The sun beat down on them, casting harsh shadows that trailed their feet.

Moving along quietly, yet quickly, the Owners shadowed their Torches, taking an odd sort of back position, trailing several yards behind them. The spectacle had already taken center stage, Torches biting and riling another, inciting the Echelon watching from above to explode into cries of a mix of taunts and support.

Kovan was quite disgusted with it, but he kept his face neutral, being one of the participant – or at least, owning one. His heart started racing, watching the Torches go through the pointless ceremony with the ascetics. Even though he was not the one on track, Kovan felt like he was, gripped with anxiety and guilt for sending a man to his supposed gallows.

He would never get used to this feeling.

He wished for the race to never begin, yet couldn’t wait for it to quickly end.

The animalistic spectators added to his vexation, hating their anticipation. Soon enough however, the hum-drum above faded away, leaving nothing else to focus but the reddish-brown haired man of average height with endless amounts of grace spilling off his fit, lithe form, striding confidently in a straight line for the Volcan track.

There was nothing else in his vision, except for the ominous claws of sienna valleys, tips painted in golden highlights under the noon light feathering the corners of his sight. And before him, laid a vast stretch of sun-baked ground lightened to a mustard golden hue, blending perfectly into the bright yellow sky.

Right at center, was his Torch, tops of his tied up curls dapped in gold, dark skin gleaming with the sunlight draped over his bare, muscled shoulders and back.

Kovan watched with abated breath as his Torch approached the darkish lane that looked like dried blood soaked into the core of the earth, looking like a savage path much undeserving for one such as Tyler to thread upon.

Not the young man who risked his life to save a competitor nary two weeks back, and suffered for it with the force of his trauma returning to assault him, laying upon him fever and weakness that took a few days to bounce back.

And not to one who had once sprinted with all the force of tidal winds to save a tiny child from an incoming wreck. Kovan could never forget that fateful scene, chanced upon in the middle of his regular route in the Lower quadrant. Since then, he had always put him in the corner of his mind, a young, brave soul, content to dream about him on hot, licentious nights.

He never imagined fate to throw him into his palms, yet so cruelly, making him the monster at the reins around Tyler’s feet. Had he been wiser, he would not have set upon this dastard path. Yet to make calculated risks was his game, so he could not have it any other way. Besides, it wasn’t like he had a real choice in the matter. Either he allotted something for Tyler to undertake, or he be taken by the conniving undertakers prowling the State.

Other men, as young and pitiful, filed alongside Tyler, each on their own path of deadly challenge. Where there were once twelve lanes fully taken up, now remained eleven.

Kovan swallowed hard as he made his way to a separate platform meant for them Torch owners, wondering bitterly how many of them would remain by the end of the season. Heavy in his thoughts, his walk was slow, and laborious, hanging back from the rest of the owners who hurried to take their places for the show.

“Will the flames besiege him, or bow down in his path?”

Kovan jolted at the rickety croaky tones crackling within his ear like a shower of tiny stones pelting his silica flooring after short-lived tempestuous windstorms. He kept his pace consistent, and glanced around in a forcibly calm manner, assuming a casual air, searching for the one those words belonged to.

“O child, Atari tests you yet.”

Kovan couldn’t spy anyone, but he caught the attention of one who so happened to pass by him.

“What was that?” the appointed commentator was on him the next second, hand on his shoulders like a vulture, stopping him in his path, “Did you say something?”

Kovan was surprised the other man actually heard that as well.

“No, that wasn’t me.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” he noted, eyes sparkling as if a titbit of golden, rare gems were found, “An Echelon’s name will be damned to burial if he ever sprouted the names of myths in reverence.”

Quickly throwing a side glance at the other Owners who reached their stands a good way off, he noted from their intense focus on the tracks that they likely hadn’t heard the mystifying warble.

“So will those who claim to have heard it where none others had.”

Sameous, a tall, lanky man dressed in a sensible mix of style and comfort at this time and place, gave a sort of dismissive grin. “Not for the Secreton.”

Kovan returned grin of his own, but one showing doubt. “I don’t think the State would allow its sponsored mongering conduit to spread such atrocious falsities.”

“Are you deliberately dumbing down yourself in my infamous presence?” Sameous gave a pointed look perfectly poised between humor and disdain, “Or is that sarcasm meant to honor me? I can’t really be sure.”

Kovan couldn’t hide his chuckle being sounded out.

The very face of Secreton – the namesake a satire in the first place, for the news outlet brimmed with snidely pride over its sachets of dirty scoops too horrifying for the average Echelon to disclose – was a farce to begin with.

There was only so much dirty laundry it was allowed to air out, given it was scrutinized with watchful eyes from certain members of the State. It was for that reason interpersonal relationships and connections were necessary apparatus to maintain the breath of fresh air and careless living of the average Echelon. Particularly those who had mountains of skeletons swept under their rug.

Those less fortunate ones had otherwise found themselves victims of dire asphyxiation, the shame and ridicule forcing them to remain a recluse in their homes, at least till the next victim was found.

“Fine, you caught me, I meant to discourage you, not undermine your prowess at getting news out against the wishes of your sponsors.”

Sameous gave a bark of laughter that sent a few Owners throwing their heads back, staring beadily from the distance.

“If you worry about the news linking back to you, let me offer my promise, right now, that the fervour of a good story catching on relies on the source remaining a mystery. Besides, you’re already such the baffling recluse anyway, so it shouldn’t matter to you skipping out on the starry-eyed even if the hound sniffs you out.

Kovan didn’t doubt the experience behind those words, as well as the copious amount of flair imbued, which would set the ball rolling. It was for Sameous’s showy charisma and knack at selling that he was able to raise Secreton – for all its questionable morals and pointless gossips –into the sensational publishing conduit it had become. Yet for all his dangerous maundering of ripping apart the pride and statuses of the Echelon, he was untouched from their seething revenge, blessed by his sponsors who were powerful figures.

Kovan offered a smile of relief.

“I will take your word for it. Though yet again, I must question if this facet could even offer you any means of stipend. ”

“It certainly does,” Sameous gave a mischievous look, reminding Kovan that the head of Secreton wasn’t just pointlessly obsessed with embarrassing and flaming Echelon members for bouts of immoral glee. He was a table pusher, taking indirect swipes at Circle members and State ruling in subtle hints of disrespect.

It was honestly a miracle his sponsors had tolerated him thus far, inciting Kovan to make many a guess why they allow it. Presented with a force as odd as himself, Kovan felt an advice was in order, even if he knew the radical man would not take it.

“I see your eyes dancing along dangerous waters, Sameous.”

He cackled again, rousing interest from the gleaming eyes of the other owners who started coming towards them.

“There is no helping it. I’m on the helm of something epic here, I can feel it in my bones, hear it as clear as day.”

“You don’t really think Atari  was the one who spoke to us, do you?”

“No, not particularly, but if I allowed for this play to take flight, then pray tell, who else could that be? There’s no one else near us, or near enough to hear what we have heard!” his eyes stretched impossibly large like a man gone off the road, barely able to subdue his jumpy, fidgeting form, excited zeal evidently rolling off him.

“And why, specifically you? You  who owned the Torch who was declared just the previous race, that he was special to the Fire Elemental?”

“I understand where you are going with this, but you are running along the premise if the Godly entity was even real,” Kovan reminded cautiously in a dry tone.

“Precisely!” he exclaimed, “It should not be real. Yet twice the incidents occurred – coincidence? Perhaps. But a riveting story? – Most certainly.”

Sameous looked particularly smug at himself for fishing up and stringing together a tall tale.

“Besides, I heard it for myself as well. Such a mysterious speech calling to me like a gift from heaven. A message to a messiah, if you will. What a glorious tale for fodder I could make with this!”

Kovan didn’t continue any further, seeing as to how Sameous was running along on his self-serving conviction. He wasn’t in a position to criticise anyway if the head of Secreton saw it as an opportunity to invigorate interest and greater following.

Right as Sameous finished with his grand plan of storytelling, two of the other owners reached them, scathing gaze questioning and intrusive, obviously jealous the Secreton Head singled Kovan out for chat lasting more than a few lines.

Kovan stifled a laugh detecting this, finding it amusing how certain Echelon sought to compete about everything, including the favours of someone as notorious as Sameous. But well, to be fair, the eccentric fellow also rode on a huge tide of popularity, especially well-loved amongst the Lower quadrants who feasted wickedly on the misfortunes of the rich, as that was the only form of rebellion they could afford against their employers. Whether or not the Echelon knew this, was another matter altogether.

As for these two, it would appear they equally wanted a piece of the conversation with Sameous. However, before they could drop a casual line of inquiry, Sameous went on, still hooked on his earlier theory.

“Say, Kovan, you don’t suppose that Atari ascetic from the other day, would appear again, do you?”

The other two was instantly taken back, frowning at the unexpected topic. Kovan simply gave a disinterested smile, eager to move along from it.

“No,” he replied dryly, “I don’t think so.”