As they approached the city, a stone wall rose above the horizon. Kathréftys flew lower. That wasn't there last time, they'd built it since the battle. That was odd. How long had he been shattered? It couldn't have been enough for that, could it?

He couldn't see any guards either on the ground, on the wall or by the gates. No weapons, no defenses. An illusion? Maybe a trap? Probably just laziness, he concluded. Lack of necessity. Regardless, he kept low and stayed alert as they approached.

He landed a hundred meters from the wall and left Kieran on top of a tree. "Do not leave this place. Do not go anywhere without me. Understood?" The kid nodded.

He focused on gathering the little magic he could do. Not much that his Original was capable of his Master had been able to gift him with, but the simple ability to manipulate light was already something. With a flicker, his gloves faded into a more pure white, his red boots became golden, his clothes a very dark blue instead of their sligthly greenish gray. The helmet was the trickiest part, but he'd practiced that many times before and made it look like his Original's without the need to look.

With one last checkup on his clothes, he flew over and landed on the wall, alert, ready to take out his sword. The wind was all the sound present. The city itself lay almost two hundred meters from the barrier, the palace's sharp tower looming over the many rows of short, flat, cream-colored rooves. In the orange light of sunset, the entire thing had a melancholic appearance. Kátis hopped off and flew over, landing again closer to the city.

Before reaching the inner gates, he recalled that his Original never left his wings exposed for no reason, and so he let his own fall and smoothly merge into the now-blue cape (the only perk of it he'd gotten, and it served him well when he needed it). It was an odd feeling, not unbearable, but trapping. He could feel every touch in that state, but not move his wings at all. He disliked that. The quicker he found out where the mirror had been moved, the quicker he would leave. With his blood pumping in his veins, he entered the main street.

His boots echoed loudly upon hitting the stone on the ground. The streets were empty. There was no chattering, no noise of children playing. Not a single old man on a rocking chair at his porch. He thought that might be the distance from the center at first, but it didn't get much better the further in he moved. The stores were all closed, parks were deserted. Very occasionally, he spotted a loner lazying around. One window slammed shut when he looked over the corner.

The palace was the only thing still lit by the sunlight, and the sky was darkening quickly. That was when creatures were the laziest, the diurnals groggy with sleep and the nocturnals just waking up. The bad lighting would also shield him from being spotted until he was already inside the palace. Kathréftys quickened his steps, not caring if anyone saw him. He'd be easily mistaken by their adored knight anyway.

When he was crossing a plaza, he saw the first group of people since he'd arrived. Young teenagers, eyeing him with something that Kátis might have mistaken for distrust. He simply ignored them and continued on his way.

There was a whizz darting his way. He instinctively turned around with his hand up, and a sharp bit of stone bounced off his glove. The brats had dared to throw a pebble at him?! When he looked at them, the group turned around and ran off.

Kátis threw all concern about the mission aside, spread his wings and took off after them. They hurried into a tight alley, trying to lose him. Kathréftys simply flew above the rooves and let himself drop right in front of them. They screamed and scurried to run the other way. Kátis kicked the oldest one, who seemed to be the leader, on the shin, taking him down easily. He tried to yell for help from his friends, who didn't turn around. He then turned to Kátis, a look of anger on his face despite the tears of pain, until he saw the sharp golden-looking blade pointed straight at his throat. He gulped.

"Very funny now, are we?" he mocked. The brat's shin didn't look broken. Shame. That might have taught him a thing or two.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the teen shouted.

"Oh, not yet. But you will be."

The fear on his face became full-on panic.

"No! No! They said you don't hurt people unprovoked! Please, just let me go!"

"Unprovoked?" Kátis hissed, pushing the tip of the sword up against his neck, and pinning his ankle to the ground with one heavy boot. "You've really got the... Wait, what do you mean? Who said I don't..." He suddenly remembered who he was posing as and cleared his throat.

"Please, I'm begging you! Lorde Dáskalos wasn't enough for you?! Now you're after innocent children too?!"

That annoying brat was really getting on Kátis's nerves. But he focused on the most important and growled, his fury very clear in his voice:

"Lorde. Dáskalos. Isn't. Dead." The teen looked from the sword to Kátis's face, not daring to say a word. "And why dos Oneisíleio even care about that?"

There was confusion on the kid's face.

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"This... isn't Oneisíleio."

Kathréftys felt like he'd been slapped in the face. He looked up at the clear sky that was beginning to reveal a sea of stars. Then behind him, as if he somehow could see the green plains behind the wall, the disgusting CALM of it all. That was his home?

"This is... Adanaklaseío...?" The concept of it almost made him retch the strawberry.

"Duh."

"You're lying. That's impossible." The teen shook his head as well as he could without slashing his own throat open.

"Well, isn't this what you wanted?"

Kátis dropped the magic and the sword's blade took its natural stained silver color. His face lit up with recognition when Kathréftys's clothes returned to being gray.

"I am not Astéron."

"I know you. You're Lorde Dáskalos's puppet. Kaétis?"

"Who lives in the castle now?" he asked, annoyed. "Who took the king's place?"

"Nobody. There was a guy, but I think he left by himself."

Kathréftys looked up again, spread his wings and flew away, leaving the boy to limp his way back.