One Year Ago

"Sach, don't you dare push me into the lake!" Garrick warns. Sacha Zurgeeste grins back at him, pushing him closer to the edge of the bridge, vines and weeds curling around their bare feet, a topaz covered in calluses. 

"Or what?"

"I'll tell dad, and he'll ground you for a month!" Garrick insists, standing his ground. Sacha rolls eyes, scoffing.

"Please, try better, Ricky." Garrick scoffs at the nickname. "You know Dad would never."

"Father would," Garrick reminds stubbornly, his tight black braids hanging comfortably over his faded brown coat. "And will you shut up with the nickname? I told you I hate it."

"But brother dearest," Sacha says, dragging out the words, leaning backwards as they try to drag him off the bridge. Garrick stubbornly refuses to move, his gaze tired and thoroughly exhausted. "I'm just your little sibling, you can't be mean to me. Besides, it's my way of showing you love."

Sacha bats their eyes, trying and failing to mimic innocence, collapsing onto the edge of the bridge, looking up at him with wide brown eyes.

"Of course your love language is being an asshole," Garrick rolls his eyes, shoving them back. "And I told you Sach, I'm not jumping off the bridge, it's fifty degrees out."

"Don't be a coward, I'll do it with you!" Sacha says, grinning, legs swinging off the edge. "Live a little! You're going off to base camp 1372 soon anyway, at least have some fun before you go."

"You are a bad influence," Garrick scolds, but he's smiling all the while. "Fine, I'll jump."

"Huzzah!" Sacha cheers, jumping up. "Come on Ricky!'

"For the last time-" Sacha dives headfirst into the water, dragging Garrick behind them. A giant splash of water flies up with them as the siblings crash into the still lake.

Sacha grins, quickly resurfacing, Garrick popping up beside them, breathing heavily and smiling. For a moment, the two of their reflections ripple across the dark water, the sun close to setting.

"Told you it would be fun," Sacha grins, treading water, their hair drenched and clothes soaked through. Garrick rolls his eyes, paddling over to them.

"Dad's going to be pissed when we come in dripping wet all over the floor," Garrick says. Sacha  scoffs, smiling at him.

"I'll be fine. Worst he's gonna do is rip the water from our skin, and that's a favor," Sacha shrugs, short black curls dripping water down their back. Garrick shakes his head in amusement. "Besides, it's not like we're technically breaking any rules. They said no swimming, but I didn't swim."

"The day you enlist will be the day I pray for your training officer," Garrick teases. "Poor fool won't see you coming. At any rate, you'll break them before you even get through the first week."

"Nah, I give it five days. Race you to shore!" Sacha grins, shooting under the water, using aquatic plants to propel them forward without swimming.

"You little shit, that's cheating!" Garrick shouted after them, turning the currents to his favor, sending him right after his sibling.

"Not!" Sacha taunts. "And I'm winning!"

"You're a child!" Garrick scoffs, rolling his eyes. "A complete child, you hear that Sacha?"

Sacha stuck their tongue out at him, rolling their eyes, already in standable water.

"Takes one to know one Ricky!" Sacha races forward, bare feet hitting gravel and meager grass. "Ha, I won!" Garrick comes out of the water soon after, rolling his eyes at them.

"Just go find your shoes."

"You're just jealous that I beat you in the water, because you're a Posur and I'm a Gaiur," Sacha grins, teasing as they put on their shoes. "If you were smart maybe then you would have beat me."

"Screw off smartass," Garricks scoffs, half smiling as he shoves them forward. "Come on, we're going to be late to dinner."

"You will be," Sacha grins, shoving on the shoes that might as well have been nonexistent. "I'm going to be early, because I'm not a slow ass-"

"Language!" Garrick scolds, shoving them forward a bit. Sacha grins, breaking into a run and darting ahead, through the village, dilapidated shacks fading into equally dilapidated old buildings from a long forgotten time, the dust ridden path becoming a rough paved road spewing gravel, the earth desperately trying to reclaim its land and remake the concrete jungle.

Suddenly, Sacha stopped dead in their tracks, Garrick skidding to a stop behind them. Their father waited in front of their home, one of the many dilapidated buildings from a bygone era, arms crossed over a tarnished old army insignia on his jacket.

"Sacha, Garrick," He says, glancing at Garrick arriving, out of breath from trying to keep up with his younger sibling. Sacha shifts nervously. "Inside. Now."

Sacha couldn't even mouth a curse as they followed behind their father, up the makeshift ramp they had built ages ago with half rotten wood and cement, the vines weaving in and out of it, as their father wheeled up it determinedly.

Garrick winced as he passed them, not even bothering to mouth what they both knew, which was that they both majorly fucked up. The door creaked shut weakly behind them, and their father wheeled to a stop beside their dad, sitting with his old comfortable sweater and reading a worn old book in a language neither Sacha or Garrick could hope to understand.

"What did they do now?" Their dad asks, not quite looking up from his book yet, polishing his glasses.

"Given the way they are both dripping water onto our carpet, I would make a guess that they went swimming in the lake when I expressly forbade it," their father says in annoyance. "When we both forbade it, Armand." He yanks a hand back, ripping the dripping water from both Sacha and Garrick's bodies.

The water hovers in the air for a moment, before he wheels over to a window, opens it and it flies out, splashing loudly on the concrete, soaking into the stone.

Sacha stumbles back, touching their now dry and raw skin gingerly, glancing over at Garrick, who makes a face and rolls his eyes at them behind their father's back. Sacha scoffs, sticking their tongue out at him.

"They're just kids Cahir," Armand reminds gently, looking up from his book at his husband. "You know that."

Garrick makes another face, elbowing Sacha, Sacha grinning and kicking him in the side.

"They aren't children anymore, Armand. In the army, do you think they would have been coddled like children for disobeying a direct command from a superior?" Cahir scoffs, lighting a cigarette and taking a drag. "Do you?"

Armand sighs tiredly, his long dreadlocks falling forward as he shuts his book, motioning for Sacha and Garrick to leave the room. He waves his hand, a small vine crawling through the cracks in the floor, nudging Sacha and Garrick from the room.The two leave quietly, but within seconds are back by the door, peering into eavesdrop.

"No, but-"

"Exactly. They could have been faced with kitchen duty, lashes, or even shot on the spot for disobeying orders!" Cahir snaps.

"You're being a bit dramatic, Cahir," Armand reminds, rolling his eyes slightly. "No officer in the right mind would shoot a soldier for disobeying such a simple command." Cahir inhales a bit of smoke, coughing.

"Sometimes officers aren't in the right mind," Cahir responds lowly. "They cannot act like children anymore, Armand. They are not children anymore."

For a moment, Armand is silent, mulling over his husband's words, before nodding slowly.

"I know," he says finally, voice quiet. "But I wish we could let them remain children a while longer."

Sacha stumbles into the room, leaning on the doorway with a grin.

"So...are we still in trouble?"

"What? Yes, of course you are!" Cahir sputters. "The only reason your brother isn't is because he's starting training tomorrow. And you're next, don't you forget it." Garrick pumps a fist in the air, slowing slightly when he remembers his training.

"I know," Sacha says with a sigh. "Are you sure I can't apprentice under anyone?"

"You don't have enough schooling to do so," Armand says, sadly agreeing with his husband. "And besides, getting an apprenticeship takes time. By the time you start looking, the Red Guard will be about, and they'll think you're a deserter."

"You know what happens to deserters Sacha," Cahir reminds firmly.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," They mutter, voice tired.

"Go out and run two laps around town, that's your punishment," Cahir says sternly, eyes level. It's a command he expects to be obeyed. "And act maturely. You're of age to enlist now. Act like a-"

"Act like a solider, listen like a child," Sacha says, rolling their eyes, repeating the words with Cahir. "I know. I will. I won't get into trouble."

"Then you will at least appease your future superiors," Cahir says begrudgingly, shooing Sacha from the house. "Now go, and don't take your time with those laps. I expect you home by sundown. Your dad and I are speaking with Garrick."  Sacha sighed.

"Yes father."  Sacha sighs, pushing open the door and breaking into a light jog, starting their way around town.

Personally, Sacha didn't see why they couldn't have done push-ups or something less time consuming, but questioning their father wouldn't exactly be their best decision to date.

The sun was already low in the sky, painting the crumbling concrete skyscrapers and collapsed city buildings a light gold, the dandelions and sprigs of grass fighting to exit the concrete cracks.

Sacha's bare feet hit the ground smoothly, carefully dodging the wild plants that tried to follow them anyway, catching their ankles as they ran by the polluted river bubbling with an oily foam and plastic toy fish swimming through.

There was no woods, no animals on the opposite side of the river. Simply skeletons of trees, ashy looking ground, and rusted old weapons, lying there for anyone who dared to touch them. It looked so opposite from the world Sacha lived in, yet so familiar too.

There was a scream of a bomb falling and exploding, likely not far from where Sacha was.

Sarthet. A home for anyone creative enough to make something out of nothing, but better than the slums, which swarmed with disease and misery, which depressingly left more impact than the bombs. At least here, there was a chance to practice your ability, and maybe harness it enough to be given the rank of Sergeant.

Sacha's father, Cahir, had been a Sergeant. His brother had been a foot soldier. Only one of them lived to come home.

"You don't live to survive, you survive to serve."

Sacha's gaze landed on the sign plastered on the wall of a now crumbled tower. A plea for people to enlist, though it had fallen to uselessness now.

What was there to do if you didn't?

"Sachy!" Adira Zurgeeste calls, running up to Sacha with a beaming smile, braids up in oversized buns with bright teal ribbon wrapped around the sides, and a matching teal skirt swishing around their dark brown legs. "Uncle Armand said you were out running, so I caught up with you!"

Sacha's year younger cousin beams, pleased with herself.

"Hey," Sacha responds, smiling slightly. "You don't really look dressed for running."

"I don't like to dress boring," Adira responds, groaning slightly as they try to keep pace with Sacha. "You wear the same green shirt and brown jacket every single day!"

"It's comfortable," Sacha defends, shrugging as they jog. "Besides, I know that skirt's only for special occasions. Where you going?"

Adira huffs, but hesitates. "Promise not to tell mama?"

"Swear on the Goddex Gaiur, who granted me my ability to grow and destroy," Sacha recites, grinning over at Adira as she pouts. "And on your mama's famous fudge." Adira rolls their eyes at Sacha's teasing grin, but smiles conspiratorially.

"I met the girl down the road, you know, the one who is apprenticed to Miss Miram as a seamstress?" Adira whispers excitedly, skipping over a pile of rusty bloody bullets lying in the street. "And she wanted to go with me, out to the wall of lovers!" She practically squeals. "Isn't that romantic?" Adira gushes.

Sacha smiled slightly, patting her head.
"My little cousin's all grown up!" They tease, speeding up slightly as they pass the river again. Adira huffed again.

"I'm only a year younger than you!" Adira protests, but slows when she sees the river. "I've got to go, I'll be late. See you Sachy!"

Sacha watches them run off, illuminated and almost unseeable in the setting sun. They smile, jogging once more around the discarded pieces of tarnished iron and weeds, sprinting the final stretch home.

Carefully, Sacha slips into the house, the voices of their fathers and older brother a dull murmur in the living room, a light crackling fire in the fireplace.

Armand notices them first, with a gentle smile.

"Perfect Sacha, just in time for dinner. You and I will eat together, while your father and brother finish talking," he says, placing a gentle arm around their shoulder. "We have lentil soup, from your Aunt Tesha. She insisted on making it for Garrick, since it's always been his favorite."

"Think I'll be able to bottle it up and take it with me?" Garrick says, poking his head in from the other room with a grin. "To remind me of home?" Scoldingly, Cahir tugs him back down in his seat.

"Sit down young man. We don't have time for your foolishness," He scolds, looking critically over at Sacha. "Did you finish your laps?"

"Yes father," Sacha sighs. "Can I eat now?"

Armand answers before Cahir gets a say.

"Of course you can. And speaking of, I think your father and brother should finish talking, so we can have a nice, family dinner." He looks over sternly at Cahir, who sighs in surrender.

"We'll finish this discussion later," Cahir relents, rolling his old chair forwards. "Come with me Garrick."

"Hell yeah!" Garrick cheers, high fiving Sacha, who bursts out laughing with him, falling closer to his shoulder.

"Your superiors won't tolerate that language!" Cahir reminds, voice snapping, but he's far behind their laughter and Armand takes his hand, squeezing it gently, even Cahir's face relaxing with the laughter.

The atmosphere of their home, for one last day, is warm and full.