"I don't have a choice! I have to go."

"You have to go, but you're ending this with me because of her. You don't want the baggage when your Laina is back in your arms."

"That's not--it's never been. No! I don't have a choice. I can't be distracted by romantic pursuits. This is for your own good."

Eric's meditation didn't prove fruitful. He couldn't get them out of his mind - Abigail, Maverick, and Laina. No matter how hard he tried to clear his thoughts, images of them danced before him, beckoning him closer. His last moments with Abigail, Laina's arms in the fire.

Not only that, but he wasn't sure what to do about the Leyera girl. No matter how many times he and Samson went over the issue, neither of them could see a way to get her to safety with Aundreya's gift of deception blocking their path.

"It's not like we can just take her," Eric said during their morning exercise. Aside from the two in their unit gifted with speed, Eric and Samson were the fastest and led the pack on the morning jog through the countryside. It gave them time to speak in private.

"We could arrest her for something, and then once she's been taken, we can find her a safer place to live."

Eric shot Samson an eye roll. "You're slipping. This town is too small to find her a new home without her family knowing. What are we supposed to do, relocate her from everything she knows?"

"Fine. You think of something."

With a grunt, Eric sped up, his mind empty of options. Samson matched his pace, and they finished their run in silence. Now, Eric paced his tent. He needed to return to Treywick and meet with the next family on his list, but everything in him slumped at the idea.

Being in Treywick seemed to drain him of his energy, his very will to keep doing what he was meant to do. It was the very reason he'd insisted he wouldn't stay at the inn, as the Army usually did when there was room for the entire unit. While many of the men took advantage - with his permission - of the commodities, Eric remained just outside the town in his tent, Samson and a few others staying with him.

"Ready to head back into town?" Samson asked.

Eric turned, jaw clenched. "You move far too quietly. Make more noise next time."

"You pace too loudly. Listen next time." Samson grinned, one brow arching over his sea green eyes. "What troubles you?"

"Everything." Eric tilted his head back and let out a long, slow breath. "Something feels wrong about being here. Do you sense it? I can feel the signatures of all the townfolk, but something feels...off."

Samson nodded. "I had noticed something different. Stronger, even. But I don't sense anyone new."

"Nor do I. Is it possible for a signature to grow stronger over time? Perhaps one of the children has a stronger gift than most?" Eric knew Samson's affinity for gifts and signatures. His Second had been fascinated with them since before they met. If anyone knew, he would.

A distant glint flickered in Samson's eyes, and he stared over Eric's head to the opposite wall. "Usually no."

"Usually?"

"Signatures don't change. Nor do gifts. Those with speed never get faster than they were originally, though they may have never reached their full speed when they were young."

"Then they do get faster..."

"No, they just realize their potential." Samson shrugged at Eric's confusion. "Signatures don't get stronger."

"You said usually."

"Right." Samson met his gaze. "Yours got stronger."

Eric blinked. "Mine." Samson nodded and Eric shook his head. "How?"

"Well, as you are the...you know." Samson never spoke about Eric's heritage. He was the only one in the entire Army who knew who Eric's father was. "There's bound to be a bit of extra energy that comes with that bloodline. So your signature reflects that, and has grown stronger."

"Royal blood means a stronger signature?" Eric didn't wait for Samson's response. "That makes sense I suppose, but why would someone in Treywick have a stronger signature?"

"That, I can't be sure of." Samson sighed and jerked his head toward the front of the tent. "Think we should go and find out?"

Eric didn't say what he was thinking, the image of Laina's arms in the fire coming out unscathed. He didn't dare venture into it. Not yet.

###

They walked through Treywick with heads held high and shoulders back. People greeted them with kind smiles tinged with fear in their eyes. Eric replied in kind, though Samson chided him for being too curt.

"It's not my fault. I have no skills for small talk." Eric gestured to the stately home not too far away. "We're meant to meet with the Clover family before dusk."

Samson followed behind. Jensa and a few other members of the unit were interviewing other families today. Those who didn't rank high enough to be a part of this process would mill about town, integrating themselves with the locals to see if anything of interest came up.

They were admitted in to an establishment not unlike the Leyera home. Columns stood in the front, supporting a balcony that made Eric's stomach twist and his thoughts stray back to a year before, when everything began. He could still feel the early spring rain misting his face as he stared up at her balcony.

"Sir?"

Samson's call jolted Eric back to the present, and he realized he now sat in a plush chair in the center of an arched ceiling sitting room. Mr. and Mrs. Clover sat before him, all smiles and good graces as the servants brought tea and biscuits. He couldn't even remember entering the home.

"I do hope your travels weren't uncomfortable," Mrs. Clover said as she accepted her teacup. The lines around her eyes were too tight to really be considered welcoming. "I heard you're staying in your tent just outside of town. Did the inn run out of room? We have plenty here to spare."

"I prefer sleeping out of doors," Eric replied, not bothering to hide his scrutiny of her smile. Her teeth, though large and white, presented more of a grimace in the shape of her lips. Her grey hair, piled high atop her head, didn't have a strand out of place, yet something felt wrong.

"A true man's man," Mr. Clover said with a raspy chuckle. Unlike his wife's piled high bouffant, he didn't have a lick of hair on his head. His bulbous nose turned red as he spoke next. "We're delighted to have you in our home. Anything we can do to be of service."

He's lying. "Tell me, Mr. Clover, what is it you do?"

"I'm the proprietor of the bank."

"No, not your profession. What you do. What is your gift?"

"Ah! Well, I am gifted with numbers. Can do any mathematical or arithmetic problem without even a blink."

"And you, Mrs. Clover?"

"Aside from the gift of hospitality?" she asked with a light - and forced - chuckle. Eric's impassive expression didn't change. "Uh, well I have the gift of foresight."

"Is that so? Then you'll know what I intend to ask next." Eric stared at her, and she hesitated. "No? Then let's begin."

After interrogating the Clovers for the better part of an hour, Samson let out a resigned sigh.

"Your lies aren't helping you here, Mr. and Mrs. Clover. Surely you can see that? One glance at your beautiful home tells us that you have room for plenty, and yet you insist you rarely have visitors. Here I can see several indications that you had guests recently - from the fresh scratch on this chair to the crack in the fireplace."

"Not to mention the sound of your servants preparing what appears to be dozens of dishes in your kitchen," Eric said, tilting his head toward the clanking within the house. "They've been working at it since shortly after we've arrived. My question is - why lie about having guests?"

"Exactly." Samson's brows scrunched low on his forehead. "There's no harm in having dinner parties, and yet you act as though doing so is a cause for trouble. What kind of gathering would someone want to keep from us?"

"Only a gathering of Militant forces," Eric supplied, unblinking as he watched the sweat trail down Mr. Clover's forehead.

"We--we--" Mr. Clover stuttered, turning to his wife. Her face, pinched and pale, offered no comfort.

"They meet here," she said, eyes welling with tears. "A group of them. They come every week and will be here again tonight."

"Margaret!" Mr. Clover's eyes grew wide.

"I can't! I can't take it anymore!" She covered her face in her hands. "It was all well and good, but after last time - after what she said! What's the point?"

"After what who said?" Eric asked, his whole body growing cold. "What happened after your last meeting?"

Mrs. Clover peeked through her fingers, but instead of the fear Eric expected, he saw rage. "Why would I tell the likes of you? I may not be willing to die for our cause, but I'm sure as hells not going to give you more information than you deserve!"

"And what makes you think you won't die for your cause?" Samson asked, his tone cool, level. Mrs. Clover blanched and she dropped her hands.

"Fine. Kill me, then."

"Oh, no." Eric shook his head. "I think we have a different plan for you. You said they meet tonight?"

###

Phoenix paced in front of the fire in their small cottage home. Maverick sat on the sofa, watching her progress. Their parents had gone out to another one of their community events, leaving them alone as the sun set.

"You're going to wear a path in the floor."

"Maybe the floor needs a path." Phoenix glanced down at the flames in the hearth, her heart pounding. "I'm doing it."

"Don't you dare. We said we'd wait, so we wait."

Phoenix groaned, shaking her hands. "I'm not sure I can take much more."

"They're your parents, Lain. Listen to them."

She shot him a glare, but her response didn't reach her lips before a wave of warmth hit her. "They're coming."

Within seconds of her uttering those words, the room burst into light. Silver and gold mingled, beaming into every nook and cranny, blocking out any shadow.  Not more than a few steps away from her, Selene and Elyo stood side by side.

Where Selene presented the soft, silvery glow of the moon, her dress dark and her features light, Elyo lay on the opposite end of the spectrum. His dark skin glowed, his tunic and trousers golden and shining. The fiery red locks of hair fell down to his shoulders in a flowing mane like a lion. Where Selene's nose and chin were pointed, Elyo's squared. His vivid green eyes creased in a smile at the sight of her.

"Phoenix."

His deep booming voice resonated inside her, and she stepped forward, allowing him to envelop her in a hug. "Thank you for coming."

"You said it was urgent," Selene said, gesturing toward the door leading outside.  Phoenix and Maverick had called out to the Ancients as they rushed home, both of them in a panic after their confrontation with Eric. 

"It is." Phoenix explained what had happened, ending with what her skin did when exposed to fire. Selene's brows arched, but Elyo showed no sign of surprise.

"Your markings were bound to begin to reveal themselves."

"My markings?"

"You had them at birth. Here." Elyo held his hand out, a ball of golden white light appearing in his hand. "Take this."

Phoenix stretched her hands out and tried to lift the glowing orb. Her fingers slid right through it. Elyo frowned.

"If the fire showed your markings, that should mean you're a child of light. Selene?"

Pheonix turned to her mother, whose brow creased. "Try this." She stretched out her hand as a wobbly ball of water formed there. "Perhaps you have my gift after all."

Again, Phoenix reached out, only to get her fingers wet as they slid through the liquid. "It's not working."

"Do what you did today." Maverick gestured to the fireplace. "Show them."

Phoenix knelt down by the fireplace, Selene and Elyo stepping closer to watch. Phoenix closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and stuck her left hand into the flames. When she felt nothing, she peeked down at her hand.

Flames danced around her fingers, covering her palm and up to her forearm, but she felt no pain. The blue markings from before, like swirling waves, appeared on her hand. Selene let out a soft gasp, her lips parting in a smile.

"Beautiful. My Phoenix."

Without waiting to be asked, Phoenix stuck her other hand into the fire. On this side, red lines formed. Though it was hard to tell with the flames swirling around them, the lines weren't waves like the blue lines. The red lines almost seemed to dance along her skin like fire.

"Amazing." Elyo lifted the sleeve of his golden tunic, revealing similar markings on his forearms. "I only have them from my wrist to my elbow."

Phoenix pulled her hands from the fire, the lines fading within moments. "And this is just a sign of my transformation? Those will be permanent someday?"

"That would be my guess." Selene nodded. "You had them as a baby, but we couldn't be sure they'd grow with you. Guardians' physical forms are so temperamental."

"Why the fire?" Maverick asked, frowning. "Seems sort of a drastic way to see her future self."

"Of that, there's no certainty," Selene said. "But I would guess it has something to do with what element you're drawn to--that which gives you power. Elyo and light. Myself and water. Perhaps yours is fire."

With a little laugh, Phoenix stared down at her hands. "I wouldn't mind something more useful than telling the truth."

"More important," Elyo said, his lips pressing into a firm line. "What are you going to do about Commander Lee?"

Dun dun duuuuuun! Looks like things might turn ugly...Will that happen next chapter? Next week? Ten chapters from now? Muahahaha

Tell me ALL the thoughts on this chapter - on Eric and Samson. Do you like them more as you get to know them? Or less? What about Elyo? I think he's lovely. Do you think it's Maverick's signature or Phoenix's that's getting stronger?

Don't forget to vote for this chapter before you comment. Remember, you are AWESOME!