Everything hurt.

I couldn't sleep that night. My mind was a turmoil of emotions. It was hard to believe that not a single person seemed to believe me about the assassin, that I had no defence. The sole assurance was that I was returning to Asteria. 

The next morning, I was lying in my bed aimlessly, my mind wandering. A part of me wondered if Elijah was doing any better, but the other more rational part of me told me that it wouldn't be prudent for me to be sighted near him anytime soon. On some level, I derived a masochistic pleasure from being a prisoner shackled by my own destructive thoughts. Knowing, that I deserved it. 

I tried to picture a situation where I would have to return to Stonewall. I imagined walking through the drab grey hallways and back into my tiny room that held nothing apart from a single bed, a table, and a large window.

I sighed, covering my face in my hands and curling up as I lay on my side. It hurt to imagine being back at Stonewall. Especially now, after I had experienced Asteria. Seen the magic and seen my own magic. Even almost made friends. Or confidantes. Or at least people I could trust.
Although I had probably lost them already. Would returning to Stonewall indeed be the more prudent option?

But dad had told me that I would go back to Asteria. He wouldn't lie to me. I hoped he wouldn't. 

A knock on the door pulled me out of my reverie. "Who?" I called, my voice hoarse.

"Breakfast, Zeke."

A soft voice I recognized as my Aunt's floated through. I was so exhausted from everything that I didn't even feel the familiar surge of anger, just a massive wave of sadness.

"It's open," I said as the door gently opened. My Aunt walked into the room, carrying a large tray of food. She set it near the bedside table and sat across from it, at the very edge of the mattress. 

She looked at me, her brows furrowed. "How are you?"

I didn't answer right away. "Are they sending me back to Stonewall?" I asked, idly playing with a stray thread from the blanket, trying to sound casual. 

My Aunt shook her head. "No, honey. They're not." 

Blood pounded in my ears as the dreaded hope ignited. "How...how do you know?" I glanced at her. "Dad also said something about treason...treachery. But he also told me..." 

"Whatever you did...it was passion. You weren't sitting and plotting. Your situation doesn't qualify. The Vartiyahs would want you to return to your education, as soon as possible even. They believe it is high time that you are taken under a Guild."

I let out a short sigh of relief; it all sounded too good to be true. "How's..." I trailed off, wondering if I should be asking her about Elijah at all. "He?" 

"Elijah?" She smiled kindly. "Much better. The doctor says he will be able to rejoin this week." 

I sighed in relief and raked a nervous hand through my hair. I wondered if the healing abilities extended to him as well, but decided not to ask anything. "Thanks," I said and went back to playing idly with the thread, pulling at it and watching in satisfaction as the stitches slowly fell to give way.

"Azure talked to Madam Beckett," she said, naming whom I assumed, was the principal of the academy. "He convinced her to let you in. After two weeks. Half of your original suspension period."

My heart thundered as I looked at her, wondering if this was some cruel joke. "That's ...it?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Why did he petition for me?"

She shrugged, seeming to purposefully avert my gaze. "Like I said. He...seems to think your powers are truly something special, Ezekiel," she smiled. "I think so too. Most of the Deus agree that you need to be trained urgently. And that not doing so is only making the situation worse."

"That's great news," I said, sighing. Although in the back of my mind, I wondered what it was that the Deus thought about my powers being so valuable.

She smiled kindly and started to say something. "Have some food." There was a certain sadness in her voice. She spoke softly, almost afraid. "You must be hungry."
  
I didn't look at her, still able to feel the invisible walls between us. I fixed my eyes on the wainscoting as she walked away, and I heard the gentle click of the door behind me. I felt guilty treating her the way I had. But the nine-year-old me could never forget her words.

             *

Later that day, I decided to step out of the palace just for the sake of getting out of my own head. I wasn't sure I could bear being alone with my thoughts anymore. The scalding had healed completely, even though I had hoped that it would've remained. A testament to my guilt. Proof of my humanity.

I figured a change of pace might do me good and boarded the first bus that I could find in the city. As soon I sat on the bus, though, I realized my folly and that I didn't know where I was going. 

I couldn't believe what I had done. Again. I gazed around at the bus and felt like all eyes were trained on me. I felt naked. Vulnerable. As if everybody knew what I had done. It felt like I was trying to run away from the burden that I was facing at the palace, the constant guilt.

After listening intently, I realized that the bus was heading towards a city called Neronz. I had never been to Neronz nor heard of it, but at that moment, I couldn't care less. I needed a change of pace. I gazed outside the dirty window of the bus. I placed my hand on the headrest in front of me, scratching at the faux leather.

The conductor paced back and forth, speaking out the names of the stations in a heavy accent I couldn't place. I wasn't really looking at the scenery outside. Under normal circumstances, I would have found it breathtaking. The concrete jungles disappeared to give way to real ones. I could see sparkling rivers as we passed over bridges and trees rushing past. A palette of colours scattered in my vision as we passed through valleys and tunnels, and yet I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. One glance at my trusty, worn-down wristwatch told me it was almost noon. 

We passed through villages, each of which seemed more compelling than the last. It was picturesque, but the economic difference between the capital and the higher city communities was clearly visible. Although it was still grand compare to the hovel I had grown up in. 

At last, after about an hour and a half, we pulled up into an old and worn down looking bus station with an almost erased signpost as the conductor announced- "Neronz."

I turned around and saw to my shock that the entire bus was almost empty. The town of Neronz was apparently not a trendy destination. I seemed to be alone apart from two raggedy looking men at the far corner who seemed to be smoking something that smelled suspicious.  I climbed down onto the road and stared around, feeling suddenly scared. I struggled to root myself into reality, every conscious bit of my mind focussed on not thinking about my childhood and the eerie similarity of the place I had arrived in. 

I started walking towards the main road. I could see a bustling market just beside the bus station, the hubbub of the shops relieved me a little. Household appliances and bakeries, similar to the smaller ones I had seen back in Lyros, lined the streets. However, I scarcely saw any women on the roads which were dominated by crude-looking ruffians. The market was in full swing. I saw men of all ages walking around, talking, and laughing as they went about their daily work. Loud, raucous laughter that seemed so eerily familiar.

I wandered through the town aimlessly, gazing at the extraordinary ordinariness of the vibrant town. Even as a child, I had loved to wander into the streets of the squalor of where I had lived. I often ended up doing it so often that my mother was worried sick most of the time. I preferred staying as far from the wretched place as I could. But I had always returned to her. Everyday.
That day I was simply roaming around as a means of escape, just like I had after she had passed away.

By the time I had explored the whole market, marvelling at the colourful sweets at the confectioners', the peculiar toys at the toy store and multicoloured coloured robes, it was already well into the evening. My mind was too busy marvelling at the exuberance outside to worry about the palace and Elijah or to be scared of my own violent reaction to him.

The bustle of the market was slowly dying down, making my situation back at Asteria return to me. Making me feel guilty for the mercy I had been shown. I didn't think I deserved it. My guilt was tormenting me, torturing me. It was painful to think about what might have happened if no one had stopped me. I felt so feral. Otherworldly. Like my darkest senses had overpowered my heart. I forced myself not to dwell on the grim thought.

I must've walked a long time, for when I finally began to realize how far from the market I had ventured, I looked around me and saw none of the vibrancy of the town square. On either side of me were rickety rundown buildings, shacks. There were few poorly dressed men whispering among themselves in a corner. I stopped dead in my tracks as a sense of impending déjà vu took hold of me. 

I started walking back the way I had come. The roads were deserted, save a group of men on bikes a few feet away. They were wearing leather jackets, and their bare arms were tattooed. They looked like the mirage of the ruffians that had prowled the streets where I had lived as a child. To make matters worse, the golden rays of dusk were creeping around the edges of the horizon. It would be dark soon. 

I forced myself to resume walking as I moved around the corner and was almost immediately faced with another group of men, who glanced at me, leering lewdly as I turned and starting walking briskly the opposite way. I retraced the path I had come. My heart thudded as my blood turned cold with anxiety. 

I took a turn and ended up in front of a wooden shack labelled, 'Tommy's Bar.' Loud music was blaring from the windows, vibrating the glass and the ground. I could hear a lot of loud noises. Hoping I could get lost in the crowd, I went inside. I stood in shock for a few seconds at the scene in front of me.

The bar was a riot of colours and anarchy of sounds.

It was jam-packed with people. A bartender up a few feet in front was doing tricks with empty beer bottles to a loudly cheering group of people. Another group was arguing intensely over the National Polo League's ban on high-bred horses. Still more were focused onto the stage where a breathtaking woman with sharp features and loud make-up was crooning a seductive tune. The glittery lights of the room cascaded onto her dark lustrous skin, giving her an almost unearthly aura.

Already regretting my decision to seek refuge there, I made my way over to a quiet corner. A woman was sitting, staring fixedly at the stage, and I thankfully sat on the empty stool behind her. I shrank myself back as far as I could, the bright lights were bounding off every surface, making my eyes hurt. The music seemed to make my skull shake. I couldn't believe how people seemed to be enjoying the hooliganism. 

I hoped the din of the bar would drown out my inner thoughts. After a few minutes, unable to take it any longer, I decided to leave. Just before I could get up, however, a huge bulky man came and took an empty seat in front of me, his colossal bottom almost falling off the tiny stool. I got up, trying my best way to plan a manoeuvre out of there. Before I could, however, the man placed a large hand on the woman's thigh. She didn't spare a glance at him, swatting his hand away and shaking her head no. 

The man smiled obscenely, placing his massive arms around her slender waist and pulling her close. The woman tried to fight him off, but the giant didn't budge. I felt sick to my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. He pulled her over to him, turning her around roughly as he got up, placed his pudgy hands on her protesting body, and started grinding against her. She tried to fight off his bulky arms as he pressed her firmly to her hips, his eyes hungrily staring at her as his significant ass ground on hers.

 I felt like throwing up at the atrocious sight and gazed around. The man seemed too large for me to take alone, and I was shocked to see that nobody seemed to care. A few people looked on; their expressions were hidden in the dark while others still didn't even pay a glance. Revulsion burnt in my very core, singeing away rationality. 

Before I could realize what I was doing, I got up and walked over to the repulsive man. "Get off her," I said in a voice I couldn't recognize. "Get off her now."

The man stopped moving and glared at me. I put up my most defiant voice as anger surged through me at his hateful face. "You can have her after I'm done, pretty boy," he drawled. "You know-sloppy seconds." 

He grinned, and a gold tooth flashed at me, and it was then that something broke loose inside me. I walked over to him and, with everything I could muster, punched him hard in the face. The sickening sound of flesh on flesh seemed to make me realize what I had done as he staggered backwards, his eyes wide with shock, his face scrunching in fury as he scowled.

The woman straightened up, staring at me with wide eyes, her face drained of all its colour. A fear I recognized too well. I hadn't planned anything and decided the best case scenario was me walking out of there. I walked over to the pair of them with confidence I did not feel, unflinchingly staring at the man as I addressed the stunned woman.

"Let's go."

Without another word, I started towards the door and heard her follow me. I wanted to make a run for it but knew it wasn't the best thing to do. And just when I had thought maybe the man wouldn't do anything, I felt him grab the scruff of my neck and throw me backwards towards the wall. I staggered backwards and fell on my back, staring up at him as panic penetrated the façade of confidence. "You asked for this kid."

To my horror, he put his hands into his blazer pocket-fishing out an empty vodka bottle which he shattered on the wooden desk beside him with violent force, and charged towards me like a madman, the sharp glass glinting in the dizzying lights.

The man was large and robust, but I had always been small for my age, which came with the boon of agility. My escapist experience came into play, and I rolled out from under him as he smashed the remaining bottle onto the ground where I lay mere seconds ago.

I realized suddenly that the music had stopped. I was aware of people staring as. Fuming, the man lurched at me again with an animal-like growl. He came running towards me and shoved me hard onto the dirty floor. I scowled as pain shot up my left hand, where it had hit one of the glass shards. I could feel warm blood trickling down my palm and looked up at the advancing man in panic.

 Before I could react, however, a stool slid into his path, kicked by the girl and the man tumbled spectacularly, crashing to the floor with a mighty din. A lighter fell from his pocket and slid to my feet. I could feel a warm-soft hand enclose mine as the girl spoke in a urgent voice, "Let's get out of here."

But I didn't budge, staring at the struggling man as he got to his feet, wincing. I wanted to hurt him. To make him pay for his repugnant behaviour. I tipped open the lighter and threw it at his feet. I stared at it, transfixed. My mind returned to the previous day. 

Much to my disappointment, however, the lighter went off immediately, not harming him in the least. The man smirked obnoxiously through his pain. "Good try, kid."

And just as the words were out of his mouth, he started howling with pain and fell to the ground.

One of his feet seemed to be on fire. I stared in shock as people rushed forward with pails of water. It seemed like a cinder from the lighter had resulted in the flames. I felt another tug on my arm, this time stronger as the girl started pulling me up. "We need to get out of here now! Come on!" 

She pulled me out of the bar and immediately and started running. I didn't ask her where we were going as she shouted. "Lie low for a while-" Then with a loud laugh, she said, "Boy! Whaler is going to be pissed!"

We pelted through the dusty roads as fast as our legs could carry us. I trailed slightly behind her, my heart still alight with the euphoria of seeing the man in agony. As if punishing him would be a penance for me.