WHISPERS

Sam flinched as the alcohol-soaked needle pricked his shoulder, even though he had expected it. Lucy apologized before she continued stitching up his wound. Thankfully, it was simply a flesh wound – any deeper and he would have shared Cindar’s unfortunate fate.

“I’m jealous,” Rupert stated while balancing one of his kama on his finger.

“Of what, exactly?” Sam asked, his left brow raised.

“You’ve fought Thomas’s star pupil…and live to tell the tale,” said the elder Nightingale.

“Being lucky is not something you should brag about. It makes one sloppy…and lazy,” Lucy glared at her brother.

“But it was luck that often aided us in the past, wasn’t it?”

“True, and that is what worries me the most. Life is always about balance – have you ever wondered what’s going to happen if we exhaust all of our luck?”

Rupert shrugged his shoulders, acting as if he did not care about what he just heard – much to his sister’s frustration. Lucy swiftly took off one of her shoes and hurled it at her sibling, though the latter easily dodged the incoming projectile.

“Alright, alright. I heard ya – no need to get so worked up about it,” Rupert said playfully before lowering his kama to retrieve his sister’s shoe.

“You do realize he’s doing that on purpose, don’t you?” said Sam.

“And that’s what pisses me off,” Lucy replied as she continued working on the man’s shoulder. “You could have gotten yourself killed if Rowanna hadn’t arrived on time.”

“I trust you and your brother will play your part well – Ow!” Sam yelped.

“Well, your so-called plan didn’t mention anything about an injury, didn’t it?”

“Just a minor deviation. Who would have expected three unruly kids would be sneaking around the place in the middle of the night?” Sam paused for a second before letting out a deep sigh. “I should, since we used to do it too.”

“Used to?”

“Fine. Still doing it. Happy?” Sam corrected himself.

“It’s not about me being happy, Sam. You have a brilliant mind, but sometimes the plans you come up with are…”

“Risky?”

“Suicidal,” Lucy remarked. “I’m sure you’ve heard this from Markus a dozen times, but your keen intellect is far more valuable than your death. Besides, I can only afford one daredevil in my life…and unfortunately, that person happens to be my brother.”

“You sound distressed, but you didn’t object when Markus put you two in the same group,” Sam commented.

“Rupert can be a pain in the ass most of the time, but he’s family.” Lucy then snipped the black thread with a small pair of scissors. She gave one last look at the stitching, making sure they were properly tightened. “Looks…decent enough. Avoid moving your arm too vigorously for the next couple of days, or I’ll start charging my service.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Sam before putting on his shirt, just as Rupert returned with his sister’s shoe.

“Here is your precious glass sandal, Your Highness,” teased the elder Nightingale as he placed the shoe in Lucy’s hands.

“It’s ‘glass slipper’, not…never mind.”

“So, Cindar is finally in the shit, huh? Also, getting his arm chopped off by the Lady of the Swallowtail herself – talk about bad luck,” Rupert spouted.

“Losing his arm will be the least of his worries,” Sam retorted. “Remember the cave-in? Rowanna confirmed Cindar’s involvement in the incident. He’ll either be incarcerated for a long time…or-.”

“Executed.”

The trio gasped at the sight of Markus standing near the entrance – and he was visibly irritated. Before Sam could utter a single word, his former mentor interjected, “Save it – Miss Zinnia already told me everything. Seriously? Picking a fight with Cindar, right after your Apprenticeship?”

“With due respect, sir, I’m not the one who started it,” Sam replied.

“Yet, you’re the one who came up with the plan to finish it. You’re lucky the Council dismisses your participation as self-defence, or you’ll be reunited with Cindar in The Insulator. I put up with your antics because I believe you – all of you have the potential to be the best.” Markus then took a deep breath to compose himself. “Look, I didn’t intend to sound like a grouchy old man, but you three need to realize by now that your actions – no matter how minuscule they are – have consequences, and I won’t always be around to save your necks. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” Sam responded. “What about the kids? Are they alright?”

“Slightly traumatized, but they’ll get over it. They said thank you, by the way, for saving their lives, and strangely enough, those three looked more…driven than before. It seems your little feud with Cindar has inspired them better than the Swallowtails. Even after returning to their room, they can’t stop blabbing about how ‘cool’ and ‘brave’ you were.”

“Got yourself some fans, huh? Good for you, Sammy.” Rupert giggled.

“I don’t think making me a role model is a good idea,” Sam replied.

Markus then turned her attention to Lucy, asking her with a troubled expression, “His injury – is it serious?”

“The cut was deep but not hypodermis-deep.”

“Hm,” Markus grumbled, carefully inspecting the stitching. “Remarkable. In three years, you can already sew like an experienced surgeon. You are indeed your mother’s daughter.”

Lucy bit down on her lips; her eyes gradually turned glassy. She would have burst into tears if it weren’t for her brother’s impish smile.

“And your ploy to get Cindar caught, Mr. Edelweiss - despite being reckless and unethical - I have to admit it was quite ingenious. What happened to him was tragic, but he had been warned – repeatedly – by you and Miss Zinnia. In the end, his defiance cost him his arm.”

“Wait, he didn’t get his arm reattached?” Sam inquired.

“The Overlord thinks it is pointless to do so ever since he decided the appropriate punishment for his former protégé. By the end of the week, Mr. Cindar will be executed and unceremoniously buried in a nameless grave outside the Tower. However, his actions will be remembered and taught as a lesson to future generations.”

“That sounds a bit…depressing.”

“Perhaps, but it is necessary.”

DING!

The deafening sound of the bell filled the Tower, prompting the occupants of the Training Hall to look up to the ceiling simultaneously.

“The Dawn Raid is approaching,” said Markus. “Come, let’s see it in the Froghopper Quarters.”

“Wait,” Sam muttered, “There’s one thing I need to ask you before we leave.”

Markus’s eyes narrowed at the sudden request. “Is it about Cindar?”

“More like about his father. He said the Order killed him – is that true?”

“Is that how he sees it?” Markus exhaled. “Tell me, how much do you know about John Cindar?”

“That he was a legendary hero and had trained a lot of Faceless, including Jason and Rowanna,” Lucy answered.

“And do you know why he decided to retire?”

The trio shook their heads at the same time.

“John was…afflicted by a terrible disease that caused gradual memory loss and motor function. It was, unfortunately, incurable. We…I have tried to persuade him to stay - to research and, hopefully, formulate a treatment for his ailment. But he declined – said that our resources are better spent nurturing future warriors than tending to an old relic like him. Five years later, he succumbed to his condition, and Cindar was left an orphan at the age of six.”

“So, it was all a big misunderstanding then? Cindar thought the Order abandoned his father?” said Sam.

“That’s what I thought at first, but no, he only used his father’s death as an excuse. Jack Cindar is intelligent, strong and ambitious – perhaps too ambitious. Vengeance might have been his initial motivation to join the Order, but somewhere down the line, it changed into…greed and lust for power.” Markus cast his eyes down, his lips curved downward. It was a shame - to witness the last heir of the Cindar family surrendering himself to common vices.

The bearded man shifted his gaze to his young apprentices, who in turn, stared at him with concern and curiosity. “Promise me one thing – never repeat his mistakes. Nothing good ever came out of the path he chose.”

“Promise,” Sam responded before noticing a hint of pain in his mentor’s piercing gaze. Maybe someone close to him walked down the same path as Cindar did? He exchanged looks with Lucy; the latter gave him a quick, affirmative blink.

However, Markus caught the quiet communication, but instead of scolding the two, he said, “I’m not going to stop whatever it is you are planning. Just make sure to include some contingency in case things go haywire. Remember what I taught you?”

“Better be careful than dead?”

“Precisely, Mr. Edelweiss. Better be careful than dead.”

**********************************************

||| THE PATH OF FURY: ROWANNA |||

[The Insulator]

The moment she stepped out of the Rift Gate, Rowanna came face to face with a cold, glass wall. Beyond it was Cindar, sitting at the corner of the gray room with his head down. He was also holding his recently severed arm tightly – or what was left of it. The sight of the sulking man prompted her to reach for the black canteen tied to her belt. Popping off the lid, she took a sip from the container, filling her mouth with a sickly-sweet liquid.

“Still drinking that shit?” Cindar mouthed off.

“At least, I’m not a dead man walking,” Rowanna countered before putting her canteen away. “I came here on behalf of the Council of Eight – on behalf of Thomas.”

“Lucky me, for the Lady of the Swallowtail to deliver the message herself.” Cindar raised his head, revealing his tear-stained face. “What does the Overlord want from a broken thing like me? I have already confessed to everything.”

“Not everything, it seems.” Rowanna closed in until her nose was an inch away from the glass. “You’ve been busy, Cindar – talkative, even. To whom? That’s the question.”

“Being a bit vague today, huh? You have to give me more than that, Zinnia.”

“More? How about your communication with an external party – is that enough?”

“Ah, that,” Cindar chuckled.

“Something funny?” Rowanna snarled. “So, who is it? Who are your new benefactors?”

“They are not bound to a specific name. I describe them as a…whisper in the shadows, the soundless wings, the smokes in the mirror. They are ubiquitous and yet invisible to our eyes.” Cindar stood up and started to walk toward the glass wall. “You would think I was spouting nonsense, and I don’t blame you. They hid themselves well, but their influence is extensive – every continent, every sea, and every kingdom – all of them are theirs to manipulate.”

“What does this…clandestine organization offer you in return for your treachery?” Rowanna asked, her arms crossed together.

“Does it matter at this point? It’s like you said, I’m a dead man walking, or is this a desperate attempt to clear my conscience?”

“I don’t believe you have one. However, you are indebted to Thomas…for taking you in after your father’s passing – for raising you as one of his own. If there is a shred of honor in your heart, now is your chance to repay him.”

“Honor?” Cindar scoffed. “A Slaughterer is lecturing me about honor? Oops, sorry, ex-Slaughterer. What did Markus really see in you, I wonder? For him to make you one of the Lord in spite of the amount of blood on your hands. Then again, it’s barely a surprise since that man also recruited the failed experiment of the Vidya’s Visionaries and the sole survivor of the Eastern Flesh-Gorger.”

“Interesting. Very interesting,” Rowanna remarked, scanning Cindar from top to bottom. “You are unusually calm for someone who had been handed a death sentence. It’s not because you’re resigned to your fate – no, you’re not that brave. You’re planning to escape, aren’t you?”

“Me? Escape from the Tower? That is virtually impossible, Zinnia, and you know it.”

“So you say,” Rowanna replied. Her suspicion only grew stronger. “So, any last words for Thomas or anyone in particular?”

Cindar spat at the glass before giving the woman the finger.

“Gross, but your response is duly noted.”

||| THE END OF THE PATH OF FURY |||