"You look great in this," Arya said, hands on her hips like a seasoned critic.
Rheia turned in front of the mirror, tugging at the hem of the dress, inspecting herself closely.
"I feel… strange. I've never worn something like this before. Isn't it too revealing?" Her fingers hovered awkwardly over her chest, as if to shield herself.
Arya smirked.
"Revealing? Please. You're barely showing anything. If you'd seen real, you'd know what revealing looks like."
Rheia gave another hesitant turn; her frown deepened at her reflection.
"Fine. So, you're locked in that one," Arya declared with mock authority.
She spun toward the bed, where four more dresses lay scattered. "Now tell me—which of these should I wear?"
She lifted a purple dress against her body, striking a pose.
Rheia hesitated, then reached for another one from the bed and held it up against Arya, as if testing how it would look on her.
Arya's smile shifted—that familiar look of mock disappointment, half a smirk and half a sigh.
Rheia caught it immediately and frowned.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," Arya said, turning away with a laugh. "You really don't get fashion, do you?"
--------------------
"Mom, we're leaving!" Arya called down the stairs.
She and Rheia descended side by side, their dresses brushing against the steps in quiet rhythm.
Freya stepped into the hall, her face caught between pride and worry.
"I know it's just a party," she said firmly, "but you need to be back before ten. And don't even think about alcohol. Understood?"
Both girls nodded.
Freya came closer, her gaze sweeping over them like a final inspection.
"You both look beautiful," she added, resting her hands on their shoulders.
"Th-thank you, Freya," Rheia murmured, her cheeks warming under the praise.
"You did get permission from Elina, right, dear?" Freya asked, tone slipping into gentle concern.
"Yes," Rheia nodded quickly. "She said the same thing—back before ten, and no alcohol."
"Good. Then enjoy your party." Freya turned back inside, leaving the two of them at the door.
"Mom, where's our car?" Arya asked, peering out the window toward the drive.
"I don't know. Your father took one, and Reamus must have taken the other," Freya replied, though her voice carried a trace of doubt.
"Reamus is gone too. I don't see him anywhere," Arya muttered, irritation edging her tone.
She turned back, hands on her hips. "So how are we supposed to go, then?"
"Why don't we just ask Avon?" Rheia suggested carefully.
Arya let out a sharp laugh. "Avon? Please. The second he hears the word party, he disappears. You've got a lot to learn about him, rookie."
Rheia blinked, unsure if Arya was joking, then offered a small smile anyway.
"How about Ethan then?"
"No, he is running late."
Still, a flicker of hope lit Arya's eyes. "But… maybe it's worth a shot."
Arya smirked and pulled out her phone. She dialed—barely a single ring before the line clicked.
"Hello."
"Hello, brother." Arya's tone dripped sugar. "Are you home?"
A low chuckle came through. "Brother? What's the favor this time, little bird?"
Arya shot Rheia a grin, then leaned back into the call. "Could you please come with us to the Jacks' party? Just leave us the—"
"No."
The line went dead.
Arya stared at the phone, her smile collapsing. "He hung up… before I even finished! What is wrong with him?"
Freya shook her head, her voice calm but firm. "Don't lose hope. I'll speak to him. Since Reamus isn't here, it's better if Avon goes with you anyway. He may resist, but he won't refuse me."
--------------------
"Don't scuff the edges with your shoes. Don't smudge the glass. And don't even think about spilling powder on my floor."
Avon sat behind the wheel, door half-open, keys dangling from his fingers. His tone was sharp, leaving no room for argument.
Arya rolled her eyes. "Relax… We won't hurt your girlfriend," she shot back with a crooked smile.
Avon's mouth curved faintly. "By the way, you two look great."
From the back seat, Rheia caught his eyes in the rearview mirror—just for a heartbeat.
"Thanks," she whispered.
"Don't say thanks—he's teasing you," Arya muttered, pulling a long face.
Avon didn't answer. He turned the key.
Vrrrmm…
The engine roared awake, low and heavy, rattling the air around them. Headlights carved across the drive as the car rolled through the gates, growling into the dusk.
--------------------
The music was already spilling into the street when they arrived, bass thudding through the air like a pulse.
The Jack family's house glowed against the night, strings of lights draped across the roof and porch. A banner stretched overhead—Happy Birthday—its edges fluttering in the breeze.
Cars crowded the drive. Groups of teenagers lingered near the gate, laughing too loud, drinks already in hand.
Avon pulled up to the front.
Arya and Rheia climbed out, the swell of voices and music wrapping instantly around them. Avon stayed behind the wheel, his gaze drifting through the crowd.
Then—he found those eyes.
Shawn sat with his group of boys, a bandage still across his nose.
Avon's eyes lingered on him for a moment before sliding away without a word.
"Call me when you're done," he said flatly to the girls.\
Vrrrmm…
The engine rumbled as he pulled away, leaving the chatter and flashing lights behind. He rolled past the rows of cars and steered toward the quieter stretch by the lake.
Inside, Arya was already swept into greetings and laughter, her arm hooked through Rheia's as they pushed into the crowd.
But from the corner of her eye, Rheia caught it—Avon's car, headlights dimming as it came to a stop far off by the water.
Avon killed the engine.
He stepped out; the night was cool there. He walked to the low railing wall by the lake. For a while he stood still, the breeze brushing past, water lapping softly against stone.
Then it came—that prickling sense of eyes on him.
He turned slowly, scanning the shadows. Nothing. Only trees, cars, and the distant glow of party lights.
Avon exhaled, low and steady, before walking back to the car.
He slipped inside, pushed the seat back, and stretched out, one arm folded beneath his head.
His gaze drifted upward, to the sky.
How can I pull this off…
I wanted to leave for the Outlands.
Without RHI…
His jaw tightened.
But if I break the rules…
it won't just fall on me.
It could drag everyone with it.
With a frustrated breath, Avon raked both hands through his hair, shoving it back before letting them drop to his sides.
Dum. Dum.
Avon snapped around, muscles tight, body moving before thought. For an instant, it felt like danger had finally stepped out of the shadows.
But it was Rheia, pointing toward the handle. Avon lowered the window with a slow whir.
"Forget something?" he asked, leaning slightly toward her.
"No. Unlock the door." Her voice was quiet but firm, finger still at the handle.
Avon exhaled through his nose and hit the switch.
Rheia slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. The noise of the party dulled at once, replaced by the steady hush of the car.
A look of disappointment lingered on her face.
"Here… you can drink this." The can was cool against her palm as she held it out to him.
"Bored already?" Avon asked, accepting it.
"Uhh… I don't know." Rheia sighed, brushing her hair back. "It's so crowded in there, and I can't keep up with Arya."
"Want me to drop you home?"
She shook her head quickly. "No. We can stay. It's… quiet here. Calmer."
A silence settled between them, heavy and uncertain. Neither knew what to say. The stillness stretched, broken only by the soft hiss of the can when Avon tipped it back, the faint clink of metal in his hand.
"Why aren't you at the party?" Rheia broke the silence first.
Avon paused before answering. "Why did you come back?"
"It's too crowded," she admitted softly. "I felt… out of place."
"Same," he said, glancing at her. "Except for the 'out of place' part."
"Oh…" Rheia gave an exaggerated nod, a small smile tugging at her lips as she caught the teasing mockery.
"Do you know if there's a washroom around?" she asked hesitantly.
Avon let out a dry breath. "Typical. There's one under that bridge." He pointed toward the faint light glowing beneath it.
She nodded quickly and stepped out of the car. Avon moved to follow, but she spun back, stopping him.
"No, no—you can stay here. I'll be back in a minute," she said, already jogging toward the bridge.
I'm not tagging along inside.
Avon hesitated, then stepped back, leaning against the car door as his eyes tracked her into the dark.
--------------------
Time dragged.
Where is she? This long for the washroom?
Avon pulled out his phone, the screen glow cutting through the dark. He checked the time—then a new message flashed across the screen.
"Waiting for her? Meet us at the stairs."
His jaw tightened.
For fuck's sake…
He slid the phone back into his pocket, teeth clenched, and shoved the car door open. The night air felt colder as he strode toward the bridge.
--------------------
"So… you're saying you've got nothing to do with him?"
"N-no…" Rheia's voice trembled. Her gaze dropped, shoulders shaking.
"Then why were you with him? In his car? Why did he stand up for you?" Shawn leaned closer, the bandage across his nose shifting, lips swollen, breath hot against her cheek. His eyes narrowed, waiting for her to crack.
"Please, let me go…" Rheia was shaking.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Footsteps echoed down the alley, steady and hollow.
"Hey—he's here," Shawn muttered, his grin spreading. He jerked his chin upward. "Jaeger."
Above them, a figure perched on the iron bar, half-hidden in shadow. For a moment, it was hard to tell if he was even real.
"You piece of shit—leave her." Avon's voice cut through the dark. "We can walk away, say good night, and be done. Still, I'll break your bones." He stepped forward.
Shawn's grin split. "Let's see then. I'll kill this fucking Demian." His hand shot to Rheia's neck, fingers closing in her hair.
Her breath hitched, close to a sob. Her eyes darted toward Avon—pleading.
"I don't know what your fucking problem is. If this is your play, you won't see the next sunrise," Avon said, closing the distance. "Leave her. Now." His jaw was clenched; his voice was flat metal.
He moved before thought. His leg snapped out—a brutal whip to Shawn's thigh. Unexpected.
Shawn's knees buckled. He crashed backward, dragging Rheia down with him.
"Jaeger!!!" Shawn roared, clutching at Rheia's hair.
Rage flared in Avon, sudden and hot. He caught Shawn's wrist and twisted.
Crack.
The middle finger tore back until the joint gave way. Skin split. Blood welled from it. Blood scattered and splashed onto Rheia as well.
"AAAAH! For fuck's sake—Jaeger!!" Shawn's howl bounced off the walls.
He lifted his other hand; a stone rose from the ground.
But before he could send it toward Avon—
Avon's grip shifted, cold and steady. Another finger bent.
Crack.
"AAAAH!" Shawn screamed. Avon's gaze stayed fixed on the shadow above.
"Fuck—Jaeger, do something! He broke my fingers!" Shawn howled.
"You want the same?" Avon hissed, looking at the shape above him.
Rheia pressed into the corner, arms wrapped tight against her body. Her stomach knotted. Shawn's fingers dangled at broken angles, blood glistening in the dim light. The sight stabbed into her chest like a thorn, and she shivered.
"Impressive," Jaeger said from above, watching Avon. "But—"
Thud!
The ground split. A block of stone ripped free and slammed into Avon's ribs, hurling him sideways. Avon hit the ground hard.
"Ughh…" Avon growled, teeth clenched against the pain.
"Not enough…" Jaeger dropped from the bar, landing in front of him with a heavy thump.
"Look—look what he did!" Shawn staggered closer, cradling his mangled hand to his chest, eyes wild.
"Don't whine like a girl, Shawn. I wanted to see what kind of beast you are—just like your brother, Aaron." Jaeger's gaze never left Avon.
"Now go. Find a hospital." Jaeger waved him off, impatient.
"You used me to get him, fucking Jaeger," Shawn spat, clutching his ruined wrist with equal parts pain and fury.
Jaeger met his stare, flat and cold. "Go, or I'll break your next finger."
Shawn didn't argue. He stumbled from the alley, a broken, sobbing mess.
Jaeger raised one hand high, the other low, like a set of scales.
The ground split. A slab of stone surged upward, clamping around Avon's right arm like a cuff.
Avon snarled, muscles straining, but the grip held. He lunged with his free hand, reaching for Jaeger.
"Uh-uh." Jaeger slipped back with a smirk. "Not that easy, boy."
"It's not like your fancy wind RHI, Hawkbane," he sneered. "We don't just swing power—we shape it with our minds."
His hand lifted again.
Another block rose, locking onto Avon's other arm. Slowly, mercilessly, it levered the joint upward.
"Tell your brother," Jaeger whispered, leaning close, "I took an eye for an eye."
Avon's body arched. His scream split the alley.
Crrk… CRRAAACK.
White-hot pain ripped through him. Bone tore through skin, jutting pale into the open air. Blood spilled fast across the ground.
"No—no, no!" Rheia's scream split the dark, raw and breaking.
"Don't forget the message," Jaeger whispered into Avon's ear. Sweat and agony drenched Avon's face.
Shawn staggered back, voice shaking. "What have you done? He's a Hawkbane!"
"So what? Are they gods?" Jaeger's reply was flat. His eyes slid to Shawn's mangled hand. "Look what he did to you."
He flicked his wrist. The stone restraints shattered and sank back into the earth, vanishing as if they had never been.
Avon collapsed with a scream, his body slamming into the dirt.
Rheia stumbled forward. Her breath caught when she saw it—bone jutting through torn flesh, blood soaking his sleeve deep red. The sight dragged her back to another night, another scream.
Avon's breaths came ragged, thinning. His head lolled, eyes slipping shut.
Panic clawed at her chest.
Rheia fumbled for her phone—gone. Desperate, her hands searched his pockets, pulling out his instead.
The screen lit, locked.
No way in.
"Aaaah!…" Avon slurred, half-dizzy, his left hand clutching hers, dragging it weakly to his chest.
"Avon—" Her voice broke.
A strained groan rattled from him as his grip tightened faintly, pressing her hand over his heart.
Something inside Rheia broke. Memories flooded, jagged and raw.
Her father's arm crushed in the walls—his voice choking as the weight dragged him under. The thunder of a building collapsing, dust swallowing the night.
Her mother's scream—"Rheia! Run!"—before a beast's claw tore her away.
"No, no, no…" Rheia's voice shook as she pulled Avon's head into her lap. "Don't leave me."
Her hands trembled across his face, brushing his chin, his cheek, as if touch alone could anchor him to life. Tears spilled, dripping onto his skin.
She acted like a maniac.
She shut her eyes tight and bent closer, desperate.
Fear swallowed her, breaths breaking into shallow gasps.
Then—silence.
Only the faint sound of her breathing.
Rheia's lashes fluttered. Slowly, she opened her eyes.
In the dark, they gleamed—her pupils burning with an unnatural green.