Her breath made a small cloud in front of her as she walked down the wet streets. The cold rain fell with an ominous presence as the usual drunks and haggard shrouded themselves from the bright pub lights, making the connecting streets feel like a ghost town. Her heart pounded in time with her boots hitting the pavement, and her cracked lips spread apart to show her crooked and mischievous grin. She slipped through the fences into an ally way and charged for the stairs, the sign saying "Voltage: keep out!" Shown as if it was glowing in the beam of her flashlight.

    This is it, she whispered under her breath. Her laugh caught in the echo and travelled down the stairs and into the tunnels. It was an abandon train stop, so she had to be quick when it flew by as if on wings. She slipped some on the wet trash but caught herself quickly, using the grips on her fingerless gloves to swing partially around a pillar, she used the momentum to shoot herself forwards over the tipped over garbage can. She ran quickly, the echoes filling her ears and the long, far off blow of the horn. She was being signaled, she had only a few seconds left--!

    She saw the end of the tunnel lighting up and her breath came in small pants, and her heart beat felt as if it was about to burst. This was it. This was her time. She took out her video camera with a flick of her finger and brushed the glass away from the engineer's upper office. The jump was precarious, she'd have to time it just perfectly, and if she missed, she'd be caught with the whip of the train and be thrown mercilessly into the pillar. She'd been training, this diagonal jump was no different between the house and the slanted roof of the cathedral. Only here, the edge was a moving target.

    Doubt flashed as she felt the rumble like thunder, but she snuffed it out quickly, you cannot hesitate. Don't let it stop you, let it push you. She repeated to herself like a chant, getting more and more passionate until she was yelling it out over the loud roar of the train. It blasted into view and her legs moved for her--suddenly, all too suddenly, she was in the air. It felt like time slowed down as the edge of the train rushing past look as if it was too dangerous. She'd break her leg or wrist for sure when she landed, but she was already in air, unable to stop herself. She glanced at the video camera for a split second, the red REC flashing seemed to burn her eyes in the semi-darkness. She refused to close her them as she reached out her hands, the scream of adrenalin in her veins made her laugh maniacally.

    She landed with a sickening crack and the wind completely knocked out of her lungs as she did a shoulder roll to absorb the impact.

    A few seconds of shock overpowered her, until the train zoomed through the turns of the tunnel and headed in its assent. Checking herself, she noted a small snap of glass in the camera and shrugged. As long as she wasn't hurt, and it was still recording, everything was in working order. She because to squeal with excitement, and stood up. Her eyes determined, her lips smiling, her camera posed up and unwavering as the tunnel started to lighten up.

    The cover of darkness was shot into the glittering lights of the entire city of Damocles; the moon shone down with a faithful brilliance through the clearing rain clouds, setting the ocean in a halo, and the buildings sparkling in diamonds. She stared out into the wonderful view, taking it all in and slowly lifting her face to the moon with a gentle look. Taking the camera up to eye's view, she did a sweep over the fantastic city, and then turned into view, with the landscape behind her and the moon as a spotlight.

    "My name is Kyrie Theron Kineta, from the great City of Damocles…" She showed the back of her hand, where the tattoo of her family's symbol lay. "And this is my Test of Faith."

    As always, it's the afterwards plan that I just don't seem to recognize in time. I had it all down--the jump, the camera, the dramatic view and the way I'd say my full name--but how to get down without killing myself? That is a different story.

    I try to look for a good landing to slide from the edge too, but the damned transportations here are all up high off the ground. No one uses the trains anymore, that's why I thought It'd be best to use it in my Test of Faith, but, it's the only outbound train that circles the outside of the city, and starts to move towards the ocean bridge that leads to Troy and Winglet. Travel between the towns is the unspoken rule, so why they keep the trains moving even though there is no one to carry? It beats me. I spend enough time listening to Grandpa rave and rant about this stuff, I don't want to continue on and spread his words around. Although, on normal days, I am right there along with him, but you never know who's watching or whatever it is that m'ma whispers to papa. I don't want to get myself too deep into things.

    I feel my heart sinking until I spot a dark, tattered awning. Here on the outskirts of town, the people who'll catch me are drunk or dead, decaying on the streets. Another reason why this train was the best bet. To jump so openly from my perch to the awning would get me shot, or at the very least noticed and branded as a threat to the peace.

    The tall skyscraper is as dark as night, the windows are shattered and the dirty mud barely covering the bright colored lettering suggests it's an old abandoned Merchant Spike. That sends a relieving smile to my face; those were built for clowns and acrobats to jump around on the outside to draw attention. At least I'll have a good way down to solid ground.

    It's coming up fast, so I quickly ready myself and take a few steps back to get a running start. I take a moment, look around at the view, and then propel myself forwards, my eyes not moving from the center of town. It's a stupid thing to do, to be so distracted by something so trivial vs. my possible death. Grandpa always scolds me for it, papa says it's a rare gift. I have a great instinct to the alteesz.

    I hit the awning awkwardly, and slide down quickly, my stiff jacket catching on the holes as I fall. My eyes search quickly for the next place to jump--aha! There, a trapeze swinging gently in the wind. I roll over to my right, and get ready for the jump. My muscles clench, my eyes are wild and I push off, arm extended and grasp hold of the slick pole. I didn't counter the recent rain--which calls for a new tactic of grabbing hold, but I forget I'm wearing the gripping gloves. I haltingly swing forwards unprepared and force myself into a role onto the softer landing.

    I flex my fingers and note the area around me; the small extension to the padding I'm on, were a juggler were to perform his feats. A broken down door to my right is safest exit, and I can almost hear Grandpa speaking out loud… alteesz is not a game, it is an art, and last resort. You find yourself in a hard place, your mind goes to the simple ways to get down, not the jumping ways. Alteesz can go very wrong very quickly so it is good to avoid it if possible.

    My head twists between the broken down door, and the rest of the circus paths. My father would encourage my practice of alteesz, my grandpa would encourage my practice of safety.

    Oh what the hell, my dad is closer the family tree, therefore he is my proper teacher.

    I fill my lungs with a breath of fresh, cold air and vault down. A string of acrobatic landings dot the side of the building, looping around the circumference in a spiral. It's so much easier to jump here, because these were built to gain and maintain speed and agility; it's not like jumping in the normal city, where everything was build for grounded practicality. In essence, I don't really have to think as I follow the premade path.

    The spiral doesn't fully reach the ground, and instead of following my deadly instinct of jumping the last ten feet, I finally follow my grandpa's advice and take the door. I have to kick this one down though, but once I'm through, I jog down the stairs and pass through the maze of the bazaars until I reach the main entrance and I quickly exit through the hole in the bottom half of the double doors. Another lesson of grandpa's; leave most of your environment intact. Alteesz is part art of remaining invisible and traversing the high places as if a ghost. So a hole is better than kicking down a door.

    Feeling the pavement again, I feel somewhat disheartened. I really like being up in the heat of adrenalin, but I guess good things always have to end.

    "And it's not like I won't be back." I promise with a short, two fingered salute and a smirk.

    The street is starting to come alive again as the sky starts it gradual climb back to bright blue instead of black; people are going to work. I used to be shocked, that this far away from the heart of the city even had a culture or citizenship, but as it turns out it doesn't matter where you are whether it's the slums or the ritzy, two outcomes always prevail; we return to barbaric instinct, or someone tries to keep dignity. Here in the 7th Zone , it's been quite unique in its way of preserving its humanity. It is only at night when the darkness creeps in. My time of day, when I can fly across the roof tops without a care in the world from the police and stuff, they're too busy keep the drunks and nighttime freaks at bay.

    I frolic through the building crowd and wave quickly to those familiar to me. Ambrose from the butchers and Coriander from smithy. Ghita from the tailors, who secretly makes the best skin armor you can ever imagine. My family used to buy from her a lot when armor wasn't outlawed, because it's so flexible and lets you make good shoulder rolls while still being able to dodge a bullet or crossbow arrow. I don't know why the guards are required to carry from firearms and classic weaponry. It confuses me, and whenever I ask grandpa about, he just gives me a stern look and everyone goes silent. Mama usually carters me off to another room or switches the subject or makes me do chores at this time. I honestly don't know why, but whatever it is, it starts tension between papa and him.

    Anyways, Ghita continued selling, but no one was buying anymore. Even though it was skin armor, it was usually a drastic color, such as bright orangey red. Most of the people in Damocles is olive skinned, and the usual gear for a person of alteesz is very thin and form fitting except for the vest and cargo pants. It was easy to see the shiny mesh in the dark or light, which was custom sewn to people's forms. The one she made me when I was 10 fit all the way from my jaw, to the phalange on my hands and feet.

    In the morning when papa trained me in combat, I'd wake up and put on the armor, and then the black cotton shorts and tee shirt that ended mid way in my stomach. Then, black, gray or dark colored cargo pants and vest, depending on what people were selling or what mama could make. Each year I grew, I'd have a set of three different garments, one for each season--meaning basically, each for a different climate. Summer was the shorts and tee shirt, winter was long pants and thumbed long sleeved shirts, and for the spring and fall, it was a mix of the two, interchanging for the beginning and mid end of the year. My most recent gear was made to accommodate my awkwardly small size, with zipping cargos and a belt that hung across my chest. Without the vest, in my fall suit, my stomach poked out openly, much to mama's discomfort. She kept thinking some drunk or crazy was going to take advantage of me, seeing as how I give away my money to the homeless or give a starving gang member some food without hesitating or caution.

    "Why must you be so much like your father," She'd whisper half lovingly half regretfully. He's the same; way too trusting. The opposite of grandpa. Maybe that's why he was so good alteesz. He'd trust his instincts and his Faith in survival. "He's a man of nine lives." Mama also says a lot.

    When I was younger, he was much more care free, until Anemone was born. It was a few days of mixed feelings when mama finally realized she was pregnant. I remember posing in front of our cracked mirror in my new clothing when I heard a choking laugh. I slowly peered around the corner to see mama sitting on the toilet in the bathroom, one hand over her mouth, the other holding a small device. Her eyes were smiling, but tears brimmed and gushed over her hand and fell soundlessly to the floor. I was six, my "special time" with grandpa was going to start in the summer.

    Mama told papa that night. He picked her up and twirled around, his blue eyes bright and his smile stretched from ear to ear. She smiled painfully back, he asked her what was wrong. Before she could answer, she had caught my small shadow in the door way and called me out. I was to be an older sister.

    I shake my head as I slow to a brisk walk in the Zone, crossing from the slums to the middle class area, I find myself getting heavier as I headed towards home. No doubt when I played my video for my family, proving myself to be a respected position in the family but performing a Test of Faith, few would be a bit displeased for my recklessness.

    I sigh, "Well, at least now I can go out for joy rides in honor instead of sneaking around." They still didn't know I was used to being on my own yet, that I had been for a couple of years now. Papa wanted to take my training slowly, since Anemone was born to weak to carry on the legacy as well, my family didn't have to split up the attention. Before when the teaching was prioritized, it was actually a competition with the father teaching the eldest son, and the relatives splitting up the rest of the kids, turning the entire training into a competition. But, that was back when having more than one child was desired. Now? Now you're lucky if your child survives the first night after birth. Even though Damocles is considered near the top in luxury, doesn't mean it has no slums and diseases, especially those who are born in such a gross environment.

    Plus, Anemone, she has critical asthma. She has to boil lute leaves from Ajax, our local healer--not one of those creepy white-coats--and inhales the steam every night. Asthma is an instant disability for performing alteesz. You need good breath support, and a lot of it if you're going to be running constantly.

    My house comes into sight; the washed out blue and the dirty white shutters. We live on the top floor of a three story house that's shared between three families. It was once a tiny mansion, but now it's multiple living quarters. It's also quite the place to learn our family's art. After the first years of my initial training, grandpa started locking me out of the house. Everyone was given explicit orders not to let me in, and I remember clearly a young kid at nine years old, staring blankly at the door knob not turning in my hands. I knew almost immediately that I was expected to climb.

    That old route is now habit. I jump to the fence and vault off it, grabbing the second story window frame and using it as leverage to jump across to the neighbor's balcony. The second and third floor are separated by part of the roof lining the house. I effortlessly spring off the balcony and grab the east window and climb through, without a single sound.

    Anemone is in her bed, her arms wrapped around my old patched up bear as she breathes calmly. I smile at her as I quickly undress from my cargos and belt and slip my night shirt and pants over my under skins. Stuffing my gear into the chest under my bed, I tip toe out the door and down two steps to the kitchen area. It's a clean and orderly area, but empty and run down. Few cutlery and cooking materials line the walls, most of it is broken because they come from the dumps. We may be middle class, but that doesn't mean we're rich.

    I open the bread box and grab a stale biscuit from a few days before. I munch on that before I turn on the UNS. The Universal Network System is basically a sophisticated version of what they used to call computers. Every residential is required to have a UNS and a Television to get broadcasts from the main municipality; Athens.

    But, my use this early in the morning wasn't for any news updates, it was for uploading the video of this morning. I transfer the data and quickly scan through the scenes; it's so dramatic and perfect, just like I'd planned. I smile slowly to myself as the words sound full of wildness and ferocity; "I am Kyrie Theron Kineta, and this is my Test of Faith."

    "Kyrie, my love?" The sound of my mother's voice makes me jump. "What are you doing up so early? What are you doing on the computer?"

    I tap my finger on the touch screen to X out of the clip and shut it off, standing in front of the camera to hide what I was doing. "Um, nothing important. Just, looking at old videos of Anemone and I."

    She smiles delicately. "I miss you guys being so young," she walks up to our small fridge and draws out a few eggs and biscuits from the bread box. I take out the matches and light the stove for her out of reflex as she smiles at me. Without saying anything, she thanks me for my help and places an arm around my shoulders, "Why are you so cold? Did you give your extra blankets to Anemone again? Darling, I already gave her extra so you could have your own. The cold months are coming, I can't have you freeze to death in your very own bed." She kisses my hair and hesitates. I wince and expect the scolding as she figures out why I'm up, why I'm freezing, and why my hair is so damp and my forehead hot. "Have you been jumping?"

    "…yes."

    "Alone?"

    "…yes."

    She rubs my back slowly, as if contemplating what to say next. "How long have you been doing this alone?"

    I sigh and break her touch on my shoulder, reaching for the grease in the cabinet to slick down the pan for her, "A few years now."

    She cracks the eggs into a bowl and whips them, adding a few tablespoons of our rare milk. She says nothing, but she continues to be as gentle as the wind. That's what my father always says made him notice her. It was like when he was jumping, he felt the wind brush past him, giving him a great feeling of freedom and happiness. When he met her, it was as if the wind entered his soul and embraced him in warmth and love. He fell for her almost instantly, and he courted her secretly, away from the view of the neighbors. Of course both the families knew, and neither were all that happy, but the public eye stood involuntary to the affair.

    She isn't wispy or small, in fact she is quite the opposite. But she is as mysterious as the wind of a storm, that gales through the city at sunrise. Anemone is like her in that way, only she is more of the shy breeze of evening. Me? I'm the laughing brook like my father who is the roaring waterfalls. Grandpa I believe would be a magnificent mountain, and my grandmother--who I've never met, just heard stories of--would be the vast ocean. I sigh at the romance of it all as my mother glances at me from the corner of her eye.

    "That video was of you, wasn't it." I stop short and rub the back of my neck.

    "Well… uh…"

    She doesn't say anything more except that she is anticipating when I show it to the family at evening prayers. Anticipating, not excited or anything. I feel my heart pound as if I'm going to take a big leap from one roof to the other. Maybe it isn't such a good idea to do this now…

    I end up retiring back to my room to get properly dressed. Today is the ieros, so no training will commence today, no extreme work or anything.

    I take my time combing back my short hair and adjusting my clothes to fit the way I want them too. The smell of the eggs cooking in the bacon grease makes my senses light up and my mouth water.

    Walking over to Anemone, I reach for my belt I left on my bed. In one of the pockets, I take out a small rock. It was formed in the shape of a heart by the expert hand of nature, and immediately I thought of my little sister. I found it on the beach the other day during training, and I felt she should have it. "Anemone?" I whisper and stroke her hair kindly. I was never overly protective of her, but I still loved her all the same. She was my little sister, and we exchanged gifts often between one another.

    "Kyrie?" She opens her eyes; the center of her left was green which faded to a pleasant blue, and if that wasn't weird enough, the right had a center of blue and faded to green. So mixed matched and odd, she wore stabilizers for the color that changed them to a dull gray. It's part of her weird condition, and the doctor said because of her rare eye pigmentation, she'd probably go blind in her right eye before her left when she was old. She also claimed she could see better in the dark with her left eye, and vise versa with the right, but not with the contacts. When she started school, she was always picked on and teased by the other kids, and people generally shy away from her when she looks at them. Her gaze can be quite piercing and strong, but it's so contrary to her personality, it's hard for your sight to accept her as real in general. She should've been named Paradox, in my opinion, but on the day of her birth, my father had gone out of town. In the green hills, he said it was like wading in a sea of anemones. Not the spindly plant from the ocean, but the delicate flowers that came in so many colors. He said there were all white, with satiny petals and a green and yellow center. Small and fragile, he drew one up in his fingers and whispered the name, and thunder roared in the distance as if in response.

    Mama was less prone to the dramatic wiles of my father, but still she fell in love with the name. We almost though mama wasn't going to make it, let alone Anemone, but in the end everyone pulled through. Ajax was under his grandfather's direction at the time, and I remember I wanted to blame him if mama was to die and my unborn sister. I never really liked doctors.

    But ten years later, I have a beautiful sister who is yes, weak, but nonetheless alive. "I found something for you." I tell her as I sit on the floor near the head of her bed.

    She smiles sleepily as I place the stone in her palm and looks at me, "It's gorgeous." She says and leans over to kiss my forehead, but she recoils. "Oh, Kyrie, you're burning up."

    "I had a long run this morning." Anemone was the only one in my family who knew how to keep a secret, and who to keep it from. She knew from the moment I started jumping on my own everything it was that I'd done.

    "Did you dress warmly enough? It seems like you might catch a cold." She sits up and yawns.

    "Warm enough, flower." I say with a chuckle as I smooth her hair, "Here, let me fix this." I have her sit on my lap while I brush her hair and pull it back in a small braid.

    We leave our room together to see papa taking his pack off the wall and heading towards the door after a quick kiss to mama. She smiles at him and reminds him to be careful.

    Grandpa motions specifically for me to sit down across the rickety table form him, and I obey with a small look to Anemone. He doesn't say anything until he has scraped away the last of his food, and then he sits back and eyes me questionably. "Today is ieros." Um, yes I know that. "Today is your day off, but I do have one assignment for you."

    Mama and Anemone are silent as they finish up breakfast preparations.

    "I want you to go meet with your father at the temples once you are dressed more suitably."

    I raise an eyebrow questioningly; papa every ieros for as long as I can remember has always prayed in mornings for a safe weekend and for whatever is on his mind. Grandpa used to do it as also, but it was more out of habit than it was… I don't know, a way of life? Papa placed a lot of faith in the cold stone statues of people from long before our times, sometimes more than grandpa can understand. What was unusual about grandpa's request is that it was mandatory I go now. Mama, Anemone and I always went on our own at a later hour to pay respects to the priest.

    "Now." I snap out of my train of thought by the sharpness of his voice and immediately stand up and head back to my room. I quickly grab some rags from the laundry closet and head to the bathroom to clean up. The water is only warm for fifteen minutes, so I fill the bath up as much as I can and get to work to scrubbing off the grim and sweat from this morning. It takes me a while, but soon I'm toweling off and rushing back into my room. I have no idea what he means by dressing more suitably, until mama walks in and takes my hand.

    "Wrong room, darling." She says kindly and leads me back down the small hallways and into her and papa's bedroom. The familiarity of the room strikes me somewhat, how long has it been since I've been in here? I feel the shock when I realize it's been quite a while. The soft blue pastel color of the walls and the soft, though worn, texture of the maroon carpet. Mama guides me over to her old wardrobe and opens it wide so I can look inside. All her dresses over her life have been kept in here, this isn't her everyday clothes. Her wedding dress, her ieros holy days, festivals, family holidays, seasonal celebrations--everything. From super formal to everyday sun dresses she takes out a few that look like my size and lays them on the bed. "Which do you like?"

    I don't hesitate, "I like this one," I finger the ruffles on the skirt of a petite blue dress. She takes it off the hanger and lets me undress. I take off the corset that I use for running and then blush as she stares at my bare chest.

    She walks over to wardrobe again only bends down to retrieve something from drawers on the bottom, she takes out a weird looking shirt and passes it to me. It's skimpy, barely able to cover more than my bosom. "You wear this under the dress, it's like the corset you wear, and used for the same purpose only it's a bit more graceful." She has me slip it up my arms as she clasps it in the back. Suddenly, I feel as if my weight is suspended in mid air. I feel exposed as well.

    "What is this…?"

    "It's a garment called a bra. I know the closest thing you've seen to these are your gear, it basically enhances your… womanly features and keeps everything snug and fit. Most of the dresses are cut to wear one." She sounds like grandpa, explaining quickly and slightly frustrated as if I should already know. She sounds more shy though. Like she's ashamed she even has these bras. "Mostly the upper class use them. We have no need."

    I square my shoulders. That's why. Mama always felt ashamed that she came from another city of higher class, maybe because papa was always so forlorn that he couldn't give her more than what she had.  I don't know, she kept most of her previous possessions to herself in drawers that are never opened.

    She helps me into the dress and hands me a small pair of baby blue heels. I've never worn heels except at my aunt's wedding, when mama was pregnant. If I remember correctly, they hurt like the dickens.

    Standing up in front of the mirror on her door, I am a small centimeter taller than her. The dress is respectable and flattering to my nonexistent figure. It's a simple dress with short sleeves that come to my elbow and end up near my collarbone in a square. There's a small belt in the middle of my waist that ties nicely in the center by a bow. The bow is darker to the pale blue, and the skirt is pleated in a delicate strips. Mama starts to comb my hair, still damp from the quick bath, and twists two strands near my face backwards and behind which she sets in a clip. She kisses my cheek from behind, which means I hear the soft sound of her lips in my ear as I look at myself. I'm pretty.

    "Now go catch up to your father." She puts a small purse that matches my dress in my hands and leads me out the door. "Did you eat?" I shake my head, so she puts a biscuit in my hand that's warm from the eggs folded inside. "No jumping." she says quickly as she hugs and kisses me at the door.

    "I won't wreck your dress," I say, but she gives me a look as if she didn't mean the dress. "Thank you, it's very beautiful."

    "You're the one making it shine." She kisses my forehead and Anemone walks up and hugs me as well.

    "I'll be back." I say pointedly at grandpa. he just raises a hand dismissively without looking and I leave without a proper good bye.

    I take the old main road I never see much of anymore. I feel very weird in the dress, constantly pulling the skirt down to cover my knees more. I'm not used to being so… confined; normally I just run, vault and fly through the sky by use of the roofs. Now I'm here, walking with everyone else. I see many of the boys and girls from school look at me questioningly as I walk down the street and I glare at them in return, sending them back to their games and friends.

    School is to start soon, which is actually something I'm dreading not because of the academics, but because of the kids. I'm smart, and get through very well but it's everyone else that I have problems with. I've never been bullied, hell I'd rather that then not being talked to and ignored like I'm a piece of the dirt you never think of.

    I see the faces of the boys and girls I know so well, but I am isolated from in so many ways and just stare--I mean, what else can I do? I don't know anyone well enough to wave and say a short "hello!", and it's not like I even want to. I have a place to get to, and that's with papa at the temples so I don't have time for people… besides, what would I chit-chat with them about? "The sunrise was beautiful today!", "You wake up that early?", and then I would reply, "No, it's a family voodoo tradition to act like a monkey and climb stuff like an insane person. There's a huge chance I might slip up and die any day, want to be friends?" I think not, sir.

    Hurry down the hill and look up at the bright gray skies of the morning; it might also rain again later today, not giving the ground much time to dry up, which is going to make it hard to perform alteesz. Slippery, wet roof tiles are the best for griping.

    It takes me a while to get to the temple because of the walk, but once I arrive, I step onto the cobblestone courtyard with a strong gait that clearly doesn't match my attire. Several others are walking around, but not as much as the later morning will bring due to the hour most wake up on the days before the fall. The courtyard is square and open on all sides, with trees dotting the exterior, giving the darker colored temple an earthy look to it. It's made out of a shining stone with stain glass windows that sparkle in the sunlight over the dedicated.

    I walk up stiffly, and in through the ceremonious wooden doors that are open. For some reason, being here at the temple under the mysterious orders of my grandfather makes me feel like I should be ceremonial and void of all the earthly attachments I have. Incredible dome ceiling high above me and the long, dark and gothic shadows of the cathedral don't help the sudden feeling of dread, and those statues staring at me from all the places you can imagine? Don't get me started. When I was younger, this was a safe haven; I used to come here with my dad every morning to pray and speak with the priests and priestesses and just have time with Arca. Papa always says the reason why he believes so deeply in this religion above the rest, is because it is an intimate relationship with another entity, instead of just a god who came and left like all the rest. At least, he said that's how he started out. Now, it seems like he actually has a sort of… enlightenment. When I was younger, I used to be right along with him, which made things between papa and grandpa a bit strained. I remember once when I was younger, I was up late reading the wonderful stories of the grafite, when I heard them fighting in the kitchen. Mama was there too, but she was mostly quiet and in pain because of her late days of pregnancy.

    "You're a fool!!" Grandpa's words echo in my head as I walk down the center of the sanctuary. "And to drag her into this idiocy!"

    "It is her choice, and the origins of the Test of Faith--you can't deny her rights to her legacy like you did to me!"

    "Don't test me boy, I learned you the way that I saw as right, and as long as I'm still alive I will learn my granddaughter the way I decree!"

    "She is my immediate lineage, not yours. And therefore, I am the one to learn her."

    "I am head of the Kineta family, you cannot wave my rule with something so simple as claiming her as your daughter. My father claimed several children as his, but he was only able to bring up me in the ways of the alteesz--and furthermore, he was required to give up the right of teaching to his elder brother, my uncle, because my father was not head of the family." I remember papa threw his hands up in the air in exasperation at grandpa's smug smile. I didn't know what was such a big deal, papa was just following in what he believed in, and that is something mama always preached and encouraged--even grandpa. Although I see now that grandpa always said "follow whatever it is you believe in… that is, if it's something I can approve of and improve on".

     "You need to let her feel her own feelings! You never let others live their own lives; you always have to be narcissistically in control of everything," My grandpa's face went bright red with anger, but papa continued nonetheless, "People are not mindless cattle!!"

    That was the first time I saw papa struck. "Just like you…" grandpa muttered as he left to go to sleep. Although, the way he said it always made me thing he wasn't really talking to papa at the time.

    Now of all times, that argument hits me like grandpa hit papa. About how I know nothing about my father's childhood and how he was trained in alteesz before me, or anything of grandpa's father who apparently was quite the womanizer and had many illegitimate children. In fact, I never know much about anything, it's always alteesz this or alteesz that--I mean, not that I mind but still; papa always fought against grandpa for me to have a certain freewill, but after it all, did I really even have free will in the beginning?

    In the small things yes, but in my destiny no. I am and always will be the legacy to the Kineta family. The scion. It's my duty to one day be married and teach my children how to continue the traditions and then live out my life continuingly teaching until I am dead. I have a set fate, and at the moment, standing here in the temple with my father's bent figure near the alter, looking so feeble and as if he's clinging to some small hope he knows is fading…I realize I've never been in control of anything in my life.

    "Ah," I jump as I see papa is now turned towards me, which had gone unnoticed so deep in my thoughts, with a calm expression on his face. Even though he seems cool and collected, there is a tell-tale twinkle in his eye that he's excited for whatever is about to take place. "We have to speak about alteesz a moment," He says as he motions me to sit next to him. I follow soundlessly and kneel, my fingers intertwine themselves in the common prayer and I bow quickly before he continues.

    "What about it?" I say passively, my eyes staring up at the towering cross above me.

    "How much do you know about the Test of Faith?"

    I keep tossing and turning under my covers, sometimes disturbing Anemone slightly in her labored sleep. I wasn't able to show my family the tape at evening prayers like mama was anticipating. Why? Well, the prayers were based around me, and around my attempt planned next week to perform my Test of Faith. I remember mama showed no recognization, not even a glance, and prayed whole-heartedly for my upcoming rite of passage. I feel it was a bit of a snip in my direction; a reprimand if you will, but I didn't say anything aloud.

    I can't seem to calm my brain, or find a comfortable position, or stop seeing the street light through my window through my eyelids, or really do anything to fall asleep. Why can't I just do this like a normal person!?

    I sit up and strip the covers from my clammy skin and tug out the chest from under my bed. In no time, I'm dressed in my gear and throwing open the window to the chilling night air. I don't think, I just jump--down, down, down and--CRASH! It's not me that hits the ground, it's a chunk of the mansion. My house is falling apart, granted, by the crash sends my sudden anger through the roof. I find myself on the next house, and to the next, flying like a bird through the air and I suddenly find a low enough home to stick a safe landing. It's habit, not choice, that makes me search for that safety. Never a choice.

     I run the streets, not caring where I am, who sees me, or how loud I am. Those who are awake at this late hour of the night are smart enough to stagger out of the way. I climb a tall building, one of the abandoned sky scrapers, and jump into the third floor window. The crunch of glass beneath boots, the slap of my hand on the wall as I skid around a corner, everything is making me angrier.

     And I have no idea why, but I still jump up the stairs two at a time, and skirt around the outside of the building to gain stories not caring how high I am. It isn't until I get to the very top, the bright lights of Damocles are shining like stars in the clear, cold night, that I stop and collapse from the effort it took to get here.

    It's so beautiful up here with the quiet city and the small and peaceful toy houses down below. Even the wind is strangely calm tonight, which isn't all that weird considering we're in Damocles--if there were high gusts of wind too intolerant for the skyscrapers, they erect the Dome. That usually means a storm is coming. A powerful storm, one we weren't informed of. Usually when a hurricane, typhoon, tornado or any kind of intense wind storms starts to form, the we get a mandatory TV broadcast informing us of the potential danger, and then the assurance of how sturdy and protective the Dome is.

    The Dome; it's like a major spider's web of invisible pin points around the city that are charged with Flas particles. When turned on, they all interconnect with each other to create the web, so that when an unknown object hits the side, the Flas particles swoop in all together and destroy it somehow. Wind is an easy thing for it to disperse.

     Grandpa had to tell me all about the way our technology works, so that I can avoid it, or use it to my advantage when performing alteesz. I feel as if it's a bit useless, and I still don't know if I even want to know about it. Maybe someday it'll save my life, but if I was a normal kid, I wouldn't have to care. I walk over to the edge and dangle my feet thousands of feet off the ground.

     I feel calm sitting here, not doing anything but sitting and watching the city. So peaceful, so normal. Well, as normal as you can get. But sitting here, despite the wonderful view I can't shake this feeling; what is bothering me so much? Is it really the Test of Faith thing, or is this growing anxiety in my gut that's making me queasy? Something feels off, like it's all about to change.

    "Hey!"

    The voice startles me so much I jump and my leg kicks the building under me. Not a sound or scream rips through my throat but instead a blank question. A moment of fast moving silence. Am I falling?! It happens too fast--suddenly my arm pops from its socket and the scream finally emanates from my lips like a siren. I try to swing my right arm around, it gets stuck somewhere, and switches places with my left. I feeling of flying and suddenly I'm rolling on the rough surface of the roof.

    "Whoa, calm down!" The words hardly penetrate the world of darkness around me. Then I realize, my eyes are squeezed shut and I force them open with my fingers. Something slams my mouth and a piercing ring suddenly ceases. "Calm down!"

    I freeze in his eyes. There're a shining dark brown with a cerulean tint in the center. His hair is blond and combed back neatly, and his features twisted in a grimace. How old is he? 10, 13? He has me restrained on the ground as he tries to calm me, but his words aren't getting through.

    "…hello?" He fades back to existence and I feel light headed, "Whoa, let's not go into shock…" He says as he checks my pulse. He murmurs a warning that I miss, and a sharp pain shoots up back in my shoulder blades and around my lower neck. I don't cry out though, because a few moments later, the pain drains out of my body and I'm left with a very sore shoulder and dizzy head.

    I lean on my right arm, trying to get my bearings back, before I turn back and look at him. He catches me off guard again. What is it about him that makes me feel like I'm free falling? That's making my mind go blank?

    "You okay? Anything hurt?" His voice is calming, commanding almost, but his demeanor is too… insecure and boyish. "You look like you're not with me…" he waves his hand in front of my face and I blink stupidly. I involuntarily smack his hand away gently and continue to stare. "Do you have… a name?" How did he get up here? What is his purpose to be here?

    He clears his throat nervously, and moves his hands around awkwardly, "Hello, my, name, is, Aristos Cy Exodus," I look at him confused, what is he doing with his hands? Why is he speaking that way? His name is Aristos? "Are you… are you mute?"

    My face flushes with embarrassment and realization; he was doing sign language. He thought I was disabled? "No." I spat out.

    He blushes as well and sits down across from me, "Then may I ask your name?" He says quietly.

    I take a moment, anger still boiling inside me, and curiosity coming to the surface."Kyrie--what are you doing here? How did you even get up--?" I look at his uniform and jump up. "You're part of the guard?"

    I touches his holstered gun momentarily as he stands slowly and looks uncomfortable, "I hope to someday soon."

    "What do you mean?" I blurt out impulsively and take a step forward. I seem to be invading his personal space because he swallows and backs away a bit, as if scared of me.

    "I'm a trainee," he points at the ranking on his breast pocket and looks at me up and down. At first, I feel slightly violated--I've never actually had a boy check me out like that, and honestly, I thought I'd always beat them up if they did. Maybe everyone else thought that too, "Uh… why are you here?"

    I blush. He didn't mean to be flirting. "I couldn't sleep."

    "Ah." He agrees and looks pointedly at my arm, "Mind if I look at that?"

    I put an arm around it defensively, "What for?"

    "It got dislocated when you slipped--I guess I should've been more cautious about startling you." He dips his head sheepishly and takes off his white gloves to probe my shoulder. His fingers are warm on my skin, and it raises goose bumps because of the temperature change.

    "How did you get up here."

    "I took the stairs, didn't you?"

    "The eighth floor is caved in, I couldn't climb over it…"

    He unzips his jacket and shows a small gadget in the inside pocket, "we get pretty cool toys." It's the shape of a small biscuit, with a pulsing green light in the center.

    "What does it do?"

    "I can't tell you." He puts it away quickly and goes back to full attention of my arm. "But I can tell you, you've dislocated this before?"

    I look at it like it's a new thing I've never seen before, "Maybe once or twice, how can you tell?"

    "The bone is chipped, you can feel it through the flesh--must have had a really good doctor look at you. Well, an expensive one that is." Hi rubs a sore spot tenderly and has me move it around.

    "No, just Ajax," I say as I swing it around in slow motion. Suddenly I feel like I've given up a big secret. Would Ajax get in trouble? I shrug it off, what for? Helping someone? Why do I feel like a criminal, the guards don't care if I perform alteesz, and granted, it doesn't mean I walk right up to them and do a bunch of acrobatic techniques, but it doesn't mean they would hunt my friends and family down.

    "So, how did you get up here?" He asks.

    "I… walked."

    "Up the stairs? and through the wall of collapsed debris?" He asks questionably.

    "…yes…?" I keep my skills a secret, but I can tell he knows there's more to it than just walking up here. "My turn, how about why you're up here?" I poke in the chest like I poke my father in the arm. It's an instinctual move, but I realize I probably shouldn't be so touchy feely with him. I just met him for goodness sake.

    He looks down sadly and walks over to where I was sitting before. He dangles his feet off the edge and takes a deep breath before continuing. "My family has a long line of reputation to hold up to. I am the fourth born in my family, but the only one who was able to accept the birthright of continuing our tradition. The tradition? It's to be a general. We're a war-formed family, and father thinks it's smart to be more war-like than the rest," I sit down next to this boy, Aristos, and continue to listen with interest. "But I'm… I'm not like that. I'm a wimp. I couldn't even drown a runt kitten that was going to die anyways. Mom said to stop it's suffering now, but I just couldn't… it has such soul-filled, sapphire blue eyes that just… I just couldn't!"

    …is this kid for real? "How old are you?" I ask bluntly.

    "I'll be seventeen soon." He sniffs, "Why you ask?" He looks at me curiously and I just stare right back. He was right, he is a wimp. I mean, yeah kittens are cute woohoo, but if it was going to die? His mother was right, it's the better thing to do. "How about you?"

    "I just turned sixteen." I say off handedly. "My family doesn't really celebrate birthdays, so I celebrated it by myself. I snuck out and filmed myself doing something before I was supposed to do it." He looks at me weird, "And I risked my life doing it--but it's so much fun, and they don't realize that I am fine on my own and can make my own choices and then today, apparently I'm supposed to do it officially and if grandpa finds out I have already done it, plus that I've been doing it alone for a couple of months--"

    "What was that you did?" His asks.

    I stop to contemplate telling him, "Um…" What's the harm in him knowing? Now that I think about it, I wasn't ever really allowed to tell people. I suddenly feel my face harden; it's my choice to tell people. "You know what alteesz is?"

    I regret it the moment it comes out of my mouth; his entire expression changes and he looks at me in shock and fear. "You mean, the álti̱s?" He stands up and holds out his hand for me to take, his expression is suddenly stone cold and serious. "Show me." I hesitate and stand without taking his hand.

    "Why?"

    "I need to see."

    "I can't show you." I say, "You'd barely be able to keep up, let alone, who knows what grandpa would do if he found out?"

    "You said you recorded yourself doing álti̱s? You need to show me, alright? I'll be here tomorrow night, same time? I'll have a mobile UNS to play it. Please, Kyrie. This is something that I need to see." He's so serious all I can do is nod and stand up with him as he stalks away to leave. But he stops, turns around and stares at me, straight in the eyes. It's overwhelming, the sheer intensity of his look. "Kyrie… who knows about your family?"

    I take my time going through every face I can remember, "Ghita? Ajax? Most of the kids at school are told to stay away from me because I'm the 'crazy jumper's daughter'. So I guess, it's kind of common knowledge my family is… unusual."

    He chews his lips and runs his hands through his hair, a few locks becoming dislodged and curling gently around his forehead. "This… this isn't… álti̱s in our very own Damocles?" he mutters more to himself as he walks to the door to the stairs but stops, turns around back to me and shakes my hand firmly. "Kyrie, it is a deep honor to be able to say I have met you."

    "Same to you, Aristos Cy Exodus." I say slightly mockingly as he holds my hand a bit longer than necessary and then leaves without another word.

     When I finally find my way back home through the streets, I crawl into bed with Anemone and fall asleep almost instantly, the face of Aristos haunting me behind my eyes.

    School starts in about a week for me, but for Anemone, it starts in just a few days so mama asks me to go with her shopping for some supplies that she'll need. I carry my camera around, as if I'm afraid it'll disappear from my room and secret places I keep it. I can help but feel as if I'm being watched, like Aristos is still around somewhere, making sure I don't run from the city or whatever.

    When we get back from shopping, papa and grandpa hustle me off to go train in the courtyard of the temples. I'm escorted by papa, and then have to listen to grandpa give me a big long speech about the temple, the religion, and the connection of our history and the place. It's weird to have my grandpa be the one who's teaching me about Arca instead of papa, I mean as far as I am concerned grandpa has no love for Arca and such. No wonder papa seems so excited today.

    As time goes on, we end up using the courtyard as our training ground. The priests and priestesses smile at us as they kindly deny any worshipers for us so we can all be alone. A few of them watch, fascinated and when I ask dad why we have an audience he just smiles at me and shakes his head, brushing off my question. "Going through a Test of Faith is a really big deal, Kyrie. Do you remember why we do it as a rite of passage?"

    "No…"

    "Do you remember the requirements?" I say no for good measure, just so that he won't suspect I've been training on my own. "Well, the Test of Faith is exactly what the name means, it's to have complete faith in Arca and the environment and your skills in alteesz. The requirements is that it has to be somewhere you've never been before, and it has to be witnessed as proof, and your performance can be denied if it's not impressive enough. So usually you get to chose how dramatic you want it to be. It also has to be something that you really need to test your faith on, such as I used to be so afraid of heights," He smiles at me here as I laugh at him, "So I climbed to the top of the Spire and jumped off."

    My jaw drops, "You did what?"

    "Yeah, I did. Also, the Test of Faith can only be performed once, so make it something memorable." I stop short. Wait, but I already did it. You mean I can't do it again?

    "What do you mean I can only do it once," I burst out. Papa looks at me perplexed and grandpa, who was showing a technique on meditation glares at me murderously.

    "You can only do it once, no one knows why. Just that it's sacrilegious." Grandpa states blindly.

    Papa rolls his eyes, "Arca doesn't wants us meaninglessly putting our lives in danger. So he gives us one chance, and only one chance, for us to behave recklessly. It is not to be disobeyed." I feel suddenly stupid.

    "What happens if it's disobeyed?"

    "It is not to be," Grandpa interrupted papa from saying anything with a glare at me. "It'd do you good Kyrie to listen and not ask so many questions." He then forces me to participate a bit more and makes me do our annual stretches before running.

    We all sit, meditating waiting for the sun to set. One of the priests walks up with food and drink and hands us these things with a short blessing. I want to ask so many questions now that I've been banned from asking them, like why are we under such high regard by the temple? And why was it that... when Aristos found out I am a trained alteesz, he looked at me like I was some sort of wild beast going to eat him? He wanted to see me jump, but that is an unspoken rule. People do not watch us jump.

    I sneak a glance to my papa on my left; his eyes are closed but he smiles as if he can see the sun setting in its magnificence. His legs are crossed, his arms are calmly resting on his knees, his chest rises and falls in a relaxed rhythm. Grandpa, who is on my right, also has his has his legs crossed. His back is straighter, his face slightly tensed by the setting rays of sunlight, and his eyes twitching under closed lids like he's dreaming. He grips his alteesz garments with tight fists, like he's getting ready to pounce.

    I'm sitting here, my back slouched, my hands by my sides, my eyes open and looking around. In a split second, I'm in proper stature, but I can't help by notice a couple of the priestesses giggling, and I blush uncontrollably while taking one last look at the sun. I feel it warm my cheeks and my chest, and my eyes start to water from the bright lights. I close them to block it out, but the red glow and the force of the eyelashes make small streams fall from my eyes. I'm crying? No, just irritation, but for some reason, I feel like crying. I have no idea why. Something is so different and on the verge of great change that I severely don't want. Is it here and now? The event of my rite of passage clearly drawing closer to my present state, and the admittance of never being able to do it properly because I snuck around and did it like the ignorant child I am? I have no idea, just sick anticipation.

    The sun dips below the city sky line and grandpa and papa stand without a word passed between them. I jump up with them and clear my throat as the twilight nestles into place on our city. Our city of heights and flight.

    It clicks weirdly in my mind; I won't be jumping alone this time. Usually when I went out with them, they watched me and followed on the streets but never on the roofs with me. Now it's obvious they'll be jumping as well. Where is our destination? I have no choice but to trust them.

    Silently, and in unspoken acknowledgement, grandpa and papa start off at an easy trot out of the courtyard. The monks all do a weird sort of silent bow as we pass by and in their long white and red robes and the dusk of the sky, it all seems rather eerie. I shudder as a cold wind blows through the empty streets and grandpa goes ahead, taking a bounding leap up to the side of a house. I follow next, barely able to scale it in my nervousness, but behind me papa mutters under his breath, "There you go, lovely" and he pushes my legs up.

    When I scale the roof, I notice, grandpa is actually a fast little bugger for his age. In discontent, I let out a small yelp and sprint after him, focusing on his back as I jump precariously across a small alley way. The soft clatter of tiles signals papa is right behind, and suddenly I'm captured at how swift and skilled grandpa is. He isn't waiting for us, and it's so hard to believe this is actually my grandfather who complains left and right of his arthritis and the politics in the city no one seems to know of, can jump a good four feet straight up and land softer than a cat. He's practically a quarter of a mile away as I struggle to keep up. I realize, this is my small size, and my inexperienced leg muscles; yes I've been doing this for a long time, but not like papa and grandpa have, and also, these guys are experts when they did this to keep their families alive when grandpa lived in the slums and married a slum woman and had my slum father who then really started to pick the family up off the ground.

    A soft hand lands on my shoulder as papa brings up next to me instead of behind, "We're going to lose him," He states and starts to pick up speed, "Remember, control your breathing so your legs can find a rhythm." He jumps with me across another roof and we're silently headed closer to him. I hadn't realized that my breathing was ragged--stupid distractions. My one flaw is distractions, but then again, papa said it means I just have quick reflexes to notice things before anyone else. Important things. Sometimes I think papa is a little too nice to me, and grandpa a little too harsh, maybe that's why they're the perfect team to teach me. Only they both become cruel, unforgivable beings when turned against each other. I never really questioned it before, but here, now, as I watch grandpa leave us behind and papa helping me along, I realize who my favored teacher is.

    Strangely enough, it's grandpa.

    We fall down to the ground with a shoulder roll and stealthily sneak around the streets and up the side of a tall residential building to the top where grandpa sits, eyebrows draw together in disappointment. "You're slow." He states.

    I cast my eyes down as papa comes to my rescue, "She's used to her own pace, just as you are."

    "Her pace is slow."

    "Haste makes waste,"

    "Yes, especially when you slip and crack your skull open from slow instincts." I curse myself inwardly at the chastise and quickly wave away my dad's next response with my own.

    "Where are we headed." I demand it calmly, mimicking grandpa's dull tones.

    "We'll stay in the fifth Zone for now," Grandpa starts, "one through three are off-limits, but four and five are yours." I don't comprehend what he says at first, and the my eyes open wide.

    "You mean, I'm off on my own now?" I mutter quietly, awe in my voice. Grandpa of all people is letting me go off on my own? I mean, not that this is anything new for me, but grandpa is letting me go on my own. Grandpa.

    "Yes," he finishes, but papa has more to say.

    "Usually, going off on your own is strictly forbidden before a Test of Faith but… we meditated on the choice and it seems someone has high expectations for you," Papa says, giving no indication as to who. So I ask. "Arca." He smiles.

    "Or more like we alteesz can sense choices, it's in our blood. We know things are going to happen before they do, it comes with the territory," Grandpa explains, "This is Arca. Our sixth sense."

    Papa's face hardens momentarily but decides not to say anything against his father.

    After a while, we start to head back home, walking the streets like normal people, exhaustion cutting all normal conversation. Some people peak out from their houses and see us, and suddenly the bars open and people leave their houses to go to the 7th Zone to get high or drunk.

    When I get home, I change sluggishly, eat a light snack mama prepared for us, and then get all nestled into bed and start drifting into dreams. Then it hits me. Aristos.

    I'm shocked, and then lazy as I groan and slip back on my clothes. I sneak out the window and head down the street at a snail's pace until the skyscraper we met on comes into view. I strain to see the top where he might be waiting, but instead I just walk in the doors at the base and climb the stairs laboriously. I stop short, check my pockets and sigh with great relief I still have my camera on me and then push myself to the very top of the building. He's there, feet dangling off the side when I start walking purposely loud to get his attention.

    He still doesn't notice me until I'm standing right behind him, hands in my pockets, and I notice small white things in his ears. A faint sound comes to my own and I realize he's listening to music. "Hey." I say loudly.

    He turns around to me and smiles, taking out the small buds. "Hello, Kyrie. I thought you had gone to bed already." He stands and I'm taken aback by his gaze again.

    The camera is in my hands, but I don't give it to him, "Why do you want to see this? You know, I'm not in the habit of showing people the way we jump."

    I try to sound authoritive, but he looks at me with a new question, "Wait, more than one person in your family is álti̱s?" Crap, I think as I bite my lip, "How many?!"

    "Three out of five."

    He's silent, the wind gently brushing his hair astray, "I'm guessing you, your sibling and one of your parents, correct?"

    "No, Anemone has a sickness. It's papa, grandpa and I."

    "Anemone?"

    "My younger sister."

    "Why don't you tell me about your family," He says with a small chuckle and sits down, his legs crossed and reminding me of my papa and grandpa during meditation. I sit down across from him and let myself relax. I'm too tired to hold back information, besides, what's the point? He's just a kid.

    "I'll start with Grandpa; his name is Damon Kineta, and his father pretty much abandoned him when he was a child…" I go on to explain how my great-grandfather had many kids, most of them illegitimately, and grandpa was the only one with the talent of alteesz. My great-granduncle was then instructed to teach grandpa, so he moved into the slums with great-granduncle and his family. He had all several children of his own, but only one or two had the talent, so they all learned but grandpa was put above the rest. Grandpa then married at a young age to a pretty girl who lived in the slums as well and became a 6th Zone resident. She died giving birth to my father, who was grandpa's third child, and the only one who ended up staying with the family. I have no idea where my uncles are, nor if their married and I have any cousins. I then told Aristos about how my father married my mother and had me, a healthy, fat little baby. I immediately showed the talent and I was brought up as young as I could remember with alteesz being a constant topic in the family. My mother told me how papa was much like grandpa in attitude; hard and blunt. But when he was with her, he was different and lighthearted. It became his permanent outlook and grandpa and him had many fights. When papa raised enough money to marry mama and move into the higher zones, grandpa was left to be all drunk and who knows what. After a while, mama, who grandpa had taken a reluctant liking to, invited him to live with us and got him to stop drinking. He assumed head leadership as being the elder in telling me about alteesz and then Anemone was born. Anemone was going to be papa's main apprentice, since I was spoken for, but Anemone wasn't fat or healthy when she was born. She was translucent and thin. She was diagnosed by Ajax and she had to frequently visit him to keep her alive.

    "Wow, so she's not just sick, she's really sick." Aristos interrupts. "You know, in the city of Briseis, they have excellent medicines. They could heal her."

    "We're the middle class, we don't have money to buy expensive medicine." I spit out rudely. "Ajax works for trade instead of money. If we get him herbs, he gets us medicine. And even then, he doesn't ask for much. About once a month, papa goes and gets the herbs for him, so that we can continue paying for Anemone's life."

    "Where does he get the herbs?" Aristos asks while gesturing to the bright city in the distance. "This isn't exactly a rich and natural pharmacy."

    "He leaves the city, stupid." Aristos's jaw drops, and I stop, "What?"

    "Leaving the city is strictly forbidden."

    "So?"

    "So? He could be executed." He says slowly and quietly. I roll my eyes at him and toss the camera from one hand to the next.

    "The guards don't pay attention to us, let alone to the Zones in general. The Zones start where the city starts to get bad, right outside the band surrounding the inner city. You're a guard in training, you should know this; the slums are too slummy to waist effort on. So no one cares. Besides, you have to be alteesz to get out. The exterior wall is way too high and the exits haven't been used in thousands of years." I stop tossing the camera and scratch my head, "And the trains? No one likes the trains, they're too deep in the Zones for the high class to get to and then again they're not the safest. When you arrived here, I'm sure you got here by a teleport of whatever, right?"

    Aristos nods slowly, looking at me as if I'm a specimen again. "Yeah, the transmats." I acknowledge him in agreement and remain silent as I wait for him to respond. "So your dad gets these herbs with this guy to he can keep Anemone alive?"

    "Yes."

    "Oh… continue." He sits back against a pole protruding from the building as I shrug.

    "Well, that's pretty much it." We look at each other in an awkward silence, "What… what about your family, Aristos?" It's the first time I say his name out loud and I'm pleased with how it sounds. It's quite a pretty name, actually.

    He grimaces, "My mother is an over controlling bitch." I look at him curiously, the last word he speaks is unfamiliar and by the sharp sound, it doesn't seem like a nice word. "My father is almost just the same only worse. He's kind of like your grandfather only he's pompous, arrogant, and doesn't listen to anyone but himself. He's also a kiss-ass. I have two older brothers and a sister, then there's me, and then there's my younger siblings, Josh and Tammy. They're twins. Since I'm too 'different', mom used to keep me home from doing the family business which is joining the national guard and stuff. She made me take care of Josh and Tammy a lot, and they're little terrors. I mean, I love them to death, don't get me wrong but when they're trying to get me to cry, don't even get me started," He bitterly rubs his arm and fiddles with the holster on his waist, "Think of me like your sister, Anemone. I am weak compared to my siblings, but not physically, I am weak in my heart. Josh got this amazing idea to collect all the dead frogs' bodies from the kitchen after we had frog legs dinner and strung them up on the ceiling in my room. I screamed and then they replayed the tape to my friends. By the sound of my voice you could swear I had pig tails and a pink frolic.

    "Abigail, my elder sister, she's more like my mom. Everyone in my family is very brutish looking; study shoulders and hard faces, except her and I. She has wispy blonde hair only she's much worse with her attitude. She's very overdramatic and constantly has a new boyfriend. Alec and Uri, my elder brothers, they're fierce and strong. Alec is to be married soon, which is all the rage back home since people think he's quite the looker and that's why I'm here--I'm really here because they're trying to get me out of the way for the wedding preparations. Uri is in the North, far away but will be around for the wedding, and mom is infatuated with Alec's fiancée, and Josh and Tammy are being dealt with by Abigail. Me? I'm a disgrace, apparently. They won't let Alec's fiancée even meet me until the actual wedding. Can you believe that?"

    He looks at me expectantly, and I feel one eyebrow raised on my forehead. I stare at him, considering; It's so strange, I never knew that you could… "You can eat frog legs?"

    Aristos looks at me weird, "Are you even listening?" he exclaims.

    I'm taken aback momentarily yet again by this boy, "What?"

    "Yes, you can eat frog legs. They're actually a delicacy, but I'm a vegetarian." He lets out a usual sigh and rubs his eyes, "Anyways, dad sent me here so that I could 'learn some manners' after everyone had a household fight about it. I stated I always felt excluded. They said I had changed. Hell yeah I've changed, I'm done with them stomping all over me. I used to be the quiet kid who could be taken for granted but now, not anymore. I'm done with them. So I'm sent here, forced to continue our family long tradition and I don't want it. I'm not someone who takes glory in death or pride in bloody victory. I am Aristos Cy Exodus!" He stands at this point, fist high in the air and his face towards the dark sky, "I am Greek where they are Hebrew. Over the Sea while they are English! I am a great conqueror of life then of men, and I fight with my kind words than my disgraced fists!" I just stare up at him, not wanting to break his speech, but I can't help but keep the noise down. He's taken back from cloud nine and looks down at me, confused. "What's wrong?"

    "You're funny." I giggle and start to snort.

    He looks at me angrily, "You're just like them."

    I hesitate and stand up with him, my dad's smile on my lips, "No, I'm not laughing at you, I am enjoying you. You are such a… treasure. The way you are so passionate about something that no one else is, but probably should be." His face changes to confused and searching, "And it's funny, no one has such displays of passion like that, and I think… I think I like that the most about you." I hold out my hand, feeling warmth in my chest and my father's words in my mind, "Hello, Aristos, I'm Kyrie Theron Kineta--it's a pleasure to meet you."

    I don't know why I did this, but Aristos looks at me differently for once, and takes my hand, shaking it firmly like the night before. We lock eyes, and I sense something--whether it be my sixth sense or Arca whispering to me--but I can tell Aristos and I… this is the start of a long and happy friendship.

    "Now, do you want to see the video?"

    Aristos smiles, as if sensing my sudden trust more, and holds out his hand for the camera. I give it to him and watch as he takes out a small chip and puts it in a small, narrow device. He slides his thumb on the edge and a transparent screen like that of the UNS at home pops up into the thin air. It's crisper, cleaner, and is very different from the one at home. The back light is tinged green instead of light blue and the controls seem different. It reminds just how outdated our technology is here in the Zones.

    I watch it play, clearer than the camera's display screen itself, and watch as I run through the train tunnels and jump to the moving train. The camera takes a few moments to readjust, but in no time, the train is going across the outside bridge and it shows me, looking powerful and as wild as always, hold my right hand up to the screen. The sounds of the train and wind and my voice mix eerily together, and the sight of the city behind me is breathtaking. I keep watching, expecting the video to end, but it doesn't. Apparently I forgot to turn off the camera, and I set it down next to me as I sit on the train as it loops around the city. I remember that night, and spot the Merchant Spike coming up sharply and know I am to start jumping down and away soon. I pick up the camera, and turn it off suddenly and jam it in my pocket, and I stand back from Aristos, expecting Arca knows what from him.

    Instead of turning to me once the recordings done, he rewinds it to where I place it down. "Oh? What are you…?" He says to himself and has the segment pause and zoom in; his subject is an inbound bridge to Damocles that the trains ride in on. It's nothing unusual, the trains keep moving no matter what, but his eyes are trained on something I can't make out. He starts the video in a loop and I see it; a shadowy figure, jumping the cars of the train, very much like I was. I freeze as he pauses it again. It's obviously a male figure judging by the uniform and lack of curves in the right places, but too thin to be grandpa or papa. It's weird, the way he's jumping, with his arms above his head instead of tucked in like I was trained. For some reason, it startles me.

    Aristos looks at me, our shared question in his eyes.

    "Are you sure the Kinetas are the only alteesz in Damocles?"