“You want me to cover for you while you sneak into the palace… to meet with Our Covenant?” She asks. I swallow hard.

“Yes. Precisely.” Oh god this was a mistake. I don’t know why I spontaneously decided to trust her. Maybe because I thought I saw something just then, something rebellious in her.

“Ok,” she says with a nod. “Ok, I can do that.” I blink.

“You can?”

Her eyes light up in nervous but mischievous delight. “I can. You know, Aiden,” she grins, “you’re not what I thought you’d be like. Not at all.”

“In a good way?”

“Yes,” she says, laughing warmly.

“You’re not going to question why I need to see him?” I ask. She shakes her head.

“I’m going to trust you, the same way you trusted me. It’s more fun that way.”

The sound of doors opening far on the other end of the garden makes us both straighten. That must be him. Showtime.

We share a look and a small nod, then we separate in opposite directions. I jog toward the flowers, scanning the name cards of each kind. Hellebore. Hellebore. Where the fuck are they?

“William!” Nomi greets loudy. Fuck.

“Miss Offaly, where is Aiden?”

“He’s fine. William I’m not feeling quite well at all. I’ve been struck with a dizzy spell and I'm feeling nauseous.”

“Would you like me to contact your father?”

“No!” she says loudly. I wince on her behalf, rummaging through the flowers. Hellebore. Hellebore. Hellebore.

“I just-” she clears her throat. I spot her through a clearing in the small trees. She places her hands over her stomach and inches closer to Tusk. She lowers her voice, as though feigning shyness. But I can still hear every word she says.

“I would rather not tell him. I’m having… girl problems.”

She sneaks a glance at me. Tusk physically reels and panics in a way only us men do. He gets immediately flustered and looks around for a solution.

“I-I-”

“Can you take me back to my room?”

“But Mr. Brooks-”

“Will be fine!”

“I should at least ensure his well-being.”

Hellebores! The plaque barely pokes out of the soil, but it’s enough for me to spot it. I drop to my knees and dig around in the dirt beneath the purple and black evergreen perennials. I don’t know what I’m looking for. I just keep digging until I hit something hard.

“He’s fine! Trust me.” 

Dirt stains my fingers and white pants. I dust the surface away quickly, especially as I hear their voices getting nearer. There’s a large steel box beneath me. No, not a box, as I realize when my fingers wrap around a steel handle.

A door.

“But, Miss Offaly-”

Nomi and I lock eyes through the trees over Tusk’s turned shoulder. She nods, a ghost of a movement. Barely noticeable except by me. I yank on the trap door and it gives way with a creak. William straightens upright.

“What was that?” He asks, looking around the room for movement. 

Nomi moans slightly, pressing her hand to her head.

I shimmy in through the small opening into a dark crawlspace. William’s footsteps grow nearer and nearer and I’m holding my breath as I grope for the door. But they stop when he hears something louder.

Nomi crumples to the ground behind him, flashing me a wink just before she does. I see him jolt upright and turn around just as I’m closing the lid behind me.

“Miss Offaly? Miss Offaly!”

His voice becomes muffled when the door is tightly sealed behind me. No light enters here. It’s so dark I can barely see my hand in front of my face.

My fingers travel along the edge of the crawlspace, navigating by touch. Luckily the gardens here are a straight shot from the palace.

My knee hits something solid on my right, a box of some sort. It feels electrical. It would be a bad idea using my gift here. But a tiny light won’t hurt. Right?

The tip of my forefinger glows with a spark, illuminating the metal around me. It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic because it’s tight here. Really tight. It can barely fit my body, let alone my body and bag.

I look down at the object my knee grazed. It looks like a sensor of some sort, a motion sensor. But there’s no blinking light. Only darkness. It must have been unplugged.

My light extinguishes as I crawl forward, back into the darkness. It’s only a matter of time until someone notices I’m missing, or notices the misplaced patch of dirt above the trap door.

What would Silva say if she could see me now? What would she say if she knew what I’m about to do? The bitter part of me screams that she’ll be content with my actions.

But the rest of me knows better. She was always slow to anger and quick to forgive. She’d be disappointed in me right now, I know it.

“Why stoop to her level, my Aiden?” She would say. “You are stronger than that. Kinder than that. Braver, too. Remember your mother. Remember her sacrifice. Remember that power, like sacrifice, can only be given, not taken.”

Her phantom words wrap tight around my neck, wringing tears from the corners of my eyes. I wipe them away before they can even fall. She’s wrong. I’m doing this for everyone. For a better life for everyone. Not for revenge. Not for fairness. And what the hell does she know about sacrifice?

To kill a monster I have to become one. Maybe I’ve always known that, deep down, I was never a hero.

But heroism is overrated anyways.

The tunnel isn’t as large as I expected. And it's not long before I reach a vent. I can’t make anything out but I can see light emitted from the cracks. The crawl space ends here. I guess this is it.

The vent swings open when I kick it. Without a second thought, I climb out, head first, hitting the ground hard when I fall. I should have checked my surroundings first. How stupid of me. That’s a rookie mistake.

“Hands up! On the ground! Now!” Shit.

I open my eyes and look up, straight into the barrel of a revolver. I’m surrounded by soldiers, all in bulletproof vests and fully armed, weapons all trained on me. With a shuddered breath, I lift my hands into the air. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” I say calmly.

“Search him,” someone barks from the team. Shit.

They rummage through my bag and then pat me down, immediately finding the kitchen knife. The soldier barking orders moves to the front, presses the barrel of his gun between my eyes.

“You have fifteen seconds to tell us what you’re doing here in the palace before I open fire.”
I already know that nothing I say will be good enough for this man. I’m fucked.

I scan the hall beyond the soldiers. There are guards everywhere, attention on me. But there are more guards around one door in particular, a meeting room from the looks of it. This vent must have led me right to him.

“Eleven. Ten.”

Remember your training, Aiden. You’re fast. Faster than most.

“Five. Four. Three-”

I duck and kick the gun out of the soldier’s hand before it fires. There’s a split second before everyone begins shooting when I don’t hesitate. I use the first soldier as a shield, enough for me to escape the circle and make a run for it. It’s nothing short of a miracle when I reach the door without a single bullet so much as grazing me.

I hold my fingers up. Walls of fire shoot up all around me, preventing anyone from reaching me or shooting, out of fear of hitting whatever or whoever is in the room. I quickly steady my breathing and twist the knob.

I’ve walked into a meeting, just as I thought. There’s a rectangular table along the length of the room, a dozen or so seats lined on either side of the table, each seating what I presume to be important government officials. There’s a man at the head of the table. He looks nothing like how I imagined him too, and nothing like the man at the cafe who dragged me into this mess.

He’s a thin man, slender. His hair is a pure blond, combed away from his pale angular face. His eyes are a rich brown color. He’s not adorned in medals or ornate charms the way the others are. In fact it’s just a hunch that tells me who exactly I’m looking at. 

There are two guards in the room, both with guns pointed at my head. I scan the table, catch the eyes of Vincent, who does an excellent job of masking his recognition of me. But he nods a show of approval.

The dictator’s slender fingers raise in the air, signaling for the guards to lower their weapons. They obey immediately.

He looks at me, curiously, the way I’m looking at him. I know I must look crazy to him, covered in dirt and sweat, the knees in my pants shredded from all that crawling, my hair a fiery mess around my shoulders. But he’s only looking into my eyes. Almost like he recognizes who I am.

“Who the hell are you?” One of the men at the table practically spit at me. I ignore him, looking only at the dictator.

“Are you him?” I ask. “Dictator?” The man who I ignored drops his mouth in anger. I catch his murderous look out of the corner of my eye.

“H-How dare you call him-” he sputters, but is cut off by the man himself, simply with a wave of his hand.

“I am,” he says slowly. He isn’t intimidated by me in the slightest. For now, it works in my favor. “And may I inquire who’s asking?”

“Aiden Brooks.” His eyes widen upon the sound of my name, almost taken aback, though I’m not too sure why. He smiles, somewhat warmly. But there's something dark in those eyes. More secrets.

“What can I help you with, Aiden? It appears as though you’ve come a long way to see me, is that right?”

“That’s right. I’ve come to make a deal with you.”

“A deal?”

“I need your help disposing of a shared obstacle.”

“Is that so?" he hums. "And what’s in it for me?”

I roll up my sleeves, keeping my eyes on him all the while.

“We rewrite the prophecy. I’ll aid you in battle.”

***