Residence

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my friends and family for their unyielding support. For pointing out plot holes and telling me when I’m being stupid. You keep me levelled and focused. And to my incredible fans and supporters. As always, I would be nothing without you.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you continue to enjoy my stories, for there will be more to come!

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Maverick said, walking over to Saphora with two cups of tea.

He sat down on the sofa beside her, setting the cups down on the coffee table. Saphora shook her head, keeping it lowered as her arms moved to hug her bent legs. Her eyes were blood-shot, her face blotchy and pink.

After the fallout with Fran, Saphora had gone to the only other place that she felt at ease – Maverick’s house. He was more than willing to invite her in, and he listened to her story until she was calm enough to stop crying. Most of it, at least. She had left out what she had remembered, as well as the details of the events that had happened before. But even though he didn’t know everything that happened, he was still doing everything he could to help.

“I called her a human,” she said with a scoff, as if disgusted with herself for using some sort of slur.

“Well … She is a human,” he said, trying to provide some sort of acceptance for the phrase.

“Not the way I said it.”

“Well how bad could she have taken it? I mean, we are human,” he said with a low chuckle.

And for the first time in almost two hours, Saphora looked Maverick in the eyes. It almost caught him off guard; his body tensed. She somewhat smiled, and he tensed further.

“Yeah … Right,” she practically mumbled.

She turned away again, and Maverick frowned. She brought her knees closer to her chest as she looked at the dull coloured walls.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” she said, her voice trembling again.

“Aren’t you going to make up with Fran?”

She snapped her head back in his direction, startling him.

“What for? For her to throw my memories in my face and laugh at them? For her to crush the only thing I’ve ever wanted in my entire life? For her to – to lock me up like some experiment that’s gone wrong?” Maverick was silent.

“I’m not going back there,” she nearly spat out, before turning away from him again to look at the wall. Maverick bit the inside of his lip. He could see her body trembling, and he knew that she was fighting back tears. “I’ll be fine. I’ll go up to the abandoned house. I’ll keep her away from it somehow.”

“What?”

“If she wants to come after me, then she’s going to have to deal with the consequences of what she’s put me through.”

“Saphora,” Maverick said through her anger, as he put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t do something that you’re going to regret. You can stay here with me if you want. Hydra’s already staying here. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I’m not going to let you go live in some old abandoned house.”

Saphora’s eyes welled against her will. It was too much, and yet, everything she needed. To have gone through so much with someone, and then be able to run into another’s arms. Arms that were wide open. She was sure she didn’t deserve the amount of willing kindness Maverick continued to give. But she couldn’t bring herself to refuse it.

And after a moment of hesitation, she threw her arms around him, leaning herself into his chest with a sob. Maverick’s body immediately tensed as he fought to keep his torso from falling back into the sofa. His arms hovered in the air as he looked over at Hydra. She grinned, her arms crossing as she leaned back against one of the walls of the room. Maverick’s face flushed as his arms slowly inched around Saphora’s body. When he squeezed, she squeezed back as the tears silently fell.

********

“Dr. Lupin speaking.”

“Doctor,” Fran sobbed into the phone.

Lupin straightened in his seat. He waved his hand at Officer Roland, signaling him to come over to get a listen of the conversation. They had seen the news. And they knew it was only a matter of time.

“Fran? What is it? Are you alright?”

“You have to do it,” she breathed.

“Do what, Fran?”

“Saphora, she – At the zoo …”

“Yes … I saw the news. Are you alright?”

“You were right, Doctor. She tried to get into the exhibit! With that … that … monster! You have to help her. Please,” she sobbed, wiping her eyes. Lupin gestured for Roland to get Johnson.

“Yes, okay, Fran. Don’t worry. We’re going to help her. We’ll be there soon,” Lupin assured.

“She’s not here.”

“Not there? Where did she go?”

“I don’t know.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Almost two hours ago,” she said, her lungs hiccupping.

“Okay, Fran. Calm down. Do you have any idea where she could have gone?” Lupin asked, as Roland reentered the room with Johnson.

“No … I don’t – Wait –“

“Yes?”

“She … There’s this boy named M-Maverick, I think. It’s the only place I can think of, but … I don’t know where he lives,” she cried, losing the hope of finding Saphora as quickly as it had arrived.

“Is there anything you can tell me about him? What he looks like? What car he drives?”

“A … black Camaro. He was driving a black Camaro when he brought her home. But I didn’t see him,” she said, trying to steady her breathing.

“That’s okay, Fran,” he assured, writing the notes down and passing them to Johnson. She took up the piece of paper. Roland looked over it as well, and spoke up.

“We just towed a black Camaro the other day from around the area of the accident. I think the owner’s name started with an M, too,” he noted.

“Go get me the information on it,” she ordered. He nodded, beginning to walk out of the room. “And a picture!” she shouted after him.

“That’s great, Fran. You’ve given enough information. I will call you when we find his address, okay? Try to get some rest. Would you like us to send someone over there to stay with you?” he offered.

“No. Just … Please find her.”

“We’re going to do our absolute best,” he said, before hanging up the phone. He sighed, looking up at Johnson.

“Hopefully this black Camaro is our Maverick’s Camaro,” Johnson said. “You sure that’s the only place she thinks she could be?”

“She would have told me any other possibility. She’s genuinely scared for her. I’m sure she’d give us any information we asked for.”

“Any information?” Johnson repeated. Lupin raised a brow, silently answering with a question of his own. “And if we asked her about Saphora’s … origins?”

“Well, while I doubt she knows anything of her actual origins … There is a possibility that she could further confirm that her origins are not of Earth.”

“Even so. Information like that would be valuable to the agents.”

“True. But she’s too shaken up right now. We’ll wait a few days, once we’ve put Saphora in the institution and given her some time to calm down.”

“Seeing the temper on her, that could be a while,” she said as Roland came back into the room holding a handful of papers. Coming to a stop beside Johnson, he dropped the papers on the desk in front of them both, a picture of Maverick and his black Camaro on the cover page.

“That our guy?” Roland asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Looks like it,” Johnson answered. Lupin’s eyes narrowed as he took a closer look at the photo. He recognized him. He tapped the photo, shaking his head.

“This is the man that I had to greet in the lobby. He was acting like a drug addict.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves an accomplice,” Johnson said. “That should be enough to contain him. Get his address and prepare some backup. We storm them tomorrow.”

The night had seemed to settle down once Saphora reached Maverick. Her tears had put her to sleep in Maverick’s arms, and he was only too happy to be able to comfort her. For as long as she needed, he gave her reassuring words of comfort and security.

After Saphora had fallen asleep, Hydra had a conversation with Maverick about what was to come. They had also seen the news. Maverick understood that they would be preparing to leave soon, and that it was vital for Saphora to reconnect with Arol as soon as possible. Once she did, they would be heading back to Athena.

A groan left Saphora’s lips as she rolled over in Maverick’s bed. Her arm stretched out to the side, her palm flattening out. Her eyes closed tighter as her body tensed in the stretch. Her mind shook into consciousness as her body eased, her eyes slowly opening. They blinked, adjusting to the natural light flooding into the room. Once open, they rested on the smothered face of Maverick, which her hand was resting on. Blinking again, her eyes widened, and he smiled.

“Morning,” he greeted cheerfully.

There was a pause in Saphora’s judgment, followed by a delayed, but piercing scream.

Hydra came rushing in moments later, only to find Maverick buried under his blanket and one of his pillows. She stood a few steps in from the doorway, looking back and forth from Saphora, who was guarding herself with the other pillow, and Maverick, who was trying to find his way out from under the blanket.

“What happened?” she asked.

“He scared me,” Saphora insisted.

“I said good morning!” Maverick argued, pushing the blanket away from his face.

“With your face in my hand?”

“Your hand was on my face!”

Hydra groaned, rolling her eyes and turning to walk out of the room.

“Vida help me,” she sighed.

“Sorry … For throwing your stuff at you,” Saphora mumbled, sitting on the sofa in Maverick’s living room.

“It’s fine. Thinking about it, that probably was a weird way to wake up,” he laughed.

“You think?”

“Sorry about that. I just … I came in to check on you.”

“Well … Thanks for checking … And letting me stay here. I really –“

“Hey, hey, it’s no problem. Really. I’m happy that you’re staying over. I want you to,” he said, smiling as he turned his head to look at her. She let herself smile, leaning forward a bit more into her knees.

Hydra, putting on Maverick’s baseball cap after pinning up her hair, walked to the front door, holding his sunglasses.

“I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to go speak to Arol,” she announced, unlocking the door. Saphora snapped her head in her direction and moved to stand up.

“Arol? I want to go,” she said stepping forward. Maverick stood up behind her, his hand gently tugging at her shirt.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he warned sheepishly.

“He’s right,” Hydra agreed.

“Why not?” she asked, frowning. “I’ve already remembered him. I won’t black out again. I want to see him,” she argued.

“And you will. Just not now. I do not think the humans want you there.”

“What? Why?”

“Maverick,” she said, as she put the sunglasses on. Maverick nodded as she left, and closed the door behind her. Saphora grimaced and stepped forward, causing Maverick to tug on her a little harder.

“Hey?!” Saphora called out after Hydra.

“Saphora, wait, it’s okay,” Maverick stressed, moving to stand in front of her.

“Why won’t you let me see him?”

“You need to look at something. We recorded it yesterday,” Maverick said, sitting Saphora down and getting the remote for the television.

********

“How many we got?” Johnson asked, looking around at the group of officers that were surrounding her. Roland popped his gum, looking around at the group as well.

“Everyone’s here. We got some people from section 15, section 4, and section 8, 42, and 23. I think we’ve even got some volunteers here. Bunch of rookies that wanna see the dragon girl,” Roland scoffed. Johnson crossed her arms, obviously not so amused with the fact.

“Listen up!” she called out to the group. “Anyone who is not here by request, go home! If I see you in the field, not only will you be fired, but you will have the pleasure of getting discharge papers from me, personally! Is that understood?” she shouted.

And almost instantly, about fifteen people left from the crowd, going back to their stations, while one stepped forward. Both Johnson and Roland turned their attention in their direction, to see Glover with his arm in a sling.

“Glover,” Roland asked, more than greeted.

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to tag along,” he said with a slight smile, which seemed to fade a little too quickly. Johnson hesitated, glancing down at his injured arm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered firmly.

“Well, as long as you don’t mind Roland calling shot gun.”

Roland smiled, chewing his gum to the side. Glover smirked, looking over at his partner and giving a nod.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to be away from the wheel this time around.”

Johnson grinned, before looking around at the ready crowd.

“Alright people! Get ready for one hell of a take down.”

********

Looking around the area of the zoo, Hydra kept a low profile. Trying to act like the people around her, she looked around with expressions of amusement at the animals behind the glass of the exhibits. Reaching Arol’s exhibit, security had the area partially surrounded, and were constantly keeping a watch on the seemingly depressed dragon.

Hydra frowned, walking off to the side and away from security’s view. She stood behind an unmanned sales cart, full of balloons, t-shirts, toys, and snacks. Looking around at the passing people to make sure she was not being looked at, she put her foot against the side of the cart, and with a sharp thrust, sent the cart flying across the floor away from Arol’s exhibit. Aiding it by spreading ice along the floor beneath it. It went crashing against the wall on the other side of the room.

Alarmed, the majority of security rushed over to inspect the cart, leaving a large enough section of his exhibit unattended. Rushing over, she made her way to the thick glass of the exhibit. And as she did, Arol’s attention was captured. Hydra held up her hand to calm his reaction, as his head slowly rose to greet her. He pressed his snout into the glass, around the area where her hand was, and exhaled, fogging it up.

“Hey there, big guy,” Hydra greeted with a grin. Arol cooed against the glass, blinking. Hydra nodded. “Yes, she’s all right. She remembers you now,” she said softly. “She misses you.” Arol cooed again, followed by a whine. “She can’t come now. You saw what happened,” she said, with a shake of her head. “We need to get you out of here, Arol. How far along is your recovery?” Arol huffed against the glass, shifting his wings about on his back. “Good. You may need those soon.”

Arol’s whine grew louder, vibrating the glass against Hydra’s hand. She rushed to calm him, but it was too late.

“Hey, you!” one of the security guards yelled out in her direction. Her head whipped in the man’s direction with alarm.

“I’ll be back,” she said to Arol before turning away from him and running towards the exit of the building.

“Stop!” Another one shouted, starting to run after her.

But Hydra didn’t stop. Arol let out roars towards the security guards, alarming several of them as a few continued after Hydra. She looked back over her shoulder, picking up her pace and spreading her palm. Water trickled down from it as she ran, quickly turning into a thin sheet of ice under the running feet of the men. They slipped and tumbled over each other, limbs flailing. They fell with a thud, sliding along the ice to a slow stop as Hydra continued to run away, making it successfully out of the building.

She kept going until she was off the property of the zoo, not stopping until she was about half a mile away. And then finally, she stopped to catch her breath along the outer streets of town. Only to have it interrupted by the ringing of her communicator.

“Hydra,” she answered, slightly out of breath.

“Hydra! Where is Saphora?”

“Artemis?” Hydra asked, looking up at Artemis’ distressed expression.

“Where?” she urged.

“She’s … with the boy,” Hydra answered.

“She’s about to be taken by the humans. Both of them.”

Saphora buried her face in her hands, slumping her shoulders.

“I can’t believe this,” she groaned, having just watched the footage from the news report. “No wonder they want to put me in a mental institution.” Maverick shifted his position on the sofa so that he could face her.

“Hey, whoa, don’t be so hard on yourself. Anyone could have a blackout. And it’s not like you really hurt anyone. You were just trying to get to your buddy,” Maverick insisted. Saphora lifted her head to look at him with a frown.

“You know that’s not what it looked like.”

“I know … But do you see now why we didn’t want you to go back?”

“Yes,” Saphora whined. “But how are we going to get him out of there, Maverick? He’s in a cage! He’s a dragon.”

“We’ll think of something.”

Saphora shook her head, lowering it again. Maverick grimaced, hating to see her so down. And then he remembered something. Something that may or may not cheer her up. He stood up from the sofa and smiled. Saphora’s gaze followed him in curiosity.

“Hang on,” he said, starting to walk towards his room. “I got something for you.”

She turned her body to watch him enter his room, before turning back around with raised eyebrows. A gift?

“I don’t know when your birthday is or anything, but … I wanted to get you something, since you’ve been so stressed out and stuff, you know?” he called out from his bedroom.

Saphora smiled, keeping her eyes lowered. She nodded, looking up at the television screen. The security was closing in on her. Her smile faded some.

“Here we go,” he said, coming back into the living room.

Saphora turned her head to watch him sit beside her on the sofa with a flat, square-shaped wrapped item. Her eyes fell to it as Maverick smiled, offering it to her. She carefully took it into her hands, looking back up at him with a sheepish smile.

“Well, go on. Open it,” he said, gesturing with his hands.

She gnawed slightly at her bottom lip before the wrapping was ripped from the gift all together, being flung about in all different directions. Maverick flinched, holding onto the back of the sofa and blinking rapidly. He chuckled, letting out a breath.

“Well, that’s one way of opening a gift.”

“Oh, sorry … Did you want to save the paper?” she asked, pieces of the ripped paper beginning to float around them.

“No, no, it’s fine.”

Saphora looked back down at the gift and paused. She blinked, before exhaling a laugh and hanging her head. It was the book she had been looking at in the bookstore. About magic and mystical creatures. She smiled, tilting her head and looking back at Maverick, whose smile was nearly twice as big. He shrugged and gestured to the book.

“I know it may be a little silly now, but I saw that you liked it, and-“

“I love it,” Saphora insisted, with a shake of her head. Putting the book to the side, she moved closer to Maverick and wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Thank you.” Instinctively, Maverick’s body stiffened. And slowly, his arms wrapped around her to hold her frame.

“You’re uh … You’re welcome. No problem. Glad you like it.”

And then Saphora began to pull away. She pulled back enough so that they were able to look at each other, which made Maverick’s heart race.

“You know, Maverick …” she began.

“Yeah?” He asked, almost eagerly. Saphora’s eyes searched his momentarily.

“We never really … I want to thank you. For … for staying with me through all of this,” she started, averting her eyes. “I mean, not … with me, but –“

“No, I know, yeah,” Maverick assured with a wave of his hand.

Saphora looked back up into his nervous eyes. He was the only one, after what had just happened with Fran that she was scared to lose. She didn’t know what it was, but had an idea of where to start. There wasn’t just a sense of security, but there was also a sense of fondness. She had been reluctant to admit it, because of previous trust issues.

But with everything that had been going on, she couldn’t help but feel the attraction, and some sense of dependence. And she couldn’t help but feel that some of that attraction stemmed from that security that he was able to provide her. It was almost humorous how safe she felt. Having absolutely nothing but his body and wits (which seemed to flicker on and off like a light-bulb) to protect her, she felt safer than she ever had under Fran’s eye. She didn’t want to consider letting him go.

It wasn’t everyday she was able to have such a relationship with someone. Especially after they’d seen her at what was arguably some of her worst. But she also didn’t want to take away something she had no right to – his life on Earth. His future. His past. She couldn’t just simply ask him to go with her. She frowned, knowing this, and reached for his hand.

“You won’t forget me, right?” she uttered just above a whisper. Maverick’s brows pinched together in confusion as he grimaced.

“What?”

There was a knock on the door.

“Maverick Teller?” called a man from the other side of the door.

“Yes?” he called back, casually walking to it.

Saphora looked down at the dent in the cushion where Maverick had been sitting, and waited for her memory to catch up with her. She knew the voice. But by the time she realized it, she was too late. She spun around on the sofa, arm extended in a flawed attempt to stop Maverick.

“Wait!” she cried.

But it was too late. The door was forcibly kicked in before Maverick even had the chance to reach it, making him turn his body away and raise his arms defensively, nearly falling over in the process.

Before he could correct his posture, two men had tackled him to the ground and were proceeding to put his hands behind his back as more men and women flooded into the room. Saphora stood up in alarm, looking down at Maverick, who was gritting his teeth and letting out slurs of pained resistance.

“Maverick!” Saphora called out, ready to rush to him, but the increasing amount of officers stopped her.

And the familiar voice of Officer Johnson further distracted her when she made her way through the crowd to stand before her.

“Saphora Mousescawits?” she asked, as if she did not know her name. Saphora narrowed her wide eyes at the woman. “We’re here to transport you to Clemming’s mental ward.”

Saphora squinted in sudden rage.

“What?” her voice cracked.

Johnson looked over at the television screen, which was replaying the recording of the news report. She gestured her head in its direction.

“That little stunt there cost you. We’ve been ordered to collect you,” Johnson explained. Saphora’s fists clenched.

“By who?” she spat, already having the answer in her mind. Johnson hesitated, confirming her thoughts as Maverick was brought to his feet by the men that had tackled him. “If you’re here for me, why are you taking him?”

“That’s none of your –“

“Like hell it isn’t! I’m already angry,” Saphora warned. “You don’t want to see me pissed. Dragons will be the least of your problems.”

Johnson’s head tilted back slightly as she examined Saphora’s expression – the eerie truth of her words that lingered.

“An accomplice,” Johnson said flatly. “To the destruction of your files.” Maverick’s struggles paused as the plan was mentioned. Saphora shook her head, putting her acting skills to the test.

“The hell are you talking about?” Johnson turned around slightly to signal the men to start dragging Maverick out of the apartment.

“That’s not for us to discuss with you. Are you going to come quietly?”

Maverick shouted in protest, thrashing about in the men’s grip as they started pulling him towards the door. Saphora’s eyes snapped to him, before angrily returning to Johnson. And before she could make the poor decision to expose herself, Maverick called out to her.

“Saphora, run!” he shouted, as he was being pulled towards the door.

Saphora’s eyes went back to him, with sudden alarm. He kicked as he was dragged out of the apartment.

“Run!” he screamed again, making Saphora’s heart race.

She looked back and forth from the doorway to the tensing Johnson, who was subtly signaling her group to move in. And then she made the decision to move. She was sure that she’d be able to break out of anything they put her in if she were to be captured, and if she wasn’t, she knew where the police station was. She could go back with Hydra to get Maverick. He was right. She needed to run.

She turned on her heel and darted towards the window. She silently apologized for what she was about to do, as she raised her arms over her face, thrusting her body at and through the framed glass, shattering it with some help from her power. Johnson, along with two other women rushed up to the window to see if she had made it.

“Dart her!” Johnson shouted down at the surrounding officers.

Saphora swore under her breath as she fell into the crowd. Each of them grabbed a limb and held her as best they could as two others proceeded to inject her arms. Saphora hissed, struggling against them, while trying to keep her power under control. Angry as she was, she honestly did not want to hurt any of them. However much of a wrong decision they were making, most of them were just following orders.

But her struggling started to calm down – inevitable with the amount of sedatives they had just given her. Her body began to grow lethargic, and her vision lagged. But from the corner of her blurring eyes, she saw the familiar face of Officer Glover, his expression somewhat pained. Her eyes glazed as the anger was replaced with confusion.

“Why are you doing this? Tell them how I saved your life,” she practically begged. But Glover merely shook his head in silence.

“You said you would never wrong another innocent man!” she shouted at him, trying to push forward against the crowd. And to their surprise, she did. But only a few steps. Glover took a step back in response, in what almost looked like fear.

“You are not a man.”

Saphora scoffed, feeling the edges of her vision begin to darken.

“Neither are you,” she spat, her body not strong enough to stop the men and women from carrying her away and forcing her arms into an overly fitted straight jacket.

Rushing through the refined halls of the Kiran castle, both Artemis and Mishka raced against their internal clocks to each and every library in the castle. Starting from the smallest in the basement, they’d gathered various materials. Everything from photos and books, to maps and scrolls. Each item carrying vital information for the queen.

During the hunt for information, Mishka, Artemis’ guardian, made several trips to Vida’s chambers, to hide the materials in the locations they had discussed. They were now on their way to the left-wing library, before heading to the grand one on the main floor.

“Artemis, please. Can we not just tell the queen –“

“No, Mishka,” Artemis interjected. “She is already weak. I will not have her waste what energy she has left on me.” Mishka grimaced, trying to catch up with her friend.

“But that would mean –“

Artemis spun on her heel, catching Mishka off guard and almost causing a collision.

“I know what it means,” she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat as she forced herself to maintain eye contact. “I am not asking you to stay for that, Mishka. I would never.” Mishka shook her head, fighting back inevitable tears. She tried her best to smile through her building despair.

“You don’t have to.”

Knowing exactly the shelf of the book she required, Artemis wasted no time scurrying in to find it. The large wooden double doors swayed shut behind her as she journeyed further into the familiar library. She had memorized every word, every photo, every map, every bent and wriggled page, every worn book jacket, every rip in every scroll, every dusty table, and every flickering bulb.

Reaching the bookshelf she needed, she ran down the aisle to the book’s location. Being the mere four feet and ten inches that she was, she was grateful for her ability to manipulate gravity. It was similar to levitation, though she could not control the direction of the objects, or herself for that matter, aside from up and down. Using her ability, she raised herself up, enough to reach the book that was about twenty shelves high.

Gripping the spine of the book, she held it close to her chest, before lowering herself back to the carpeted floor. Her landing, graceful, immediately turned into a mad dash to get back down the aisle. She had a smile on her face, thinking that perhaps she beat the clock of fate with enough to time to alter it.

Pivoting around the bookshelf into the wide aisle of the library, she stumbled to a stop. Her platinum hair, boxing her dark face in with bangs and tied in funnel-like ornaments on either side of her face, swayed forward in the sudden stop. Her red eyes, behind largely framed glasses, went wide at the sight before her, and her grip on the book grew tighter with every strained breath.

There in front of her, on the far end of the library with a smug grin, was Enya. She frowned as she tried to steady her breathing. Panic would only end things quicker. Glancing down at the book in her hands, she thought of a way that she could get it out of the library safely. She needed the book to survive.

Enya smiled as she started walking down the wide aisle of the library, her index finger trailing along each table that she passed.

“Hello, Artemis,” said Enya. Artemis was silent, and Enya’s toothy grin spread. “My apologies. Let me introduce myself.”

“I know who you are, Enya. Guardian of Hades. Winged creature of hellish fire,” Artemis spoke up.

“I prefer the term phoenix. Though that does have a nice ring to it.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Artemis said, glancing around the room and silently making a mental list of the things that could be used as a weapon. The tilt in Enya’s neck corrected itself as her eyes narrowed.

“That sounds like you know what I’m here to do.”

“Unfortunately.”

“And yet you’re still here. Standing still. Have you lost hope? I would have expected you to run, being the tiny thing you are.”

“Do not underestimate the small.”

Enya smiled.

“Oh? Tell me. Have you seen yourself surviving this?” she asked as she began to walk forward again.

This time as her index finger dragged along the surface of the table she passed, her nail dug in somewhat, and left behind a trail of flames, barely kindling. Artemis couldn’t help but draw her eyes to the slowly growing flames atop the table. A part of her ached. She knew the damage that would be dealt to this library. And though she would not be there to mourn it, it burdened her conscious.

“I have not,” she answered, seeing no point in lying. Enya raised a brow, drawing nearer. “But I will not lay down and be slain.”

“Good,” Enya encouraged. “I was hoping this wouldn’t be boring.”

With a swift pivot of her body, Artemis launched the book she was holding behind her at one of the large windows. It crashed through it, pages fluttering as it made its way to the ground. It captured Enya’s attention, making her head snap up at the distraction. In that time, Artemis dashed down the aisle closest to her. Enya hissed as she ran up, making the same turn down the aisle. But Artemis was gone.

Groaning in frustration, Enya looked around agitatedly, as if Artemis would be hiding within one of the many bookshelves. But she had ran up one of them and was now hoping from bookshelf to bookshelf, trying to hurry her way to the swords at the front of the library, held by hollow armored statues. But the sound of Artemis’ pitter patter atop the bookshelves drew her attention. She smirked, leaping to the stop of the bookshelf to her left, and spotting her.

“Now you run!” Enya laughed, jerking her wrist forward and sending a ball of fire charging at Artemis.

Hearing the sounds of the crackling flames, she ducked, letting the ball rush past her into the wall. She looked behind her, and saw that Enya was aiming to throw another. Focusing on the bookshelf that Enya was standing on, she released its gravitational pull, causing it to lift into the air. Startled, Enya wobbled on it before looking up at the ceiling she was headed for.

Making the decision to jump, she landed on the bookshelf in front of her, snarling as she looked up at the now hopping Artemis. She stood on the bookshelf, and started leaping after her. Hearing this, Artemis started sending all the bookshelves she had passed into the air.

Annoyed with the trick, Enya’s ginger hair began to harbor flames as fire trailed down her arms into her hands. Launch after launch, fire struck down the bookshelves as Enya fought to stay balanced on one.

After the bookshelves were struck down, there was nothing in the way of aiming for Artemis. A stream of fire chased after Artemis’ figure. She twisted to the side, but was still licked by the flames. She groaned in pain, wobbling to the edge of the bookshelf. She winced, holding onto her arm as she looked over at the grinning Enya.

As Enya powered another stream of fire, Artemis leaped into the air to avoid the hit. Her manipulation keeping her safely afloat. Using the nearby chandelier to kick off of, Artemis flipped, allowing her feet to make contact with the ceiling. Once they did, she took off in a mad dash to continue towards the front of the library, now only a short jog away.

The library was quickly being consumed in flames by the time Artemis reached and drew the sword from the lifeless hands of the armored statue. But still, she felt a surge of confidence once she possessed it. Enya, on the other hand, laughed in mockery of the decision.

“A sword. How valiant. But I wonder if you’re trained to use it.”

With some fancy wrist work, Artemis held the sword in a combat-ready stance, and glared at Enya while pushing up her glasses.

“Come find out for yourself.”

“I intend to.”

Drawing the sword that was sheathed against her back, she took careful, yet confident steps towards the ready Artemis.

Artemis took her cautious step forward. And then they were upon each other. Blades colliding, bodies dancing in the struggle to land a significant blow upon one another. After several unsuccessful attempts, the two pressed their swords against one another’s, eyes locking before they pushed off each other, taking several steps back.

Already having exerted most of her energy during the flight to retrieve the sword, and the scramble to gather the information, Artemis was now panting. It didn’t help that smoke was beginning to fill the room from the flames that were eating away at the library. She coughed, wiping her forehead as Enya giggled.

“Not bad!” Enya applauded. “It’s a pity though. Had you laid down to be slain,” Enya smiled. Artemis glared. “You may have spared this library.”

Artemis frowned, and charged at Enya again with a cry of anger. Enya readily picked up her sword, happy to engage with her. Their blades clashed again, and their hair whipped about their faces. But this time, when Enya’s sword raised for an attack, Artemis stole its gravitational pull, aiming to banish it to the ceiling. Enya’s eyes widened, caught off guard as she grunted, trying to keep control of the sword.

Artemis spun, cutting Enya across her torso. She scowled, letting go of her sword to back away and hold a hand over her now bleeding torso, just enough to be under the now floating sword. Artemis waited the split second for the sword to point downwards, before applying a harsh gravity, aiming to slice the sword through Enya’s skull.

But she made the mistake of gesturing her hand, giving away her intention to Enya. Enya rolled out of the way, dodging the sword by a mere fraction of a moment. Artemis groaned, going into another fit of coughing, when her attention was seized by the opening of the library doors. Mishka had pushed them open in distress, her eyes wide and her mouth agape.

“Artemis!” she cried, ready to run into the room.

But Artemis rushed to the doors, wrapping her arms around them and pushing them shut. She used what energy she had left to apply gravity to the doors, as she pushed her sword through the handles. Mishka beat against them frantically. Artemis closed her eyes as she coughed, listening to her friend’s cries of denial.

“Artemis! Artemis, no!” Mishka cried, banging on the wooden doors. Enya’s laughter called Artemis’ attention behind her. She was standing up, one hand over her torso as her other attempted to draw her sword. But the gravity was too intense. Enya’s patience had been tested. Artemis could feel it in the atmosphere.

“Enough of this,” she hissed, as her form began to change. Artemis pressed her back against the thudding doors as she watched Enya’s transformation into her natural, and most powerful form – the phoenix. Her wingspan spread to nearly the size of the library, knocking over and setting fire to several, if not all of the surrounding bookshelves. There was a hawk-like cry as her body expanded and morphed into that of the flaming-winged creature. Artemis blinked rapidly as the sparks flew off of Enya’s body, stinging her eyes.

“Artemis!” sobbed Mishka.

The scream was heard echoing through the castle halls, falling upon the ears of Vida, who was on her way back to her chambers. She was a mere hall away from her doors when she heard the cry. Her head, as well as the two guards’ that were with her, turned in the direction of the scream. And through the bare windows of the hall, it was seen. The grand library filled with smoke. Some of the flames licking up the windows they had shattered.

The guards gasped, one of them beginning to run towards it as Vida stood frozen in astonishment. The name that had been called out hadn’t registered with her at first, as she stared at the growing flames that were swaying from the windows, the smoke now raising into the skies. And then it dawned on her, nearly stopping her heart. Her eyes widened as her body turned in the direction of the library.

“Artemis,” she breathed, her body shifting into the form of lightning.

Her form zipped through the halls, regenerating once she was in front of the library doors. Mishka turned around to her queen, her eyes and cheeks red with despair. Vida stepped forward with haste, gently pushing Mishka aside as she fought to catch her breath.

“Step aside,” she ordered, as her hands rose, palms flat.

With a swift jerk she flung her hands to her side, a deafening boom heard as the double doors broke apart, immediately feeding the flames with the gust of the wind that followed. Vida groaned in horror as she took in the sight before her. Artemis, deathly still on the floor, with Enya hovering over her. Enya turned her attention to Vida, and even with her lack of ability to in her current form, she could see Enya’s eyes smiling. Proud that she had just slain her dearest friend.

Rage boiled within Vida as she screamed something inaudible, shooing her hands at Enya and firing rounds of lighting from them in the process. One hit Enya in the gash across her torso, calling a screech of pain as she turned to retreat. Vida turned to shield the trembling Mishka as Enya charged for the back wall of the library. Breaking through it, she took off somewhat haphazardly into the skies, calling attention to herself from the residents of the castle and those surrounding it.

“Guards!” Vida called, lowering her arm. “Shoot the beast down!” she raged.

Her command was heard throughout. And slowly but surely, various forms of attack were seen launching at Enya. Some were successful in piercing her wings, but they were not enough to bring her down, and she escaped over the bleak horizon.

“When?” Hydra asked Vida, whom she was talking to on the communicator. Her voice was drenched in agony.

“The morning,” Vida grieved. “The work of Enya. Sent by the witch herself.”

“I had spoken to her … this morning. She …” Hydra began. Vida pressed for her to continue.

“What? Did she tell you anything? What was it, Hydra?”

“Forgive me. I have failed you.”

“Failed me?”

“This morning. I had gone to see Arol, when she told me about Saphora, and what happened in my absence.”

Vida’s heart seemed to stop. Her face scrunched up in anticipation as she forced herself to ask the following question.

“What happened? Tell me my daughter is alive.”

“Alive, but not free. She was taken by their authorities, as was the boy. Not together, though. I don’t believe.”

“Do you know where she is? What they’re doing to her?”

“No, but I am tracking her. My guess is that they are going to be questioning her about her origins.”

“That’s all?”

“I fear that if they get the answers to their questions, then no.”

Vida grimaced, her heart pumping worry and frustration.

“It’s time to come home, Hydra. Retrieve them and come home. Earth has proven itself troublesome. I fear the war may soon be upon us,” she said, beginning to pace the small area in front of her communicator.

“As soon as time will allow me,” Hydra answered before the transmission went out. Her head rose, looking at the now dark screen of her communicator with grief. “Hopefully there is enough.”

********

White tiled floors. White-washed walls. One barred window. And one mattress in the corner. These were the luxuries that Saphora awoke to. Her head pounding, and her eyes straining to adjust to the extreme harshness of the florescent lights, she slowly moved herself into consciousness.

Blinking furiously, she forced herself to sit up, hoping the upright position would ease some of the pain surging through her skull. She whined, closing her eyes and letting the motions in her skull settle before opening them again. Her left hand found her temple as she took a look around at the room she was in.

You’d think, after fearing this very situation her entire life, that she would have more of an appropriate reaction. But instead she just sat there, in the center of the mattress, exhausted. Her body slumped, and her energy level seemed to be at a consistent low. She sighed, running her fingers against her hairline and resting her forehead on her palms.

Her brain was lethargic, as was the rest of her body. She could feel the weight on her lungs from the drugs, and she almost had the urge to vomit. She tried to piece together some thoughts, but the drugs were doing their job of keeping her disoriented.

It wasn’t long before the door to her padded room swung open, revealing one of the wardens, dressed in an off-white suit that looked like it was fit for space. Saphora’s head slowly craned upwards to look at the expressionless man.

“Recess,” he said gruffly.

She went without much of a fuss, soon entering a room full of misguided souls. They were scattered about the large room. The majority of them were by themselves, though seeming to be having conversations. All of them dressed in some white attire. Some were barefooted. Some were in sneakers with no laces. Saphora looked down at her own attire, and noticed that her clothing had been changed to match theirs.

She was led to a table by the man, and seated next to a little girl. She was putting together a 700 piece puzzle, and nearly finished. Saphora sat without a fuss, and a few of the patients in the room turned to study her, including the little girl. But Saphora just stared forward, not feeling much of anything.

“She has your eyes,” the little girl commented to the empty space around Saphora, catching her attention.

Saphora’s eyes lazily moved to connect with hers, but she said nothing to her as she continued to stare at nothing. And then she gasped, jerking her head back. Her raven blunt-cut hair swaying slightly. Her expression quickly switched to shock, and grief. She shook her head slightly, as if in denial.

“She doesn’t know?” Her chest heaved. “That’s so sad,” the little girl whined.

Saphora grimaced, narrowing her eyes at the child. She already had a headache, she didn’t need some lunatic talking to nothing beside her. She grumbled, struggling to get her hands on the table to lift herself to her feet, when the girl said something else.

“Your dad says he’s sorry,” the girl said, putting a puzzle piece in place.

Saphora’s body froze, and her sudden lack of effort in standing caused her to plunk back down into her seat. Her eyes locked on the girl, squinting. The girl, on the other hand, practically carefree, stared back, grinning.

“What did you say?” Saphora finally managed to say after a moment of intense staring.

“Your dad says he’s sorry,” she repeated, without skipping a beat. Her back tensed, not being able to comprehend her dad coming out of this little girl’s mouth.

“Who?”

“Your dad.”

“My dad.”

The girl nodded. She couldn’t tell if it was an intense curiosity, or simply rage that was building up. But whichever it was, it bothered her.

“Ridiculous,” Saphora mumbled, looking away from the girl. But she shook her head.

“No, he is. You have his eyes,” the girl urged.

Saphora glared at her, looking over her small figure. And then her eyes eased, remembering the people she was around. Her body relaxed a moment, and she let herself chuckle. The poor girl must be mad, she thought.

“Do I?”

The little girl nodded.

“Yeah, but he wanted you to have Vida’s eyes.”

Saphora froze again, her body tensing up almost immediately as her mother’s name was mentioned. Her hands gripped the edge of the table in a flash of sudden, misdirected anger.

“Enough. Who put you up to this?” she asked, her mind jogging into function.

The girl, a bit startled at her sudden change in body language, shook her head hesitantly, looking up at nothing once again, her pale brown eyes wide.

“No one. Your dad –“

“My father is not of this world, and not of any kin to you.”

“He … He’s dead,” she said.

“Excuse you?” Saphora half asked, half demanded. A dent slowly started making its way across the center of the metal table.

“Your dad … behind you,” the girl tried to explain. And Saphora had the nerve to turn around, only to find nothing. No one. Irritation marked her features as she turned back around, feeling her emotions being played with.

“What are you saying?” she growled, more than asked, her body tensing with growing rage.

“H-he’s …” she started, looking up at the spirit of Dolphus, Saphora’s father, who nodded. He was in agreement that she needed to know, finally having a way to tell her. “Dead.”

Almost in the same breath, the metal table was violently bent upwards, the center thrusting downwards. The puzzle that she was working on crumbled down into the crease. Most of it landing inside while other pieces flew about the immediate area of the table.

The girl flinched and turned her head away in fear. But breaking the table was all Saphora could do in order not to harm the girl. But the sudden wrecking of the table set off alarm in the nearby wardens. Saphora stood up, fists curling, frame trembling.

“Enough!” she bellowed. “Who told you to say this?!” Saphora screamed, her head spinning from the exertion of energy after being so heavily sedated. The little girl backed away from Saphora as the wardens rushed over.

Each of them grabbing a section of her body, the wardens held her in place as one of them injected her with a needle. Saphora cried out. Not in pain, but because she knew what it would do to her – especially after just waking up from a large dosage. She struggled against the men’s grip, but the drug was fast-acting. She could already feel her body becoming heavy. She could see the little girl cowering in fear, trying to move further away from her. It wasn’t long before her vision was clouded with darkness, and her body went limp.

********

“How many times are we going to have to ask you the same question? Huh?” asked a very frustrated and tested Jason Borges.

He was sitting across from an even more frustrated and tested Maverick, who was cuffed to a wooden chair, and not in the mood for cooperation. Maverick was silent, with a look of determined indifference on his slightly battered face.

“What do you know about Saphora Kiran?” Borges asked again, a firm base in his voice.

But again, Maverick was silent and unmoving, as he stared into the dark green pits of Borges’ narrowing eyes. Borges sucked his teeth and leaned forward on the metal table that separated them.

“Look, kid - don’t you see the situation you’re in?” Borges asked, gesturing his hands forward towards Maverick. Maverick shrugged, averting his eyes.

“I don’t really think you know the situation you’re in,” he countered. Borges raised one bushy brow.

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know anything about her.”

Borges paused, before shrugging, resting his folded hands on the cold surface of the metal table.

“Well, that’s why we’re talking to you.”

“I thought I was here for being a drug addict,” Maverick noted, making eye contact once again. There was another tense pause, before a smirk cracked the stone of Borges’ features.

“Well, lucky for you, your tests came back negative. I reckon you’ve been sober damn near your entire life.” Maverick grimaced. “So why don’t you just answer my questions? What have you got to lose?”

“Her.”

“You’ve got a lot more to lose than that. Don’t you want your car back? Huh? What about your car?” Maverick shook his head, his brows knitting together.

“You think I’d sell her – anyone out for a car?” Borges’ hand came slapping down on the table, making Maverick flinch.

“Alright, look, kid. We know you know what she is.”

“So, why do you need me to tell you?” Maverick interjected, cutting off the beginning of his next sentence. Borges’ lips pressed into a hard line, before curling up into a smug grin.

“Because my boss likes to be thorough.”

“You’ve already taken everything from my apartment. What more do you need?”

“A testimony,” he said with sort of a toying voice, as his hands stretched out to either side of him. Maverick scoffed softly.

“Well you’re not getting one from me.”

“Listen, you little –“

“You’re going to be sorry.” Borges leaned forward in amusement at the statement.

“Ooh, what are you gonna do? Huh? You gonna hit me, kid?”

“Not me. Her.”

Borges’ chuckle escalated to a laugh.

“And what makes you think she gives two shits about you?” Maverick fell silent – hesitant. “What makes you think she’s not over there, telling my team that it was all your idea? Burning her files.” Maverick shook his head.

“Because I’m not stupid.”

Borges shook his head with a tilt in his neck as he crossed his arms.

“No, well, that’s where you’re wrong, Teller. You are, in fact, very stupid.”

That’s when the door to the interrogation room opened, and Jerome Elba entered. A tall, dark man in navy blue dress pants and a white collared button up shirt, rolled up at the sleeves, holding a rather thick beige folder. He looked over at the two, his eyes staying on Borges.

“What did I say about insulting the man, Jason?” he asked him in a semi-casual voice as he closed the door behind him and stepped further into the room. Borges shrugged, his arms still folded.

“He ain’t saying anything about it,” Borges argued. Elba shook his head, pulling up a chair to the table and setting the folder down in front of Maverick.

“How can you expect anyone to give you any answers, when you belittle them?” he asked rhetorically. “Did you even introduce yourself?” Borges hesitated, and Elba sighed. “Well. This here, is Agent Borges. And I’m Agent –“

“Agent?” Maverick interrupted. Elba raised a brow, and nodded.

“Yes, agent.”

“What, you mean like … the C.I.A?”

“Oh, we’re a little higher than that,” Elba corrected. Maverick’s brows pulled together in a fit of momentary worry.

“F.B.I?” Elba shook his head, his face scrunching up a bit.

“We’re not really at liberty to discuss that with you, Mr. Teller.”

“Yeah, just know that you’re fucked,” Borges added. Elba turned to him with an almost aggravated expression.

“Now I see where Roland gets it from,” Elba mumbled with a shake of his head, mentally comparing the step siblings.

“As I was saying, I’m Agent Elba, and you’re here because –“

“So, who are you?” Maverick interrupted again. Elba’s mouth closed, as he stared at Maverick. He reminded himself that curiosity was only natural, and decided to ignore the second interruption.

“We’re a very special kind of police,” Elba tried to explain.

“Where are your badges? Maverick demanded. “Where are you stationed? Why are you all the way over here?”

“We came a very long way, to see this special friend of yours. Whom we need you to tell us a little bit about.”

“Her name’s Saphora, she around 5”9’, has mint hair past her shoulders and red eyes.”

Though Maverick’s wit could be questioned, his loyalty was unyielding. He had half an idea about who these guys were, and what they wanted with Saphora. And he wasn’t about to give them any help in doing whatever that was.

“Maybe you can tell us a little bit about her hobbies. What does she like? Long walks? Photography?” He opened the folder that he had placed in front of Maverick – the first page being a photograph of one of Tebias’ weapons. “Killing civilians?” Maverick looked down at the photo, his head slowly shaking.

“That’s not hers,” he said defensively.

“Hmm, now that’s interesting,” Elba noted. Maverick lifted his attention to Elba’s face. “It’s interesting that you didn’t ask what it was, but simply noted that it wasn’t hers.” Maverick grew still. “Do you know whose this is?” Maverick shook his head sheepishly, and Elba leaned forward some, his eyes narrowing.

“You’re lying,” he said before shaking his head slowly. “You don’t want to lie to me, Mr. Teller.”

********

“Saphora?”

A dull, yet melodic tone. Muffled, almost. But it was enough to stir her. Her body began a slow writhe against the mattress, as a pulse of dense pain surged through her skull for the second time. She grumbled, her face scrunching up in pain and annoyance. For someone who had never taken any kind of mediation in her life, being heavily sedated twice in under 48 hours was not sitting well with her anatomy. Her hands pushed down into the plush fabric of the mattress to push her torso upwards, her head hanging behind with what felt like added weight.

“Saphora?” the voice called again, somewhat shaky. Unable yet to open her eyes, Saphora slumped herself into an upright position, her head pounding.

“Mom?” Saphora whimpered, finding comfort in the voice, which resembled Vida’s in her ringing ears.

Her eyes struggled to open, finally succeeding with some difficultly. The bright light of the florescent bulbs burned her eyes, causing it her to take several moments to be able to open them properly. Across from her, she saw a blur of a woman, and her heart rate began to increase, as her mind sprang towards the idea of her mother. But as her eyes adjusted, the blur of her mother shifted into the less glorified figure of Fran.

Saphora’s body language changed immediately. Her head tilted forward in a challenging manner, her eyes shifting from hope to hatred in what seemed like an instant.

“You,” Saphora practically spat. “Why are you here?”

“Saphora, please listen,” Fran pleaded.

“To what? Some ridiculous speech of how whatever deranged thoughts you have somehow justify you throwing me into a mental ward?”

“Saphora, they’re going to help you.”

“Help me! I can’t even stand! My lungs are straining to keep me alive,” Saphora argued, inhaling somewhat dramatically, though actually required. “How, pray tell, is this helping me?”

“We just want to –“

“We? We. Let me guess. You and the quack?” Saphora jabbed, rubbing the palm of her hand against her forehead in attempts to stop the room from swaying.

“Saphora, will you just listen to me for one second!” Fran bellowed, her entire body shaking with her expression. And for once, Saphora let her speak, possibly because she was momentarily nauseated.

“Do you know how hard these past few weeks have been? Every other day you’re coming to me with something new. And if it’s not that it’s Dr. Lupin, or the police. And I just – I don’t know what to do, or how to help you anymore, Saphora. What am I supposed to do? They say they can help you.”

“Fran, did it ever occur to you that what I needed wasn’t help, but support? To not be questioned at every turn?” Fran was silent. “And what if you’d have had a normal daughter? Would you send her to therapy if she learned how to ride a bike? Would you medicate her if she learned a new language? Put her in a ward for being different?” Fran’s body slumped, as her poor decisions as a parent were bluntly brought to her attention.

“It’s not the same, Saphora.”

“No, I guess it’s not. And I guess it’s my fault for stopping at your house. For thinking you weren’t going to betray me.”

“Saphora –“

“It just took a lot longer.”

Fran’s eyes welled up as her torso began to tremble. It was then that the door to the room opened, and a woman walked in. She closed the door quietly behind her, as she approached Fran from behind.

“Fran? Could you wait outside? Officer Glover will take you home, if you’d like,” she offered.

But Fran shook her head, wiping her eyes as she stood up from the chair she was seated in and quickly made her way out of the room. Somewhere in Saphora, she felt bad for making Fran cry. But the majority of her was too disgusted to do anything about it.

The mentioning of Officer Glover captured her attention, and silently persuaded her. She assumed that she was part of their department. Maybe the next above Officer Johnson. But something about her seemed to dispel that theory rather quickly. There was a certain look in her eyes. Something about them. Like she already knew what she was expecting from the conversation that was about to take place. Like she knew plenty of things.

“Hello, Saphora. Or do you go by Miss Kiran?”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Agent Whitestone.”

“How do you know my last name?”

“I’m more interested in how you, a ten-plus-year patient with amnesia, know your last name. As far as Fran’s concerned, you didn’t know –“

“Fran doesn’t know anything. You might as well just leave her be.” Whitestone grinned, tilting her head to the side and allowing her blonde bob to sway slightly.

“We can’t do that. She’s involved, you see.” Saphora frowned.

“In what, exactly?”

Whitestone corrected the tilt in her neck.

“Exactly how long do you plan to keep this little charade up, Miss Kiran?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?”

“My last name. I don’t want it coming out your, and any of your coworker’s mouths.” Whitestone grimaced.

“And what have any of us done to you to deserve this hostility?” Saphora narrowed her eyes.

“Do you see where I am? You’ve ruined my life.”

“Your life’s just started. And I assure you that if you cooperate, the rest of it will be pleasant.”

“I don’t cooperate in the face of a threat.” There was a pause. “Glover’s out there?”

“He is.”

“Bring him in here. I want to speak to him.”

“Whatever you have to say to him, I’m sure you can –“

“Were you there on the highway? Did I save your life?” Whitestone hesitated. “Bring him in here, or so help me – I will show you exactly what you want to see.”