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CHAPTER 75
- 8 years ago -
Zenryth Hail

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Eventually, the pressing sensation of metal against skin became sharp -- like a needle pricking my skin.

"Felt that one," I stated as Rysk Sidian withdrew the metal rod. "Same -- sharp. Not as itchy."

"You reacted the same to both extreme temperatures -- only perceiving pain," Sythar Sleet said.

I grunted in irritated acknowledgement as I itched my arm, which now tingled subtly all over. "Sure. Whatever."

Sythar Sleet hummed. "Again."

I paused my itching, my hand remaining on my arm. "That's enough," I stated, letting my irritation creep into my tone.

There was a pause, then Rysk Sidian retracted his hand, placing the metal rod behind him. "It appears it is."

Sythar Sleet considered my words for a moment before nodding. "Indeed," he said, then added with that plain, business-like tone that felt somehow empty, "thank you for your time."

Then he turned, waving for Oryn Ryth to follow him. My mentor gave me a smile and nod that, like always, seemed to convey more than I could decipher. Then they were both out the door, their boots silent against the tiles, like they had just disappeared.

"How is it?" Rysk Sidian asked, his pale hazel eyes on my arm, which was now lightly pink from my scratching.

"Itchy," I grunted before pulling my sleeve down. "Like I've just been poked for an hour."

Rysk Sidian smiled slightly, his brows turned down in the corners in a subtle look of apology. That subtle smell of mint that always clung to him tingled my sinuses. "Unfortunately, it had to be done. I appreciate your cooperation, however."

I gave a small, dismissive groan as I slid off the bed. "It hardly seems necessary to understand me like a lab rat."

Rysk Sidian tilted his head in a shrug. "Knowledge is power, and when you're in charge of keeping the world safe from its most unpredictable force -- it becomes necessary."

I frowned slightly, not expecting to be convinced so quickly. He seemed to be the only person who could do that. "And I'm among the unpredictable forces you have to be prepared for."

Rysk Sidian simply nodded, a glint in his eyes that read as energy with an underlying mischief, stuffed into the body of a Head. "You are quite unpredictable, in many ways. But we are less so preparing for you, but through you."

I raised a brow in question, so he went on. "You're a wild card in our system, Zenryth Hail. We don't know where you came from or how you came to possess your... qualities."

I rolled my eyes internally. "I assume by that, you're not talking solely of my dark physical features."

Rysk Sidian gave a deep nod. "While they and your unsettling presence and lack of memory are all anomalies, we normally would have brushed them off as results of genes, placebo, and trauma. The thing driving our curiosity is the context. Your memory does not precede your attack, and there were no reports of a dark boy for miles around."

"So you assume all my 'anomalies' arose after I was bit," I interjected. When he nodded, I responded, "logical."

"That brings about an important question. Why did it have this effect. I can promise you now you're not the first person to be bitten by a ripper," he went on, his hazel eyes scanning me from hair to arm with that youthful curiosity that made him look twenty years younger.

Then he smiled and passed by me, approaching the door, nodding for me to follow. "So we come full circle. Knowledge is power, and ignorance is weakness. While we may never know the how or why, we can attempt to know what it means now."

I followed him out the door, his quietly captivated voice becoming a drone in my head -- or a hum -- like a relentless breeze that draws you in with reluctance.

"Which is why," he went on. "PRTC testing will be increased. Anyone -- Reaper or victim -- who sustains injury under a ripper, will be tested. Tested for anything unordinary. Perhaps then we can start to draw similiarities between you, and hope to find that how and why."

I grunted absently, like a leaf blowing along the breeze. "I don't care to know, so why do you? And why do you have to clear out a whole room for me like I'm a plague?"

Rysk Sidian slowed to a stop in the middle of the hall, Reapers and PRTC workers passing by. His pale hazel eyes seemed so deep -- so full -- when they looked into mine. Like a man who had lived a long life, and learned every thread that weaved it.

"Because power in the wrong hands, Zenryth Hail, can be a dangerous thing," his eyes held mine, brown and green glinting in every light and shadow. "If there is one advice I will never stop giving, it is this: you don't know a person until you give them power. Keep your circles small, and your trust smaller. If you face a question that you neither know its answer nor its importance, be careful who you discuss it with. Because someone else may find the answer before you, and the power -- the security that should have been yours -- will be used against you."

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CHAPTER 75
- present time -
Zenryth Hail

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The lights flickered dangerously above as the ice train vibrated against the boom outside. I opened my eyes. Not another passenger or server remained in sight.

Lylock Rin stirred from a sleep, his face buried in a table. Thyra Thorne stabilised her cup that nearly fell. Aeryn Thail flapped his scarf over his eyes from where he lay across a booth lounge.

The ice train shook again, and the lights went out. But there was no need for them, as the lightning that curled in the storm clouds above was bright enough to light the black sky.

Vyth's Tempest. The storm that shrouded nearly every inch of the sky above Ossa Morsa, and never gave it respite. Stories, legends and theories were told about Ossa Morsa. Little of them were good. Most of them involved curses, anger or trajedy.

But for those who lived so closely with those ideas, it was the perfect place to build the Headquarters. Home to the first Reapers.