Kogeer's gates loomed over their heads, bringing awe to the surviving lycans at the ingenuity of the humans. In front of them stood two towering buildings, parallel with each other and lined with narrow windows. Connecting them was a skybridge and heavy metal gates with industrial chains waiting to tug on them, which, as they got closer, were set on tracks. The chains seemed to be connected to a blocky hunk of metal that hummed. Next to them were two guards. Their armor was still polished and smooth, and without their helmets, they seemed young.

Kaelen looked at Lyra, who was staring at his bewildered expression. He watched as a smile crept on her face, her expression somewhat prideful.

Aeris approached the gate ahead of the crowd. A guard walked on the skybridge above and hailed them, but with a slight aggression as he observed the survivors. His helmet did not allow a facial identification or expression. Only the colors of blue and yellow were of any significance. Unlike the other guards, his armor was scuffed with wear and tear.

"I am Aeris Veil," she shouted. "Returning from my diplomatic outing to the Kingdom of Lycra." The words were sour in her mouth.

Aeris held up her seal to the guard. The stare was long before he nodded at the two guards. The new guards struggled at first but eventually pulled the long levers that protruded from the humming blocks of steel. Promptly, the shape of gears began to spin, pulling on the chains and allowing the gate to roll on its tracks, opening Kogeer to them.

Their victory was short-lived as the guard above stopped the lycans before they stepped foot in the kingdom.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Shouted Aeris.

"Unauthorized entry to citizens from a different country," the guard shouted from above. "The gratuitous entry from the outside has been prohibited by executive order."

"Elderlore passed this order?"

The guard's silence made Aeris' question seem rhetorical. Her feet began to pace slowly as her shoulders slouched forward. Lyra approached her, and after weaving through the crowd, Kaelen and his mother followed in her footsteps.

"Aeris," said Lyra. "What's going on?"

But her concern fell on deaf ears as Aeris was lost deep in her thoughts. Lyra watched as she pieced the equation in her head, her eyes brightening like a light bulb.

"I call for an adjustment of the order!"

The guard's helmet pivoted to one of the towers, as if he was getting reassured his next words would be right.

"I'm afraid your request will be denied."

"By whom?" Aeris' words were set in motion like a launched projectile out of a trebuchet. "According to the statute E.1-9864221 ratified by Senator Bathal during the Golden Era of Kogeer, all who seek refuge or solace within these walls, who are allies of Kogeer, are welcome without prejudice or persecution of their, or any, background."

Aeris' chest heaved as she ran a marathon that was the kingdom's code. Her cheeks flushed with red, her eyes focused on the task at hand. Her hands began to ball as the silence drew out her anxiousness. For what it was worth, Lyra stood by her like a stone wall—resolute.

Another guard exited a tower. The color on his armor was the same; however, the patterns were different, more intricate. And his medals were weathered, a testament to the dedication of his duty. His helmet, feathered down the middle, rested at his hip with an arm securing it.

He approached the other guard and looked at the crowd that had gathered beneath him. The sun beamed off his reflective dome of a head. A blue eye paired with a scarred white one, a scar lined across his forehead before it took a sharp turn down his brow and cheekbone. His lips were tightly pursed, as if he had never smiled in his entire life.

"E.1-9864221 is only viable for allies." Said the man, his voice gruff. "Last I recalled, the Kingdom of Lycra was a neutral kingdom to Kogeer."

"Neutral no more," Aeris stepped forward. "King Emron has decreed that Lycra and Kogeer have now become allies."

"Do you take me for a fool, girl?" The guard's voice had now been laced with irritation. "All of the realms could see the smoke rise from the west. Whatever alliance you think you've built is no more."

"I've promised these people safe passage within our walls, a safe place to live as they rebuild!"

"One thing a senator should never do. Never make a promise you can't keep."

Mumbles began to emerge from the uneasiness within the crowd as the hardened guard started to walk. Kaelen stepped forward, his face steadied with resolve as he said, "What will it take for your kingdom to harbor my people? We are desperate, cold, and afraid." The guard's head perked up and turned towards Kaelen. "If we are left in the wild, we would be nothing more than just game to the Underworld. Your people did not help with our liberation, but your people can help with our survival."

Kaelen's words left a sour look on the guard's face. The guard's grip on the rail of the skybridge tightened.

"But the alliance was made!" Lyra shouted, taking her place before the guard could speak. "The alliance was made in which, therefore, the code must still be withheld. They are our allies now, kingdom or not." Lyra shot an apologetic look to Kaelen, but he remained focused on the guard.

The guard wanted to attest to it, but nothing could come out of his mouth. His chest depressed as he let out a long exhale.

"They are allowed entry, however," the guard's blue eye narrowed, piercing his gaze into those who dared to stare back. "They will be under your supervision, Aeris Veil. Anything that is done will be under you. Understand?"

Aeris simply bowed and then gestured for the survivors to enter the kingdom as she led the way. The eye of the guard remained fixed on the survivors, weary of their kind, but not another word escaped his mouth.

Lyra felt as if they were in a standoff—the immediate relief almost made her collapse. She followed close behind Aeris as they entered the fourth ring. The cultivation and agriculture section of the kingdom was put to a halt due to the snowstorm. The farmers had begun their harvesting with the crops, not taking the risk of loss with the cold.

Some of the survivors were in awe at the proficiency of the humans, never thinking that they were capable of mass-producing crops within the walls—some wandered about the cattle, salivating at the thought.

Human eyes stared at the lycans. Some with wide eyes and others with disdain. The stares were daggering and relentless. One wrong look would lead to trouble—or worse.

"Where do we go now?" Asked Kaelen.

Lyra looked behind them at the shuffling crowd. Their tattered cloaks and shaking hands put a sudden weight on her shoulders. The gravity of being responsible for other people's lives was almost suffocating. She took a deep breath of the sharp air and watched as the condensation left her mouth.

"I can't promise anything," said Lyra. Giving a glance to Kaelen's mother. "But I'm sure Aeris has a plan for all of you."
Lyra never liked the feeling of being useless. Her fists clenched until her knuckles were white at the thought of not being able to do more for Kaelen's people.

Her gaze fell upon the direction of her house. It felt estranged to her, which she never thought she would feel in her entire life. A shift was made in her head, like a light bulb turning off in a room for the last time.

· · ─ · ◯☽✵☾◯ · ─ · ·

Winter had approached the Kingdom of Kogeer. A season that Draven was not accustomed to. The Underworld had the occasional ash fall, but it was a complete contrast compared to this cold. He knew that the absence of heat existed but not to this extreme.

His clothes were definitely not suited for this weather as the cold pierced through them. His breathing quivered, and his chest ached. Even his muscles started to become fatigued as his body shook.

After wandering the streets without any sense of direction, Draven retraced his steps back to the house that sheltered him. In contrast to the other houses—even the buildings on the other side—this one, the one that's been pillaged, was the only source of shelter he had. He decided to make this his home for now, until he could find Lyra and return her device.

By the time he returned to the fire, it had already become embers and crackling coal—a remnant of the flame it used to be. He broke a chair and split it to help fuel the fire for a longer period of time. But his choices would become limited if he stayed too long.

He entered a room across the way, passing the kitchen. It was a mess. Drawers made homes to the ground, its contents spilling out, revealing feminine clothes. Snow from the outside found its way in through the window, creating a small scene as to what awaits outside. The bed was tossed to the side like garbage, and a small framed portrait was partially buried in the snow. He grabbed the blanket from the floor; at first it was cold, but with determination he wrapped it around himself in hopes it would warm him soon.

Draven couldn't help but feel a pull towards the portrait. He crouched, the snow crunching under his weight. His hand wiped the snow away and found a girl with red hair sitting with a solemn face. He brought the picture to a better light; his heart raced at the image. It was Lyra, rather an innocent Lyra. The one he met at the orchard and just before the wraiths attacked the fortress. The Lyra he knows now has changed. He thought of the vial of his blood, that it would have been impossible for a human to sustain such severe damage and survive. Trying to justify his reason for giving the vial to her, knowing what lay ahead once she consumes it.

A harsh wind blew in from the window, nearly causing him to shiver. He took the portrait out of the frame and folded it, pocketing the image and escaping the cold.

He found himself by the fire again, sitting as close as he could with his knees tucked into his chest. The blanket started to do its job as it trapped the heat within. He didn't realize he lost feeling in his toes, but now he could wiggle them with slight discomfort.

If this was her house, he thought. Her room must be here as well. But why is her house in such disarray?

Questions started to swirl around in his head. He stood suddenly, almost falling as his head felt light but regained control almost instantly. He saw that there was a staircase leading down, an area the snow hasn't touched yet. He walked to the top of the stairs, floorboards creaking under his feet. The path darkened as it descended, but a line of light showed him promise. He hurried down the steps and reached for the doorknob, hesitant at first, but eventually he opened the door. It was no surprise to him that the room was already a mess, but something told him it wasn't because of the ones who pillaged the house.

Draven was astonished at her room. Full of drawn images and metal devices he couldn't even dream of. He picked up a cylindrical device, looking at all sides, and found a noticeable button. He pressed it with his thumb, and the device illuminated brightly onto the floor. He turned it around and shined it at the wall, which revealed more devices. A directional torch system, he thought.

The device grew hot in his hands, almost burning, causing him to drop it. The impact with the floor broke the stream of light, and smoke rose from the illuminated end. He kicked it underneath her bed and began to look elsewhere.

His investigation came to a halt as the boards over his head began to creak as deep thuds of a boot accompanied them. The blanket dropped from his shoulders as he hurried to the wall with the door. He listened to the footsteps as they slowed. Draven could envision the person walking towards the room by the kitchen. He slowly made his way towards the stairs, making sure he didn't creak any of the wood. Once he got to the top, he peered around the corner, scanning the living room and kitchen area carefully, but he saw no one. His foot carefully swung around the corner, and his body followed. His heart dropped as a bolt flew across his face, causing him to stumble.

Draven didn't see the cloaked figure in the one corner he couldn't check. Before he could do anything, a click let him know they were ready for another shot. Draven closed his eyes and raised his hands high in the air.

"You?" A familiar voice said. He turned to find Lyra with a black-and-silver crossbow pointing at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I-I-I wanted to return something?"

Her crossbow lowered, a sigh of frustration followed. "Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Did you know there was going to be an attack on the fortress—on our kingdom?"

"I didn't know."

Lyra pointed the crossbow at him again.

"My mother died; my best friend's mother died!" Tears glossed her eyes before they glided down her cheek. "There isn't an ounce in my body that believes you." She said, her teeth gritted.

"Lyra I swear to you I know nothing," he stepped forward with his hand reaching out to her. But he was met with a gesture with the crossbow telling him to back off with her finger on the trigger. "I was given a Cardinal Order; I had no idea what was happening."

"I don't even know your name." She said, sniffling.

"My name is Draven Kel. My last name I inherited after joining the House."

"Why should I trust you?"

"I saved your life in hopes that I'd see you again," he took a step back and said, "And here we are."

Lyra lowered her crossbow, the weapon crashing into her leg, nearly dropping it. The tears in her eyes broke the dam and began to flow down her face. She tried to stop them with her hands, but they kept coming. Draven rushed to hug her, holding her head close to his chest. At first she fought, but something about his comfort soothed her.

He brought her close to the fire, the glow complementing her hair. Their eyes gazed at the flickering flame, watching as it danced on top of the wood in a beautifully sick recital within its contained destruction.

"Whose side are you on?" Asked Lyra, her eyes never leaving the fire.

"The side of peace." Draven said simply but sincerely.

There was a moment of silence. The crackling of the charred wood filled the cadence.

"Then why not join our side and fight with us?"

Draven looked at her, her hazel eyes piercing his. "I've been marked," her head tilted as her eyebrows furrowed. Draven sighed. "I did something I shouldn't have, and now I'm sure I'm being hunted."

Draven brought out Lyra's device from under his shirt. The needle gauging how much energy was within was bordering the red area. Lyra's eyes widened with shock, snatching it from his hands and inspecting it. Her excitement abruptly ended as a thought occurred to her.

"Then wouldn't you be safe here, in a different kingdom? They can't find you here."

"I'm afraid my life is not all that's at risk. My whole house is at risk. They're my family, not by blood, though."

"I see." Lyra's chin plopped between her knees.

The firepit once again had the air.

"I wish I could. . ." his words fumbled out of his mouth.

"You could what?"

All his words crashed in his throat and ended up being a sigh. He stood up and paced, forming the equation of his sentence in his head. There was a squeeze in his chest when he said, "You showed me who I could be; I owe part of my life to you. . . what I'm saying is I'm indebted to you."

"There is no debt to be had, Draven." Her hand comforting his shoulder. "You've paid it by allowing me to survive. I wouldn't have been here if it weren't for you."

Somehow, her words felt heavy—as if the kiss of death was sweeter than life.

Draven's eyes wandered as he didn't have the slightest clue where to go. A sudden thought occurred, and he concentrated to feel his Source within. It had replenished enough to use a few more times.

"I'd like to show you something," he said, holding out his hand. "But you cannot speak. And hold your breath."

Lyra, fueled by curiosity, grabbed his hand and nodded her head. As Draven focused, a rift unfolded within the open space of the living room. Lyra reached out her hand and observed as it disappeared.

"Fascinating!" She said, her eyes sparked to life. "A pocket of space only you have access to, perhaps."

Draven didn't mind letting her questions and answers run amok.

"Before we enter," he brought out a coin and readied to toss it. And as they entered, he flipped the coin in the air and went through the rift.