The first sensation was a dull throb behind her eyelids, a persistent ache that seemed to resonate through her skull. Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes fluttered open, greeted by an oppressive darkness. It wasn't the comforting black of a moonless night, but a thick, suffocating void that hinted at a small, enclosed space. She blinked, trying to dispel the lingering fog in her mind, but the darkness remained stubbornly absolute.
A dry, papery feeling drew her hand to her head. Her fingers encountered a rough, uneven surface, a bandage wrapped snugly around her scalp. Confusion flickered through the remnants of her grogginess. What had happened? She shifted slightly, a soft rustle beneath her. Her hand drifted downwards, encountering the smooth texture of a blanket draped over her body.
Panic, cold and sharp, began to prick at the edges of her awareness. Where was she? This wasn't her small, familiar room with its threadbare rug and the faint scent of dried herbs.
This was… alien.
Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the memories flooded back, violent and unwelcome. The harsh shouts of the city guards, their rough hands grabbing her arms, the glint of steel as one of them threw his blade… her leg. The searing pain, the sickening wetness…
With a gasp, she lurched upwards, the blanket falling away. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. She scanned the inky blackness, her eyes straining to discern shapes, to find any semblance of familiarity. This was wrong. Terribly wrong.
Suddenly, the fragmented images coalesced into a horrifying whole.
The capture.
The casual cruelty in the guards' eyes. The crushing weight of Adonis's prejudice against those like her, those cursed with magic. A subclass, they called them. Less than human. To be used, abused, and discarded. The injustice of it, the sheer, brutal unfairness, tightened its icy grip around her chest.
Her fingers clenched on the edge of whatever she was lying on, the rough fabric digging into her skin.
In a society so fundamentally broken, where those in power sought to inflate their own fragile egos by trampling on the people like her, born with something she never chose? What hope was there? How many others had suffered, their potential extinguished, their lives reduced to mere commodities?
The sound of a door creaking open shattered the suffocating silence. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips, and her body tensed, every muscle coiled up.
A figure stood silhouetted against a faint light spilling from the hallway.
"Ah, you're awake then," a voice, surprisingly mellow and laced with a hint of sleepiness, called out. The figure shifted, and she could make out the disheveled state of his bright blue hair and the partially unbuttoned white shirt he wore.
He looked away, his gaze drifting somewhere beyond her, deliberately unfocussed.
"Breakfast is ready. You should come and eat." He punctuated his words with a wide yawn, then turned and ambled away, leaving the door ajar, a sliver of light now cutting through the darkness.
She stared at the open doorway, her mind reeling. Who was this handsome young man? What was he doing here? Was he one of her captors? But… he didn't seem like the brutal guards who had dragged her away.
Then, another memory surfaced, fleeting but significant. A flash of movement, a figure intervening amidst the chaos of her capture. A protector? Could this be him?
Driven by a sudden, desperate need for answers, she flung the blanket off her body. Her eyes darted downwards, searching for the horrifying absence, the raw, gaping wound where her leg had been.
But it was there. Whole. Perfect. Not a scar, not a blemish, nothing to indicate the brutal amputation she vividly remembered. Disbelief warred with a burgeoning sense of hope. How was this possible?
A blush crept up her neck and spread across her face as the realization dawned. She was completely naked. When the blue-haired man had appeared, her bosom had been exposed. Mortification washed over her. What had they done to her while she was unconscious? Her arms wrapped protectively around herself, a silent scream trapped in her throat.
"What did those bastards do to my body in my sleep?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
Her gaze fell upon a neatly folded pile of clothes on a nearby chair. Relief washed over her as she quickly dressed in the unfamiliar garments – a simple sleeveless dress and leggings that felt strangely soft against her skin.
Emerging from the small, dark room, she found herself at the top of a narrow flight of stairs. The scent of freshly fried bacon and eggs wafted upwards, a surprisingly domestic aroma that contrasted sharply with the fear and confusion churning within her.
She descended cautiously, her feet silent on the worn wooden steps.
The building was small and humble, clearly a rented space. She could see now that the lower floor was a single, open room that served as a kitchen, living area, and dining space.
A young man with warm, kind eyes and gentle smile stood by a makeshift cooking area, expertly flipping bacon in a pan. His metallic gold hair made her recognize him immediately.
During the fleeting moment before she lost consciousness ,she saw him undo the enchantment that hid his natural features before passing out, sparing her the gorey spectacule that followed. This was the protector from her fragmented memories. The blue-haired young man sat slumped at a small wooden table, his head resting in his palm, seemingly asleep.
The kind-eyed man turned, his smile widening as he saw her.
"Good morning," he greeted her, his voice soft and welcoming.
"Did you sleep well?" He gestured around the cramped space apologetically. "Sorry about the… accommodations. That was Rey's room, but he was feeling uncharacteristically generous and offered it to you."
She glanced at Reynolds, who cracked open one eye and shot a pointed glare at the kind man, who merely chuckled in response.
"Have a seat," the kind man said, gesturing to the table. As soon as she sat down, he placed a plate laden with crispy bacon and fluffy scrambled eggs in front of her, along with two cups – one filled with a vibrant red fruit juice, the other with steaming tea.
Suspicion clouded her features. She looked from the enticing food to the man, her gaze questioning.
He chuckled again, a warm, reassuring sound.
"If we meant you any harm," he said, his eyes twinkling slightly, "we had ample opportunity during the three days you were unconscious." He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.
"Well, technically, it was two days and a little over half, but who's counting?"
Her eyes widened in disbelief. Three days?
"Where's my food?" Reynolds mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.
"Ingredients are right behind you," the kind man replied cheerfully.
"Go make some yourself." Reynolds started to protest, but a low, dangerous giggle escaped the other man's lips, and Reynolds visibly reconsidered his course of action, grumbling as he pushed himself to his feet and shuffled towards the cooking area.
The kind man turned back to her, his expression becoming more serious.
"You were out for so long because you were severely malnourished. Losing your leg like that… you lost a lot of blood. Anemia took hold. Luckily," he smiled again, a touch of pride in his voice, "my treatment worked wonders. You look much better now."
"Yeah," she said, surprised by the lightness in her own voice.
"I… I feel great. Better than I have in a long time."
"I also apologize," he continued, a hint of awkwardness in his tone, "about the… blood on your attire. That's why we had to take your old clothes off." He looked at her earnestly. "Nothing untoward happened while you were asleep, I assure you."
A wave of embarrassment washed over her, the memory of her nakedness flashing in her mind. She blushed fiercely.
"No, it's… it's alright," she stammered, avoiding his gaze. The warmth of the tea cup in her hands offered a small comfort. She took a tentative sip, the sweet, fruity flavor a welcome sensation after the lingering taste of fear.
From where the girl, still trembling slightly, looked up at Eden, her eyes searching his. "Why... why did you save me?" she asked in a low voice.
A soft smile touched the corners of Eden's mouth.
"Because it's the right thing to do," he said, his voice calm and even, meeting her gaze with an air of sincerity. "No one deserves to be treated with such vile disregard."
The smile widened slightly, yet something in his eyes remained distant, a hint of calculation beneath the surface.
"That's what I'd like to say."
He leaned back slightly in his chair, the smile fading, replaced by a look of cool detachment.
"And while it's true, I do genuinely believe in basic decency, I'm particularly annoyed by the fact that weaklings – those not blessed with Arcana, utterly devoid of any magical affinity – have the gall to oppress those favored by the world. Their limited minds simply cannot comprehend the inherent beauty of it."
His tone held a sharp edge, a clear indication of his disdain for the current social order in Adonis.
The girl, who had been clutching her arms tightly, visibly recoiled at his unexpected candor. Her initial relief at being rescued warred with a growing unease. Eden, noticing her reaction, offered a genuine, disarming smile.
"I've answered your question. Now, it's your turn to answer mine." His gaze was direct, brooking no refusal.
A nervous swallow bobbed in her throat.
She was expecting this. She met his gaze, a strange mixture of apprehension and a grim understanding in her eyes.
"I agree with you," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, yet holding a surprising conviction. "The strong should be above the weak. It's the natural order, not this… this operession we live under."
She glanced at him, a shiver tracing its way down her spine despite the warmth emanating from the small stove where the other man was cooking. This man, with his polite demeanor and easy smile, radiated a power that was almost palpable, a silent threat that belied his gentle expression. "There's only one reason someone like you would bother with someone like me," she continued, her voice laced with a weary resignation.
"To use them, and then discard them when they're no longer useful. That's the way of the world."
"What's your name?" Eden's sudden question made her jump, pulling her from her bleak assessment. He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considered her reaction.
"Perhaps we should have started with introductions." He gestured to himself with a slight inclination of his head.
"My name is Sven Aisenhower. At least, that's what I'll be going by while we're in Adonis." He leaned forward slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he observed her. "My real name is Eden. And the individual currently occupied with breakfast behind me," he indicated Rey with a flick of his thumb, "is Howlitzer Krieg. Though his given name is Reynolds Listowell."
Listowell. A sudden jolt of recognition that sent a tremor through her. Her gaze flickered to the broad back of the blue-haired man, his movements surprisingly graceful and efficient as he tended to the frying pan. She shook her head almost imperceptibly, a silent denial of the possibility that flickered in her mind. No… it can't be. What would he be doing here?
"Now that you know our identities, I hope you'll know when and where to use which to call us by." He said.
She nodded slowly, her gaze dropping back to the plate of food that had been placed before her, the aroma suddenly less enticing. A tense silence filled the small room, punctuated only by the sizzling of bacon. Finally, she lifted her head to find Eden watching her expectantly.
"Gail," she said quick, her voice still a little shaky, but firmer this time.
"My name is Gail."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gail." Eden said, his smile returning, this time seeming genuinely warm and welcoming.
"Please, enjoy your food."
As Gail tentatively began to eat, Eden continued, his tone conversational.
"As you've probably deduced, we are not from Adonis. We are agents of Archadia, and you, Gail," his gaze sharpened, losing its earlier warmth and becoming intensely focused, "are going to help us."
Gail choked on a piece of bacon, a harsh cough racking her body. She quickly reached for the glass of fruit juice and drank deeply, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and apprehension. Once her coughing subsided, she looked at him, a flicker of defiance in her gaze.
"I appreciate you saving me," she said, her voice still slightly hoarse, "but that's a very bold statement to make to a citizen of the empire. I could report you right now."
Eden's smile remained unwavering, a hint of steel beneath its pleasant facade.
"But you won't, dear Gail. Because you despise this empire more than anyone." He leaned back in his chair, his posture radiating confidence.
"Also one in their right mind would openly declare their intentions to the people they plan to report. Your surprise, I believe, stems from my unexpected honesty. Consider it a sign of trust."
Gail stared at him, a sudden, chilling glint appearing in his eyes. The unspoken message hung heavy in the air: Cooperate, or face consequences.
She lowered her gaze, her dark hair falling forward to obscure her expression.
"What did you say to make her so… emotional?" Rey asked, sliding a plate laden with perfectly cooked eggs and crispy bacon on the table then settling into the chair opposite Eden, his blue eyes curious.
Eden merely shrugged, a faint, enigmatic smile playing on his lips.
Inside, however, a strange exhilaration bloomed within Gail. It was a twisted sense of validation, a feeling she couldn't quite articulate. The strong asserting their dominance over the weak, the natural order finally being acknowledged, instead of the suffocating pretense of equality enforced by Adonis… a faint blush crept up her neck. "Just as it should be," she murmured, almost to herself. She sat up straighter, smoothing her hair behind her ears, her gaze now direct and surprisingly resolute.
"What do you want from me?"