Desuetude
Russia Sector, City of Vasha, Elementōrum Patriam
Hans opened the front door when the bell rang. He loved to run out into the front yard and play in the street, much to his parents’ dismay. The child safety door handle covers didn’t stop him because he figured them out easily. A member of the retrieval team, identified by the neutral cream jumpsuits, stood on their front porch. His father moved to intercept the man. He provided a slight bow before asking how he could help them.
“Is your son Maxim home?”
“Go get your brother,” Hans’ father, Yerik, commanded in Russian.
Hans ran up the stairs to find his older brother and sister in the study reading together. Maxim’s wiry frame laid prostrate in the windowed reading nook wearing a thin graphic t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He kicked his bare feet above Odessa’s head. She sat on the floor, still in her pajamas, with her legs crossed and tugging at a curly blonde tress. In her other hand, she held the book in a streak of morning light pressed across the floor. They argued over semantics, but Hans’ appearance interrupted them. Matching sets of blue eyes landed on him.
“The retrieval team is asking for Maxim,” Hans relayed.
The three siblings quickly vacated the room and joined their parents at the front door.
“What’s going on?” Maxim asked.
“If you’ll please come with me.” The man gestured for him to step outside the house. He obeyed, but he stopped as soon as he stood on the porch.
“No,” he turned to the stranger, “you can’t do this.”
“You are an Un, Maxim. You will be transferred to your new home.” The man wrapped their hand around Maxim’s upper arm and pulled.
“You can’t.” He tried to pull away. The grip didn’t relent. He looked back at his family. “Father, you can’t let them do this. I’m your son.”
They tugged harder. Maxim lashed out. A wave of rock encased Maxim’s middle, and they lifted Hans’ brother into the air.
“I’m your son!” Maxim yelled at the figures in the doorway of his house. Others on the street peered out their windows and doors to watch the events.
“You are not our son,” Yerik whispered.
“Please don’t do this.” His words echoed between the houses in Russian.
The retrieval team member lifted him into a large jail pod waiting in the middle of the street. Three other people, already on board, sat with their heads bowed.
“Mama!” Maxim pressed his face against the open window. He cursed violently. “Otets!”
The truck pulled out of the street and drove northwest to the City of the Uns.
December 2, 2298
Border between City of Vasha and City of the Uns, Elementōrum Patriam
“Maxim?” Hans called through the fence separating the Uns from the rest of Elementōrum Patriam. His fingers pressed into the screen of the invisi-fence and the shadow imprint of diamonds cast across the palm of his hand.
Maxim aged impossibly in the first few months. He didn’t look eleven. He stood on the edge of the street in Uns and stared at the snow falling in Diana behind Hans. No snow reached their desert. Another punishment from the Council’s laws.
“Hans.” Maxim stepped closer to the fence. While his blue eyes focused on the child, his stiff posture startled Hans. He leaned away from the fence—from Hans.
Hans’ fingers pressed harder against the cold material and turned red at the tips. Maxim lifted his left hand and reached out to touch his brother’s fingers, but he stopped before he touched the wall. Hans could see the outline of the same diamonds shadowed on him burned into his brother’s palm. He trailed the scars to their end on his upper arm. Hans’ brow furrowed, and he locked eyes with Maxim. Maxim dropped his hand.
“Are you going to come back home?”
“You know I can’t.” Maxim broke their staring contest and tipped his head back. He carded his scarred hand through his dark hair. His eyes trailed the path of a snowflake until it connected with the ground. “I want you to promise me something, Hans.”
He nodded.
“Whatever happens, don’t become like your big brother, okay?” He took a deep breath. “If you must come to the Uns don’t take their deal. It’s better to be homeless. I want you to be an elementalist, though. I want you to have a better life. You need to be a leader and make things better for everyone. Don’t follow blindly.”
“What do you mean?”
“Promise me.” Maxim placed his unscarred hand against the fence. Hans watched the flesh bubble and burn.
He choked on tears. “I promise.”
January 5, 2317
City of the Uns, Elementōrum Patriam
Maxim Aliyev laid low next to a supply warehouse. Inside: the newest shipment from the Ls, a nickname they gave the elementalists. The Uns fended for themselves behind the electric invisi-fence on Elementōrum Patriam. They had to make their own name. The Ls provided very little for the lower ranking Uns. It was why many Uns turned to a life of crime, including Maxim.
He watched a tumbleweed jump its way down the street of the barren wasteland and collide with the desert sage. Dirt stung his eye. He didn’t lift a hand to rub it away. Maxim waited for the signal.
He had a full day of plans with the underground illegal group. Once he returned from the raid, with the others in his smaller party, he would help categorize their supplies before they tried to take the capitol. Exhausted from the abuse, not only from their lower form of government but from the Ls, they wanted to be free. He’d be one of the main forces leading the riot and uprising against the capitol building in Central. They had to find a way out of the city.
Maxim made to move to the next location but stopped when he heard the telltale sound of feet marching on the dusty road. He froze and prayed he hid well enough between the sage brush. Through the cracks in the branches, he watched as several law enforcement officials marched past. Maxim held his breath to be on the safe side; he thanked his genetics for his tanned skin. It helped him blend in with the pale color of the dirt.
The tank top, stained and smudged with dirt, had rips in several places. He picked a sliver out of the material near his left pectoral before he scooted across the ground. His tan cargo shorts neared the same color as his shirt. Maxim pushed himself into a kneeling position and brushed away what dirt he could before he pulled the Glock style Lūminis Sclopētum from his waistband.
The weapons were a lucky find. Only the military had access to weapons—not even the police force used them. The people had no need for weapons. The underground found the crate mixed in with the usual supplies for the Uns during one of their warehouse raids. At the time, Maxim figured it was a mistake.
He shuffled to the corner of the warehouse and peered around it. Another member of his recovery team laid low a few feet in front of Maxim, eyes glued to the sky, waiting for the signal. Maxim glanced up and prayed it would come soon. They operated on a time crunch to get in and out before the capitol attack.
He heard a pop and recognized the start signal. The flare shot between him and the other team members. It sizzled across the ground with a similar sound to a rattlesnake before it stopped at Maxim’s feet and nearly set the brush on fire. He stomped out the flame and moved. The other members of his team joined him, and they surrounded the small service door instead of the main roll up one.
Maxim stood off to the side as Qasim approached and checked the locked door. The quickest way to open the door would be to dismantle the lock. He pulled out a bastard file, with a flat head screwdriver style tip, and took the screws out until he could pull half of the doorknob unit off. Qasim laid the metalwork to the side while he used the file to remove the locking mechanism pieces themselves.
The knob clattered to the floor on the other side, and Qasim released the lock entirely. With a little pressure, the door swung open, and they peered inside cautiously. Maxim held out his hand and one of the others in his group put a can of black spray paint in it. He slid around the door and did his best to move in the blind spots of the camera before it turned to face the door. He reached up and covered his face with his other arm while he colored the lens out.
The group dispersed immediately among the stacks of food and utilities. They stuffed as much of it as they could into their backpacks, pockets, jackets, and trash bags. Maxim knew they had five minutes tops to collect what they needed and get out before the police arrived on the scene. One good thing about their current government, it kept a sharp eye on the people in case of any wrongdoing.
The holler of sirens in the distance signaled the end of their mission. They tied off bags and zipped zippers before they darted into the desert. The police force, while comprised of other Uns, received their supplies from the Ls. The hover cars veered off the path of the road and tore through the brush after the rebels. Traveling on foot, while inferior to a car, allowed them to hide easier. They also knew the lay of the land in ways the government officials didn’t. Maxim split from his group, and he saw them branch off on their own paths.
His feet pounded across the ground, and he heard the officers trailing them shout as the rebels burst onto another exterior city street. He followed the familiar paths until he reached the back-alley to their underground headquarters. He reached the door at the same time as most of his teammates, and they entered the space together.
“You almost led them here, Maxim,” a voice chided.
He passed his bag off to the others and let out a low chuckle. Esebelle sat with her arms crossed as she watched him from the main chair instead of the security camera footage behind her. Her bomber jacket crinkled when she shifted and revealed a small strip of skin above her own earth dyed tank top. She pulled her legs onto the chair, and her sweatpants rode up around her ankles.
“And you’re supposed to be watching the cameras at the capitol. Or did you forget we’re storming them today?” Maxim walked over to the screens. His accent almost vanished after years of not speaking any Russian. “On the other hand, you didn’t see the food in the warehouse. You’ll thank me after seeing the haul.”
“Can’t wait to see it—we’ll be sending out the signal in about two hours from now.” Esebelle had seniority as one of the oldest members of their group. She turned her chair with a loud scrape to the computer system. She typed a few strokes, and the cameras changed position.
Maxim grabbed one of the available chairs and swung it around until he could sit next to his pseudo-friend. “Is it enough to gather everything we planned on?”
Esebelle typed a command into the computer and didn’t respond.
Maxim’s eyes roved over the screens until it landed on the section connected to the warehouses. “Are you actively communicating with those in the capitol?”
“No ear pieces.” She brushed back her dirty brown hair and tapped her ear before she flipped through a couple more cameras.
“What do you need me to help with?” Maxim ran his fingers through his curls and watched another foraging group black out a camera.
Esebelle directed him to his position in the small office space, and they went to work. After an hour, Maxim assigned himself to categorize supplies and make sure they would be ready to go when the signal went off. He created extensive plans on the computer of how they would ration what they had to hold out once the protests began. Two hours later, he sat at the computer, unconfident they would be able to feed the entire uprising for more than a few days.
Maxim watched as rebellion aligned government officials moved into their places in each of the frames. “Everyone is moving—it’s almost time to start.”
“Start the countdown when everyone is ready,” Esebelle commanded.
He flipped through the screens at lightning speed, each image passed through his mind long enough to verify who stood where.
“Countdown initiating, we have thirty seconds.”
“Launch codes entering database. Signal is aiming,” Esebelle confirmed. “Riots are ready to go, door locks waiting to be engaged.”
“Signal in five.” Maxim stood and opened the cabinet in the corner. A firework exploded over the main part of the city. He strapped a smuggled rifle style Lūminis Sclopētum to his back. He tossed the same model to Esebelle, and she caught it deftly with one hand. She checked the safety before nodding.
The uprising began.
The Council Chambers, The Academy, Elementōrum Patriam
The Council gathered for lunch in the law room where they worked. Dwayne and Eilene showed Ethan what they did with proposed laws and laws in need of their collective signature because the people voted them into effect when their phones simultaneously flashed blue, and Luana picked hers up first.
“The Uns are reporting riots. They have weapons, and they’ve taken the city hall building hostage,” she reported.
“They’ve finally risen up against their oppressors.” Eilene leveled their leader with a heavy gaze. “Are you going to send us to suppress them—again?”
“I won’t be sending you. Hans, Ethan, Scott, I want you to remind them who they’re up against.”
“Luana—they are our people. We don’t want them to live in fear of us,” Dwayne argued.
“Then what do you propose we do? Reward them for running rampant and stealing from those who follow the law?” she growled. “They’re Uns—they don’t have any of our abilities. They’re a regeneration. They have no power over us.”
Eilene opened her mouth to argue again, but Hans held up his hand.
“We’ll take care of it.” He stood. “Scott and I will show Ethan how we handle these events.”
The other two followed his lead, their unfinished lunches left behind.
Ethan smiled when he saw the updated hooks for their cloaks. Knowing he had a cloak waiting for him with “DEATH” emblazoned on the wall next to the empty “SUPERNATURAL” hook gave him hope for the future. It meant he had a place among the Council—future generations would have a known place among the elementalists.
Ethan donned the robes and followed the other two out of the chambers.
In the early hours, students milled around the main hallways and laughed with their friends or used their abilities to joke around and perform small tricks. It ceased as soon as they spotted the three Council members. One of the Air elementalists dropped to the ground. They darted to the edges of the hallway and stood at attention. The students knew whoever wore the cloaks stood as the strongest elementalists in the world. None of them wanted to challenge the Council’s power by standing in the way.
“Where do you think they’re going?” A girl on the younger side leaned into the other female next to her.
“Hard to say.”
Ethan wanted to look around and see if he knew any of the students, but he couldn’t turn his head much under the robe or he’d give up the prim and proper expectations of the Council. He focused on following the pattern Hans and Scott made ahead of him as they walked to the front doors. He heard the harried speculations behind them, and one word struck him through the chest. Rogue.
What will it be like when we go after my first Rogue? What if I’m required to kill them?
They stepped into the sunshine and Ethan realized he forgot the beauty of the Academy lawn. It spread out in triangle patterns, lined with hedges of flowers, between the marble pathways until it led out to the City of Garden. He took a deep breath of clean, crisp air. He sensed the other two ease—despite what their task would have them do, far from the capitol.
The trio fanned out across the steps and descended in a line. Each of them took their time to take in the sights as they passed maintenance workers. Their path led them past one of the deep pools of water, and the droplets shone like gold when an elementalist burst free and soared into the air. Ethan nearly tripped, and Scott turned to check on him.
“How are we getting there?” Ethan whispered lowly.
“Bullet,” Hans supplied with a similar volume.
At the end of the long path, they passed through an archway and over a small bridge into the Academy gardens. The garden portions above the houses swarmed with insects and blossomed flowers Ethan couldn’t dream to name. A butterfly with blue wings brushed past his face, and he wished he could take off the hood and protective mask to enjoy the outdoors. He loved the view of the sprawling lawns of the Academy.
Hans put a guiding hand on his arm and kept him on the path to the train station. They waited on the platform, and the others riding the train stood far away from them. The front compartments would be near capacity from nervousness rather than excessive crowds or commuter rush hour.
The train pulled onto the platform and the three stepped into the end compartment. The elementalists already sitting on the train scattered as soon as they saw who boarded. They huddled up together, cramped onto the front end, while the Council took three of the four available seats in one of the back sections.
“Why doesn’t, uh, you-know-who like the Uns very much?” Ethan asked.
“Fire has a lot of opinions we don’t necessarily agree with. It’s easier to take the task she dishes out and complete them our way than it is to fight her on her opinions.” Hans said. “I don’t agree with her views on the Uns, but this is something we need to address immediately. Taking the job without complaint means I get to solve it the way I want.”
“She’s strait laced,” Scott said.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s stuck in her own head and her own ways. Inflexible. Getting her to branch out and understand how our country is multi-cultural is almost impossible. The weirdest part about it is she’s been on the Council since she was eight.” Scott turned his head to make sure they had no eavesdroppers. Those who dared to look at them immediately dropped their gaze.
“Maybe she was brainwashed by other Council members? If they raised her in this system, she’ll stick to what she knows,” Ethan suggested.
“That is a likely explanation.” Hans shifted in the seat. “Either way, there’s certain days and subjects which make her harder to work with. This happens to be one of those times.”
“What will we do in City of the Uns?”
“That’s dependent on what we observe. Stay behind us as much as possible. If it comes down to it, we’ll use scare tactics to make them back off—then we can work on finding a temporary solution.”
“And if we can’t find one?” Ethan turned his head directly to Hans, and Scott tapped him on the knee, telling him to move back.
Hans shrugged. “We can’t make everyone happy. We have to fall back on written policies and work to revise them in the Council.”
“Which is hard to do with our favorite person around,” Scott said.
“How come no one stands up against her?”
“We try—you saw Water and Life. She only became fiercer and locked down harder on her opinions. We thought, after what happened to you, she might realize her opinions hurt more people than it helps—but a person doesn’t change overnight. She needs something more to rattle her, and I don’t know that is. I do legitimately want to help her see the country from a different perspective.”
“She’s blind,” Ethan said.
Scott nodded.
The three of them rode the train up past the City of Uns into the City of Ricci. If they stopped in Vasha, they’d have to walk the entire length of the city to reach Central, the Uns capital. The City of Barren also crossed right above Central, but the closest stop put them too far northwest and on the edge of the country.
Hans pointed out the Meeting of Fate to Ethan as they passed. The Meeting of Fate. The only point in the country where four cities met at their border. Uns, Vasha, Yahav, and Ricci.
From the station in City of Ricci, they could hear the riots—though they sounded like a muffled roar. People on the platform looked around curiously for the source of the noise, but when they saw the Council members heading for the Uns, their curiosity dropped.
The southward path brought them to a high fenced border around the city. Ethan inspected it curiously. A measly invisi-fence can keep the Uns from escaping the city?
“It’s electrocuted—it registers genetic makeup,” Scott whispered in his ear.
“Ouch.”
The gate into the city opened for them as they approached. Hans returned a small clicker, like a garage door opener, to his pocket. Only certain people would have access to opening the gates. The houses when they first entered the city had no foundation. Most of them consisted of boards leaning on each other like a teepee, while others were lashed together with twine and held up by a single log in each corner. They hardly resembled living spaces.
The structure of the city had nothing. Open dirt fields and tumbleweeds sent the sound of hooves beating against the ground through Ethan’s mind for the first time in months. The scorching heat bled through his Council robe. Ethan resisted the urge to tug at it, but he couldn’t help panting. Even in January, the Storm elementalists gave them no new weather. From the cracked patterns in the dirt, Ethan would be surprised if it ever rained in City of the Uns.
Even far from the center of Central, people fought and shouted. One Un shoved another out into the street in front of the elementalists, and the man fell to the ground. He jumped up without noticing the passerby and lifted a fist to hit the person who pushed him. Scott’s gloved hand wrapped around his wrist.
He froze and turned wide eyes on the three.
The street in front of them fell silent as they noticed their visitors. Scott let go of the man’s wrist, and they moved toward the main part of Central. With some of the braver Uns, Hans shifted his foot across the dirt, and small rift opened. The Uns stumbled and fell into the pit only to find themselves sealed in the dirt up to their necks. Scott lifted a few in the air and placed them back on the ground when they begged. The houses closer to the city resembled something more like a house Ethan knew, but most remained rudimentary—they didn’t have multiple floors, let alone a solid foundation to build one.
When the side street met the main street in Central, they found the road blocked by an amateur barricade. Hans flicked two of his fingers into the air and the earth under the barricade rocketed into the sky, sending the scrap metal and furniture flying. Scott tamed the airborne debris and lowered it to the ground. The raised earth dropped back to its expected elevation with a flick in the opposite direction from Hans. In the square, shocked faces greeted them. Many stood frozen in the middle of fights.
Rioting signs clattered to the ground and echoed between the buildings while the three Council members made their slow approach. On the side of one building, the head of the Uns government, Marcis Berzins, hung strapped and suspended upside down. The redness in his plump cheeks, and the open-mouthed gape showcased his equal fear of the Council and the rioting Uns. His round belly followed gravity toward the ground and strained at his shirt buttons.
Hans put out his hand, palm up, and lifted it into the air. In the middle of the square, a makeshift platform appeared. The people on top of the stage scrambled off and the Council members ascended it instead. Ethan glanced around the main part of Central and found, to his surprise, a lush oasis with plants, grass, proper houses, and trees.
Is this a result of a corrupt Uns government or are we as a Council not giving them enough support to function?
Scott lifted his own hand and used several gusts of wind to free the man from the side of the building and lower him to the ground, where he promptly vomited.
“What is going on here?” Hans called out with as little accent as he could muster. They needed to disconnect themselves from any locational ties or people might discover their true identities.
“It was the rebellion, sir!” a government worker said with a slight shout heard around the square. “They attacked us suddenly—a firework was all the warning we had. They’ve been after our storage buildings for weeks, taking what is ours and hoarding it for themselves. Today, they took us on directly.”
“This has been going on for weeks, yet you did not contact the Council sooner?” Scott said coolly. He turned to the porky leader on the ground, kneeling by a tree.
“We didn’t—we thought—”
“Clearly, you didn’t think at all.” Hans kept the same tone as Scott. “We’re here to settle this dispute. We want to hear from both sides. Will any of you from the rebellion strike us before we can carry out our duty?”
The crowd remained quiet.
“Good—then we can move on to solving this situation.”
“I’ll stand against you,” a woman spoke suddenly from the crowd. The people parted until it gave the Council a clear view of a dirty-haired brunette. She held her Lūminis Sclopētum in a ready to shoot position. She activated the sight with a short whisper of “cōnferō”.
The man at her side had his own weapon, but it rested at his side. Hans’ breath hitched as he took in the familiar build and facial features of his brother—he took after their father, Yerik. Ethan’s gaze snapped between the two as subtly as he could—the Un looked like an older version of Hans. Scott also noted the change in his companion’s stature and took a step forward.
“We’re the leaders of the rebellion. Your laws are oppressive and don’t understand the world we’re forced to live in. We’re fighting for a normal life,” the woman continued.
Hushed murmurs of agreement traveled through the crowd.
“What is your name?” Hans asked.
“Esebelle.” She swallowed and straightened her neck into a haughtier position. “It is polite to give your enemy your name.”
“We have no name on the Council.” Hans’ practiced answer was obvious to the crowd. Not one person in the world knew the members. “What would you consider a normal life, Esebelle?”
“Proper shelter, food and water. We live ration to ration on nothing except scraps most days. We steal from the warehouses, so we can have an actual meal.”
“She’s lying!” Marcis shouted.
“It is not yet your turn to share.” Hans’ pinkie twitched and a rope of dirt wrapped itself around the man’s mouth. His screams of panic and anger muffled drastically.
Ethan glanced around the square and took note of the ornate decorations and sprawling lawns. He lifted a hand and imitated the tone. “Esebelle, who lives in those houses?”
“The government officials.”
“I see.” He took a step back toward where they came into the city from. “And who lives in these lesser versions?”
“Everyone else—the ones with money have the nicer ones.”
Ethan turned to Scott and Hans. “Do you mind if I even the playing field a little?”
He heard a small laugh escape Scott’s mouth before he received an affirmative nod from both.
Ethan never used his powers with his own will before. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, but he also had the distinct feeling he could do it. He had to concentrate. Ethan raised his arm and held out his hand toward the lush houses. The people watched, uncertain of what would happen. For a long moment nothing changed, then the grass wilted, the leaves fell from the trees, and the flowers dropped to the dirt, dead. Every house looked the same. Brutalized. Dry. Broken. They matched the desert they lived in.
“What have you done?” one of the politicians shouted.
“I’m sure you can bring it back to life, along with the yards of all the other Uns, too.” Ethan grinned under his mask.
Hans touched Ethan’s shoulder and pushed him toward Scott. “Are there any neutral parties here today?”
A shaking woman raised her hand.
“Come forward and tell us your name.” He waved her to the stage.
Her skin glittered in the sunlight and Ethan wished he could identify her origin deeper than Asian.
“What’s your name?”
“Hwangbo Sang-jin.”
“Hwangbo Sang-jin-ssi,” Scott startled her with the polite formal tone. “What was your reason for being here in Central today?”
“I live in the more southern part of Uns, and I wanted to visit with the government to see about raising my food allotment. I get two single cans of soup daily and a gallon of milk per week. I’m starving because I have no fruits or vegetables—or anything except canned soup. I wanted to talk with them about what it would cost to be provided with better stock.”
“And what do our politicians say to this?” Hans removed the mouth guard from Marcis, and he spat out mud.
“You don’t send us enough money to supply our people with more,” he argued. “You abuse your post and think yourself superior.”
Hans produced his phone from his cloak and flipped through the apps. He asked for a piece of paper and wrote a few numbers on it before he did the math alongside the reported population.
“The report I have here shows we send over enough money to your offices on a weekly basis to supply all persons with a livable wage and enough money for groceries based on how many are living in a household—not to mention the money is meant to go toward construction projects such as building new housing for incoming Uns and utilities for all houses and work buildings.”
“And what are the numbers you’re calculating from?” Marcis sneered as if he had something to hold over the Council.
“Each working class Un is to receive a stipend of one hundred chrono electrum weekly as sub-service for the work they do. Two hundred and fifty chrono electrum is allotted to each single Un in the territory for food. Four hundred to couples, and seven hundred to families. This totals between three-hundred and fifty to eight hundred chrono electrum to each registered family on a weekly basis. The population of the Uns is currently a quarter-million. The stipend for housing and utilities changes week to week and should be reported on Mondays. The last reported housing and utility costs totaled—that is a low number!” Ethan read out from the page over Hans’ shoulder.
“Does any of this sound familiar to you?” Scott turned toward the portly man.
“I—I can’t say it does.” Marcis adjusted his necktie.
“We’re supposed to get one hundred a week?” Maxim’s jaw dropped. “We’re lucky to make seven.”
“Marcis, would you care to answer where this money is going?” Hans lifted a hand, ready to attack the man if need be. “Or will we need to pull an audit on all government and government employee spending?”
“It wasn’t the Ls,” Esebelle whispered. “We were going after the wrong people.”
“Uns, it is going to take a while for us to resolve this issue—we will be getting rid of all current government employees and government officials. If you would like the chance to speak for your people, consider campaigning. Remember to submit official forms through to the Council. We appreciate your cooperation,” Hans announced with widespread arms. “You are our people too—we do care about your well-being.”
“You can’t do this!” Marcis grabbed a gun off one of the rebel Uns and ran with it. He pointed it shakily at Ethan. “You can’t take this away from me—I won’t let you!”
Before any of the officers could get to Marcis, he pulled the trigger. The Lūminis Sagitta sailed through Ethan’s head and tore through the fabric of the robe at the back, but his body didn’t fall to the ground as everyone expected. He took several slow and steady steps toward Marcis who dropped the gun and shook himself into a puddle.
“That doesn’t work on me,” Ethan spoke lowly, but the entire square heard him. Whispers passed through the crowd like a wave.
“Marcis, I hope you enjoy isolation,” Hans said.
Two officers collected the gun from Marcis’ side and hauled him to his feet before they handcuffed him and led him away.
“Anyone else like to stand against us?” Scott asked the crowd. Silence answered him. He waved a hand, and all the weapons the Uns collected swept into the air and collected in a neat pile on the stage. He gestured for the officers to collect them for proper disposal. “Clean up this mess—we’ll send in a few governmental representatives to assist in your transition this evening.”
As they made to leave Central and head back to the Academy, a hand caught Hans’ arm and stopped them. They knew of no one brave enough to get closer than a few feet. Hans stared into Maxim’s unknowing face and tried to ease his racing heart.
“I just wanted to say thank you for today. We’ve been struggling for a while, and I know we came off as the bad guys, but we wanted a better life here—since we’re stuck here.”
“We understand,” Scott inserted. He gently pushed Maxim back until he let go of Hans’ arm. The latticework of scars glimmered in the sun.
“I’m sorry I had the wrong impression of you Ls,” Maxim said.
Ethan smiled under his hood. “Next time we meet, I’m sure it’ll be under better circumstances.”
Maxim left them alone, and the group of three continued on their journey home. Neither Ethan nor Scott felt in a position to ask Hans about the rebel Un. They could see the family resemblance.
Luana waited for their return in the main entryway, but Hans brushed her off. Shocked by his cold attitude, she received a rundown of events from the other two.
Inside his room, Hans threw himself onto his bed and fought off the tears threatening to fall. Maxim stood in front of him. He reached out and touched his arm. Eighteen years passed since he last saw his brother. He didn’t expect their meeting to roil with emotions—ones Maxim wouldn’t feel on his end.
Maxim joined the rebellion; he pushed against the elementalists and blamed them for his problems. Hans wished Ethan did more than destroy their prized lawns—but they couldn’t kill people without court ruling. Death gave them a quick way out of punishment.
Hans pushed his fingers through his hair to get a grip on the situation, but his mind whirred with unconnected thoughts. Maxim thanked them for their help.
Hans pulled the box of tissues closer to him from the nightstand and blew his nose. He crumpled it up and tossed it onto his bed sheet as the closest trashcan was in the bathroom. He stared at the open sky of a Russian countryside projected on his ceiling and smiled.
A knock at the door interrupted his reminiscing; Luana didn’t surprise him when she opened the door. She watched him from inside the doorway.
“You, okay?”
“My brother stood there—in front of me. He talked to me. He thanked us for righting the wrong being done to them.”
Luana frowned. “He’s not your brother, he’s an Un. You three also didn’t do as I asked.”
“You have no right to say that to me,” Hans snapped.
“We’re Council members—we need to protect the people. Uns are an entity we have to control.”
“We don’t need to control them if we’re showing them common curtesy.” Hans bore down over her. “You have no siblings—you do not get to tell me he is no longer my brother because of a piece of degenerative DNA.”
“You were supposed to scare the Uns into submission.”
“And leave them on the verge of dying under a corrupt government using the funds for themselves? Luana, you’re treating them like they’re animals. They’re as alive as we are. You can’t tell me to abandon my ties to my family.”
“When you joined the Council, your family became us. You renounced any ties you have outside of us.”
“When I joined the Council, we had to tell my parents I was a Rogue and killed—just like my older sister. My father killed himself in shame. My mother is out there living with no children, no husband. If I told you, I didn’t feel upset about them, I would be lying. Maxim’s been living day to day on no food because the money we sent the Uns for years was never going where it was supposed to. The Uns shouldn’t be separate from us Luana. They’re trapped in a cage because of us.” Hans breathed heavy and rapid, the expression on his face thunderous. Luana stumbled away from him. “If I can give even one of my family members a little bit of peace because of my position, then I will be doing something right. Until you’ve faced one of your family members as a member of the Council, you can’t say anything to me. The Council is my family—but Maxim and I are bonded by blood. I’m done playing your little games and continuing to ruin the lives of people who never deserved it in the first place. We are supposed to be helping our people.”
“Hans,” Luana wanted to calm him down, but she didn’t know what to say. If it came to a physical fight, Hans was stronger than her—not only in bulk, but in element.
“Just get out,” he said. He turned away from her and clenched his fists.
Luana did as told and leaned against the wall outside his room. She brought her hands up to her face and pressed against her eyes. She didn’t know what to do.