Once again, we left the Academy.
No escort except Simon. But my group was solid, five figures still marked by the sweat of our last training, moving forward in silence through the morning mist.
Asha carried her halberd like she was already about to drive it into an invisible enemy.
Elias, as always, kept his composure, but I could see his hands slightly trembling under his coat.
Lyra held her healer's staff wrapped in a cloth bag close to her, like she was trying to keep her courage inside it.
Dorian was whistling, but it was too high, too nervous.
We were in civilian clothes, the comfort of urban clothing had been missed, and we weren't supposed to draw attention.
Behind us, Aurora's towers were still shining in the clear morning. Ahead, the unknown.
Thinking about it, I had never traveled this much in my life. I had always been terrified of what the world might have in store for me, convinced that everything elsewhere was worse, so I preferred to stay with the misery I already knew.
Hours later, we saw the glow at the edge of the plane.
Arcadia City.
From afar, the city looked like a massive anthill.
Skyscrapers rising like steel spears, bridges lit by neon lights, avenues packed with traffic lights.
Nothing like Aurora, its marble and ancient columns. Here, everything was fast and modern. An arrogant modernity that seemed to scream: look at me, I am the future.
Dorian let out an impressed breath.
— It almost looks like a dream… I've always wanted to see this city.
Asha cut him off sharply:
— Maybe you should wake up, idiot. We're obviously not here for tourism, so get a grip…
And she was right, because even from afar, I could feel that bitter, sinister atmosphere. Something was off.
We crossed the first stations in the morning.
During the day, Arcadia was beautiful. Shops were full of customers, crowds moved everywhere, children ran through the streets laughing.
The busy avenues swallowed us like rivers of life.
For a moment, I thought the briefing had lied, that there were no monsters here, just men and women, a living city.
Lyra smiled softly while looking at the stalls.
— It's beautiful… almost too beautiful…
Elias answered quietly:
— The sun always hides what the night reveals…
I couldn't argue with that.
When night fell, Arcadia changed its skin.
Neon lights replaced the stars. The avenues became deep pits of glass and dying shadows.
The children were gone, replaced by walking corpses lingering in corners.
Distant screams echoed, drowned by the music of brothels.
Armed figures patrolled, supposedly the city's most efficient intervention force according to the guide, but they looked more like a militia than anything else.
But the most disturbing thing was the whispers.
— We need to find shelter quickly… or he'll find us…
— We have to leave this city…
— With what money do you plan to escape… just accept your fate…
— The Butcher of Arcadia will get you first with that mindset, you old fool…
Every time his name spread through the streets, voices got lower, eyes looked away.
No one said his name like they were talking about a man.
They said it like a disease… a horrible disease…
We stopped at a rundown hotel, Simon negotiating directly with the owner.
Asha was tense, her hand resting on her bag where her halberd was hidden.
— This city stinks… you can feel it in the air…
Elias was staring at the rooftops.
— And yet… that's where we're going to find him.
I was doubtful, like Arcadia itself knew. Like the city, beautiful by day and monstrous by night, was just waiting for one thing: for us to fall into its open mouth.
The hotel smelled like rotten meat and sour milk. It was in terrible shape, eaten away by time, stuck between two glass towers shining like luxurious temples. Here, no red carpets to flatter our egos, no polished marble to remind us of our rank. No illusions at all. Just stained walls, flickering lights, and a heavy silence hiding dead rats in the vents.
Simon stopped in the lobby. His long coat brushed the dirt on the floor as he turned to us. His eyes, like two pieces of jade, scanned each of us with an expression… almost regretful.
— Well, he said. This is where we part ways…
Lyra's eyes widened.
— You… you're leaving us?
A faint smirk crossed his lips.
— Arcadia is not Aurora, my child. Here, every alley is a trial. If you want to survive, it won't be under my shadow. It will be by your own means.
Elias clenched his fists.
— You talk like we're already dead. We're heirs, damn it! Not animals in a slaughterhouse!!
— You have the right to be angry, kid, Simon replied while lighting a cigarette.
But crying is useless. Like you said, you are heirs, beings above the rest, future leaders of your families. So for young people destined to rule this world with strength and clarity… do you really think this is unfair?
— I… forget it…
Simon's words were cold, completely lacking compassion, as if he despised this indecent nepotism… but was he wrong?
He turned to me. And that look… I knew it. It was the same one he gave me in my hospital room, the night he broke my chest to awaken the Thorne sleeping inside me.
— Iron, young man, he said with amusement. You're not out of place like these little dolls, are you?
I shrugged.
The broken walls, the awful smells, the muffled screams behind closed doors.
No. This was familiar. Too familiar.
I simply answered:
— I've seen worse…
Simon let out a small laugh.
— Good, that reassures me. I thought all this luxury might get to your head, but it seems I was worried for nothing.
He briefly placed a hand on my shoulder. A gesture almost solemn, but carrying a heavy weight. Like there was regret behind his calm face.
Then he walked away, his silhouette fading into the neon light, swallowed by the city like a void.
Dorian let out a grin.
— Great. We're on our own in a rat hole.
Asha chuckled.
— That's an understatement… did you see the streets outside? Everything smells like death here.
Elias sat on the nearest bed, which creaked under his weight.
— Definitely not like Aurora… or our Houses…
Arcadia at night was a contradiction in itself. You could admire the beautiful skyline and at the same time be shaken by the poverty and horror eating the city from within. A beautiful chaos.
The lights of the city shined like a million lanterns, but at the base of the towers, misery kept spreading, the whispers were nothing but suffocating laments.
I whispered to myself:
— Misery can be cruel sometimes…