Fayn Itagral

Helena and I had been flying for about an hour and a half. The snow was far behind us, and rugged mountains stretched out below. Like last time, I was sharpening my vision to spot human fluctuations of eternum.

Even with most of my focus on the mountains and maintaining flight, I noticed Helena seemed… uneasy? She kept glancing at me and at her own right arm, her brow furrowed, but she said nothing.

"I thought you'd enjoy flying."

"I've flown before. Dália could do it too."

"What else can you tell me about her?"

"You two are strangely similar, but she was even paler."

Even paler? So this woman would be the color of porcelain.

I suppressed a start when Helena broke the silence without warning.

"How did you heal me like that?"

"I thought the War Lords knew how healing works."

"I do. I just want to know how you did it. Not even Dália could…"

"I am superior to her in every way. I thought I'd made that clear."

The redhead looked away, her face furrowed like a student being scolded by the principal. If she cared for Dália so much, why would she take part in her murder? Was it a case of affection that grew after the crime? Better yet, why is she so emotional? Shouldn't a forty-four-year-old be more controlled?

I just kept flying through the mountain range. The moment I detected a human eternum fluctuation, I headed straight for it; it was on a mountaintop. I identified it as Captain Write's.

The old man was probably planning his retirement by now. His hair had abandoned his head, leaving only a white beard, despite his athletic build. Write wore his full captain's uniform, proudly displaying the golden pentagon on his chest. He tapped his left fist to his right breast and acknowledged me with a nod as I landed before him.

"High Commander, it's a pleasure to have you."

"I think I'll arrange your retirement as soon as we return to the Capital, Captain Write."

The old man let out a laugh that echoed through the range before recomposing himself and greeting Helena beside me with a simple nod.

"If Fayn weren't here, I'd have already turned you into less than dust."

Write's eyes widened. I just glanced at the woman beside me, analyzing her eternum flow.

"Was that a threat?"

"An observation of a hypothetical situation."

I turned to the elderly Write. He understood what to do from just a look. He walked forward a few steps and stamped his foot twice on the ground, releasing a faint pulse of eternum each time.

Beneath his feet, five blue lines shot across the ground, forming the vertices of a pentagon. The design completed itself with more lines. Helena and I moved toward the center, following Write's gesture.

The ground began to descend like an elevator. The structure felt familiar; I'd designed something like this back in school. If it was the same project…

"Is the entire mountain made of metal?"

"Hogan said you'd recognize it, sir. Yes. All of this is your high school project, slightly adapted."

A childlike excitement bubbled in my chest; I was eager to see it working with my own eyes. However, Helena was examining the walls and floor like a startled cat, even as she maintained her posture with her hands behind her back.

"Motion sickness?"

"I don't do well with transportation that doesn't use human strength."

"Didn't you use cars?"

"No."

Write let out a chuckle but stopped himself as Helena's gaze shifted to him. I wonder what happened between them in the past. Knowing the captain, I have a vague idea.

"Write, did you by any chance try to flirt with her?"

Helena let out a sharp breath through her nose, and Write shrunk back.

"Well, you see, sir…"

"Be careful, Fayn might be tempted to remove this bracelet." Helena shook her wrist.

That was the first time I'd seen Write just lower his head and agree in silence. Now I was even more curious. I drew a breath to speak, but the elevator stopped with a thud, and a door slid open near Write.

"Right on time. Let's continue."

We walked through white corridors and rooms that resembled Artificer labs. Some actually had inventors working inside. The soldiers I saw were resting or in training areas. What caught my attention most were the state-of-the-art video games in the rest areas. Helena moved closer to me, looking around.

"Aren't they a bit too relaxed?"

"No need for them to be on high alert so far from the battlefield. Besides, it's been about a year since the last direct battle with Inferno."

"A year?"

"That was my last direct field participation. After that, they just… vanished." I returned a nod from one of the scientists.

"Aren't you worried about that?"

"Worried isn't the word. If Inferno shows up again, I'll act. Nothing to worry about."

I noticed Write watching me in the reflection from a metal crate in the corner of the hall. Helena looked directly at me, her brow furrowed.

"Thinking you can handle everything alone, even if you're powerful, is problematic. No offense, but concentrating everything in your own hands walks hand-in-hand with ruin."

Walks hand-in-hand with ruin? Then I'll just stay on the path I'm already on.

"We're here." Write stopped in front of a door. At some point, we'd reached a more secluded part of the prison. It was darker, though still well-lit. The door before me was simple and had an electronic lock. Write stepped aside, gesturing toward it. "Jader is on the other side. Good luck, High Commander."

One of my eyebrows rose reflexively.

"Luck?"

"The containment method… broke his grip on reality. It's not quite the right word, but it's the best I can think of right now."

The redhead beside me clenched her right fist tightly, but her eternum fluctuation was controlled. I don't know if that level of control is impressive or terrifying. She could easily fake emotions and use her flow to deceive me. Well, that won't happen anytime soon, I imagine.

I opened the door, and Helena followed me inside. The room was almost empty, just a table and two chairs in the center. On the other side of the table sat a man with short, messy black hair. His skin was pale as a sick man's, his eyes sunken as if he hadn't slept for days.

He wore a gray jumpsuit that covered his body, leaving only his feet, hands, head, and neck exposed. Even so, I could see bright red marks at the base of his neck. I recognized them as the work of a Scarlet Whip, a rather famous torture tool used in the Capital exclusively against Infernians to extract information.

I was pushed aside as Helena rushed past me and stopped at the table. I closed the door gently to observe the scene—one of the reasons I'd let her go first.

Jader moved his head slowly, examining every detail of Helena as if looking through murky water. He seemed distant, apathetic, like an empty shell. If not for his terminal-state eternum flow, I'd believe all life had been drained from him.

Helena stood on the other side of the table, in profile to me, facing Jader. One of her hands was raised toward him, the other was clenched over her chest, both trembling like flames in the wind. Her body was bent, her legs still deciding whether to step forward or back.

Her deep red hair hid her face from me, but I didn't need to see it. Her internal flux swelled and reined itself in, careful not to trigger the bracelet. It was like a fireworks display. I considered deactivating the bracelet temporarily, but that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.

Her outstretched hand was almost touching Jader's pale, gaunt cheek, and he still hadn't reacted.

"I'm back, Jader. It's me, Helena. I'm back."

When her fingers touched his cheek, he changed. His brown eyes widened, he caught his breath, and his head lifted slightly. Immediately, he grasped the hand touching him. His eyes traveled over every part of Helena, each glance accompanied by a ragged breath as his free hand rose.

His mouth opened, and he drew in air, but not a single word came out as he kept staring at the woman before him. A sound, half laugh, half sob, escaped Helena as a release. It was she who decided to close the distance while Jader was still in shock.

Their foreheads touched, and Helena cupped his face with both hands. Jader's thin arms moved around her, touching as if to make sure she was real. First her arms, then her shoulders, her waist, and finally her face.

They seemed so much more than the files suggested. Even while restraining their actions and emotions to avoid punishment from accelerated eternum flow, their intensity surpassed mine and Alissia's. It made sense, though; they'd been apart for two decades. Still, it was impressive that such a simple plan had worked so well.

Hogan was right, in the end. Love, the real kind, can shatter our sense of reality.