100 | flee; ancient regrets

Kaden Chauvet.

Five letters, seven letters. Twelve letters to make an identity, two words printed on paper in neat and bold strokes of ink. Noah gazed at the two words quietly and traced the name again, and again until ink bled onto the next page.

Nicola's slender fingers held a ceramic cup between trembling hands, slowly tightening her grip as she repeated in soft disbelief, "He's alive?"

"He's alive." nodded Niklas quietly, the four seated around a round table of a bustling cafe. The cafe that Noah always frequented, and had made a double amount of appearances after his previous ghost sighting.

He looked over at the counter, casually making eye contact with the young server, William, who beamed and waved enthusiastically. Noah nodded in return.

Holly shook her head, sitting crossed-legged on the seats as she rocked back slightly. "We saw it! It was awful, and all the blood, but we saw it. There's no doubt about it."

"What we saw was an illusion conjured by Kaden's blessing."

"Can he conjure things he hasn't seen? Those eyes, the warped space, that's all psychological images that appear in nightmares. But that scene? It was so realistic..."

"Of us four, he is most accustomed to death. I'm not sure if his blessing requires a vivid imagination, but he was never lacking in memory of bloody scenes," explained Niklas, staring at the leftover tea leaves at the bottom of his mug.

They cluttered together in a murky, unknown mess.

Holly shrunk back, hesitant. She nibbled her bottom lip, on the verge of speaking. Instead, she remained silent.

Nicola stared at the stack of papers placed in the center of them, a customary newspaper that the cafe provided. In her cherry gaze was the reflected profile, proud and beautiful, of the crown prince.

"The way to bring Kaden back." Her voice took an eerie softness. "Is it to kill Reed, to uncover his plans, or both?"

Holly slammed her hands on the table, a nail clipping from one finger, but she didn't flinch. Her chair harshly scraped against the ground and all gazes turned to her in surprise.

"Nicola, you can't talk about killing someday that easily. And he's the prince—soon to be King! That isn't... it isn't you!"

Nicola folded her hands together, steadiness in her expression. "I'm not speaking easily. But what I am and what I need to be are both the same. If killing the... Crown Prince must be done to save my friend, then I'll hold that blade myself."

Seeing Holly's horrified and despairing expression, her voice gentled. "I'm sorry, Holly. I know it's hard for you to hear."

Holly's breath became laboured, and her eyes flickered from each of her friends the past years as if seeing strangers. They were all willing to put everything on the table to save Kaden—but she never found an answer.

Holly was a child from a decent family, raised with love and affection. She'd witnessed an extent of violence on the streets, but it was always a faraway reality.

She was not Noah who had witnessed a dozen cruelties, nor Niklas that carried a secret relationship with Kaden. She was not Nicola, elegance scraped together from the dredges of the slums.

She was just herself, a woman with a curiosity for gossip, whose nose wrinkled and stomach flipped at the recent corpse sightings she investigated with Niklas.

Holly took a step back, her chair moving to the side. The woman had grieved for the friend she barely knew, but how could she determine his truth? The truth? She wanted to know more badly than any other, to trust him with full confidence.

Was Kaden Chauvet framed? Innocent? A murderer, by choice or command?

Had he been acting, lying all the time?

Her feet turned and she dashed out of the cafe, leaving her sweet coffee behind, half-full. Nicola sighed, a sadness in her breath as she watched Holly leave. But how could she stop her? How could she promise that Kaden was worth trusting?

And he was, she knew, but involving Holly in a business unrelated to her and enforcing her own opinion wasn't something Nicola intended to do.

She would not use her friends to save another.

Niklas' voice broke through the awkwardness that had permeated the atmosphere. "Alright, I hate to say it, but it's good she left if her trust isn't with Kaden. I need to confirm with you both—how far are you willing to go to save that man?"

His cerulean eyes settled into something firm. "How far are you willing to go to change the fate that should've ended in tragedy?"

Noah turned to him, confusion seeping into his gaze, but Nicola nodded in knowing. "You already know, Niklas."

"That I do. And Noah? Are you sure? Are you really willing to possibly abandon any possibility of normality, in your dreams since youth, to rescue our precious prince from his brother's dark claws?"

Noah ignored the exaggerated description in Niklas' tone, scoffing slightly. "I'm willing. However many times it takes."

"Then, let's begin." A grin tugged the corner of the mischievous man's lips. As if predicting their answers, he turned to rummage through a thick leather bag and unrolled a stack of papers on the table. "We'll start by getting into the castle."

———xxx——— (not the end! :)

Alexander sat in the velvet seats of the restaurant, stained glass lamps and decorative sconce arranged to add an illusionary fantasy to the atmosphere. They cast a warm, elegant light over the room, overlooking dozens of framed pictures on the wall that contained both art and maps.

He broke a piece of bread, spreading a smooth herb butter over the warm and soft bread, biting into the crisp of the outside.

He seemed very pleased. The person sitting opposing him noticed it and smiled, his aging eyes wrinkling with delight as they curved.

"Fantastic, isn't it? A hidden gem, I heard a student discussing it and kindly interjected in their conversation—of course, I was polite about it—and there are so many, is it nice? Do you have a preference for herb butter?"

"You're rambling, Ray." reminded Alexander, but his eyes crinkled with the same fondness behind his steely expression.

"Oh I am, aren't I? But you don't mind it," the older man smiled behind gold-rimmed glasses. His dark brown hair with streaks of grey had been recently cut, adding more youthfulness to the curious man. "I know you don't since you've said it yourself."

"I vaguely recall making that mistake."

"Don't lie. It must be the best mistake you've ever made. For me as well, as you're the only one who can endure my ramblings—"

"I'm not enduring it more than simply listening."

"Yes, yes. All the technicalities."

"I believe you are the language teacher, Ray."

Raymond feigned innocence as his wandering gaze—always wandering, and always curious—flickered to a sullen women who pulled out a chair on her own, a storm cloud seeming to rain over her head.

It wasn't a popular restaurant, although delicious, and the small room benefited those with poor eyesights as everything was near one another.

Therefore, his eyes soon widened in recognition. Alexander, specially aware of the little reactions of his friend, glanced sideways. "That is Miss Sinclair, I believe."

"It is!" Raymond leaned closer, whispering. "Should I say hello? I believe greeting my old students is only polite, but she seems rather miserable, and I would hate to ruin her mood further. You know how it is, some students hope to never see their professors again. And after that incident, the group of them had been..."

"There was nothing you could've done in that incident, Ray. It isn't wise to blame yourself for the events that had occurred. "

"I know, I know, it's only hard knowing how much they all grieved, in their silence or their persistence in their studies. Everything changed, the atmosphere of that group—he was what bound them—"

"Raymond."

"Ah, I know. It isn't appropriate to be gossiping about friendship groups, or the deceased for that matter,"

Alexander sighed, leaned forward and swivelled the talking head to the side. There, Holly stood with a miserable expression and a deep frown.

"Professor Raymond? And Professor Alexander?"

Alexander nodded. "Hello, Miss Sinclair."

"Miss Sinclair," blinked Raymond before smiling pleasantly. "I was just discussing whether to greet you or not, although I suppose it would've been awkward if I didn't, but perhaps equally awkward if I did."

"I used to come to this restaurant when I couldn't think." The woman muttered, her hair frazzled and lips curved into a depressed pout. "I'll leave you to dinner, I thought I was imagining things."

"I am definitely not an illusion, although I cannot attest for Alex." joked Raymond in poor attempt to lighten his old student's misery. Alexander coughed at the awkward attempt, sighing.

"Miss Sinclair. If there is any advice we can offer you, feel free to discuss your thoughts with us. I've heard that you've become an investigator alongside Mr Astors, congratulations."

If she had any reservations about speaking to her old professors, she didn't show it. The woman easily grabbed a chair, pulling it up and plopping into the seat.

Their private dinner would have to be saved for another day, decided Alexander as he straightened and Raymond devoted his full attention.

Holly didn't hold back, although she refrained from exposing certain details that could negatively affect her friends.

"I," she blamed her curiosity in order to mask the truth of their mission. "I wanted to investigate the truth of Kaden Chauvet's death. It didn't seem fair. But at the same time, all the facts pointed at him—how can I trust him in full faith?"

"Ah, a truth-seeker," said Raymond softly, fondly. He glanced at Alexander, who was watching him. "The same as you."

"...that appears to be so. Miss Sinclair, you can be friends with somebody and seek their truth while doubting them. In life, it is nearly impossible to devote our full faith in a single person. To do so, you must sacrifice a part of yourself to them."

"Lovely, Alex! Precisely, Miss Sinclair, the nature of your urge to witness the truth already sets you aside. You cannot trust him, that is fair, but you do not senselessly believe the voices around you either. That's wonderful, rare, really."

Holly poked at her salad, an assortment of colours on the plate with a creamy dressing crossed over it. "I feel like I'm betraying him. All of them."

"That's not betrayal, everybody copes differently, everybody has different levels of faith." said Raymond. "We had a friend once, a long time ago. When we were students in the Academy."

"Had implies they're—"

"Deceased, yes. An old friend who was the most loyal and faithful person I knew. He was devoted to his wife and child, but perhaps that was also his undoing. To the very end, I couldn't believe he'd done what he did."

Alex swallowed his bite of food, swirling the pale wine in his glass. "I doubted him. I doubted him, even when Ray believed in him."

Raymond smiled bitterly. "And you were right. Although I don't regret believing in him, I never faulted Alex for doubting him either. Because you are friends, you hope to seek the truth. Truth can do so much for both you, and others doubting."

"Your friend," Holly chewed her lip. "Can I ask what happened to him?"

"It's a story from long ago, so I suppose it's fine. We used to visit him, in their house in the woods, a secluded place. He just wanted to grow his family."

Alexander continued, the story seeming to split between the two.

"The house is under our hands now, and occasionally used as a vacation house for travelling nobles. The money is donated to a local orphanage—his wife would've wanted so."

"Yes, it was such a lovely house, and they were such a lovely family too. He dabbled in things he shouldn't have, and in the end, he couldn't succeed in what he wanted to do even after all that he did."

"And what was that?" wondered Holly.

Alexander's face grew somber, a shadow falling over his face. "He sought to extend the lifespan of his dying wife."

"She was dying?"

"She was Blessed." said Raymond. "And we all die eventually, some sooner than others. Hers was a blessing difficult to control, although she tried. It was one of the reasons they secluded themselves. But as you know, the Reversal occurs to those who overuse their Blessing, and the limit of 'overuse' differs. But hers, unable to be controlled, constantly in use—"

"Fate wanted her dead, and dead she became," finished Alexander, shaking his head quietly. "But ironically, it wasn't her Blessing that killed her."

Raymond lowered his eyes, downcast.

Holly sat up straighter, frowning. "What killed her?"

"Herself. Her Blessing killed her young child, and she fell into despair. The Reversal didn't take her—she killed herself. Although no doubt, if she continued the way she did, she would've become something terrible."

Holly fell back into her seat, the rims of her eyes reddening. "That's tragic. And what of the man, your friend?"

"We can only assume he died. He was researching ways to control her blessing, to fight against the Reversal. But the moment we learn that we are Blessed, or even those who don't know," Alexander tapped the left side of his chest. "A clock begins to turn."

"...are we destined for death?"

Raymond quickly interjected. "No! Not quite, although for some, yes. It's all complicated business. The Academy is supposed to monitor and help teach control to refuse that possibility."

"But the Academy offers jobs, jobs that use our blessings?"

"It's monitored closely. Those who are at risk will not be accepted. In the end, we are human weapons, magical tools manifested in human shape, that can be used. And because we can be used, they use us."

"Ray."

"It's true, Alex. I'm not trying to be cynical, but that's the way it is. They don't devote their research into helping us, extending lives or preventing Reversals, because we're all tools. Tools eventually wear out. We're not books that become more lovable with wear. We become useless."

Holly's eyebrows knitted, her soft features hardening. "What are you talking about?"

Alexander sighed, tipping the rest of his wine down his throat. "I believe, Miss Sinclair, that you and the three other misfits intend to investigate the truth behind Kaden Chauvet's death?"

"Misfits—how do you—?"

"Then I believe the place to begin would be our old friend's house. The recent surge of Creatures of Distortion resembles an incident from the past. We have reason to believe that those deaths were a result of our friend's misdeeds."

It was a lot streaming into Holly's ear, slowly processed. Raymond seemed surprised too at Alexander's honesty, although he couldn't silence the other man when he had been the first to spiral into negativity.

And Alexander was a stubborn mule that couldn't be stopped once he started speaking.

Holly's expression continued to change as Alexander described the cases in the past, the gruesome and terrible corpses and bodies, all the deaths, the Academy that hid the incident.

"However, do not be idealistic in believing you can change the Academy. They are not your enemy," reminded Alexander, shooting a look over at Raymond who frowned. "Use their resources and find solutions, to the deaths, for the Blessed."

"Where is this house?"

Alexander glanced sideways, and described the general area—it was located slightly off the map, in an obscure and secluded space.

Holly's eyes changed. "What? It can't be."

"It's there. I couldn't forget it."

"No, but I mean. We—the five of us—we went there. We, this is hard to believe, but we found the ashes of a child and buried them. Kaden said he saw or heard a ghost."

The dim lights seemed to flicker in surprise, and the plates clattered.

Raymond clutched the table, wide-eyed. "You found her? We searched for days after he disappeared. Everything pointed at their deaths, but—you found the child? Their child? Really? Where? I—"

Alexander cleared his throat, reaching over to squeeze Raymond's shaking hand, calming his friend.

"If that is true, then we must thank you, Miss Sinclair."

"Not me, but it was... Kaden really. Kaden found them, and he buried her. The child."

"Then we owe our thanks to Mr Chauvet, as well. If there is anything else we can help you with, we will. As you've graduated, we have more flexibility to provide aid."

Holly nodded, but her mind seemed to wander, back to that time in that house, to when Kaden's head lowered and they all grieved for the ashes of the child that none of them knew. Was that too all an act—and if it weren't?

A reporter's mind was always curious, and a spark of deeper need, a need to know, tickled the woman's thoughts.

Raymond remained silent in his chair, slowly removing his glasses. He pressed a folded napkin to the corner of his eyes, hesitant. "You really found that child?"

The woman nodded sadly. "There was a portrait we found too. To Adrianna?"

Raymond swallowed, slowly sinking back into his chair. The low hanging lights beat warmth against their table, and the older man leaned forward, bringing his hands to his face.

Alexander watched him quietly, the grieving of happiness, of the dead found and honoured. He leaned back and closed his eyes, exhaling deeply.

It seemed to have been a breath held for over a decade.

———xxx———

Lukiyo says,

I downloaded Love and Deep Space and made croissants instead of doing work alas... I have to say, I never particularly felt intrigued by 3D models but I'm feeling a little intrigued, and the atmosphere based off the little clips I've seen are giving angst. (My love, if you didn't know)

I'm finding daily checklists to be very helpful with my procrastination though!

Happy 100th chapter guys! This is about the same length as my other novels now~ some of our chapters were just a little shorter in comparison, and thus we have more.

A bit more plot unfolding, we're getting to know Raymond and Alexander's cryptic discussions as scene in the Academy perviously heh. Also, aren't they cute? They weren't supposed to be, but I think they're cute. They weren't even supposed to exist, yet now I love them.

Here's to your loveliness, good music, exciting adventures, relaxing weather and all the more! See you Sunday :)