The Adonai, General Myhael Murdock, watched his town from high above in his ivory tower. The midday sun warmed Talvory City, accompanied by the refreshing rushes of a breezy day. The capital of the Outskirts, the city was alive with all races of people, each seeking shelter from the dominion of the Angelic Morning Star Kingdom beyond the sea. As a port town, the winds carried with them the salty tang of the ocean and the tranquil sounds of waves crashing against the docks. The Adonai had the greatest view from his perch. From atop the Government Tower, he could see the vastness of the Outskirts as they extended into horizon. He watched the movement below him, tiny dots in motion.

They walk as if they’re free...they bustle as if they own the world...

His large, muscular frame cast a long shadow behind him as the sun shone in through the window.

But birds born in cages do not long for the wind. He ran his finger along the number 4 tattooed upon his chest. It is only the free who can truly suffer imprisonment.

He turned his eyes to the horizon, his gargantuan shoulders held high as he clasped his hands behind him.

It’s out there...a legend upon the wind. The Birthright of—”

“Your Honor!” a gleeful voice called out from the doorway.

“You may enter.”

The door promptly opened to reveal a small young woman with little goat horns sticking out of her blonde hair.

“Lieutenant Morgans,” the Adonai said without turning away from the window. “I assume you have some news about the bounty we issued?”

“Sure thing, Your Honor!” she said as she twirled her golden pigtails. “A man by the name of Sergei Varseir claims to have a person of interest. A girl, actually—one with white irises and black eyeballs.”

“Strange eyes, you say?” The Adonai stroked his mustache. “That doesn’t seem right, but...tell me more, Morgans.”

“Well the guy runs like a club or something? He made his deal really secretive, so I’m not sure he’s legit.”

“Then why don’t I pay him a visit,” the Adonai said, smirking, the sun shining upon his bald head. “Personally.”

“Alrighty!” Morgans said. “I’ll send the reply right away!”

The Adonai stroked his mustache with his large fingers. As he heard the door close, his mind drifted.

Those eyes...could it be...?

Outside, the sun had lowered from its noontime position, shifting the shadows below.

I know you’re out there somewhere...a power waiting to be harnessed...

He turned from the window.

The Children of Vespira...

The Starborn...

Uri softly hummed a joyful tune as he swept the coffee shop floor. Outside, the sun had not yet risen, its presence still only a golden hue upon the skyline. Clanking noises came from the kitchen, along with the muffled growls of Joseph and Alphonso bickering with each other. At a table by the window, Vylet sat with Pal, carefully rolling the silverware into nice napkin wraps.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen my grandson so happy.” Pal said, smiling and taking a sip from his coffee mug.

Vylet placed another roll on the table without looking up.

She smiled. “He probably feels like we’re a family again.”

“It’s understandable.” The old man took another sip. “He lost his mother and his brother back-to-back.”

“Philiae?”

“He was so close to her, too...”

“Pal Burns,” a deep voice boomed at front door, causing all inside to jump.

“Emerson, and just like clockwork, too...” Pal said as he stood. “Uri. Unlock the door. He looks grumpy.”

The young boy did as he was told and the door swung open.

“Where is Philos?” the guard captain raged as he entered.

Pal took a calm sip from his black coffee mug. “He went to retrieve some supplies for me. Why?”

“This is no joke, Burns!” The captain’s voice was hard as nails.

“Okay, okay,” the old man laughed, motioning for the other to follow. “We’ll talk around the back of the building.”

“I can’t believe you, Burns!” Emerson exploded as soon as they were in private. “You know the deal! You were supposed to keep Philos in the shop!”

“Oh come now, Emerson,” Pal said, waving his hand in dismissal, “he’s nineteen years old. I can’t keep him locked away forever.”

“He beat one of my guards to near death!”

“Well, I’m sure your guard had it coming. Philos wouldn’t just go harming people for no reason, you know. Besides, what’s the harm in giving him some fresh air?”

“Fresh air?!” The captain’s mouth gaped. “You know what happened to him five years ago! You know what he is! You know what happened to Philiae!”

“Ah! So this all goes back to Philiae, does it?”

“They hunted her down! The fact that you’re even still standing is a miracle!”

Pal contorted his face, his laugh lines disappearing with his scowl. “Don’t bring my dead daughter into this.”

“You say that like it isn’t a miracle Philos is still alive!” Emerson rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “Look. Either you keep him locked up, or I will!”

“Bah!” Pal sneered as he turned to enter the shop’s back door. “Okay. Captain.”

“You know I don’t want to do this, Pal. I really don’t. It’s for the safety of the city, that’s all.”

The old man said nothing.

“Look.” Emerson began again, his voice low. “he was a slave, Pal. If the Angels of Heaven found out that he’s here, they might just break the treaty with the Outskirts and attack. And even more than that, he’s...”

The coffee shop owner shot the captain a splitting glare. “He’s what, Captain?”

Emerson sighed. “Look, Burns,” he began. “I know what you are. I know what your family is. I’ve done my best to hide your whereabouts from the world, but I can only do so much. I’m worried. Philos’ presence worries me. The guard he demolished told me that the boy healed almost instantly. If that’s the case, do you think that the Birthright...?” He trailed off.

Pal smiled slyly. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, friend.”

“Listen you prideful old geezer!” Emerson shot back. He sighed once more, calming himself. “Look. Do you think that maybe what happened to your grandson over the last five years...”

Pal raised an eyebrow, his eyes gray behind his glasses. “What are you getting at, friend?”

There was a moment of silence. The old man watched the captain try to find the words.

“Do they know about their family, Pal? About the bloodline your family holds? Do Philos and Uri know that they’re,” —he took in a deep breath— “that they’re Starborn?”

“So that’s what’s bothering you?” Pal’s face became soft. “You worry too much, friend. It will make you an old man too soon.”

Emerson said nothing, his eyes shifting to the ground.

“Come,” Pal said, “I’ll have Vylet go find Philos, if it will make you feel better. Now, tell me. How about some breakfast?”

Philos strolled through the market district, his eyes drifting around the bustling city. It was odd, seeing everyone roam from stall to stall. Everyone seemed so...free. He stopped at that thought.

Free...The word swam in his mind. Am I really...free?

It felt unnatural.

Philos gripped his chest. Was he really safe now? Or would they come for him? He looked at his arm. Of course the scars had long since healed. But that didn’t matter. He could still feel the needles pierce his skin. He could still feel the syringes pulling out his blood. He could still imagine the glow of the halos as he lay upon the stretcher.

Free, huh?

He thought about Astrid. He thought about the baker, about the hateful glances the people of the city gave his new friend.

We’re a lot alike. We both know what it means to be alone.

But it was still there. He couldn’t shake it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was, somehow, connected to her. It was as if he knew she were to play part in something. But what?

He felt drawn to her, but he didn’t know why.

Philos jumped as the sound of trumpets exploded, blasting through the streets. Suddenly, people began to bow.

What the—? He thought as he shrank behind a blacksmith’s stand.

As he peered over the kiosk, he could see a grand chariot surrounded by elegant soldiers moving down the center of the market. All around, the citizens of the city bowed in fear as the golden cart passed them by.

What the...?

“Praise the Adonai, our guardian!” the people began to chant in unison.

Upon the golden throne, a tall, imposing man sat, watching the people as he passed by. Philos could see the man’s face. It was hard, scarred and grizzled. From above his perch, his gaze scanned his subjects, watching each person as the chariot passed them by. The golden wheels rolled down the gray streets, and before long, the Adonai had passed. Many stayed, continuing to bow after the chariot had passed.

“What happened?” a little girl whispered to her mother. “Who was that?”

“Be quiet, honey!” the mother shot back. “That’s our savior.”

“Why is he here?”

Philos could barely hear the two bicker beside him.

“He’s here to take the Devil away.”

Devil?! Philos felt his blood rise. Quickly, he looked around, taking a blade from the rack. The word “devil” meant only one thing, and that one thing was obvious.

Astrid is in trouble!