Every building in Tempest City was installed with built-in soundproofing in its walls, but closer to the edges or windows a faint rushing sound could be heard. Flint’s mind wandered to this subtle sound as his coworker replied to his question.
“Tria? Yes, I have heard of her. She was a member of the Big 5, wasn’t she?”
“I thought so,” said Flint. “But I’ve only been a part of Keila since recently. I don’t know much about her.”
“I heard she died. Five years ago. Before that, she… well, I’m not sure what she did. She was never in the news. Come to think of it, there must not have been much of a reason for her to be a part of the Big 5, anyways. Does that help at all?”
Flint nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
Although he, Allef, and Aurein wound up stationed in different buildings within Tempest City, working different jobs within Keila—Flint was part of a board of directors training soldiers to fight, and Allef and Aurein were both high-ranking soldiers often escorting high-priority people and cargo—they had all experienced the same thing when asking around about Tria: ignorance. It seemed as if nobody knew anything about Tria, even if they knew hours worth of information about Einer, Viisi, or Iskay and their exploits and battles.
Another unexpected obstacle to their search for Tria and the Terminus was time. And not just a lack of time—due to their positions in different parts of the city, they had unknowingly been split between the city’s East and West halves. On the surface, the difference in location wouldn’t be a problem—they could simply meet each other between their jobs, taking a bullet train or walking to meet at a specific location. However, due to the lack of day or night within Tempest City, artificial day and night had to be built into the lighting and lifestyle of those within. But those who organized the city were too smart to overlook the risks of having a collective time of day when most of the city’s residents were unconscious. The west side of the city experienced “night,” simulated by dimmed or reduced light in residential halls, at the same time the east side experienced “day,” which was the time period in which the city’s inhabitants worked. Each side of the city had day when the other had night, and vice versa, meaning that Tempest City was the city that, quite literally, never slept.
This fact, combined with the fact that the transponders they kept with them to communicate were monitored at all times, made undercover communication difficult. All texts and calls they made, even off-planet, were constantly recorded, meaning coordinating meetings and discussions about their findings on Tria were highly limited—not that they had found much in the first three days since they’d arrived in Tempest City.
The time in the Eastern sector of Tempest City was dawn, and Flint struggled to keep his eyes open. Due to the lack of roads in Tempest City—the entire city was enclosed, after all, to avoid destruction by the winds—foot traffic was the only way to move small distances, and he entered the flow of people walking through a trans-building passageway to get to the bullet train system. The passageway, like every structure in Tempest City, was aerodynamic, resembling the flattened shape of an elongated wing. Clear, curved windows on either wall of the passageway revealed the unsleeping city in its towering beauty, the lights of the buildings’ windows blocked by the heads of early morning commuters like Flint.
He walked from the long passageway inside a large building, and then to an elevator deeper within. The elevator took Flint to the bullet train system below where he waited at a platform, still blinking tiredness from his sleep-deprived eyes. With a massive whoosh, the bullet train arrived at the platform, a gust of air disturbing the longer heads of hair of the crowd awaiting its arrival. Flint stepped onto the bullet train, eyed the digital screen displaying its schedule to ensure he was going to the correct location, and let his mind drift as the train rocketed along its tracks.
“-out there. They’re raising security all across the city.”
“Really? All because of one spy?”
The conversation occurring behind Flint seemed to knock the exhaustion from his body. Alert, he carefully turned around to see two people—maybe friends, maybe a couple—talking casually with each other.
“Well, that’s the tricky part. It could be more than one. There hasn’t been a spy in the capital for years,” the shorter one said.
“How do they even know there’s a spy?”
“They don’t, really. But is it worth risking overlooking?”
The rest of their conversation was drowned out by the pounding of blood in Flint’s ears. Had they already been found out? He replayed the events that had preceded his entrance into Tempest City in his head. Nothing major had happened that would give them away—nothing that he could recall. Maybe their chaotic entrance into the city had deemed them suspects?
His train of thought came to a stop when his bullet train came to a stop at the right station. Here, in the center of the city, he would meet up with Allef, who was also stationed in the east sector, and Aurein, who was coming from the west sector, to discuss what they would do next. He left the bullet train unlike how he entered—now, he was alert, paranoid, and anxious. The idea of sleeping seemed ridiculous now, now that their mission could be in jeopardy.
Another series of tunnels and elevators took Flint to the cafe they were meeting at in Tempest West. Here, where it was almost “night,” the cafe was about to close, and Aurein was already occupying one of four seats at a small table within. Flint sat down at the table silently, giving Aurein only a subtle nod as to avoid showing any overt camaraderie between them. Few patrons were in the cafe at the moment, but any unwanted attention was worth avoiding.
As they waited for Allef, Flint’s attention was drawn to a large screen on one of the cafe walls, displaying news about the state of the war. This particular intergalactic news broadcast, displaying images and video of a ruined ship floating in the vastness of space, was accompanied with the text:
VIOR ARMY SLAUGHTERS CIVILIANS ON KEILA TRANSPORT SHIP
On another screen on a different wall was a different news broadcast, showing a shaky video recording of a crowd of rowdy people on the surface of a uniquely-colored planet.
VICTORY— KEILA REVOLUTIONARIES OVERTHROW AIKAJO REGIME IN THE JESWA STAR SYSTEM
Before Flint could make a comment about the news broadcasts, Allef opened the door.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, sitting down at the table. “The tunnels were packed and I missed the train. This place sure is far from my building,” she commented.
“Unfortunately, this is one of the few cafes in the city,” Aurein explained. “There weren’t many options.”
“Wait, really? Everywhere else you just get a meal plan?” Flint asked.
“As far as I’m aware,” Aurein affirmed. “Regardless, we need to talk about our objectives. Leads on Tria have been scarce, as I’m sure you have seen.”
“Yeah,” agreed Allef. “Where the hell is this lady?”
“It’s possible we may need to shift our efforts toward searching for the Terminus itself. It being an object of such power might make it easier to trace,” Aurein proposed.
“We can’t do that,” Flint interjected. “For a number of reasons. First, what are we supposed to ask people? ‘Hey, have you seen an object of fathomless energy around here?’ ‘Do you know where the Terminus is?’ We’ll cause more havoc than shouting ‘fire!’ in a crowded building. Second, everyone’s already looking for the Terminus, and nobody’s found it.”
“If we chase Tria, we might learn enough about her to find out what she would have done with it,” Allef added.
Aurein was silent for a moment, considering.
“You’re right,” he said. “But then where will we look? Our efforts so far have been completely fruitless. We can’t just keep doing something that doesn’t work.”
“I have an idea,” Allef started. “Let’s stop asking around, since it’s clear the people here know nothing about her. On the way here, I passed through the central plaza of the city, and there were a bunch of statues and monuments, including a monument dedicated to the Big 5. Let’s look at stuff like that, maybe even some databases if we can get access.”
“You think statues are really going to know more about Tria than the people here?” Aurein challenged.
“I’m sure of it,” Allef replied. “Especially since everyone here’s already dumb as rocks.”
A guffaw escaped Flint’s mouth before he could stop it, and he had to lower his head to hide his laughter. Even Aurein couldn’t suppress a snort.
“What?” Allef asked, but she, too, was smiling. “Am I wrong?”
“Don’t say that out loud!” Flint said once his chuckling subsided, looking around the cafe. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!”
“Okay, okay,” Allef replied, nodding. The three let the moment sink in in silence while they tried to compose themselves.
“You know,” Allef started again, “hanging out with the two of you is really the only thing that makes all of this bearable. I’m glad we’re all friends.”
“That’s really nice,” Flint said. “I’m glad too.”
“Absolutely,” Aurein added.
They were quiet again, savoring the moment. The cafe was quiet, only subdued conversations and news broadcasts filling the room.
“One more thing before we split up again, since Allef and I have to get to our jobs soon,” Flint began, “but I heard something on the train on the way here. It sounds like… there’s a spy in Tempest City. At least one.”
Allef gasped. “Who?! How did they get in?!”
Aurein gave Allef an unamused look. “He means us, you idiot!” he hissed.
“Oh. Oh, shit,” she exclaimed.
“Yes. So we need to be more careful,” Flint said in a low voice. “Let’s choose a new meeting place each time, and minimize digital communication. Two days from now, same time, let’s meet at the Big 5 monument in the central plaza and take a look around. Sound good?”
Allef and Aurein nodded. Flint rose from his seat.
“In that case, it has been nice not seeing you two here,” Flint concluded with a wink.
That same “night,” after work, Flint returned to his apartment complex, his mind not on the day’s labor but on his meeting with Aurein and Allef and the next time he would see them. Flint approached his apartment door and stood in front of it, careful to keep his eyes fixed on a screen built into the door. Once the eye scan was validated, the door unlocked and Flint entered to conclude the day.
Flint’s apartment was smaller than one would have expected of his rank. It was the same size as the tens upon tens of thousands others in the city, the standard model for a residential room in the city. Flint’s apartment, like the countless others of his kind, sported little floor space but a fairly high ceiling, the entire room shaped like a thin rectangle from the door to the floor-to-ceiling window that replaced the far wall. Most of the time, Flint kept on the “blinds,” an action possible simply by tapping the window twice, which automatically turned the window opaque, but on some nights and mornings he liked to stand and watch the wind rush by the aerodynamic city.
Even before Flint had moved into the apartment, there was an ultrathin tablet on the dresser that automatically activated on proximity, with only three documents on it—a feed of Keila news, a digital copy of the original Keila manifesto, and a biographical history of the little information known about Teo Nora written in a poetic style that read more like a religious text than a biography. The last two documents had options to have the tablet read to you in a selection of eight different voices, all of which were passionate readings that put emotion even in words that would have otherwise been filler.
Also on the dresser upon Flint’s first arrival was a platinum effigy of Teo Nora similar to the one he had seen in Simaru back in the outskirts of Keila. The effigy was placed on a specific part of the dresser that left enough room on the floor in front of it to kneel down in front of. Out of fear of standing out too much, Flint didn’t discard or remove these items from his space, even though they held no interest to him.
Flint walked past these items on his dresser once more as he sat down on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He looked out of the window. To him, this apartment was his temporary home. But to Tempest City, Flint’s window was just another yellow pinprick among the eight hundred thousand others that lit up the metropolis.
A knock at the door.
“Mr. Erzel?” asked a deep voice from outside. There was no peephole for Flint to look through to confirm this man’s identity, so he had no choice but to answer. Flint opened the door.
Three people in finely-fitted dark purple suits stood outside of Flint’s apartment, a man and two women, none of which held any emotion in their faces but pure stoicism. The closest, who Flint presumed to have knocked on his door, pulled a badge from his pocket.
“We’re the Keila Investigative Department, often abbreviated as KID,” the badge-holding man explained. “We’ve received reports of suspicious messages being electronically sent from your transponder. Also, as I understand it, you have been meeting frequently with two other individuals in the city. Is this true?”
Flint calmed his racing heart and decided to play dumb.
“Oh, I’m very sorry,” Flint began, but even before Flint could explain anything, the two people behind the badge man pushed past Flint and entered his apartment, scouring his things. All he could do was continue. “Those two I was contacting are my friends from before we were employed here. I only hoped to catch up with them and explore the city. I apologize if some of the things we said might have been misinterpreted as suspicious.”
The man nodded, monitoring Flint closely as the other two KID representatives dug through his apartment. One of the women, after searching thoroughly through Flint’s belongings, turned back towards the badge-holding man and nodded.
“Thank you for your patience. We apologize for any inconvenience we may have caused,” the man said, the two other KID members pushing back past Flint and leaving the room. “You may understand that we are monitoring suspicions of a potential security breach in the city. For the safety of Keila, we must take all precautions necessary.”
“Of course,” Flint agreed. “May I ask what happened that started these rumors? I’ve only been in the city for a few days.”
“Two weeks ago, a checkpoint ship approved the entry of a ship into Keila territory. That checkpoint ship was then never heard from again, and all signs of the ship and its occupants have been lost,” the man explained.
Flint tried not to let too much intrigue show. “Thank you for the update. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Tempest City’s central plaza reminded Flint of the Talo headquarters on Epstrum. It was shielded from the wind by a massive, dome-like structure, and foot traffic circled the plaza at a constant rate, countless people in their Keila uniforms getting to where they needed to go. Tempest East and Tempest West met at this location, and Flint could clearly tell which passing people were from either side, either beginning or ending their day.
At the plaza’s center was a large metallic monument with a wide, cylindrical base. The monument’s centerpiece, which was easily two or three times Flint’s height, was a twisted möbius strip, polished to a degree where the entire metal structure almost shone the same yellow light of the city’s countless windows. Directly in front of the möbius strip and about half its size was a statue of Zero, staring resolutely forward with a determined expression. Surrounding Zero and the möbius strip in a ring were five figures—the Big 5. All of them were depicted as smaller than Zero, but Flint knew from the size of Tro’s statue that this was far from accurate to real life. Underneath each statue of each member of the Big 5 was a text-covered plaque describing who they were and their greatest achievements accomplished in Keila’s name.
“Here it is,” Allef declared when the three arrived at the monument. “I never got a chance to read them. There could be something here.”
Standing in front of the statues, Flint read some of the plaques.
ZERO
Supreme leader of Keila and founder of Tempest City. When Nopetu was occupied by Aikajo mercenaries, Zero descended upon the planet in secret and began the construction of Tempest City. After the city’s initial construction, Zero used his immense power to halt Nopetu’s rotation relative to its host star, kickstarting Nopetu’s characteristic winds and eliminating every Aikajo occupant.
TRO
Immortal, loyal, valiant, and powerful, Tro turned the tides of the Battle of Climost in Keila’s favor. The longest-serving member of Keila at 95 years, he has won more battles than any other soldier in the entire galaxy.
TRIA
To those who want to end it all: find the site of my own demise.
Flint did a double take at Tria’s plaque. Allef and Aurein had similar reactions when they turned their attention to the words underneath her statue. They spoke no words to each other, but shared knowing looks that said: there’s something here.
“To those who want to end it all,” Allef read. “Those are people like us. ‘End it all’ doesn’t refer to suicide here…” Allef gestured at the city around them. “This plaque refers to people who want to end it all.”
“Someone like us altered the plaque to say this,” Flint pointed. “This is a hidden message from someone who wants to end all of this. It’s a sign pointing us in the right direction.”
“‘Hidden?’ Really? How is this supposed to be a hidden message?” Allef asked. “I’m shocked that nobody’s noticed this already and fixed it.”
“It’s because we’re the only ones who care,” Aurein stated. “It’s hidden in plain sight. Nobody’s noticed Tria’s plaque and reported it because nobody ever reads it. People here don’t care about her. We’re the only ones, and whoever wrote this knows that.”
“Shit. That’s depressing,” Allef said. She rolled down her sleeve and a small camera emerged from her mechanical arm and took a picture.
“I’m hung up on the ‘site of my demise’ thing,” Flint said, biting his lip in thought. “We don’t know exactly where she died. We don’t know anything about her.”
“The Battle of Kesku,” Aurein said. “She died in the Battle of Kesku.”
“Well, yeah, we know that, but we don’t know exactly where. And, what are we gonna do, leave Tempest City? That’s not happening anytime soon,” Flint pointed.
“We don’t need to leave Tempest City,” Allef said. “See the wording? ‘The site of my own demise?’ We don’t need to know exactly where she died, because a certain website that this plaque is referencing could already tell us what we need to do next.”
Flint stared at Allef, agape. “Allef, you are a genius.”
“I know.”
Before any of their work days began or ended, Flint, Allef and Aurein snuck into the back door of a nearby shop that hadn’t opened yet. They entered the office within, where they booted up a computer. Allef made a website search for “The Battle of Kesku.”
Upon clicking enter, a nondescript website appeared before their eyes, consisting only of text on a blank background. It read:
If you are reading this, then you, like me, are one of the few people in this galaxy who cares about Tria. This archive serves the sole purpose of telling the true story of the life of Tria Kestai, sister of Zero Kestai. This archive, which contains sensitive information about the past of the Kestai family which has the potential to destroy Zero’s reputation, will display that Tria was more than the sister of Zero. Her life, motives, and morals nearly altered the course of history irreversibly, and I hope that after reading her story, you decide to carry on her will.
The best smell to wake up to in the morning was a bowl of fresh soup.
Tria got out of her bed and walked through the house to the dining room, where she sat down at the table. Tria’s grandma was in the kitchen, serving a steaming pot of soup into several old, chipped bowls.
“Is your brother up yet?” her grandma asked, putting a bowl of soup on the table in front of Tria. Early morning light shone into the dining room through a window, illuminating the steam coming off of Tria’s soup and making it look like it was glowing.
Tria looked down the hallway in the direction of their rooms. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
“Zeio, honey! Your soup’s ready!” called her grandma down the hall. There was no answer.
“Aw, Gran, you know calling him by his real name embarasses him,” Tria said before scooping a spoonful of soup into her mouth. It was hot, almost too hot to eat, but it saturated her mouth with rich flavor. The soup’s warmth spread throughout her entire body, filling her with contentment.
“Doesn’t matter. ‘Zero’ implies he means nothing. It’s a name a bully would give him.”
“Zero, c’mon! While the soup’s hot!” Tria called, ignoring her grandmother’s comment.
“Coming!” Zero’s muffled voice replied. Tria rolled her eyes. He always took his time to get up in the morning, even for school.
“Where’s grandpa?” Tria asked after taking a few more sips of soup.
Her grandma turned around from the kitchen for a moment before returning to her work. Fragrant smells were coming from the stove, a favorite smell of Tria’s on weekends like this.
“He drove your mom to work today. Her car still hasn’t been fully repaired yet.”
“Still?”
“Mhm. I’m telling you, those folk in the city don’t know what they’re doing. I wish your mom would let me take it to a neighbor’s. Mr. and Mrs. Gersan know how to fix that kind of old-fashioned tech much better than any old city bum.”
“Hey, dad was a city bum,” Tria challenged.
“Sure, but it didn’t serve him too well. He said it himself, he wanted to move to the country one day. ‘Course, there was the war, and that didn’t serve him too well, either. Moving all the way out here was the only way for you and your brother to avoid the draft.”
Tria stared at her reflection in the spoon. Even after this long, thinking about her father still hurt…
“Any left for me?” asked a new voice. It was Zero, who sat down at the table. Not even five seconds after Zero took a seat, their grandmother had placed a fresh bowl of soup in front of him and kissed him on the cheek.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” their grandma told him.
“Morning,” Zero replied, and sipped his soup.
“So,” Tria began, turning to Zero. “You fill out that application form yet?”
“The internship?” Zero asked.
“Yeah.”
Zero took another two sips of soup, not meeting Tria’s eyes.
“I still don’t know if it’s going to be worth the trouble,” he hedged. “I mean, my odds of getting in are slim to none. I’d rather not waste the weekend on it.”
“But architecture is your passion!” their grandmother added from the kitchen. “I’ve seen your sketches. You have the natural talent. You can’t just let that go!”
“Exactly. Zero, you can’t just let this opportunity pass. I’ll even help you fill it out. I’m sure they’d love to have you.”
“Aren’t I still a bit young to be getting an internship somewhere? I’m barely old enough to work,” Zero said.
“You’re old enough, trust me. When I was 15, my forensics teacher found me a job, but I wouldn’t have gotten it if I hadn’t asked,” Tria replied.
Zero stirred his spoon around in his soup, staring at the moving liquid without a response.
The front door opened with a bang, followed by the sound of their grandfather’s roaring voice.
“Grandpa’s home!”
“How’d it go?” asked Gran. Their grandpa rolled his eyes.
“The city bums are shooting the car back over to us. It’s being delivered to the house later today. Something about ‘backlog of orders’ and not being able to work on it at the moment. Guess there’s no choice but to get help from the Gersans.” He turned to Tria and Zero.
“Since you two are off school today, can you take your mom’s car to Mr. and Mrs. Gersan’s house for repairs? I’d do it, but I got a meeting tonight. Sorry to busy up your weekend,” their grandpa asked.
“Fine with me,” Tria said. “I have time today.”
“Sure,” Zero added.
“Thanks, you two,” their grandpa said, messing up Zero’s hair as he passed by to sit at the table. “I appreciate the help.”
That afternoon, Tria drove her mom’s car, Zero in the passenger seat, to the Gersan family home. When they arrived, Mrs. Gersan assured the two that, while they would have to stay at the Gersan home for the duration of the repairs, it wouldn’t take long—a few hours at most. Gran was right—the Gersans knew how to repair old cars like their mother’s with skill like they’d already repaired this car many times before.
Tria drove the repaired car back home, sitting silently with Zero. They drove over rolling hills and scant homes, and Tria reflected upon her life situated out of the way from modern civilization. Could she and Zero really live comfortably here, so far from any opportunity? They only lived so far from their planet’s major cities as a way of avoiding the watch of Keila, the faction that occupied their planet. Her family’s long line of serving Keila ended with her and Zero once their dad had died in the war.
But up until this moment, Tria hadn’t truly understood what this deliberate isolation had been protecting them from.
Smoke rose up from the horizon like a cloudy black arm emerging from the ground. Seeing the path from which the smoke rose without the smoke’s source gave her the realization—though it was only subconscious at the time—that the smoke’s origin came directly from her neighborhood. She ever so slightly raised the car’s speed.
Tattered wood was scattered on their driveway, illuminated by a bright, orange light. The waning flames from the fire still licked the charred skeleton of their family home. The doors had been locked from the outside with metal plates, but holes in the walls that the fire had opened revealed a blackened pile of what was unmistakably humanoid bones.
Tria stepped out of the car and screamed. She screamed at the fire until she lost her voice, perhaps for no other purpose but to scream. There was no need to search through the remains—the timing of the fire, which had only just recently been lit, had caught her family right when everyone but her and Zero had been in the house at once. And judging by the burnt metal plates that someone had hastily placed over each of the house’s exits, not one of them had escaped.
Then, almost all at once, Tria stopped screaming. Her mind nearly shut down as the tsunami of disbelief and anguish rushed over her consciousness, beating it until she could no longer physically stand. Her legs gave, and she sat hard on the driveway, watching with numb eyes as the house continued to burn.
“Tria,” Zero said from beside her. Thick tears were already running down his face, but that wasn’t the part of him she was paying attention to. He was pointing to an envelope that was left on their house’s front steps.
Tria rushed over to the envelope and tore it open, Zero appearing next to him shortly after. There was a single letter inside that read:
This is your punishment for being Keila. Your blood is to blame.
Tria turned her attention to the ground. Using her Val, which she and Zero had only recently developed, she detected the vibrations of everything around her. There was the clattering of burnt wood on the ground, the swaying of trees around the house, and a rhythmic vibration she could only barely pick up—the footsteps of someone running rapidly away from their tattered home.
Tria hid the car in the middle of a copse. At an hour this late, the killer’s parents had almost certainly arrived home, a home which sat silently close by. Turning off the car, the only light that illuminated her and Zero’s faces was the very faint light of a recently-set sun. Even at this distance, Tria could sense the vibrations of the family inside, walking, talking, eating. Among those footsteps was the unmistakable pace and footfall of the killer, who, judging by the distance between each step they made, was male and relatively young—perhaps not even much older than Tria or Zero.
“How confident are you in your abilities?” Tria asked him once they stepped out.
“My Val?” Zero replied.
“Yes. Can you read their resonant frequencies?” Tria pointed at the nearby house.
Zero hesitated for a moment, his mind on the task, then he replied:
“Yes, faintly.”
“Are you confident you can kill someone with your Val?” Tria asked. “Freeze someone to death and smash them to pieces?”
“Is that what we’re doing?!” Zero exclaimed. He looked apprehensive, but the shock of grief that had electrified the two earlier that day still lingered—in this mindset, nothing was impossible.
“When we sneak in, use your Val to stay hidden. Find the mother, she is the one with the slight limp. Simultaneously, you will kill the mother while I kill the father. We’re going to make this son of a bitch know the hell he inflicted on us.”
Zero looked at the house, in his blue eyes an unreadable expression.
“Are we really doing this?” he asked at last.
“Listen to me,” Tria said, grabbing Zero roughly by the shoulders. “We are not letting this go. We are never letting this go. Nobody gets to do something like that to us and get off the hook. You understand me? Nobody.”
Zero looked at the house once more, then nodded.
“Good. As it seems now, the parents are in two separate parts of the house. The son—the murderer—is upstairs. Don’t let him notice you—we want to leave him alive. Go in from the back while I go in from the side. We kill each of the parents simultaneously. Clear?”
“Yes.”
“Then go. We’ll reconvene once it’s done.”
Tria stepped through the underbrush, approaching the house. As she got closer, the vibrations given off by the steps of the father grew more noticeable to her. She followed them like an animal stalks its prey, entering the side door silently. As she entered the house, she took in her surroundings. Nobody was near her, except for the father, who was situated in the living room. Now was her chance.
Stepping silently into the living room, she found her target. His back was towards Tria, completely ignorant of what was about to happen. Carefully, resolutely, she walked towards the man.
At the last second, the father turned around and met Tria’s burning gaze. Tria grabbed the father’s face with a hand, fully absorbing the knowledge of this man’s resonant frequency. In a fraction of a second, she sensed the vibrations elsewhere in the house of Zero’s Val going to work, and used her own to dump enormous amounts of energy into the father’s body.
Tria vibrated the father’s body at its resonant frequency, flooding so much energy into the man that, after a fleeting expression of fear and pain, he glowed and evaporated into a fine dust with a loud whoosh. Tria’s hand was left midair, touching nothing but the vaporized remains of the man.
Tria lowered her hand, a faint sense of satisfaction rising in her body. Finally, it was over. Some of the immense pain she had been carrying lifted when she imagined the murderer’s reaction to the demise of his own parents. Schadenfreude coursed through her veins, and Tria could almost-
A floorboard creaked next to Tria. It was a young boy, too young to have confronted death but just old enough to understand it, holding a stuffed animal in one hand and wearing fluffy slippers that dampened the vibrations Tria would have used to detect him. It became clear in that moment that Tria’s murder had a witness, and the murderer of Tria’s own family had a younger brother.
When Tria met the eyes of this young boy, she saw more than his distraught, agonized expression. She saw the realization in this boy’s soul as he processed the demise of his father, and Tria experienced a bizarre vision in this boy’s eyes. She saw the rest of his life play out in front of him, a life of anguish, hate, a constant wondering of “Why, me?” She saw how this boy would live his life in spite of Tria and Zero, of everything and everyone they stood for, directing his everlasting anguish into hateful acts like the ones she had just committed. Tria saw that she had sentenced this boy to a life of hate, and he would one day repeat her actions against someone new, killing someone in the name of vengeance, righting the wrong that had been done against him. This boy would become just like his older brother, murdering an innocent family like Tria’s, perpetuating the vicious cycle of revenge.
The cycle. Hate breeding hate, vengeance breeding vengeance, an infinite loss of life in an infinite cycle of horrors, all throughout the galaxy. In this moment, Tria came to realize the true nature of her galaxy’s war, a war that wasn’t even fought for any real purpose but to fight. To satisfy this anger, to direct these internal agonies at someone else only for that person to do the same.
And Tria had just kept this cycle going, just like everyone before her, just like everyone to follow her. She was but a single, insignificant cog in the machine of war that churned on, and on, and on.
Tria ran out of the house through the same door she entered, falling to her knees on the street outside. Nausea rose in her chest. She vomited on the ground. Her hands were violently shaking. Two images that were burned into her mind kept flashing in the back of her eyelids—the face of the man she killed and the child whose life she had ruined. She couldn’t escape from it. Tria would never be able to escape from the powerful guilt and shame that seized and choked her like a wire noose.
Soon, Zero appeared outside with her. He stood tall next to her, his eyes filled with a sharpness and determination that she had never seen before. Zero looked at Tria, who was still on her knees, shaking.
“I…” Zero began. “I am so glad you made us do this,” he uttered. He seemed so alive, like the world he stared at was made just for him. While every small breeze that brushed over the two chilled Tria to the bone, it seemed to bring Zero higher and higher.
“I never thought something would feel so good in my life,” Zero said at last. When Tria looked into her younger brother’s eyes, she realized that the sins she had committed this day had not yet ended.
She had created a monster.
