Astral's, but it was a lot less sterile. Dirty clothes littered the floor. Medium sized projection pods had been fastened to the all, waking from sleep mode with the vibration of William's rage.  Their displays showed a limited vid capture of twelve masked men and women in white and black uniforms holding a trophy. The projection's subjects moved, some pumping their fists in the air, others taking on victory stances. The central figure remained still, his posture confident, but there was something that always made William feel a little sad for him. It was almost like he could see the weight of the world on that player's shoulders.

Other holographic posters showcased the players without their helmets, their names and functions listed to the left. The subjects didn't move, but the image itself slid slowly diagonally, upwards, downwards at random.

William strode over to the tall window, bouncing across his bed to limit the number of steps needed to reach it. The window reached ceiling and had a with a three foot height dresser in front of it. He climbed on top and opened the window to gauge the distance to the ground. There were no pipes or decorative linings to use as purchase to assist him on his way down. Sure he could jump, but there was a good chance he'd break his legs when he hit the ground. He sighed and sat on his dresser. He'd have to cancel. He'd have to tell his friends about how unreasonable his father was with his lockdown rules. He pulled his tablet from his nightstand and punched the power button to call the screen into action. The screen shaped itself into an eight inch by eleven inch surface. 'Welcome William'  appeared on the screen while calling up his application options. He had two options: re-examination and remedial studies. All of his apps granting him access to the outside world were gone.

Panic took hold. Breath held; he looked through the settings menu and flipped back and forth from the search screen to the app screen. He screamed, throwing the tablet across the room. The screen blinked out. A new worry lodged itself into William's mind. If he broke his tablet, his father wasn't going to replace it. He begged for months just to get this older model. He picked up the tablet's core and gingerly pressed the power button. It sprang to life and greeted 'Welcome William'. He pressed and held the power button again, signaling it to shut down. It wasn't like it was of any use to him in this state.

Something odd caught his eye. A chair was anchored under the door handle to his closet to prevent it from opening. A small green teddy bear sat on top of it staring back at the teen. He got the impression that it was watching him with a polite little smile. It's plaid bow didn't help his feelings toward it.

He snapped up the bear; his knuckles turned white forcing the teddy bear to hold its breath. It was bad enough she was there all summer, but to have her snoop in his room to top it all off...

He wasn't going to have it. She needed to be put in her place.

He stormed up the stairs to the attic. Astral's door was left open, likely listening for when dinner was ready. His guest sat at her desk working away at what he assumed were summer assignments. He threw the bear at her, clocking her in the back of the head. "YOU WERE IN MY ROOM!" He raged.

The air in the room cooled. Astral barely glanced over her shoulder. It took a second for her to decide to turn around to face him. She picked up the green teddy, brushing it off and adding a light squeeze to perk it up. It seemed happier somehow.

"I was wondering where he went off to," she told him. Her voice was empty of warmth and lacked the ring of innocence. He swore she had a split personality. The girl addressing him now was not the girl who played with teddies and loved ice cream. He felt afraid. "Is that all?" she asked. It was clear to William that she had dismissed him. He wasn't going to have it.

"This is MY house! You hear me! You have to listen to me! You stay out of my room." He was losing fire fast. He hated it when she looked at him. Her crystalline gaze felt like it was burrowing into him, digging up his secrets. He felt like if she could dig deep enough, she'd find a way to break him. It always made him feel exposed, almost like she could see him for what he really was. Whatever it was she saw in him, she had no sympathy for its condition.

"Hey is that my school!" He tried to shift the topic, hoping she would take the bait. Astral glanced at the elevated holographic projection sitting on her desk. It displayed the whole campus map, revealing all the floors elevations and all the rooms. It was hard to make heads or tails of anything specific, but zoom features were flashing in the corner of her desktop surface. Various boxes containing information were hovering over the school, but no reference points linked to the structure on her desk. One box had taken a multi-faceted display with multiple surfaces relating to a single topic.

He approached her desk, squinting at the writing that was scrolling up some of the boxes. His vision blurred a little, blocking out her cold stare. "Is that the student registry?" The projection faded, the boxes of information vanishing into the digital space to be accessed later.

"What did you do!" Astral gasped.

"What did I do? What the hell were you doing?" William worried. If she were hacking into a government database then their home would be on lockdown until some official came to collect them. Great, he was never going to get connection privileges reinstated at this rate.

"Dinner!" Mathias called up to them.

"I'm telling on you!" William sang and dashed down the stairs. His desire to rat her out died when he realized she wasn't chasing after him. Instead, Astral had taken to crawling under her desk to check out something, likely trying to fix the problem. Stupid kid couldn't connect the dots.

"Astral was hacking into the Council's Academy's database," William told Mathias as he set the table.

"That's nice," his father responded,  pulling his handheld tablet from his pocket to glance at the time. He frowned. "You'll have to eat on your own. Save me a plate. Do the dishes, and I'll give you access to the vid system for the evening."

"Deal!" William couldn't believe his good fortune. Mathias rushed upstairs to his office to collect his gear. It wasn't long before the Master Hunter was working on tying up his boots when William tried to collect on some much-needed justice. "So you're not going to deal with Astral?"

"I'll deal with her in the morning; I don't have time for this nonsense right now," his father snapped. The Master Hunter stopped to spare a glance up the stairs, sighting Astral at the top working her way down. William perked up. He could deal with it right now.

"You know the Council's Academy's records are public domain, right? It's all part of a governance transparency act." Astral smirked.  He wished he could punch that smirk right of her smug face. "Pleasant hunting," Astral chirped to Mathias.

"Don't break into the government's databases," Mathias shrugged as he left the teens to fend for themselves. William threw his hands up in the air and stormed into the kitchen to retrieve his meal.

William growled, "You think you're so smart." He savagely piled portions of food onto his plate.

Astral ignored him, looking into the pots to see what had been prepared. She considered William's portion before looking back at what remained. She sighed and prepared a plate for Mathias with what was left, putting it in the oven for retrieval later.

"What not good enough for you?" William sneered. "Sorry, it's not gourmet."

Astral pulled a food cube from the kitchen drawer. It's silver wrapping glinting in the fading remains of the evening sun. Food cubes were a food ration setup by the old Military Regime. Food had become scarce, prices on fresh produce and meats skyrocketed, elevating their station from survival necessity to luxury item. These cubes were an inch wide and long, and half an inch thick. Three cubes held all the necessary dietary sustenance the human body required for the day. It was the solution to mass starvation. Even today, some twenty-five years after the Regime had been ousted, food remained a luxury item, and most of the population lived off of bite-sized morsels.

"It's okay," she replied, popping the food cube into her mouth. "I don't want to steal from the poor today." Her words cut him deep. He wasn't poor. His dad wasn't poor. They weren't rich, but they weren't poor. They got by without worry and here she was criticizing everything like it wasn't ever going to be good enough.

A knock at the door cut his opportunity for a rebuttal short. Astral took a moment to peer through the window at the front door before opening it. William strained his hearing to figure out who was at the entrance with no luck. "Sorry, but Master Mathers isn't available," Astral dutifully informed the passerby.

William leaned against the entryway to kitchen, plate in hand as he dug into his meal. Kendra was at the door with a sealed container in her hands. She looked embarrassed to be there.

Astral glanced at the clock on the wall, counting down the minutes to curfew. "Your mom sent you?" she inquired gently. Kendra nodded, keeping her eyes focused on her feet. "You're never going to make it back before curfew," Astral concluded and moved out of the way to allow Kendra through if she wished it.

"You can't just let strangers in!" William choked on some peas.

Kendra remained at the entryway shaking with embarrassment. Astral said nothing, clearly indicating that she was allowed in without issuing an invite.  Their new guest stepped over the threshold. "Is it okay?" she asked meekly.

Once again, Astral glanced at the clock. "I could escort you home, but we'd have to run. Mathias won't be home until dawn so your mothers intentions will only result in town gossip. It's your choice. You can spend the night with us watching vids or you can go home."

Kendra's eyes watered yet her whole being lit up with joy. "I can watch vids with you if I wanted?"

Astral smiled broadly. "If that's what you want, we'd be happy to have you join us."

Tears fell down her cinnamon cheeks. "I would like that very much."

11: Chapter 3.5: Clearwater

It was strange having Kendra over as a guest. He didn't know what to do, what to say. His father usually did the entertaining. Their guest had chosen to sit opposite of them in a solitary seat. He didn't know if she was isolating herself on purpose or if this was a symptom of her extreme shyness. Either way it was getting on his nerves. A woman in her mid-twenties shouldn't be behaving like some shy school girl.

“I can’t wait for girls to bring me dinner all of the time,” William cooed in a feeble attempt to break the silence. Kendra flushed, her hands gripping the edge of her false skirt.

“I’d watch out for rat poison with the way you treat girls,” Astral replied, placing a pitcher of lemonade on the coffee table before retreating to the kitchen to fetch some cups.

“You don’t count.” William sneered. “I can be nice when I want to be.”

“Which is as long as you think you can get something out of it,” Astral retorted from the kitchen.

He felt hot around the ears. He didn't understand why she needed to say things like that, especially with company. "Screen on," William ordered the feed viewer. The screen came to life, fading in from clear glass to black as it calibrated itself and adjusted it's display based on the brightness of the room. The words 'user identification: William' appeared.

A list of categories appeared on the screen. News gave them access to government-sanctioned reports on disasters, new laws, and war progress. Justice gave them access to trial feeds going as far back as the past fifty years. William enjoyed hearing the sob stories before the inevitable guilty verdict got dealt out. He'd watch with glee as the judge would decree 'The guilty party is to serve a tour on the war front.' The person would cry and beg and scream that he had been setup as the bailiffs would drag his sorry ass out. A list of simplified law would follow suit, reminding the public of the crimes the guilty party had committed. Justice was blind and didn't care for the circumstances.

Weather was a digitally monitored feed within the local area, but if he so desired, he could access the weather report from anywhere in the nation and compare notes. There usually wasn't much difference between towns degree wise, but the weather could be crazy in the next town over and perfect in Clearwater.

All of the feeds were standard for all users. Where things changed was in education and entertainment feeds. Education feeds were based around William's current academic schedule. His current list had a slew of historical documentaries reflecting on the state of the pre-demon invasion. A number of fitness programs were listed and could be linked with social apps to arrange for local games, assuming his father would ever reinstate his network privileges. Not being one for sports, his list only included basic fitness routines. This list would change if his friends flagged him in a sport they should play together. Another feature of the education node was that he could access a series of tutors in any subject at his current grade level, but that cost credits.

He was surprised to see his school listed as an app. They must have finally gained government approval to air some content. "Select Council's Academy Feed," William ordered the screen.

A list of the schools military games appeared. He couldn't tell how far back they went, but at a glance he'd guess all the games from the past year were available. His heart raced. Was it here? Could he access the championship game? "List squad 7's matches. Finals." William ordered the interface.

A single listing appeared. "Play feed," he ordered.

Astral had taken a seat on the couch in the opposite corner from William, but closest to Kendra. She spoke with Kendra, making sure she was fed and watered. "Quiet!" William snapped. "You're about the watch a Master in action." The feed started with excited students attempting to describe the game they were about the watch. "It was like whoa! I can't believe that worked! And then BAM!" One student claimed, still humming with adrenaline.

"There's no way the arbiters should have let that slide!" One student fumed. "Squad VII totally cheated! There's no way a human could do any of those moves." The screen faded to black. The sound of cheering was the only thing indicating that the vid was in progress.

Introductions to the squads shot across the screen, starting with the Squad VI's player roster. One by one they slid from right to left, names and role clearly displayed. They'd break briefly for an introduction talking about where they came from and why they joined the games. Squad VI's players were clad in red body armour with green stripes running up the length of their bodies. Squad VII's players were geared in white armour with black stripes running up their bodies.

"A total twenty-four players are participating in the season's final championship game! Can you believe it! This is the first time ever that this has happened! EVER! I can't begin to think what went through Squad VII's captain's mind when he agreed to it."

"We can guess what the other guy was thinking, right?" The second commentator chuckled. "Seth Wright single handily demolished the last team. I guess they figured sheer numbers would do in our rising star."

"Can you blame them?" The first commentator laughed. "I guess they didn't expect Seth to lug along his whole team too."

"They should know better. Squad VII's leader is a reputed hard ass. If you can't measure up, you get tossed out. No weak links in his team. He doesn't have time for it."

"It's so true," William laughed. He paused to allow the girls a chance to catch on, but they didn't join in on his joke. Astral was perched her head onto her hand as she fiddled with a palm tablet, checking for messages. Kendra's eyes were riveted to the screen. “This year I’m going to try to get into Squad VII!”He announced to the girls. "I have the moves." He showed off some clumsy version of a karate chop he had learned in his basic defense classes.

Introductions done, the screen split to twenty-four viewpoints. The icon in the corner of the digital display indicated that the feeds could be manipulated to showcase specific views. "List options," William ordered. The views slid over to make space for the options list.

"Single view on Seth Wright," William ordered. The option list faded. The feeds merged into one, the Academy servers calculating optimum viewing experience. "This guy is my hero," William cooed. It was impossible to tell who was who when they wore their helmets. He could tell though who some of the players were. Gemma had a heavier build and was a heavy artillery guy. Regina had a wider hips than the other female players and always had her sniper rifle with her. Erick liked to keep his lucky chain on his belt.

"These events are the highlight of the year! A real opportunity to showcase the teams talents for recruitment opportunities." One commentator noted.

"Not to mention showcasing the leadership potential in the captains," the other added.

"Right! It takes a certain personality type to keep these powerhouses of talent in line and on point."

"I love these events. It's so random. Planning for these events is kept top secret. They can take years to setup. Like every year before this, our finalists were sent out to a super secret locale where they'll duke it out for supremacy."

"Exactly! They have to  go in unarmed, find a weapon storage unit and find the key to exit and THEN find the exit. If they find the escape vehicle first, then they have to defend it while searching for the activation key. It's always super intense!"

"Looks like we're about to see the setting for this game." The commentator gasped.

The doors slid open, and the squad piled out into an underground parking lot. The dim lights shone diligently but did little to lift the oppressive darkness.

Astral shifted in her seat; her posture stiffened, her breath caught in her throat. Kendra remained transfixed on the scene unfolding in front of her; the colour in her face paled. She grit her teeth. "They live through this right?" Astral asked, her words sharp and commanding, demanding an immediate answer.

William laughed. "You need to relax. There hasn't been any mortalities since they used live ammunition in the games."

"What are they using!?" Kendra gasped. "They're just kids!"

William's laughter muffled the commentator's narration of events. "Relax!" He managed between breaths. "They all live."

"I saw buildings like those in the war," Kendra told William. "This is no laughing matter. Those car lots can host swarms of demons spawn. See how those lights don't light the room. That's a sign that there's a nest in the area."

"Yeah, like the Council would really send students to a war zone." He wiped a tear from his eye. This was all too much. Girls just didn't have the stomach for this sort of thing.

"Remember folks that this is a recreation of a building in the 21st century, mimicking the conditions of similar buildings found today." One commentator informed the viewers.

"Right, it's just much, much safer."

"Can you imagine a floor caving in? Exciting, sure. Not so cool for them though." They laughed.

Astral eyes narrowed and the makings of a fierce snarl was touching her lips. Kendra gripped the arms of her chair, riveted to the competition.

Seth movements were slow, cautious. He gestured for his unit to stay still. He gestured for the three of squad members to go on ahead. The unit behind him kept an eye on their rear as they moved across the parking lot. Like a chain, each unit remained in sight of one another. A rusted B5 was seen in one sweep of a flashlight.

Kendra shook her head. "That light would get them killed in the field."

William rolled his eyes. "Just wait there's a good part coming up."

"Looks like our first skirmish is coming up," the commentator said gleefully.

Seth turned off his light source; his squad members mimicked his actions. He had seen the enemy unit long before they noticed his. What was he waiting for? "Time to motivate them to move," he told his squad in a whisper. "Keep pushing them to the next floor."

"What if they find the key?" a female squad member asked.

"Then take it from them," he ordered.

The first skirmish cost squad VII one soldier, taken out by sheer luck, but they had managed to eliminate four enemy combatants. "Keep them moving," Seth shouted over the noise of gunfire. "Go. Go. Go!"

They chased after the enemy squad who had failed to extinguish their light source, allowing Squad VII to take out an additional three units before they reached the first floor, where daylight blanketed the ruined entryway. Seth's team stayed far enough behind to avoid being seen. They waited in the darkness. Seth glanced back often, as though he suspected that they were being followed.

"I bet Squad VI is going to kick themselves when they see the replay," the commentators laughed.

"Oh, they were mad," William informed his guests. "Even accused Squad VII of cheating because of it."

"It was a clever use of their environment," Kendra acknowledged.

"A dangerous tactic," Astral added. Her anger was replaced with disdain.

"Like you know anything about what Kendra is talking about," William snapped. "You always have to go around talking like you know about everything."

"She's right," Kendra came to Astral's defence. "If they knew they were in demon territory, that's one thing, they could use the light like bait to drawn in targets. In a situation like this... the players are civilians. If they don't expect what's coming, he would have just gotten his team killed."

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't huh," William smiled.

"In most cases, it's a gamble. My unit got wiped out on what my squad leader thought was a sure thing. There's no such thing." William liked this version of Kendra, but it was proof that they shy girl routine was just and act to win over his dad. "You survived," he acknowledged.

Kendra gripped the arms of her chair again as though struck by lightning. "I...I shouldn't have."

"No, sense in survivor's remorse. Did you kill the thing that killed your unit?" Astral asked with the bluntness of a sledgehammer.

"I did. It wasn't easy."

"What were you called when it died?" Astral asked, a gentle tone wrapping itself around her words.

"Valkyrie."

Astral smirked and nodded.

"Aw come on guys, you missed another good part!" William whined.

12: Chapter 3.6: Clearwater

William woke to the sound of someone pounding on the front door. The vid had been over four hours long. He couldn't remember watching the whole thing. He wiped the drool from his arm where he had fallen asleep. "I'm coming!" He slurred.

He stood up to find that his world spun viciously, shifting with the intention to knock him over. He fell back onto the couch and wiped the sleep from his eyes. He was just thankful Astral or Kendra didn't see any of that. He glanced over to where they had been sitting, finding their seats empty. The pitcher of lemonade was empty, his glass was empty, Kendra's and Astral's glasses were full. He was feeling a little thirsty and plucked Astral's glass, downing it like he was never going to see water again.

He stood up, testing his balance. The knocking had stopped. Figures.

With the aid of furniture and the wall, he made his way upstairs to his room. His vision blurred and his legs felt gelatinous. The night breeze felt nice against his skin, let in through his open window that he had neglected to shut as part of the curfew routine. He didn't see what all of the fuss was about with all these security protocols. Everything was fine. He was still in one piece, though his guests were missing. 'Sucks to be them' he thought hazily.

He shuffled over to the window and glanced outside. Kendra ran passed shouting something he didn't quite understand at someone behind her. She slid to a stop and pointed to William. "Shut the damn window!"

Astral came into view. She had something heavy in her hand. Her stigma caught him; he was frozen in place. There was something about her that frightened him. The way she stared up at him like he was the most repulsive thing on the planet, and the best thing for everyone would be to kill him. Her stance changed, and the grip on her weapon shifted.

She charged toward the wall of the house, leaped and ran up the stone siding a few steps before doing a  spinning back flip. A whirlwind of blades rushed passed him just as he pulled his head indoors. He fell onto his backside panicked. She was going to kill him! He didn't know why, but he took a moment to lock the window as though it would stop her from gaining entry too quickly.

He rushed to his closet, pulling the chair that held it shut free and put it in front of his door. He shut the lights and hid in the corner of his room between the dresser and his nightstand. It wasn't long before he the realness of the scene slip from his grasp and sleep took him over.

*****

He woke with a start. Confused and disoriented he launched to his feet, breaking free of the blanket that had covered him. The lemonade pitcher and glasses were cleared from the coffee table, and a pillow had been added to William's temporary sleeping arrangements. The screen he had been watching had returned to its dormant state, now a clear glass pane waiting for its active command.

The sun was peaking over the horizon, accompanied by the sound of his father was working in the kitchen, reheating his dinner. William stepped into the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. His head was killing him. If it would just explode already, it would be doing him a huge favour.

"Kendra's over," William told his father. "Showed up here after you left."

"Is that so?" Mathias didn't sound surprised. He looked like it had been a long night and was ready to collapse into bed. William thought he could smell blood, but didn't see any wounds on his father.  "You'll escort her home when she's ready to head home," Mathias told his son.

"Sure, dad."

He wouldn't. By the time he rose from the dead in the afternoon, luckily before his father woke much later, both Astral and Kendra had gone. Astral returned before curfew with her favourite teddy bear. 

13: Chapter 4.1: Seth Wright

5:00 a.m. Sunday morning. The first shuttle of the day was preparing for departure from the capital city's train station. The elongated sleek shape was designed for high speeds, limiting exposure time to the unshielded wild regions of the surface world. Its pearl-silver surface gleamed in the stations' lights, adding a new level of brightness to the passenger boarding area. The trains' reflective surface was thought to confuse demonic entities, a design function implemented in a time when man believed demons to be lower life forms. History had taught them that demons came in all shapes and sizes, each with talents as unique and diverse as man's ingenuity. Since the new cooling system was implemented, travel between cities was becoming popular.

A generous person-sized door pushed out from the seamless design and lowered itself to the platform. "Departure time. In. Ten. Minutes." An automated female voice informed the only passenger in the station.

Seth Wright sat at the benches that had a clear view of the train. The glass divide between himself and his ride out of the capital had yet to unseal. At this time, he and the service clerk were the only living people in the station. A single automaton had been activated to lug the passenger's duffle  bag toward the rear luggage compartment.  Though Seth had been comfortable with managing his bag, safety protocols dictated that upon arrival to his destination, he and his possessions would be reunited.

It is the last time he would be making this trip. It might well be the last time he would ever see the capitol, his home. He felt the tension build up in his stomach like it always did when he knew he would be going to the surface world. It was  a combination of nervous energy and excitement. For the first time in his life, he'd be free to carve his path...assuming he survived the next five years.

The passenger section of the glass divide slid downward. "Passengers may board shuttle to. Council's Academy. Estimated. Arrival time. One. Forty. Five. P.M."

Seth took in a deep breath of recycled air before pulling himself to his feet. He was six foot two inches and had a firm athletic build. He tucked his white blazer over his arm, careful to avoid damaging the fabric with dark marks.  He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflective surface of the train and made a mental note to get his hair cut. Torn between bouts of self-pity and the resolve to change his fate led to a certain level of personal neglect. He ran his callused fingers through the long dark strands in a feeble attempt to get his hair out of his face. 'It didn't bother me until I noticed it. Figures. At least I shaved.' He scratched his neck at the thought.

The passenger car's interior lights flickered on revealing a row of six lush padded seats on either side of the car. In the center was a skeletal console with a black sphere perched atop it. He chose a seat near the front. It didn't matter which chair he took; unless the other passenger cars filled up along the way, he would have the car to himself for the duration of the trip. Each town would add its passenger car to the train along the way. A safety mandate imposed in by-gone years to prevent the spread of infectious diseases allowed for the infected car to be removed and disposed of in a restricted quarantine zone. He wasn't sure if such zones still existed, none of his research on the topic had yield to result denying or confirming their continued existence. Results stated that they had once played an active role in the old wars when biological warfare was at its height, and warlords had no qualms targeting populated civilians areas.

It was unlikely that anyone would be joining him at any point during his trip. He imagined that most students would prefer a later train since registration at the Council's Academy closed at 7 p.m. with enough time to spare to allow for some catching up with friends before curfew. He wasn't interested in catching up. He had his work cutout for him this season and the school year hadn't started yet.

The lights blinked out, leaving Seth in darkness. The train began its journey, pulling its living cargo forward only slightly. "Departing. Capitol City. Next stop. Fairview." The train gained momentum causing the subterranean lights to flashed passed his window.

He counted the seconds. Eight. Nine. Ten. A wall of red zipped across the passenger car.

Nineteen. Twenty. A second wall of red shot across the car.

A new wall appeared every ten seconds for the first ten minutes of the journey, followed by every five seconds until the train breached the darkness. The average person had to assume that the shields were working. Their invisible presence was no longer felt by the society it protected. He didn't know why he could see the shields, but it did give him some peace of mind that humanity had a found a way to prevent the demons from decimating their whole species. The capital would become humanity's last refuge, should that time come.

Back against the wall, arm perched on top the back of the chair and a leg resting comfortably along the seats next to him; Seth watched for the light of the surface world. A loving smile graced his lips. He couldn't explain why that particular moment excited him so. He would be blinded by the light for a few brief seconds as a deep sense of nostalgia washed over him. At that moment, he was found wanting. He clung to the feelings of memories that weren't quite his. They were good feelings, the sort of positive emotions that helped balanced the melancholy of recent years.

The barren northern territories had set in with washes of grays and barely there greens. It would be forty-five minutes before they arrived at the next town. If passengers hadn't registered, the train would by-pass the town altogether, skimming ten minutes from his journey. If he was right in thinking that the students would grab a later train, it could potentially cut almost an hour and a half from his travel time.

A knot formed in his stomach. Another feeling he couldn't rationalize away. It meant he'd have an hour and a half less time to pretend that everything was going to turn out fine. After graduating, he would be sent to fight in the war. He planned to enroll in an intensive training program that would carry him over the three months from graduation to his eighteenth birthday. He hoped that three years of prize money and side jobs to pay for the elite training program would increase his odds of survival. It wasn't like he could ask for his money back if he got killed.

Worrying about it would drive him nuts. The last thing he wanted was to succumb to another bought of depression. He had responsibilities. His squad depended on him. At best, his future depended on his ability to keep a level head. He removed his boots, placing them side by side at the foot of his seat before attempting to settle in for a nap.

He shut his eyes, cleared his mind and slowly exhaled. 'Regina has got to be married by now,' Seth's mind chirped. Their last encounter had ended with her yelling at him. His mind could still call up the shrill desperation in her voice even as she accused him of being a heartless bastard. "We could run away together, live off the land," she had proposed. It was just cold feet speaking. She'd mention it playfully at first until the allure of a dream was replaced with the fear of her social obligations. She was one of the lucky few to attract a decent marriage contract. He wasn't selfish enough to jeopardize her future like that.

'Selfish? Heh, no.' His mind sneered. 'You're a coward. The real reason you didn't go through with it is because you knew you couldn't protect her.' He was getting better at coming to terms with that reality. It hurt, but if he couldn't protect himself, he wouldn't be able to protect his family. Being born in the capital may have granted him residency rights, but it didn't mean work wouldn't force him to live on the surface where his potential loved ones would be at constant risk of demonic attacks. It was bold to think that his contribution to the war effort would make a difference, but it didn't stop him from hoping.

There was one other reason he had denied Regina's proposition. It was very simple. He didn't love her. She was convenient, low maintenance, and could handle herself against his growing number of admirers. Having her at his side intimidated many of the female students into inaction. Regina was well spoken, smart, beautiful and capable. She was confident and handy with a sniper rifle, which probably added to her intimidation. He was glad that he had somehow failed to mention just how much of an asshole he really was. For whatever reason, he had been under the impression that their courtship was entertainment until something better came her way. It did. He let her go.

He could play the scene over and again and it wouldn't make a difference. He could guess at when things went wrong, but he would never know for sure. He hadn't heard from Regina over the summer. No surprise there. But being a member of his squad meant he'd have to work with her under the threat of the potential backlash. There was also the possibility that she would transfer schools to fulfill the marriage conditions of her contract. It wasn't uncommon for female students to transfer out of the Council's Academy once a contract was formed. Many just used the prestige of the school to attract the eye of a wealthy mate. If she did transfer out, he'd have a second team member to replace.

"Just leave me alone!" he groan to himself, trying to still his mind.

14: Chapter 4.2: Seth Wright

"Arrival at: Fairview. Departure in. Five. Minutes." The automated voice informed him. Soon the train was speeding toward the next town.

He gave up on trying to get some sleep. He could always call it a night early if need be. Seth glanced at the black sphere perched atop the thin white console adapter in the center of the car. He reached over, waving his wrist in front of the sphere. A digital screen shaped itself in front of him. He took a moment to adjust his digital interface. 'Welcome Seth Wright.' The screen greeted.

He couldn't access the military feeds from here. Anything he did using the public network would be carefully monitored. He had taken care over the past three years to create a consistent profile of himself, one that showcased him as leadership material with a strong interest in technology and self-improvement. It's not that these were lies per say; it was just an exaggeration of the truth.

It would be some time before he would be within the range of the Council's Academy's local feeds, and it was unwise to access private messages using public access points.

He scrolled through the nation's news feed. 'Red Order to Partner with Council in Joint Venture' he pulled the feed headline from the display and positioned it to hover nearby. 'Protest Against New Enhanced Law Flares up in Council's Court,' he sighed and pushed passed the overview of the feed. 'Soldiers Return Home Hopeful,' he pulled the headline from the display and added it to his existing playlist. 'Council Denies Existence of Vanished Town.' Seth frowned. It sounded like some wild rumor. Occasionally, these fake feeds ended up in the system. He heard that the people who clicked on them ended up with their accounts hacked; identities stolen or worse.

He hovered over the feed to access the report command. None appeared. He dismissed it as a bug and selected a few more news items to view. The first news item played out. "In an unprecedented move, the Council had agreed to a tentative trial program with the Red Order." A woman explained as the feed showed the aging men and women of the Council shaking hands with ancient crimson robed representatives of the Red Order. All smiles as though there was nothing wrong with imposing a religious regime onto military practices. He couldn't deny that the Red Order had the advantage when it came to defending the people from demonic entities. Their Demon Hunters went toe to toe with demonic forces regularly, successfully defending several of their large populaces for years. He never understood why they kept their practices secret when training up soldiers properly would aid in ending this war quickly. Why make so many people suffer for so long?

"Apprentices who pass the rigorous examination process will be chosen from the prestigious Council's Academy this year. Unlike past candidates, these apprentices will continue their education within the school while training under the supervision of a Red Order Master Hunter. So far, there is no word on how many students the Order plans on taking under their wing. Training will officially begin in the summer after exams."

He should have known better than to have placed any hope in this program. It would be illegal for him to linger. Not being a ward of the Red Order, mainly because he had a living relative, meant that successfully enrolling into the program would not grant him an exemption from his civil duties. Still, he felt the bitter twinge of disappointment sting his eyes.

"Councilman Daamon has been a major contributor in making this possible." The Councilman appeared on screen, his smile empty. His gray eyes were cold and hard. Seth felt that they were the eyes of a man who lacked empathy. Unlike many of his aged counterparts, he was cleaned shaven, trim, and held himself with a regal superiority. "We seek to unify our nation. Our future as a species, the future of our children and our grandchildren, depend on acts of civility such as these to build a stronger safer nation. Through this program, new candidates may take on the mentorship of experienced Hunters to become stronger assets of their respective communities." Dezmond spoke to the camera. Seth could hear the note of conviction in the Councilman's voice. These were words spoken from the heart; they were words the Councilman had faith in.

The woman's voiceover continued. "Councilman Daamon is the father of the late Governor Daamon, who had been found guilty for the murder of four Red Order Crimson Knights. The former governors adopted daughter, Astral Alexandria Daamon, will be attending the Council's Academy this year. Lady Daamon is the heiress to the multi-billion credit technology industry Omega Corp Ltd currently owned and operated by Lord Damien Daamon, the proud benefactor of over a million people."

'Typical,' Seth sneered. They pretty much painted a bull's-eye on the girls back. He didn't pity her. People of her status came equipped with the expectation that the world would do as she bade it. Students who sought opportunity would flock to her, use her, and then dispose of her as soon as her usefulness was spent.

"Lady Daamon was unavailable for questions," the woman concluded.

'Social pariah.' What did it matter if some rich fourteen-year-old girl had an opinion about the school program? She wasn't the average student. She would never have to study hard for the dream of getting a good job; she would have one handed to her when she was ready to take control. She would never have to work a side job while studying hoping to improve her meal plan; she would never have to endure the stale taste of a food cube linger in the back of her throat. She would never have to worry about stepping foot on the war fields. No, at best, her only worry would be if her marriage contract was air tight in her favor.

She had choices. He could only survive.

The feed paused unexpectedly. It didn't matter; he was done with this video. He accessed the next one manually since it wouldn't auto play. "Corporate entities are fighting heightened taxations in a new bill proposed by the Council." Seth checked his feed; this one wasn't supposed to be playing. He scrolled through his playlist, clicking on the next item only to have the command ignored. "-claiming higher taxes will reduce the quality of life for their employees." The video froze again, the audio skipping loudly. Seth cursed, waving his wrist over the black sphere to reboot his screen.

A red light circled the circumference of the sphere. A red beam across the car, searching, falling onto Seth, who had fallen back into his seat. He scanned the small passenger car for a place to escape the beam. There was nowhere to hide. This wasn't good. He had heard things about government security drones. The wrong combinations of clicks, or accessing questionable content was said to call the hounds. His mind raced over the content he had viewed, was any of it anti-government?

The beam remained fixated between the student's eyes. The intrusive light faded, allowing the frightened passenger a moment to release his anxiety with a heavy sigh.

The sphere broke apart. Seth was aware of two things at this moment: what was happening was extension of reality and, that time was misbehaving. He didn't know what exactly it was about this moment that led him to think of time as being a cipher of sorts, but he was fully aware that he was the recipient of a message.

The sphere shattered again, froze in time, then imploded, reshaping itself into a series of inverted spheres. A powerful sound that was felt but not heard escaped from the device, launching Seth back.  The car's silver-pearl surface shattered as he passed through its wall and fell into the wilds of the world outside of the train. 

15: Chapter 4.3: Seth Wright

This isn't real," Seth told himself, feeling the sting of deep cuts bite against his will to move.  The skies above swirled in inky blacks, mixing in with dark storm clouds promising rain. The crimson hue marking the horizon told him that it should be sunset, yet some part of him knew that the blood-drenched skyline meant something entirely different.

"It's going to rain," he told no one in particular. Sickly sweet scent with a twinge of copper lingered where the smell of water should have been. He could smell the moisture building up, even as smoke and sulfur began to overpower his senses. He forced himself to get to his feet when the ground beneath his body had grown too hot. Even with the added protection of his boots, he could feel the intense heat radiating from beneath his feet, causing the rubber to stick with each step. He needed to walk at a brisk pace and keep walking.

His only reasonable option was to seek out the rail line. He could follow it back to civilization, regardless of which direction he went.  Lightning tore through the sky, ripping open the clouds. He held out an ashen hand, catching droplets of blood and soot. He'd be lucky to reach anywhere before the sun set.

He had heard stories of demon ravaged towns from news feeds, soldier stories and distant relatives of affected families. Blood and ash falling from the sky seemed a bit extreme, as though something was announcing its presence, demanding complete surrender. He sighed. At least he wasn't going to die in the killing fields. The hairs on his arms stood on end as a chill ran up his spine, 'I could die here today'.

The texture beneath his feet changed from burnt soil to pavement. Surprised,  he saw the hallowed remains of an ash-covered town for the first time. 'Get it together, Seth!' he shouted at himself inwardly, acutely aware of how fast his heart was racing and the irritating shakiness of his hands.  He did not want to draw demons to him by creating unnecessary sounds. He feared that the sound of the blood pumping through his body would be enough to call the dreaded force to him. He must have been too deep in his mind to be as careless to not notice his surroundings. Otherwise, he would have sworn that the town had materialized around him through a will of its own.

He remained still, inspecting the outline of buildings, peering into the window, searching for anything that would pose an immediate threat. Homes lay in ruin; the streets were torn apart as though something had escaped from beneath the city. Bodies in various states lay exposed to the elements, some half-eaten, others posed in grim mockery of human life made up of mismatched parts. Seth squinted against the sting of the sweat dripping from his brow. The heat was too much, like hell itself was released from the depths.

He saw movement in the distance; a vague human shape shuffled through the street, wiping its face on its arm. It dragged a smaller shape behind it. He chased after it, careful not to shout. If it was a demon, he'd would want to give himself plenty of space to retreat. But if it was human, he needed to help it out of this disaster.

He found himself deeper in the ruined town than he would have liked. A few minutes searching for the retreating form lead to a labyrinth of roadways, none of which ever connected to the road he needed to leave.

He heard the crunching of bone and sloppy chewing, followed by hateful growls and an all out vicious fight. He was compelled to keep moving forward, sparing a glance at the retreating shadows of the demon spawn. His throat had become hoarse craving water. He might as well have been breathing with a couple of paper bags. He felt so useless. His training over the past three years was  proving to be futile.

He pushed onward, one foot in front of the other, not that he thought it mattered. It felt as though the town would move toward him. Should he chose to run, he'd be pulled in even deeper, just much faster.

He heard crying, deep and mournful. The sobs of victims forced into terrible acts against their will. Mostly intact bodies rose up, like morbid puppets caught up in invisible strings. The puppets lumbered forward partly due to missing pieces, a leg here, an arm there. Anguish and despair marked their gaunt faces, the dead realizing that they're trapped in a place where their suffering, both physical and mental, would carry on for an eternity. Death would never show these people mercy.

They marched toward him, meat shields for what would be coming. He balled his fists. He could fight, but he would surely die. 'I'm only dreaming,' he told himself, though he didn't believe it.

An eight-year-old child ran passed him, toward the encroaching army of the dead. Her inky black hair swayed around her with a life of its own. By the time he noticed her; she was already ahead of him, running toward what looked like survivors. Her clothes were torn, stained with blood; her sleeve had been completely removed, leaving her torso half bare. In her hand, her teddy bear remained firmly gripped. She took no notice of the stranger in her town.

 "Wait!" he called after her, desperate to save her from the trap that would surely kill them both. He chased after her until he was reeled back by an invisible force. The sound of giggling enraged him. This was no laughing matter! That girl needs help! He launched to his feet. Three teenage girls stared up at him, flushed with laughter and shared embarrassment. 

16: Chapter 4.4: Seth Wright

His rage was very real, pumping through his blood stream with a dose of adrenaline. "I ummm..." He sat down and rubbing his eyes. He could still feel the toxic sting of polluted air in his eyes. The scents of the dream were still firmly lodged up his nose.

The girls giggled. "You were just so adorable sleeping there. We thought it would be a crime wake you," the boldest of the three offered. "I'm sorry if we woke you up." Her cheeks flushed a bright pink, matching the colour of her lips. She sought refuge with her companions, who huddle together, casting the distraught Seth longing glances.

"I had an early morning," Seth replied as way of explanation, mostly for his own peace of mind. His throat ached, hoarse from shouting after the little girl. "Where...? Where are we?"

"Umm, we hit Clearwater like two hours ago. Haven't had a pick up since, so I guess we have to be about forty five minutes to the Academy. You know, I wish they would update the schedule." She replied. She was referring to the automated voice telling them the expected arrival time. The schedule supplied by the consol was updated every time they passed a check point. He glanced at the metallic band wrapped around her wrist. She was a purist, or at the very least from a purist family. Purists didn't believe in tainting their bodies with mechanical devices, life saving or otherwise. Her stance on cyber genetics, wouldn't stop her from using the technology available to her. 

He could have just looked up the schedule for himself. If their journey was coming to an end, then he could get started on his work. "Thank you."  The leader of the pack of girls offered her best coquette smile, while wrapping a stay lock of brown hair around her finger. "You're Seth right?"

He didn't know what to say in situations like these. He didn't want to seem rude and dismiss her, after all, they were going to same place, it wouldn't take much for her to find out the truth and then he'd have to deal with fallout of lying about who he was. He always felt that the question was loaded. His answer would ultimately lead to the opening of another question.

These girls were likely in their third year and knew enough to know who he was, but were bold enough to throw their futures to the wind. Reality was for older people, granted a year or two older than they were. "I am," he was reluctant to admit. She smiled broadly, revealing rows of perfect teeth. Her mouth opened to initiate conversation, but he cut her off. "You'll have to excuse me,  I slept longer than I thought I would. I have got to get some of my work in before the rest of my squad arrives." He hoped it would be enough to keep her and her charming friends from trying to engage with him for the rest of the trip.

He swiped his wrist in front of the waiting black sphere to reactivate his virtual user interface. He saw the corners of her large lips dip as she sank back into her seat to chat quietly with her friends. "That was rude," one of them commented in a whisper.

He pushed the twinge of guilt from his mind, which was easy enough to do with the memory of his nightmare replaying in the back of his mind. His body ached with remembered pain. He hoped that the false reality of the dream would fade quickly. He accessed his account with the Academy.

His feed filled with an advert promoting the new Apprenticeship program for the Red Order. He reconsidered the program for a moment, looking over the additional information packet that the application provided. 'Hone your skills to be the very best. Defend your loved one from demonic forces.' It boasted. It included an application form, granting the Red Order permission to access his educational and medical records, among others. He noted that for all of their big promises they didn't reveal how they would be shaping their candidates into Hunters. As far as the application process was concerned, they would be tested physically and through a written exam. Only one of the selections processes made any real sense to Seth. With no outline to focus his training around, the program was of no benefit for him. He declined the offering and moved on to his growing list of chores.

His educational apps appeared along with cultural activities, meal plan selection, job boards, and the military games. He accessed his meal plan app, highlighting that he would like a small lunch sent to his command center, entering in his best guess at his arrival time. Exact meal items were restricted to what happened to be available and the chef's whims. In the event that the meal was not to his liking he could, return the meal untouched to reclaim his credits. A tally of his requested services was totalled, revealing how much funds he would have remaining should he wish to have his order processed. Not a serious dent on his credits account, but he'd have to be mindful not to have food brought to him too often. He hit accept.

He dreaded clicking on his military games app. He would be inundated with applications regardless of whether or not he had a position open. With Regina getting married and the potential of her leaving meant that there was a good chance that he'd have triple the applicants compared to what he had last year. He hoped that no one had heard that fan favourite, Wallace Rivera, had submitted his resignation in early August. No reason was provided. It was infuriating. Seth had sent Wallace messages almost daily, asking his former teammate to reconsider. Wallace never did reply to his messages. He doubted that he would reply to yet one more.

It felt sudden. The last time Seth spoke with him, he was looking forward in going down in the Academy's history books in flaming glory. Whatever changed his mind over the course of the summer must have been important. Still, Seth would have liked to have known what that was, at the very least to offer his support if Wallace needed it.

"Arriving. At. Council's Academy." The automated message chimed. Seth's digital interface vanished as the train rushed into the tunnel that would lead to the station, blanketing it's passengers in darkness. False fear rang out from the girls as they used the excuse to huddle closer together in excitement. It was the last stretch of their journey and soon they would be catching up with summer time gossip with friends and making plans for the year ahead.

A teal light washed over the passenger car once every thirty seconds. Seth found himself watching the girls, casually leaning forward, his hands cupped between his legs. The girls were oblivious to the barrier that scanned them. The light felt intrusive, washing over and through him, as though it were searching the occupants for proof of their humanity. He wondered if demons could masquerade as human. Would they do a passable job of it? Or would it be comically obvious to everyone but the demon? He always assumed that the shield acted like some kind of wall, but he had never given it much thought beyond that until now. At one point or another, everyone wondered how exactly the shield technology managed to keep the demons out.

The lights flicked on and the train slowed to a stop. "Welcome. To. Council's Academy." The automate voice greeted. The passenger door pushed itself open and lowered to the platform outside.

17: Chapter 4.5: Seth Wright

Seth pulled on his jacket, tugging at it to adjust its fit as the hem fell to his shins. A gold VII emblem was pinned to the right side of his collar, the school crest sown over his left breast. On his right arm, a shield patch sewn on top of a pair of crossed swords informed faculty and other students that his primary major was in defensive technology and his secondary major was in combat.

"See you around," the leader of the pack of girls waved as they exited the car as though they were one living entity. He never could figure out why they had to approach him in a pack. He doubted it was an issue of protection, safety in numbers and all that. He thought that maybe it had something to do with having multiple witnesses to a particular event.

'He's the coldest bastard I ever met,' one of them would say.

'It's true, he wouldn't even talk to her,' another would chirp.

Sounds about right. He searched his pockets, watching the girls linger on the platform, no doubt waiting for him. Pockets empty as he had left them, he proceeded to enter the arena where he would spend his last year of freedom. They were joined by other eager students making their way toward the registration office.

He followed the girls down the narrow corridor, forcing two of them to walk side by side, like some lopsided mis-creation, while their third companion struggled to keep pace behind them, often tripping on them in a valiant attempt to remain included in their excitement.

Seth assumed the narrowness of the walkway made the scanning easier without alerting the student to the process. It added to the illusion that every was normal. There is no cause for alarm. Everything is under control. The students stepped through a invisible spectrum of barriers. He had never seen anyone react to the shields, not on the train, and most certainly not here, not even the first years. When he first arrived, he had been transfixed by the bright dust particles that dances up and down the thin veil of colour. In this hall was the only place on the whole campus where he could stand still and inspect the force field. He had yet to figure out a way to examine the permeable shield without attracting too much attention.

Once the students passed through the third barrier, the space opened up into a large receiving area. A waist high barrier wound its way up and down the room, cutting off the exits for non-registrants. Tall virtual screens hovered over the divides, projecting the Council's Academy's large list of cultural activities.

'Be a Star!' One projection promised. 'Be a part of this year's cultural event. Sign up today!' The screen flashed a few choice scenes from the previous virtual theatrical production. The drama committee always had to take their recruits by force. Everyone knew that the star of whatever disaster they aired was going to be the captain of the committee, secondary roles to her clique. They were always short of people to do the less glamorous work. 'No way I'm going to be a part of that disaster,' Seth mused.

"Next!" one of the three receptionists called. The line shuffled forward. Two more students and it would be his turn.

Recruitment ads for the military games replaced the cultural listing, each screen taken up by one team's promotional footage. It wasn't unusual to need to recruit four new members yearly, unless shady politics got involved. One by one, the squads flashed their banners in sequence, members slid across the screens, followed by a highlight segment. He watched himself callously shoot down his opponent at close range, plucking the victory token from her stunned grip, a move that lead his team to victory.

He covered his face, blocking the projection from view. Why that shot? Forget it, he knew why that shot. It made him look strong, relentless, the very image of strength over adversity. Take no prisoners had been his squads motto long before he had been recruited. Without context, that whole scene was everything he was not.

The recruitment ad for the Red Order Apprenticeship Program lit up the screens just as a receptionist called, "Next!"

Seth put on his best smile, hoping to add some level of warmth to his sour faced receptionist. "Good morning." His friendliness only added to her misery. "Scan in," she snapped gesturing to the black plate on his side of the glass divide.

He passed his wrist over the plate. His data reflected back at him through her glasses. "Name."

"Seth Wright?" He was never sure how to approach the question. His details were right there. She scowled at him, eyes darting from his digital photo to him and back again. "Date of birth."

"July 23rd, 438," he replied.

"Year of study."

"4th, final year." This wasn't normal. They should have scanned him and then handed him his tablet, welcoming him to the Council's Academy. "Field of Study."

"Major in Technology, Minor in Military Combat." She didn't even bother to glance at the badges on his arm even when he presented them to her. "Place of residence."

"Capitol City, 25th Level."

"This is where we can send your gear to upon completion of your term?"

"No." She arched a brow made a node. "Where are you headed after the completion of your term?"

"The E.M.I." His pulse raced. He was sure his smile was lopsided by now. He was sure the other students didn't have to go through all this. "Do you have any records supporting your plans."

"Umm no, I'll be registering for the summer term. They don't do waiting lists. Is there a problem?" He regretted the question the instant the words fell from his mouth. "Please take a seat in the waiting room." She gestured to his right.

"May I ask what's going on?"

"Please take a seat in the waiting room." She repeated in a tone that suggested that his problems could only get exponentially worse if he persisted with this being friendly non-sense. He nodded acknowledging the order and proceeded to the entry way on the right of the receiving area. He took a moment to watch the other students, comparing his list of questions with theirs. There was very little satisfaction in knowing that they were being subjected to the same standard of ridiculous questions.

18: Chapter 4.6: Seth Wright

Passing over the threshold of the dreaded right hand corridor reveal nothing unusual. As far as hallways went, it had a high-end office feel, complete with canvas paintings and living plants. He suspected that the first door to his left lead into the receptionist's administration area where they could interact with the registering students behind the safety of their glass partition. He peered down the hall, checking for signs of seating or even a hint as to where this waiting area would be found.  

Moving slowly down the hall, he stuffed his hands into his pockets while keeping an eye out for helpful non-existent signage. He was clearly flagged for something. He wondered if his father was angry enough to prove that he could make Seth's life difficult. He didn't exactly leave his father on the best of terms, their last argument had been about his potentially enrolling in the E.M.I. upon graduation. His father's adamant disapproval of the plan instantly solidified Seth's plan to enrol. It wasn't like he could avoid war duty.

There was one other possibility. His term project may have been flagged as a weapon. He had been meticulously gathering components over the summer at great expense to his credits account. Though the project had yet to be assembled, the combined elements may be just enough to flag him as a potential threat, assuming they knew what he was attempting to build. He only brought with him the parts he couldn't get at the school. If that was the reason why he was being held, than he might be able to explain his way out of it. Worst case scenario, he'd be exiled as a terrorist and sent to the war fields. Not much different than his current fate.

Had his project been the case, wouldn't he have been flagged before boarding the train that morning? There was no sense worrying about what it could be. He'd have to wait to see why they were detaining him. Whatever it was, he was sure it was some misunderstanding.

The hall took a sharp left turn, revealing the space he was meant to seat himself.  It was a small seating area, meant for four people. A set of two door suggested the presence of two offices. Seth glanced back down the hall he had come from, noting doors on either side at regular intervals, each one bare of nameplates or signage. He noted a feint yellow veil shimmering along the doors, as well as the feint buzz of electricity which marked the presence of the security fields. These energy fields were different from the demon wards. When active these shields could barely be seen. For the most part the barriers interacted with the access permissions inside a person's implant. People without the required personnel chip would be barred from certain areas. It was hard to come up with a list of places where these security fields didn't come into play.  

Seth took a seat, debating if he should knock on one of the doors to signal his arrival. He thought it best to stay put. It was lunch time now, people would be leaving for lunch or arriving from it. He sat back and waited. Twenty minutes later, he took up pacing to help pass the time. He knew that pacing would suggest to anyone watching him that he was nervous, perhaps going as far to assume that he was getting increasingly agitated. He tried to look inconspicuous, first by checking the authenticity of the potted plants followed by considering the meaning of various abstract paintings.

By the time he had reached the reception area, no one entered the hall, nor did anyone leave the hall. He tried to step over the threshold into the open space ahead of him. His efforts were rewards with nasty shock. Realizing he was now a forgotten captive of the administrative staff, he called out. "Hello? No one seems to be back here."

The screens were empty of activity. He couldn't hear the chatter of the receptionists. He did was anyone would do in this situation. He yelled louder. "HELLO! SOMEONE PLEASE LET ME OUT!"

Still no one. He half expected a voice to thunder down at him over the speakers, but nothing came. He searched for a clock, light, anything that would tell him roughly what time it was. He could only see the shimmering veils of the demon wards ahead and an empty train station. Someone was bound to be arriving soon. He waited. Someone was bound to come along soon.

He had taken to sitting near the threshold, legs stretched out as he leaned against the wall. He didn't know how long he had been sitting there, wishing he had brought something to occupy his time or at the very least something he could use to carve his name into the frame as some sort of reminder of his existence to the outside world. He hear the sound of stilettos on the laminate surface of the inner office. "Hello!" He tried again.

There was a pause. "Someone please!" Seth called.

The sound of hurried heels echoed across the room. The door to his left unlocked and opened. A younger administrator peered into the hall, spotted him and glared. "The waiting room is up the hall to the left. It's impossible to miss." She spoke to him in such a way that she thought he was being intentionally dense, it was a tone his father often used on him when Seth couldn't answer questions that he found simple. "I know that," he couldn't help but snap. "No one is there."

"Do you have somewhere else you need to be?" She spat at him. "You'll wait where you are told. Someone will be along to collect you at their convenience, not yours." She slammed the door behind her.

'I'm not some criminal!' he wanted to shout, but decided that it would only make him look guilty. 'So much for prime training slots,' Seth sulked his way back to the waiting room. Erick, Seth's default second in command after Wallace, would be thrilled to take Seth's place as captain. For all he knew, Erick was the one who had him flagged hoping to get him kicked out of school. 

Seth remained seated in the designated waiting area. Hours passed at the high velocity speed that glaciers were renown for. He debated napping, but suspected that someone would be along the instant he dozed off. He compromised by pretending to sleep, just in case interrupting to sleepers was an actual job. He conjured up the vestiges of his nightmare, opting to analyse them into less frightening imagery.

The image of the child dashing toward the undead remained burned in his mind. What if he wrote a different ending for the girl in his dream? Was she really running toward them, relieved to have found survivors? What if she knew they weren't what they pretended to be?  

He focused on the memory of the dream. He focused on his feelings in that moment. What he wanted was to protect that child. What if it was that desire that allowed for this memory to cling to his consciousness? What if he was never meant to protect her? He imagined the nightmarish scene all over.

The girl was running ahead of him. What if instead she could defend herself? He chased after her, knowing that the road beneath his feet would pull him away from her, as though something was preventing him from helping her. He stopped, the shape of her lost in smoke and ruble. He felt himself wishing that these thought were true. In the haze of shifting memories, there was no way for him to witness the end of this dream. The was no way for him to reassure himself that his wishes had rewritten that little girl's fate. Normally he'd feel relaxed with his new endings and he'd be free of the emotional burden that came with the nightmare. It wasn't the case this time.

He happened to glance at the ruined building nearby the remains of the bolded word 'Clearwater civic center' had fallen in parts to the ground.

His world shook.

19: Chapter 4.7: Seth Wright

His world shook. Realizing that the source of the quake was coming from the real world, he jolted awake, eyes wide with panic. Seth clung to his seat. An older man stood over him. He had deep brown eyes and tuffs of greying hair that had been neatly combed back. He was clean shaven and sported a pair of spectacles. Seth noted the white hat tucked under the man's arm before he saw that he was wearing a matching military dress uniform, complete with gloves. Two rows of medals hung over the man's heart, none of which Seth could recognize for any particular feat. He had never taken an interest in such things.

"I apologize for the wait," the officer told him. The words came across as a formality. It wouldn't have matter if he had been waiting a few minutes or a few hours, the officer would have said the same line in his empty greeting. "This way."

Seth followed the officer, debating if he should ask for information. He thought better of it. The officer opened a door along the hall, seemingly at random, allowing the captive student to enter first. 

"Take a seat," the officer gestured to the chair furthest from the door, placing himself and a sturdy desk between Seth and the exit. Possibly protocol, the student reasoned, or a psychological play. Either way it didn't matter, as he walked into the lightly decorated room, he felt the hum of the security shield pass over him. He wouldn't be allowed to leave unless the officer allowed it.

He took his appointed seat, noting that there was nothing that he would be able to use a weapon. The room's decor was simple, designed with comfort in mind, but just barely. It was ultimately an office on loan, very possibly an interrogation room for less combative participants. He noticed that there was no window, adding to the foreboding sense that embodied the office.

"We wish to know of your relationship with one Wallace Rivera," the officer stated taking his seat.

Seth was at a loss for words. Had Wallace gotten into trouble? Was he in trouble by association? "I don't know what to tell you?"

"He was a member of your squad, 2nd in command, according to your records. Is this true?"

"Yeah." What did his record have to do with anything?

"Did you record these result?" The officer accessed the digital interface on the desktop, accessing the records. Did Wallace hack into the system and alter his records? Seth examined the scores, nothing looked unusual, not that he would have committed the information to memory. "He was one of my best squad mates. Strong, resourceful. Smart too. What's this about?" Seth found the courage to ask.

"We are in the process of determining what Mr. Rivera's odds were in surviving the attack on Hallow Haven. He was one of our best." The words hung the air with hidden intention. The Council's Academy had once been a military school geared toward training an elite core of soldiers. It was one of the reasons why Seth had worked hard into achieving his scholarship for his attendance. There were plenty of decent schools back at the capitol. A handful of schools even had decent clout. He had hoped that the dedicated training program was still in use. It stood to reason that if one of their top students got caught up in a demon raid, they would want to know if he managed to survive it.

"I haven't heard anything, Sir. Not since he resigned in early August." Seth felt as though the floor beneath him had given way. His words felt empty. Wallace hadn't responded because he was dead.

"Is this your report?" the officer asked, pulling up the file of the last game he and Wallace had participated in. Seth nodded.

"I found some of the details rather disturbing. This nonsense about moving shadows. None of our video feeds have caught any of that information. You did take a blood test before and after the event?"

Seth nodded. He saw what he saw. He didn't care that the feeds didn't pick up on it. The shadows were moving with a life of their own. Lurking. Waiting. Both teams were in danger. It was why he had his team carry their unconscious bodies to the goal. It was why the weak hadn't been left behind. It was why his need to seek additional training had become so important. He realized during that last game that he was underprepared for the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

"You will re-write the report to exclude your nerves," the officer ordered.

"But it's true."

"I don't care."

He pulled up another file. A holographic projection of a fourteen year old girl slowly spun on the surface of the desk. "Do you know this girl?"

"No, Sir."

"This is Astral Alexandria Daamon."

"Oh her. I've heard of her." She was going to be one of 'those' people; the sort of person who felt that they were entitled to the best just because they had money, influence, whatever.

"Forget what you've heard. She's a survivor, that's all you need to know about her."

"Survivor?" Did he mean that she's survived a demon attack? Is that even possible? Of course it was possible, hunters did it all of the time. "Don't the Red Order recruit survivors?"

"I'm sure they tried. You will do the utmost to recruit her to your squad."

Seth arched a brow. "Doesn't she want to join by default. Isn't that what this is about?" He couldn't help himself, wincing at his outburst.

"No. Yes. She does not want to join, most likely out of spite. Her grandfather sees an opportunity, one that I whole heartedly agree with."

"which is?"

"None of your concern. You will be compensated of course."

"I can't be bought."

"I hate to tell you this, Mr. Wright, but everyone has a price. It's not always credits. Let's just say that your story about shifting shadows is not entirely unfamiliar."

"You ordered me to strike it from the record. You called it nonsense."

"I did. That is a discussion that should be shared with someone who may see things in a similar light. You can understand how a survivor would be hesitant in discussing the issue. Getting her to join your squad will give you some common ground."

That wasn't all he wanted, Seth suspected, but it would have to do. He was curious about her. Knowing that she was a survivor changed everything. "She had to pass the trials in order for it to look legit."

The officer nodded and held out his hand for Seth to shake. "I'm happy to see that we could reach an agreement."

20: Chapter 5.1: Astral Alexandria Daamon

Philip held the car door open for his passengers. William barred Astral's exit, stretching noisily, arms raised in the air, back arched, pulling at the tension in his muscles. A few cars were parked along the designated passenger unloading area, each with automatons servicing the vehicle. Students working their way toward the magnificent, three-story glass building, stopped for a brief moment to glance at the newly arrived group before moving on, their curiosity appeased. Personally owned vehicles were a high-end luxury item. Though cars could be rented for a steep fee, the model of vehicle was what made a real impact on the net worth of the passengers inside.

Philip had been diligent in his maintenance duties, keeping the government model car in pristine condition. The car was longer than the average model, offering generous legroom and seating for up to eight people. It was designed for impromptu meetings for the time restricted politician. Tinted windows hid participants from the public eye.

It was all for show, Astral knew. Apparently, so did William, who counted the number of people who had noticed his grand arrival. She had no doubt that he would chase each one down to gloat about some delusion of grandeur he had conjured up for himself. She debated if she should kick William to remind him of her presence. She didn't mind his antics, but she would have liked the opportunity to leave the car.

She was satisfied that by the time the surveying students had their fill, they wouldn't even notice that she too had been a passenger. Sure, it defeated the purpose of the show, but the design of the plan wasn't of her choosing. She was a pawn in her grandfather's schemes, and she knew it. In the end, all that mattered was the mission, everything else was trivial time wasting.

Mathias exited through the other passenger door, and she shuffled after him.

They were greeted with a majestic garden, whose prominent feature was a large stone fountain that spat up a changing pattern of water. Walkways led up and surrounded the central feature before breaking away to guide pedestrians up a series of steps to the main building.

The three story glass building's wings stretched out far on both sides. Its presence suggested that something beautiful could exist, which would no doubt bring peace of mind to those who saw it. Astral felt that it represented a lie. They were already miles deep within the safety of the shielded area, as though a closer proximity to the barrier meant an increase in danger. It didn't. If the shields went down, there wouldn't be a safe place to hide. Until then, students could nuzzle up flat against the barrier and not a demonic claw would be able to reach them.

A row of automatons stood in wait while a two of their brethren pulled luggage from the trunk of the car. They carted it away to be sorted and delivered to the students' place of residence for the school year. Two more robots came alive to tend to the remaining cargo as the two attending automatons rolled away, each equipped with a suitcase in either hand.

"I'm going to sign-in and catch up with friends," William announced, casting a half wave to his father and a partial nod to Astral, who nodded in return. If she didn't find him after she finished enrolling, he would no doubt seek her out.

Astral adjusted her tinted glasses, ensuring that her stigma could not be easily seen and activated the scanner tool by tapping on the corner of the frame. She watched the people around her, arms cross below her chest, leaning against the car. She guided the scanner with her eyes, shifting from group to the next, watching as data appear on the interior of her lenses.

She noted sibling groups barely tolerating each other, shouting about the urgency of registering so they could meet up with friends.

'Jessica Lane
Age: 17
Contract: pending
Residence: Northridge
Grade Average: B-, Top score in Advanced Mathematics
Parents: Rutherford Lane (Father), Mother: Laura Shelly (Breeding Contract)
Tuition: up-to-date paid by Rutherford Lane'

'Penny Lane
Age: 14
Contract: n/a
Residence: Northridge
Grade Average: A+
Parents: Rutherford Lane (Father), Mother: Nicole Delacroix (Breeding Contract)
Tuition: up-to-date paid by Rutherford Lane'

She saw student groups made up of friends. Some groupings were rushing back down the path to greet a new familiar arrival. Other students were waiting by the fountains or further up the garden, where benches were positioned for their convenience. The warmth of the day allowed for such casual lingering.

Nothing jumped out at her as being important to her mission. It was just a group of the nation's youth, living out a perfectly normal day. She worried that there were some key pieces of  information that had flitted passed her scanners. She wanted to strike the send command that would trigger when she applied pressure to the right corner of her glasses. The information sent to her personal console, could be inspected for further analysis? People weren't her strong suit. She wasn't sure what she needed to do with the data she was collecting. Her team had already gone through all the preliminary data. Maybe her uncle was kind enough to flag a few people for her to watch. Or maybe the lenses were just one more tool to monitor her with; to see the world through her eyes.

'Sometimes the problem with the scene isn't with what you see, but rather it's what you don't see that's important,' she recalled the most important lesson her father had taught her. "Where are all of the adults?"

Mathias glanced up from his tablet to their surroundings. "On the inside." He returned to the document in his hands.

"No, I mean the parents?" Astral corrected.

"Unless they're trying to barter privileges or dealing with a dispute, it's unlikely that you'll see parents here." He returned his tablet to his pocket. "A majority of the people believe that it's too dangerous to travel and won't risk it. The opportunities to be gained here, however, make it a worthy risk for their children."

"Opportunities for their children?" Astral sensed something was not quite right with Mathias' statement.

"Mostly, yes. In theory, the parents gain through their child's advancement." He looked to the sky for the words he sought. "Sort of like a proxy or an extension of themselves. For example, you're here because Dezmond can't be, neither can I. You are acting as our proxy."

"Seems selfish," Astral concluded. She could feel the weight of the world on her shoulders. No matter the origin of the threat, she was there to defend the lives of over a hundred thousand students, plus a fraction of that in adult lives that made up faculty, administration and service staff. She found it difficult to breathe. It was so much easier to deal with the mission when she didn't think about the people.

"It can be," the Master Hunter acknowledged. "But is it selfish of us to send someone to defend the populace in our stead, when we cannot be present ourselves?"

"Only if it's about saving your own hide," Astral retorted, forcing the words to freedom.

Mathias' grim demeanour suggested that she was here for the very reason he stated. The sympathy in his soulful brown eyes and the sag in his shoulders were enough to tell her that he wished he could take her place.

Philips' watch chimed. Dezmond was calling for his silent attendant to return home.  The Daamon family's bodyguard was a bald man standing a full six feet six inches tall. Unlike Astral's tinted lenses designed to reduce the impact of the deformity caused by her stigma, his thick glasses hid his eyes completely from view. His shades, like hers, were monitoring the area with tons more data than what she was able to filter; a detail she had gleaned when she was fitted with her new tool. He wore a black, fitted three, piece suit. It lacked the character of a the suits worn by politicians or businessmen, which lent themselves to popular fashion while setting a respectable tone. There was something classic to Philips' wardrobe, an element that called for respect and distance. Astral had never seen Philip smile, not once over the period she had joined the Daamon household some six year ago.

Philip regarded his charge silently, plunging a hand into his coat and pulling out a small pink and purple teddy bear. Receiving a teddy bear in greeting and departing was now a part of a long standing tradition between Astral and Philip, starting the day she first arrived at her grandfather's estate at Serenity Lake. She felt that he was trying to assure her that she wasn't alone. The teddy bears became something to look forward to, dulling the trials that lay beyond the gift.

She beamed with joy. “Thank you, I can use all of the help I can get,” she told him, giving the bear a light squeeze.

"You shouldn’t keep Dezmond waiting,” Mathias told Philip. “You know how much he loves public transit. I'll take the train back to Clearwater when my business is concluded here.” The corners of Philip's mouth curled ever so slightly, combined with the way he shifted his weight, suggested something rebellious in the family bodyguard.

"Have it your way," Astral smiled appreciatively. "I'm sure Mathias will tell you all about how my registration went." She was sure that the Master Hunter had no such plans, but now he'd be obligated to tell Philip something about his charge's reaction to knowing she would left on her own, surrounded by strangers. She forced the thought from her mind.

Philip leaned against the car, mimicking Astral's previous pose and watched the world from behind dark glasses. She saw the shifting of his soul, the turmoil he felt at leaving her behind. She saw it every time he left her in Clearwater. He was worried about her.

"I'll be fine," she offered her best broad smile. "It's nothing I can't handle!" She wasn't so sure. Demons, sure. People...she'd rather sleep in a nest of demons. Philip's expression remained stoic, and the clouded hue of his soul remained the same.

"Shall we," Mathias gestured toward the administration building ahead.

They proceeded up stone walkways surrounded by carefully manicured flowerbeds whose colours resembled something of the ancient impressionist paintings of the late 1800's. Student's watched them; conversations falling to quiet whispers as the Master, and his charge passed them. Her company would not go unnoticed. Word of the girl escorted by the Red Order Master Hunter would reach the bulk of the campus long before she found out her address for the school year. It was all part of the plan. Mathias made sure to pin the symbol of his rank, a silver X trapped in a series of elaborate circles, to his crimson red scarf.  

"You'll be expected to excel," Mathias told her, as though he wanted to give the lingering spectators something to talk about. "After all, you are representing the Daamon family. Given your heiress status, you are expected to outperform your peers." Astral smirked, watching the hues of listener's aura's shift in intensity, some due to excitement others in indignation.

Master and charge paused to take in the splendor of the fountain's water show. There was a message in their slow pace. Scanners would have picked up the government registered vehicle and sent a notification to administrative and security staff. They were early for their appointment, not so early to appear eager or that the threat was no longer a rumour.

Astral closed her eyes, shutting out the noise of her mind. Water kisses caressed her cheeks, drying quickly in the hot sun. She welcomed the coolness of the water. Birds and insects shared in their respective chorus, announcing to the world that everything was as it should be. She couldn't satiate the longing in her heart, the part of her that knew that moments like these never last. There was always something that she had to prepare for, always something that threatened the safety of the people.

'If demons are drawn to me, then an attack on the school is inevitable.' She dare not speak the words out loud, out of fear that the idea hadn't occurred to her colleagues. 'Mathias should know better.' She forced the memories of Clearwater's destruction from her mind. There were plenty of other contributing factors to the broken seal, her presence alone was barely a drop in the bucket.

Mathias urged her onward. "You will be mindful of your activities. Make sure that they do not conflict with your primary objective. Your priority is, of course, to ensure that the family legacy remains fully intact."

'Translation: join groups at your leisure just don't lose sight of the mission. The mission is all that matters.'