Page 18

H.A.Z.E

N obody likes her. It should have been obvious to me, but what other reason is there for the fact that in the last six hours, she's been on her hands and knees longer than she's been on her feet?

And now, she's eating her lunch quietly, hidden in the furthest corner of this magnificent cafeteria, with her head down and her body hunched in on itself.

It's incredibly hard to believe that she, of all creatures, loved a Nightwalker, or that she was even strong enough to survive giving birth to one.

She moves like a mouse wherever she goes. She almost reminds me of Essy.

Scoffing, I slide my tray between two unsuspecting females and take a seat. The entire table goes quiet, which lowers the volume in the cafeteria dramatically since they seem to be the loudest here. They wear workout clothes and smell of sweat; some are even covered in bruises.

"Can we help you?" A female voice speaks up somewhere. I don't bother to spare her a glance and pour the last of my rum into the metal cup I watched Reece wash this morning.

I take the cup, glance at whoever spoke, and frown. "I'm bored."

Another voice coughs to my right; it sounds male. "That should be locked away." He's obviously referring to the rum I found. As if anything could keep me away from alcohol.

I turn to him and smile, my teeth sharp and threatening. "Lock it away then."

He stares at me... and stares… and stares some more, blushes, and turns back to his food. I focus my attention on the rest of the table. "You're all new recruits, yes?"

Their eyes flick to each other, obviously unsure of who I am, why I'm here, and what I'm doing. Young and cautious, it's quite the popular blend these days. Although, this bunch seems to be younger than I expected.

"You're the one who saved our General, right?" Word travels fast, it seems. I roll my eyes and take another sip of my drink. As if I'd save him. As if he would put himself in that kind of situation.

"Oh, I heard about that!" Another voice speaks. "About two months ago, a couple monsters breached the Yellow Zone in District 4. It was too much for General Axel Black and his men… He was the only one in his brigade to survive the attack—because of you."

Humans are amusing. Give them a little information, and they fill in the rest with their assumptions—crafting the perfect lie without even realising it.

I smile, faking shyness, and nod. It's true; a couple monsters escaped the Red Zone two months ago. It's also true that Axel was the only one to have survived the attack.

"Holy shit! You're like… a Hero."

My smile widens, amused. Foolish humans; if only they had more faith in their General, they would have seen the lie.

I didn't save Axel Black, he saved himself; I simply let the monsters out.

Faces of awe and admiration stare at me,

"But" interrupts another recruit, "that would mean you're from the outskirts of the Yellow Zone."

The outskirts is probably the worst place to live—too close to the Red Zone. Constantly under attack. Few survive there, pushed to the edges of the Yellow Zone by those who are stronger, with more influence.

There's no time to feel pity for the weak; it's kill or be killed. After the Tearing, it took no time for the world to understand that.

The recruits watch me as they come to their own conclusions of the kind of conditions I had come from. There's no pity in their eyes, only confusion. "How'd you save the General with no training?"

I scoff. "I consider myself pretty strong, but even I live by certain rules," I say, slowly, deliberately. "Don't underestimate the weak; when they're left for dead, many of them find a way to rise."

The recruits glance at each other, their bodies shifting uncomfortably. "Except for her," I joke, and point to the darkest corner to the cafeteria. "She almost reminds me of a rat scurrying the hallways, unwanted but there ."

The moment they see I'm pointing at Reece, the air shifts.

Their malice tastes like ash on my tongue as all eyes turn to her, their mouths twisted into sneers.

I watch the moment Reece feels their heated glares, the way her shoulders stiffen as she quietly eats, her head down and trying to appear invisible.

I raise a brow— interesting.

"No one talks to her," a recruit growls low. "Traitors don't deserve mercy."

Traitor? I've known Reece for less than a day, but traitor seems a bit of a stretch. There's so much worse in the room, and they don't even see it.

"How so?" I wonder, genuinely curious.

"She protected one of them," a voice seethes, low and venomous. "Said he was different. How fucking na?ve can you be?!"

It seems I hit a nerve. Where one finished, another voice speaks up.

"Before the Tearing, seven soldiers were hired to track and find Ricci before he created more Nightwalkers.

They thought if they could cut the head off the snake, the rest would fall.

On their mission, they found a Nightwalker.

He was injured badly after he saved them.

They all wanted to kill him… except her. "

I don't remember my life before the Tearing. I hardly remember what the world looked like before it all went to shit, but I knew one thing. I knew I was evil; I felt it in my core.

"She thought he was different. That he was good. But he was playing them… All of them. And because of her, two of our heroes died, and if it weren't for the Grand Arbiter, Ricci would still be alive."

So, she tries to protect a Nightwalker and becomes the target of their hate in the process. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much if Damien turned out to be a decent creature, but he isn't. No Nightwalker is, so it was all for nothing.

"Pathetic," I whisper, watching Reece from across the room with a smile stretched across my face. Her eyes narrow, almost as if she heard what I said, or perhaps she read my lips.

Abandoning her food, she scurries away with her head down.

"Haze!" I scowl and blow an annoyed breath. Since I was enslaved, Essy has become a lot more vocal than I would like her to be.

As the table returns to its usual chatter, I continue to drink and ignore Essy, but that becomes difficult when I can feel her pacing, worrying, and caring. I can't do much about it since I'm pretending to be human here.

“Go back to sleep, Essy,” I grumble while throwing a fake smile to pretend like I give a shit what they're talking about.

“You need to go after her.”

“She'll be fine.”

Essy whispers, “ You can feel it. Haze, if Damien kills her, the Saviour will kill us!”

I continue to stare blankly at the recruits and ignore Essy. But she continues to pace, growling low. I take a sip from my drink, trying to ignore the headache that's beginning to develop.

So fucking what if Damien kills the human… I can't believe the Saviour actually expects me to do something about it. Even if he does kill me, he'll be doing me a goddamn favour.

Even sitting among these recruits, I know why they're here. It's the same reason I chose to live in the Red Zone— boredom.

After The Tearing, no one wanted to go near the Red Zone; it was nothing but chaos, death, and insanity. So, you can imagine the surprise on everyone's faces when humans decided to take responsibility for it.

Perhaps it was guilt that led to their decision—after all, Ricci was human. Ordinary. Until he broke the planet.

“If he kills us, you won't get your revenge!" Essy finally snaps, and it works.

I place my cup down and glance at the recruits with a fake smile. "I have to go." They frown, confused, as I slip out of my seat. "A little mouse is about to get herself caught in a trap."

I leave without a second glance, skipping down between the rows of tables, the soles of my boots tapping against the tiled floors. I noticed Damien the second we stepped onto the ground; he was hard to ignore since his existence causes a disturbance in the Aether.

The cafeteria doors swing shut behind me with a dull thud, and the chatter fades. The silence presses in for a beat, then I run. The wind licking at my face as I blur past concrete walls until I'm standing at entrance to the laundry room.

Reece is stuffing a large pile of clothes into the washing machine, struggling quite a bit. "Don't be mad, Reece. I had to know your position here," I tell her, leaning against the door frame.

"That I matter less than shit… Ugh … Here!" She huffs, using her entire body weight to shove the pile inside the machine. "As if you didn't already know."

"I did know, actually. I just didn't know why." I stare at her, tilting my head. "How'd the Saviour let it slip you're the reason two national heroes died all because you thought you could save a Nightwalker?"

"He didn't!" she snaps, spinning on her heel and glaring at me, but the fire in her eyes quickly dies and turns into defeat.

"The Gods didn't think it was fair that I go unpunished.

They wanted my soul, but Riot managed to save me.

In return for my freedom, everyone would know of my sins, and I would bear their hatred. "

I shrug. "Meddlesome bastards, aren't they?"

Reece's eyes sharpen, and she chastises, "You're being disrespectful, Haze. Cut it out."

"And here I thought we could hate the Gods together." I feign a disappointed sigh. "I almost saw the makings of a beautiful friendship."

"I don't hate the Gods, Haze," Reece says, "and despite what you may think, I accept my punishment. Because of me, I lost two close friends. I live with that guilt every day, and this place… This is my atonement."

"Pathetic," I murmur, and cross my arms over my chest. "If you're not careful, they'll hurt you."

Hatred like that encourages violence, and with the way Reece's shoulders stiffen, I'm sure she knows that all too well.

I blink. "They're hurting you, aren't they?" Her silence once again speaks volumes, and I step closer to her. "I can't have that."

Reece jerks back and stares at me, surprised. "W-What?"

I stare at her like she's dumb. "You're my prey. What kind of predator would I be if I let someone else play with my food?"

She stares at me, lost for words, and I turn on my heel, ready to face her stalker. This girl seems to be a magnet for danger, and I'm supposed to protect her from it. Too bad there's no one around to protect her from me.

****

The building looms before me; a monstrous silhouette against the smokey grey sky. Its jagged edges pierce upwards, the remnants of shattered windows staring down like hollow, unblinking eyes, once a symbol of power that now stands as a decayed titan, abandoned and brooding.

The brass cuff huffs faintly against my wrist, cold and alive, as if sensing my intent. Taking a breath, I let instinct take over, channelling my will into the cuff. It reacts instantly.

The golden glow bursts forth, illuminating my hand as the cuff unravels like liquid light, extending and sliding like a snake between my fingers and into a gleaming, impossibly long thread.

The air hums with energy as it snakes upwards, the golden tether coiling around a jagged edge of the building .

I wrap a hand around the now taut line. It feels sturdy and unyielding, as if the magic itself is anchoring me.

With a sharp tug, I lift off the ground, the golden thread retracting smoothly as it pulls me upward.

The wind rushes past me, cool against my face, as the cuff's magic propels me higher and higher.

With a final pull, I vault over the ledge and land in a crouch on the rooftop.

The golden thread retreats, its light wrapping around my wrist before returning to its natural dirty brass state, sitting loosely on my wrist.

My target stands, leaning over the rooftop's edge. His posture is sharp and confident. He's watching someone below—his target. I know it's Reece without having to look, and even from my position in the shadows, the malice radiates off him. It’s practically suffocating.

I remain where I stand a little longer, simply to watch him.

There's a hunger in how he lingers—a slow, deliberate calculation.

He doesn't move, doesn't shift, as if savouring the moment, relishing the thought of whatever depraved plan he is concocting.

I can almost hear his mind turning, the sinister satisfaction in knowing the power he holds.

But I speak and pull him away from his wicked fantasies.

"You must be Damien."