“Say it again!” Melina once again grabbed me by the setting of my overdress, jerking me forward roughly and sending a tremor through my body just before she released and shoved me backward. I stumbled, tripping over the torn hem of the chemise, ultimately colliding with a wall and using my hands to steady myself. My face stung from the receipt of a slap moments earlier. She looked at me, staring daggers into my eyes, all kindness flushed from her countenance. The moment the words had left my mouth, the moment I’d told her who I was, or who I was inhabiting at the very least, she’d dragged me from the nook and brought us to this abandoned house. The floorboards rotted beneath us and the stench of death hung in the air, as it did in the entirety of this place, these slums. Behind her, a sliver of dull moonlight passed through a crack in the boarded up windows, giving us just the slightest bit illumination. I balled my fists and tensed my body, ready for the next hit, which came abruptly as her open palm slapped the side of my cheek, sending me reeling backward once again, this time to the floor where I collapsed into a pile of tears as the taste of blood filled my mouth. “Say it! If I must ask you again then I will end you in the slowest way I can manage!”

“I…I am…was Micah Lavoric,” I choked through swelling slips. “But I…I am Lyra now. He is far from my thoughts…I can’t-” My words were cut off as Melina screamed and brought her leather boot to my stomach. No scream escaped my lips; just a tattered wheeze that culminated in silent sobs as I curled into the fetal position and Melina crouched beside me. 

“Am I to feel sorry for you?” She demanded, her voice just below a scream. “You take on new countenance and a new voice, and you expect those you hurt, those you killed to believe that you are made new? That you are to be absolved of yours sins? That those you crushed beneath the boot of Lavoric are to embrace you? Is it then that you tricked the Rossi family into embracing you? They would never accept Micah Lavoric with open arms after what his father did at Silverhall. You are an abomination and I will stamp you out once and for all!”

“Please,” I gasped. “Please, I wish to help!”

Another kick to my stomach pushed me into silence and as I lay there, bleeding, aching and whimpering I wondered what had possessed me to tell her who I’d been. No, who this body had been. In that single moment I had made what could be the worst decision of my life and I had no idea why I’d done it. It didn’t make sense, none of this made sense! It was like I hadn’t even spoken of my own volition; the words had poured out and I had been helpless to stop them. But, no matter what, I was here to reap the consequences of those actions, and reap them I would. Melina paced the room in front of me, furiously kicking a broken chair; the pieces clattered across the floor, bumping into an old wine rack and sending dust particles into the air. I coughed and sputtered, climbing to my knees and whimpering as I clutched my bruised stomach. She spun and reached beneath her cloak; I cringed as a flash of steel glinted in the moonlight; her knuckles were white around the hilt.

“What of Plum, then? What have you to say of her?” She demanded. “You would have put her to the sword had she not escaped.”

“I don’t remember,” I wheezed. “I remember…I…”

“Silence yourself, Micah Lavoric!” Her use of his name sent a jolt through my body, I looked down at the floorboards, more audible sobs escaping my lips. “She was ours, you know. We sent her to watch you, to watch your father, to inform on his plans. The punishment given to her was not even for the crime of espionage. You did it because you wanted to! You left her to die because you enjoyed it! What of Fartham Rowan? The man left his daughter in my care as he set out on your father’s foolhardy expedition and then you ordered her death without so much as having laid eye on her! Countless others, dead because of you! So easy it would be to put you to the sword, Micah Lavoric! So easy it would be snuff out the force of your life and watch you bleed on the floor. What an insignificant death you’ll die here.”

“Then do it!” I shrieked suddenly, my lip curling in disgust. “If you truly believe the mantle of this suffering is mine to bear then put me to the sword! But if you must, then use my name, not the name of that coward! I am Lyra Rossi!”

“You are Micah Lavoric!” She screamed. “You are the spawn of a devil and you embraced his ways!”

“I am not him!” I shouted weakly. “The expedition, do you remember?! The one in which Fartham Rowan was sentence to die by the hand of Micah Lavoric?”

“By your hand, Micah Lavoric! By yours!” 

“Micah Lavoric passed through the Stormveil. I, Lyra, returned in his stead. If you are as well informed as I believe you to be, then you know that Micah Lavoric entered the Stormveil! I speak the truth and I will help your cause!” 

She faltered for a moment, the blade wavering in her hand as she studied me, trying to make sense of the words I’d said. Finally, she shook her head and snarled. 

“Fantasies,” She scoffed. “Even at the end you speak in falsehoods. You are disgusting, Micah Lavoric. You are a coward!”

“My name is Lyra,” I said evenly, somehow managing to rise to my feet. I watched her, allowing the rest of the room and the world to fade away. It was all gone now. This room. This city. Sheena. All of it was now beyond my reach. My choices had led me to this point; the choice to defy her, the choice to follow Calliope, the choice to tell Melina my true origin. It was all clear to me now; I had brought myself here and I was going to die here. That was fine. Maybe it would mean something for her, maybe it would help her. Maybe it would help Quinn. I felt a pang of guilt for how I had abandoned Sheena, and how she would never know what had happened to me, and tried to find solace in the knowledge that it was out of my control. She raised the blade, casting the folds of her cloak behind her shoulders as she stepped toward me. A single swipe would probably do it. I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable, wondering if I could even die. I waited some more, my boding tensing again in anticipation, awaiting an impact that never came. I opened my eyes a squint to see her standing there, head turned as she looked toward the door.

“You say you’re not him,” She turned back to me slightly, hefting the blade in her hand. I nodded. “I don’t believe you, but your words are spoken with truth, that much I will give you.”

“The truth is all I have to offer.”

“And you say you will aid our cause.”

“By fen and fern,” I said firmly.

“Our cause is to unseat the Lady Jenwise,” She told me. “By way of politics, if possible, but if such an endeavor should fail, then by way of force. For that you would be forced to betray your…the Rossi family. That is, if you wish to leverage their resources for the cause.”

“Those…those people need help,” I whispered; she kept her eyes on me as I did my best to straighten my back and stand fully upright. “What can I do?”

She opened her mouth, perhaps to answer, but she then closed it, sealing her lips and cocking her head as if to listen to the world beyond the door of the abandoned house. 

“Shit.”

There was a growing disturbance beyond the door of the abandoned house; the sound of voices, of footsteps, and I could only assume this was abnormal. Melina confirmed it a moment later.

“No one ever walks this street,” She said, a hint of panic intruding on her otherwise even, controlled tone. “We’ve brought their wrath down on us.”

“Who?”

“Everyone,” She said simply. “I want you dead, Micah Lavoric, but you do bring a good point: your political ties, especially those of the Rossi family could serve us great use. Just know that you will be bound to your word or I will see you dead.”

“I understand,” I nodded shakily. 

“If you are to help us then you must live the night. We go.”

“Wait,” I said quickly and quietly. She turned to, an eyebrow raised.

“Did you know that Sage and Fartham Rowan yet live?”

She cocked her head slightly; her expression was still stoic, but I could see a hint of surprise affecting the lines of her face, even in the darkness. “We must go.”

Melina pulled the door open, the hinges creaked a bit, possibly betraying our presence even as we tarried in the cover of darkness. She poked her head out for a moment and the motioned to me to follow. I slipped behind her into the darkness of the abandoned street that stood before us, clad only in the pale white light of the moon. As we emerged from the house we entered an entirely different world, one made of silence, one that manifested in the remains of a street that looked as if it hadn’t been used for decades. On either side of the cobblestone street, I could see boarded windows, broken signs, and debris covering the sidewalks. Some ways down, about thirty feet perhaps I could see the remains of an iron wagon that had perhaps once been horse drawn, but now it sat with two bent and broken wheels, the chassis sitting at a perpendicular angle and the skeletal remains of a child crushed beneath the body of the thing. Further on I saw a pile of refuse, rock and assorted pieces of garbage interspersed with wooden crossbeams, rotting and splintered, leaned against the nearest building. This alley was in decrepit shape and I felt a tinge of panic rising in my stomach as I recalled the neat, orderly, and even sleek areas of the palace campus which I had inhabited. It occurred to me that I had kept in a gilded cage and even my limited freedom had only afforded me small glimpses of the city proper. Auglire was falling apart and the people who resided on the outer edges were paying the price with disease and famine. 

Melina motioned for me to follow and I did my best to keep up. Where I fell behind, she would simply pull me by the arm, guiding me past piles of debris, fallen beams, and over the occasional skeletal remain. We moves silently through a heavy darkness that extended up a street with no lamplight and no people. Then, she motioned for me to take a sharp left, ducking us into an alley just as a group of four men in long leather trench coats passed with held torches. We hid behind a pile of broken crates, waiting until the men passed, and then I followed Melina further down the alley until we emerged onto another street, this one brimming with life and light. The people were still caked with filth, their clothes were ragged, but there were people, and we melded seamlessly into the moving crowd. In the distance I could hear shouts, and to my left and right I could feel the jostling of the crowd as a group of men ran against the flow, shouting orders and occasional screams. As we walked, Melina passed me a vial of the blue Arctesonite fluid, refined to its edible form. I hesitantly took a drink and immediately felt my senses heighten; the voices of the crowd became more distinct, my reflexes quickened, my eyesight sharpened. 

“Aye, if we don’t find her, Old Jaf will be fit to be tied, by and by,” A distant voice said.

“They say Mallory’s moved on the warehouse, or so much his men have,” Another voice, a gruff old sounding man said. “None’s to know where the fool himself is.”

“Tooling around in that absurd airship of his,” The first voice scoffed.

I looked up as Melina tapped my shoulder and motioned at me to follow her through the crowd. In the distance I could hear the telltale authoritative shouts of the city watch; they had made their way south of Maussen and were cutting through the droves of people, toward us. In any other situation it might have been a good idea to turn myself over to the authorities, but from the other direction I could hear something else - the voices of those who were also looking for me; Old Jaf’s people. The two forces were converging and the last thing I wanted was to find myself in a battle between Old Jaf’s hired help and the city watch. With a panic rising within me, I followed Melina onto a side street and then ducked behind her into an alley. We emerged into an open street paved with concrete rather than cobblestone, and as our feet crunched across, I looked upward, taking in the sight of two tube-shaped glass bridges, each one encircled with wrought iron bars and glowing from within with yellow Arctesonite-powered bulbs. The bridges ran from one building to the next, and beyond the tempered glass walls I could see the darkened shapes of people walking in both directions, high above the streets, slick with oil and filth. I was almost too taken in by the scenery to notice a darkened figure stepping out in front of us, bathed in yellow lamplight, his leather cloak slicked and his head partially obscured by a hood, which he duly pulled back to regard us. He was an older man with a scarred countenance, and in his hand, an iron revolver which he leveled at us, giving a look of disgust. 

“And this will be the girl then,” He nodded. “Old Jaf’ll be wantin’ to see her.”

“Then he’ll have to see her in the next life,” Melina growled. The man shook his head and raised the pistol, extending his arm to place the barrel just inches away from Melina’s head. 

“Meddlin’ you are,” He said gruffly. Just before he could pull the trigger, Melina, lightning fast, swept her forearm across, knocking the revolver to the right; the barrel flared, a crack broke the night as the bullet swooshed past her head and she landed a blow in the man’s abdomen with her free hand. The daggers were out as more men emerged from the alleys; the shot had drawn their attention, and citizens that had been walking the streets with casual abandon began to run in terror.

“Run,” Melina said to me simply with no hint of panic in her voice. Her command was not uttered out of fright; it simply was. It was what we had to do, and so we did. I pushed my already exhausted body to its limit, taking full advantage of the Arctesonite fueled muscles as the streets flew by around me. I could feel them behind us; one man nearly caught up but instead caught Melina’s dagger to his abdomen as she stopped briefly to dispatch him. Three more men appeared in front of us, then two more to the left. I looked from left to right, trying to survey the area to determine an escape route; Melina did the same. It was no good, we were surrounded. A flurry of firearms were leveled at us and I could immediately feel the helplessness of the situation. We had Arctesonite on our side, but I wasn’t exactly an experienced fighter and how many of them had the same advantage? Then, the most unbelievable, yet, predictable event transpired; blue-uniformed members of the city watch began to pour from the alleys, each armed with their steel-wood rifles. 

“Oh no,” Melina muttered as the uniformed soldiers leveled their rifles at the crowd surrounding us. The night exploded. I ducked, my hands covering my head in panic as Melina grabbed the nearest mercenary and drove her dagger into his neck, a spray of crimson erupting from what would have once been his throat as she ducked into a crouching position, twirled, and sliced the belly of another man that was making a move for me. The sound of gunfire tore through the darkness as the city watch attempted to dispatch the mercenaries; bullets flew around me, sparks erupting from concrete beneath my feet as I froze in place, terror racking my body. 

“Come on!” Melina screamed; though she didn’t need to as my Arctesonite-enhanced ears held her just fine. Her fingers encircled my arm, pulling me to my feet as we ran through the chaos. She dispatched a man in front of her, kicking him in the leg and snapping him at the kneecap as she shoved her blade into the back of another man that was simply passing. Gunfire continued to sound, each individual crack compounding to create a continuous roar that filled my ears and nearly crippled my every step as I tried to find a way through the chaos. Then, as the roar filled the night, something happened: silence. All at once, I could feel the Arcesonite coursing through my body, interacting with it in a way that I hadn’t felt before. No, wait, I had felt it before! The surgery, the one that had made me whole, or at least as close to whole as I was ever going to get. My senses heightened even further and the scene around me froze. I surveyed it with my eyes, barely daring to move a muscle. Melina was in front of me, nearly frozen in place, one foot off the ground, her blade buried into the skull of a man who was now almost comically suspended in air, his arms failing, his eyes dead. A soldier nearby leveled his gun at one of the mercenaries, the barrel in the process of discharging; bullet hanging in the air. I carefully righted myself and walked through the chaos; the frozen mass of men and women, all interlocked and in the process of fighting for their lives; the square packed with combatants. 

They weren’t frozen per se, rather they were moving very, very slowly. I could see the bullet moving through the air millimeters at a time; I could see the horrified expression of the mercenary, the realization of death crossing his face as he helplessly and futily tried to move aside. Then, a new sensation, a pounding in my ears. I concentrated, my confusion beginning to subside as I narrowed down the source of the sound to a person nearby. It was a mercenary, dressed in a leather button-down vest and a stained white shirt. He was holding a wooden cane, it was striking the head of a nearby soldier, but more importantly, the air around the man was glowing. Glowing blue. My eyes traveled through the crowd, and I could see them all, at least fifteen men and women, all with the blue Arctesonite glow about them. They had all taken it, they were all enhanced. I could see the blue glow from my hands, the blue around Melina. Sucking in a breath, I turned to the man in of me and concentrated. I somehow, instinctively knew what to do; my mind connected with the Arctesonite aura, the molecules in the air began to vibrate, moving faster and faster, far faster than the man in front of me. I did the same with the others, vibrating the auras; the air around them, the Arctesconite flowing through their veins, deep within their bodily systems. Faster and faster and faster, and then, suddenly, the night roared again; the people began to move at their normal speed. Shots cracked through the night and the man in front of me exploded. He dissolved soundlessly into a cloud of red mist, blood evaporating into the air as the woman fighting next to him, unaffected, froze and stared it, her eyes wide. Another man followed suit, exploding into thin air. Then another, and another, and another.

“Come!” Melina hissed, grabbing my arm and taking advantage of the confusion to duck into an alley and mount a fire escape. We clambered up, away from the street as the fighting continued. Screams continued to break the night, a symphony of shouts and gunfire rising to form a concerto of death and destruction as we moved further and further upward. One stair, then another, then a ladder as we finally mounted the building, overlooking the Maussen district just a few hundred yards off. I immediately took note of the difference between this district and Maussen; this one was decrepit; rust covered and coated in filth. The Maussen district in contrast was a sprawling metropolis of sleek gray and black buildings centered around a huge lit clock affixed to a steeple surrounded by wrought iron spears and stone gargoyles. 

“What happened down there?” Melina demanded. “Did you see that?”

“I…” I tried to recall the event but I could feel the last few moments quickly fading from my memory. What had happened down there? We were running, there was a fight, and now we were on top of a building. The Arctesonite rush was beginning to wear thin, my muscles returned to normal, the sounds of the fight below began to fade. “I don’t know. I…I can’t…oh Goddess…I can’t remember anything!”

“Easy there,” Melina said reassuringly; her expression was one of concern, but then it hardened as she remembered who she was looking at. “We’ll sort it out later, Micah Lavoric.”

“What happens now?” I asked, cringing as she used that name again. It wasn’t a good feeling; each time she said it, I felt as if I were being electrocuted. It wasn’t me. I was Lyra, Lyra Rossi. Sheena’s little sister. I had been anyway, at some point. There was a time when I was her treasured sister and I had thrown it away. There was no chance of a return to normal now, was there?

“Well,” Melina shrugged, wiping her daggers against her coat until they shined again, reflecting the moonlight. “You are the sister of Sheena Rossi, and the movement can use those political ties. We must find a way to get you home. If Sheena is truly your sister, then you have reason to be afraid. From what I know of the woman she is…well I’ve heard she is a nightmare to deal with.”

“Home…” I looked at her incredulously. “I didn’t think I…I didn’t believe I would ever go home. I want to see her so…badly…”

Melina studied me, her expression still hard, and I realized that I was crying; tears rolled down my filth-soaked cheeks and I crossed my arms across my chest, hugging myself as sobs began to erupt. 

“And you are Micah Lavoric?” She stared. “Were you always such a crybaby?”

“I’m not him,” I said between sobs. “I was never him…well…a little bit at the beginning but…I’m Lyra. I’m…I’m…”

“Is this some sort of act?” She raised an eyebrow. “No matter, we must find a way to-”

Before she could finish her sentence, almost as if on cue, we both turned to our right to behold the bullet-shaped dirigible, rigid framed and carrying the eight-windowed car beneath it. It was close; extremely close, I had no idea how it had snuck up on us, but the building we stood upon was tall enough to give it clearance above all other structures in the area. It hung there in the air, perhaps two hundred feet away, windows glowing with bright white light. I squinted and held a hand to my forehead, trying to see who was driving it. The Valorant, Quinn Mallory’s airship no doubt. Then, my questions were answered as Sheena’s voice rang out through a massive mounted loudspeaker affixed to the side of the ship’s chassis.

“Lyra Rossi! You are in big trouble, young lady!”