Androsa’s sentiments never left Amon’s mind as she walked through the crowds. What did it mean to choose how one died? What if you could avoid it altogether? Wasn’t that an option?

Amon kicked at a small pebble, managing to keep it close in front of her as she continued along the road, unaware of the lessening crowds as she accidentally veered a bit too far right—entering Embassy Row rather than North Vil. She only noticed when the bangs of construction equipment caught her attention, and she looked across the central pond that separated the rows of empty embassy buildings from the House of Parliament.

From what she remembered, the entire original structure did not survive her brother’s attack. With the limited resources left in the Sky, they were forced to rebuild it with cheaper materials, which meant they often had to commit construction crews for half of the year to provide upkeep maintenance.

Amon paused in the street, staring at the structure she once wished to enter. How many years had passed since she allowed herself to look at it?

DeDe did this… Her eyes burned. My brother, my twin… my other half.

Gods… what was this ache in her heart? A heaviness hung in her core that threatened to weigh her down through the ground and to the Surface itself. And in a way… she wished it would. Anything to help her ignore the evidence of her brother’s crimes that she tried for so long to ignore.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Someone sidled up beside her—a young woman with golden eyes and dark horns that stretched a bit far behind her head. “To think one person could destroy a building made of valmetal.”

Amon peeked over at the woman, a bit wary that perhaps she knew who she was, but there was not a trace of recognition surrounding her. Instead, the woman’s entire attention was on Parliament.

“My mother served as a member of the arms committee. She wasn’t even supposed to be at the meeting that day, but she wanted to meet the Heir of Starlight.” The woman scoffed, the sound cut off as her eyes grew wet with tears. “Well, she met him.”

“Does anyone know what caused it?” Amon couldn’t help but ask.

She shook her head. “Probably just a bit of fun. But I don’t see how killing half of Parliament and the Crown Princess could be anything short of selfishness. There is no way to justify killing innocents. I’m sure they would have preferred better deaths.”

Amon frowned to herself. What, then, would constitute a ‘good’ death? Would it be what Androsa said, or…?

“That’s the second person we’ve lost today.” Amon stiffened at the sound of familiar voices. 

“Father is going to kill us,” Amos muttered.

She turned slightly to see a small group of Wanderers walking down the street.

“I should be going,” Amon said to the woman who had kept her brief company.

Said woman looked between her and the Wanderers and sighed. “Yeah, I don’t blame you. They’ve been knocking down everyone’s doors to look for the bastard’s sister. I hope they give her the same punishment as what he should have suffered.”

Amon resisted the urge to wince. Sure, she knew of the general sentiment regarding her continued aliveness irked a good majority of those in Skirion, but to hear it first hand was something else entirely.

Still, even as she walked away into the night—this time aware of where she would end up, she couldn’t help but glance back at the building the Wanderers entered. Hells, it was the only embassy in the row lit up with their most recent visit.

An idea sparked in her mind as she remembered what Androsa mentioned about the gates and the keys the Wanderers held.

It would be absolute suicide, but…

At least this way she would be choosing how she went out.

***

“Sorry, I must have misheard. You want to what?”

Amon took in a deep breath. “I want to break into the Wanderer Embassy for a Gate Key.”

Faraldin sat frozen in his chair, pen still lifted above the paper. He hadn’t moved since she barged into the cellar with her declaration, intent and determination clear in her voice as she spoke.

“These aren’t some run-of-the-mill thugs, Amon. They’re trained soldiers. Most of them are hundreds, maybe thousands, of years old. They will dispatch of you before you even make it past the front gate.”

Amon shook her head. “You’re right. I normally wouldn’t. But,” she pulled his calendar from the wall and flipped forward a month—her mind still racing with the plan that had formed on her walk back, “on this date, I can.”

Faraldin took the calendar from her, eyes scanning the date she pointed out.

“How do you know about this date?” 

She grimaced. “Let’s call it a hunch.”

He huffed. “Well, that certainly takes care of the security portion. Once you’re in there, then what? Do you know the layout? How many will be staying there?”

Amon just stared at him.

“What about how you’ll escape? What would you do if you encountered one of them? Hells, how are you getting in in the first place?”

She bit her tongue, cheeks flaming as she realized there hadn’t been a solid plan behind her idea—his words poking so many holes in it that she couldn’t imagine claiming it to be a worthy one. She sunk inwards.

He’s right, it’s stupid. Idiotic. Completely suicidal and deranged. Proves that I am my brother’s sister in terms of terrible ideas. And yet… and yet…

“I don’t want to wait around for them to find me out, string me up, and parade me around for everyone else’s entertainment. The consequences remain the same whether I stay here or not. At least help me have a choice in how it happens. Don’t let me be known as someone who just stood by and expected someone to help her.”

Faraldin remained silent. She forced herself to look away from him, her gaze landing on the wall of wanted posters. Hers and her brothers, side by side, a difference of a mere hundred goal separating their bounties. Even though she had nothing to do with his crimes.

Her hands balled up into fists at her side. She needed to find him, but who knows where someone with his powers and resources ran off to? For all she knew, he was on the Surface, too. He had to be, to have not been caught yet.

A deep sigh brought her back to the present, where she found Faraldin leaning back in his chair and pinching his nose bridge. 

“You really want to do this?” He asked.

Amon nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see her. “Yes, I do.”

“Then we don’t have long to plan.”

She perked up a bit. “Really?”

Faraldin sat up straight and pulled a variety of documents from the folders around him. “It will take a bit to organize it all, but I will treat it as a top priority.”

She took a seat in front of him. He paused.

“Amon, if you manage to succeed, I can arrange for you to go to the Surface without worry they’ll search for you. The Key is the hardest part of the process.”

Her mind traveled to her brother, where he could possibly be. 

She nodded. “I’ll do whatever is necessary.”