Page 16 of The Order: Rise of the New Empire (Order #4)

Chapter fifteen

Mason

T he cabin is vacant. Hours have passed since the group's exit to the Precipice.

Keeping a close eye on the time, the hands of my watch only seem to dwindle down. Was it foolish to allow them to go alone knowing how tricky it was to find a way in to begin with?

I trust Xavier's mind enough to know he'd find a way in, but with his thoughts so consumed by Forest, how realistic is it to believe he would not make mistakes?

The man with full focus is one thing, the man with his focus only on Forest is something else entirely.

Creeping along the edge of the woods facing the dense forest, I take in the smell of fresh air, wondering how long I could truly tolerate being underground before craving something other than synthetic oxygen.

I know it angered Xavier how cryptic I chose to be about the Underground, but, given the reckless thought patterns he and Kai developed over the past several months, trusting the men to keep any secret close is a fool's game.

Running my hand along the bases of the trees, I catch myself stuck in my own spiral of thoughts, my mind coming back to one place.

What happens after Elyon is confined?

How long can we allow the man to be alive before we have to face a hard truth?

For Elyon to be taken down, so must Forest-

Crack.

Snapping my head, the broken twig pulls me away from my thoughts, my focus no longer on far off realities that have yet to present themselves.

Picking up on a scent that is not my own, I stand at a dead still, reaching for my pistol rather than my blade.

Marked, young, that much I can tell.

Keeping my focus on the thick brush, the scent grows stronger, any slight movement now a dead man's move.

"Who's there?" I question, ready to pull the trigger with little thought.

Watching a pair of hands reach up from behind a bush, I raise my arms, ready to blow a hole right through their head-

"Bekah told me to trail you," the young voice grovels, their tone closer to that of a child than a man. "Please don't shoot," they plea, my trigger-happy hand quicky lowering.

"Step out," I command, watching the lanky boy present himself, his eyes wide with relief.

Dark straight hair and rich tan skin, his eyes are upturned, his face touched with a gentle youth.

"You're one of the new cadets from the Underground," I observe, clicking my tongue with annoyance. "Of course, Bekah has already allowed some of you to tag along with me," I mutter, tapping my head against the base of the gun. "Fucking perfect."

Smiling at the comment, the boy shakes his head.

"I think she might have been sick of me in all honesty. Spending most of your childhood in confinement would lead anyone to be a talker," he shrugs. "Plus, I overheard you were checking in on the Apparatus's home-"

"Your name, cadet?" I question, already sick of this interaction.

"Silas Nyx. I was told I would be shadowing you today-"

"You're a kid," I point out, giving the boy a long look. "What are you, like twelve-"

"Thirteen," he clarifies. "Plus, you made it all the way here without noticing me. I'd say class is very much in session," he boasts, making a decent point I'd rather not give praise to.

"And you know who I am?" I question, his head viciously nodding.

"General Veron-"

General Veron?

Who knew Bekah would be so quick to force formality.

"Just call me Veron," I sigh, my last name the last thing I want anyone throwing around.

Turning back toward the cabin, I push past what little of the thicket is in my way, creeping closer to the gleaming body of water.

"So, you're Marked?" Silas questions, comfortably finding a spot next to me.

"Clearly."

"And you know the Apparatus? And the old Commander of New Haven? " he asks with giddy, clearly unaware of the full extent of their pasts.

"Somewhat. You're one of those kids from under the compound?" I question, his head nodding.

Under the compound.

He knows the girl that got away.

"Were there any others your age?" I question, his shoulders shrugging.

"I saw a few in passing. I thankfully had enough talent in Deception to have my use. Many of the kids were kept alive for reproduction purposes... or to give the guards a pretty face to look at," he says, his smile dropping instantly.

"They valued the ones with talent?" I question, once more receiving a nod.

"Unless you were one of the not so lucky few that was valued for talent as well as looks. I heard one of the Marked get visits to her cell multiple nights from those horrendous men," he shivers, something urging me to keep asking questions.

"She was strong then?" I question, a scoff rolling off of his throat.

"Strong enough to get out. The Prophet utilized her like a pet-"

"What was her name?" I question, showcasing my first real sign of involvement in the conversation.

Abuse and pain are all things I understand.

Taking time to sympathize and force feed empathy down the boy's throat won't fix what he has been through.

The most he can do is move on.

"I don't know, we never really had time to speak. A few times, when she was more banged up, I would sneak her some of my extra scraps in passing, but, other than her red locks, I couldn't tell you much more about her," he sighs, my Call already buried in his mind, his words fully honest.

Why do I care so much?

It's not like there aren't other Marked with unprecedented skill.

"Can I ask a few questions of my own now?" Silas questions, my only response a hesitant nod.

"You're one of the runed Marked?" he questions, taking a long look at my exposed arms.

"It would seem so," I mutter, glancing at my reflection in the water.

"What's that like?" he questions, keeping his focus on his own image in the pool.

"The same as you I suppose. Genetics alter, new variations begin. There aren't many of us to go around-"

"The girl from below was runed," he interrupts. "I assumed she was the only one."

Taking in this new bit of information, I let the silence settle between us, taking in shallow breaths.

"You know to keep the whereabouts of the Underground to yourself?" I question, his feet kicking rocks into the water.

"Like I'd compromise a safe place to live," he shudders, narrowing his focus in on the pool. "What is that?"

"Don't deflect-"

"No, look," he exclaims, pointing toward the middle of the water. "There is something down there," he pushes, using his Hold to direct my chin toward his focus.

Barely glinting in the light of the lowering sun, something shiny reflects at the bottom of the waters, nearly blinding once the sun has hit it just right.

"It's probably just a tossed blade-" I begin, feeling an immense pull toward the debris the longer I am forced to face it.

"You feel that?" Silas questions, his voice filled with nerves.

"Regrettably," I whisper, my body moving quicker than my mind can react.

Peeling off layers, I tear away clothing until I am just in my boxers, letting Silas eye me with a great deal of confusion.

"What are you-"

"I'm checking it out," I smile. "Scream if you need me."

Diving in before the young boy can protest, the water envelops me in its cool embrace, the last time I was submerged like this a day filled with horrific events. Letting the light from the setting sun continue showcasing the glinting material, I make my way toward the bottom of the pools. The dead and ash ridden Shifter carcasses sunken in the sand below. Eyes blurred from the film of water, I reach my hand toward the debris, feeling a great weight force resistance down on me, my next best option to force my Hold to get the material to move. Urging the material up and out of the sand with my Hold, I am barely able to get a look at it, moving quicker than I did during my initial dive, my lungs already greedy for air.

Forcing the debris out before me, I poke my head to the surface of the water, taking in a generous breath, my hand rapidly pushing back my hair, trying to blink away the burning sting in my eyes. Winnowing out of the water, I take a stand next to my clothing, letting my body drip dry, Silas's body shielding what I had managed to find.

"You did all of that for some metal?" he questions, my vision finally regaining back its clarity.

Peering at what lies before him, organic metal lies at his feet, something you'd see a blacksmith hold before crafting a blade.

"That was not there before," I say, recalling the empty bottom of the pools the day all hell broke loose here. "How the hell did that get there?" I question, shaking my head in disbelief.

"The earth will find a way to undo its wrongs," Silas says, my focus snapping to him.

"What did you say?"

"Some of the others in confinement used to talk about the Prophet and the Apparatus," he sighs. "They always used to say, the earth would always find a way to undo its wrongs... These are the pools the Prophet came from, correct?" he questions, his mind brighter than what I have chosen to give him credit for.

"If you knew anything about the Prophet's origin, then you'd know there is no good way to kill him-"

"What if you were just given your good way?" the boy questions, running his hand over the material. "This was organically made. How often do you just stumble across steel strong enough to craft a blade? Seems like Mother Earth is begging you to undo her wrongs," he pushes, marveling at the material.

"You should stop listening to the stories of a bunch of delusional captives," I hiss, forcing my clothes back on.

"Then you won't mind if I toss it back in?" Silas questions, his own Hold urging the material back toward the waters.

Grabbing his wrist, I stop him from continuing his actions, watching the grin fade from his expression.

"I don't know what kind of fucking buddy buddy act you are trying to play with me here, kid, but, as far as I see it, I am your superior, a superior trying to keep you alive and help you hone in that cocky little attitude you get when using your abilities. I allowed you to come along today, don't give me a reason to show you why I have the runes," I hiss, all playfulness leaving the boy's body.

Staying silent, he lowers his hand, dryly swallowing nothing.

"Do you want help?" he questions after a few moments, his eyes glancing to the metal. "I can help you bring it back to the Underground."

Looking over this expression, I see the sincerity in his face, my foot viciously tapping the ground.

A discovery like this is something Xavier would love to know.

Anything linked to the Prophet is generally something I would tell him in a heartbeat.

Why the hell can I not shake the feeling that this discovery is better left with me?

Ignoring Sila's question, I force my Hold on the heavy metal, letting it drag along behind me, turning back toward the brush.

"You're not waiting for them?" he questions, my focus on anyone but those stuck in the Precipice.

"You said it yourself, kid, the earth provides gifts, it would be a shame to ignore her requests," I whisper, listening to the sound of his feet walking next to me.

"And what do you plan to do with it?" he questions, my gaze finally meeting his.

"The only thing I know how to do with it," I smile. "Looks like it's time to make a blade."

A blade strong enough to stop Elyon.

A blade strong to stop Forest.