Kick drum rhythm in her temples, Eve stumbled from the car and fell to her knees, pack heavy on her back. The dirt beneath her hands was stabilizing, firm. Familiar. 

She resisted the urge to kiss it. 

Behind her, the rest of them unfolded themselves from the vehicle (at a much more reasonable pace). Eve curled her fingers into damp soil and after a moment, pushed herself upright, shoving away the helping hands that came in her direction. Behind them, the pink hunk of metal squawked as Han locked it. Whatever for, she couldn’t fathom. 

Then she craned her neck, staring anew at the city they’d emerged beside. It had been built into a fissure of the mountains, drenched in emerald foliage. Columns, reminiscent of something Greek, had been overrun by moss. Every so often, a flash of light would glimmer from within the depths of buildings. It was rhythmic, as though the city itself was a breathing, living creation. 

“Han,” Eve said, thickly. “I don’t think there’s much I can do for you, if the city is this strong.” 

“Well. There’s somewhere I need to take you, before you actually do anything.” 

“Take her?” Samir asked, coldly. 

“Before you ask, you can’t tag along.” 

“I’m not even sure I want to go,” Eve mumbled. She stood, only a little bit unsteady, and allowed the confusion and frustration to bubble up through her chest and light her eyes with disdain. 

Han’s expression quickly slithered into something more appeasing. “But really, I must insist - it is important that you do.” 

“No thanks. Now I want to go even less. You’ve been hiding something since we first met, and it was out of sick curiosity that I even agreed to follow you. You’ll take me into the city, so I can see for myself. No shortcuts. No more secrets, no more lies.” 

Han flashed a poisonous shade of green. “Stubborn as always. But you’ll regret it. You’ll be poorly prepared, if we do things out of order.” Eve watched him for a moment, crossed her arms, and sniffed. 

“How bad could it possibly be?” 

“Foolish girl,” Han hissed, darkening to the color of a passing storm. “If it wasn’t for Tamar I would have -” 

“Would have what?” Eve interrupted, dryly. “Killed me?” 

“I cannot speak of it, am not allowed to,” Han replied, through gritted teeth. “She told me - no, insisted - that you needed time, or you’d crack under the burden. And then look at what you did? You went and got yourself half-killed anyway. Took me decades to track you down. You will go where I tell you, if I have to drag you kicking and screaming. I have some skill yet.” 

Eve scoffed. “What skills? You don’t even have a head.” 

Han appeared to look up - but it was hard to tell.  “I don’t even know what god to ask for strength right now.” 

Eve drew a talisman from her backpack. It had the glyph for explosion scrawled across the front - slightly crumpled from her earlier, panicked attempt to use it. In the span of a breath, she slapped it across Han’s back, imbuing it with a twinge of determination - just enough for it to start to smoke. 

“Get a move on.” 

“Tamar help us,” Han muttered, but began to walk.

“Who’s Tamar?” Arman whispered.

“Quiet,” Samir scowled. Eve fought back a flinch. 

The silence thickened until the air grew cumbersome with it, and it only took two minutes before Arman began to fidget nervously, craning his neck from side to side. But there was nothing around them except for the city - which, being the topic of much controversy, didn’t seem an appealing conversation topic. Samir shot the man another warning glance. Arman ignored it and cleared his throat. 

“So, uh. Han...how do you see?” The lack of response seemed to make the man even more nervous, and he continued in a nervous ramble Eve found rather uncharacteristic. “You know, because you don’t have eyes?” 

Han glared at him. “It is not something I have any desire to discuss with you.”

“I just thought it might be an interesting story,” Arman said quickly.  

“A story?” Han snorted. “I suppose it could be considered as such. Everything becomes a story someday, but not all that happens is meant to be shared. Some stories are best left buried in the past.  For you see, even words have power, if one is to wield them in the right way. Make no mistake, it is not physical might that topples nations. It is the pen, the tongue, and an aptly placed idiot.” His eyes strayed towards Arman meaningfully. 

The redhead did not seem to notice; or perhaps was too polite to do anything but play it off. 

Han’s words lingered in the air between them. Arman seemed, for once, lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he considered Han’s warning. Soon, the city entrance rose before them, gleaming in the sun.

The closer they got, the more uneasy Eve began to grow. Whispers had begun to flit through the air, only to fade in the very next second, carried away by some unfelt wind. The world had grown still. Too much so. 

Suddenly, Arman spoke up again. “You know, Han, I think you’re wrong. If you wield words in the right way, they don’t do any of those things that you claim they do.” 

Han didn’t turn. He couldn’t, not with Eve’s threatening palm still pressed to his back. “What are you trying to say?” 

“He’s trying to say that wielding words in the right way can help people instead of hurting them,” Samir muttered. Arman scowled, words plucked from his mouth, but nodded. 

“Perhaps,” Han replied after a pause, his tone measured. “But remember that many warmongers thought that was exactly what they were doing. Helping.” 

“It’s unlike you to be so philosophical.” 

“Yeah. Are you regretting your choice yet?” 

“Slightly,” Eve admitted, her touch slipping away from the creature’s cool body. Perhaps her distrust for the creature had blinded her. Because as they passed through the gates, Eve swiftly realized that nothing could have prepared her for this. 

The absolute wave of emotion was deafening. Silence hung over the city like a shroud, but Eve could sense their fear. 

Their awe. 

Han took them along a path that cut directly towards the city center, winding between the swarming buildings. She could hardly stand to look at them, at the cracks in their facade and the weeds littering the streets, absorbed as she was by the piercing gazes of a crowd that had gathered at their arrival. Faces packed around them, and they were like nothing she had ever seen before, iridescent and translucent. 

Inhuman - and yet - lacking divinity. 

Half-dead, Eve realized, seeing the desperate hunger in their eyes, the reverence with which they watched her. As if they saw her as something more, greater. A bead of sweat pooled between her shoulder blades, but she dared not twist and try to wipe it away in fear of breaking the strange silence and stillness of these beings. She turned her head - hardly half an inch, her eyes sweeping forward amongst the figures, some more human, and some, little more than animal. 

It wasn’t that the city was powerful. It was just crowded. It felt more like a refuge, than a metropolis. 

A knot forming in her stomach, Eve fought to keep her gaze focused far in the distance in a poor attempt to ignore the stares of the crowd. Terror built in pulsing waves low across the ground, pushing her faster and faster, until she began to quicken her pace as she passed. With this many creatures around, the emotions were impossible to block out, and it did not take long until the fear spiraled and mixed with her own, becoming indistinguishable. 

It was too much. 

She broke off from the rest of the group, sprinting, their hurried footsteps echoing several paces behind. Cold air burned in her lungs, but she couldn’t gulp enough of it down, as though both her chest and abdomen were tearing beneath the pressure. 

Something rolled under her feet with a sound that clattered and chimed. A small, glass marble - glowing that sickly green of divine blood. And then, like a ripple across the water, the whispers spread, rolling out around her. 

“Destroyer.” 

Eve stopped. 

More marbles clattered into the streets, and some simply held them out to her as she passed, as though offering them as tribute. 

There was no way to tell if it was the earth, or her legs that were shaking. It was too late to regret entering the city, which was little more than a capsule containing living ghosts. Why were they all looking at her as if she could do something about it? 

“Destroyer?” Eve repeated, her voice thick. 

“They’re talking about you,” Han said, and Eve closed her eyes altogether, trying to block out the noise, the swell of awe at her reaction. She did not understand what was happening - not even slightly. Destroyer? She had never once held that name. 

Samir’s touch was a blessing. 

His fingers folded with hers, and she no longer saw, nor felt the way the crowd flinched backwards at his glare. Instead it was blessedly silent. The sensation of her heartbeat grew almost painful. 

“You ok, fireheart?” 

“Yeah,” Eve croaked. The tension she’d felt seated next to him in the car had dissipated, and the concerned gaze, trained down at her, was bright and innocent. Something warm and dear trickled through her limbs, a secret joy that was entirely her own. 

She’d missed that expression. It was much better than the danger he’d been exuding earlier. 

He pulled her along, Eve somewhat calmer now, and behind them, the crowd spilled onto the street to follow them.

They neared the top of the mountain, a heavy white gate set into the side of the mountain. It rumbled open at their approach, bringing with the motion the scent of something sickly-sweet. 

“Nope,” Arman reeled backwards. “No, I followed you into the car, and that was definitely a mistake. I am not walking into a pitch black cave, even if it has a fancy door.” 

“Yeah?” Samir quirked a brow. “Then where else are you going to go?” 

Arman spun on his heel - and found his path backwards had been entirely blockaded by a sea of faces, all staring expectantly, a mix of fear and awe. His swallow was visible from a distance, but he managed to control his expression. “You owe me so much overtime,” he muttered, sweeping past them altogether, entering the space at the front of their group. 

Inside, the air around them seemed to twist and bend, pressing against their skin. Made of a smooth, white marble, the walls glowed with an otherworldly light that cast strange moving shadows along the passage. Each shadow shimmered, coming alive with color and light, a kaleidoscope of sensation that would have been overwhelming if Han had not been there to guide them. 

They followed the corridor for three, winding turns, before at last emerging into an open room with a soaring, curved ceiling. There was no throne set in the space, but there was a small, soft couch, upon which was perched a woman with long, golden hair and small mouth that curved into a sweet smile. A single hand reached towards Evelyn, capped in crimson. 

“We welcome the destroyer to our humble abode.” 

Eve tore her hand from Samir’s grasp. “Tamar. You’re supposed to be dead.”  

Crying at this art by natjieo

Happy belated valentine's from the protagonists!