Chapter 1
Damien pushed through the second main door of the office, staring directly at the assistant behind the desk. Today was the first day someone this close to the Elements had been so accessible. This was his best chance at getting in touch with his brother.
The floor was a shiny and ornate display of elegant marble. The hallway leading to the door he had just entered was one full of history. There were many copies of influential documents to be viewed and photos of monumental moments in Elementian history. One of those photos was placed at the head of a plaque that marked the spot where Thomas, the leader of the opposers, fell. Although that man had died well before Henry claimed Elementia and this building was ever erected.
The entire place was developed and styled after Rethuque architecture yet it still held the slate gray, over polished style of modern Elementian design.
Damien hated it.
He hated the lack of shape and color. Why choose such a gorgeous culture to style something after and then take away its best qualities? He found the place to be an insult to the heritage whose name it feigned.
Henry Smith, also known as ‘E1’ and the most powerful man in Elementia, liked to show off the Elements’ wealth by putting up large public displays in big cities. This was one of many. The only important thing about this place was its location. This was the official public office in the Elemental headquarters.
For Henry to design it after another powerful country’s historical style and then glaze it over with his own basic and lifeless preferences must've been the ultimate power trip for him.
Damien dodged through the couple of people crowded around the main desk to get in front of the line, ignoring the complaints of the woman up next. The bottom’s of his thick, calf-high boots squeaked as he came to a halt.
“Hello, welcome to the Smilynd Elemental public center,” Octavia’s voice was one he'd heard many times, “-You do know you need an appointment to speak to me today, correct?”
The gold of their hoop earrings reflected white glimmers of self-importance his way. Octavia wasn't even an Element and yet they were acting this way? He was going to have a hellish time here.
“Yeah, they're here on Henry Smith’s orders,” the lady behind him spoke, “-do you know how long it took me to get this appointment? What makes you think you can stroll up here in your little biker getup and get in front of me?”
He ignored her aggressive interjection and horrific description of his style.
“No, I think you'll want to hear this,” Damien could feel how many sets of eyes had turned to glare at him from around the room, “-Or, rather, Syn would.”
“Syn?” They tapped a pen impatiently against their desk with an unamused expression.
“He doesn't go by Orin now, does he?” Damien felt the anxiety creep up on him. He had spent so long in the shadows that having this level of attention felt completely taboo. He felt out of place.
“How-” they bit back the question and turned around, headed to a door at the back of the room.
Damien glanced around with desperate hope that they'd return soon. When his eyes found their way into the office again he could see the taller figure and glinting glasses of Pamela Allen, also known as E5, in the doorway. If Octavia didn't know him then Pamela should, right? They were both… close with Syn to say the least.
He made his best attempt to look past Octavia who then, before he could catch Pamela's eye, closed the door and strutted back.
“Can I ask your name?” Octavia looked confused but open and ready to hear what he had to say.
“Damien Hunter,” as if being six foot four wasn't enough, the boots gave him an extra 3 inches to enhance his downwards glare.
Their face fell pale, “And you said you wanted to speak with Syn?”
“Yep” he felt his chances of succeeding sky rocket.
They walked once more to open the door behind them and force Pamela out.
He listened as closely as he could.
“Look at him one last time. Are you sure that's him?” Octavia has their hands clamped onto Pamela’s shoulders.
When looking at them from behind the harsh layering of their shoulder-length wolf cut jutted out in high-contrast precipices of harsh shading. From what he'd seen they were similarly dramatic so it felt fitting.
“In the photo I saw his hair was black on top instead of silver but that was years ago it isn't unlikely that he'd have changed. He looks a little older too,” Pamela shot occasional glances his way as she spoke somewhat giddily, “-he was only sixteen in the one I saw on Syn’s phone. I can't say I know it's him but I'll say it looks a lot like him and that’s worth the try.”
“Okay, I'll get him out of the hall, you call Syn,” they dispersed from one another to follow the call to action.
“If you'll head down to the door for me,” Octavia gestured with well-manicured nails over towards the only door along the hall’s left wall.
The people never stopped staring; not as he took his first wary steps that way or as he stood at the door, watching it crack open.
Only Octavia's light brown eye was visible through the crack.
"You can come in,” the door didn't budge.
"I would like to but-” he put a hand to the door and pulled lightly against their strength.
“Right, right,” they stepped back, allowing him his entry.
Pamela stepped from the room adjacent. The room that she was in behind Octavia’s office must conjoin the rooms.
"Damien!” Pamela stepped forward, she was much closer than Octavia allowed themself to get, “I've heard so much about you from Syn.”
“Did you tell him it was me or just that someone was here to see him?” Damien’s right hand was plenty busy plucking the hairband and on his wrist.
Every snap caused the red line of irritation under it to grow larger.
“I didn't mention you by name,” Pamela rocked forward playfully, “-that's if you are who you say you are.”
Damien didn't respond. His desperate eyes darted around the room. He had no idea how Syn would react. He didn't know how much Pamela and Via knew either..
"How'd you do it?” Octavia stood, judgingly in the corner.
“Do what?” Damien tugged at the tie.
“Fake your death,” Octavia took a step forward, “Syn said you were dead.”
“I don't see why that's relevant,” he ripped the tie from one wrist and looped it around the other, “-all that matters is that I'm here.”
They stood in silence for only a quick moment. Shortly after it had started it was interrupted by the sound of the door creaking open.
"Hey Pam,” the voice hadn't changed in the slightest since he last heard it. If anything Damien’s was deeper than Syn’s now.
Damien had his back to the newcomer. He couldn't bear the anticipation of what would happen once he turned around. Suddenly the weight of Syn’s gaze settled on his back. He froze in place.
"Um-” the voice was pointed at Damien now, “hello?”
With a deep breath and a swift turn he was making direct eye contact with Syn.
“Hi.”
The other’s eyes immediately filled with tears, “what?”
“I said ‘hi,’” Damien forced back every instinct to look away.
When Damien raised his hand to wave he saw the face of pure shock fester over the taller’s East Asignian features. Syn’s eyes were glued to his hand, specifically his sawed-off middle finger where the scarring and lack of made it very obvious what had happened. Syn was staring at some of the best possible proof that Damien was who he claimed to be: one of the fingers that he'd watched Dia cut off of Damien’s hands.
“And if that's not enough, I have this,” Damien turned his head to the right and pulled back his hair to reveal a shitty at-home tattoo of a dagger. If someone were using a magically created appearance, an MCA, to try and trick Syn it would've been impossible to recreate that. It was Syn’s own work after all.
"But-” Syn seemed to deny it at first but gave in after a couple of seconds of groveling for words.
He grabbed Damien by the shirt, pulling him into a hug. The kind of hug he hadn't had since the day it all happened; the day he and Tabitha ran from Dia’s Cult.
“I thought-” his arms squeezed around Damien, “I saw your dead body. I don't understand.”
“I can explain,” Damien didn't plan on doing much other than sinking further into Syn’s arms for now, though.
“We'll leave you be,” Pamela grabbed Octavia by their bicep, leading them back over to the office Damien had met them in.
All he saw as she paraded Octavia out was her long, black hair twisted up into a messy bun falling out of place.
“You should come with me to my condo,” Syn pulled back before Damien was ready, “-we can talk there.”
“Okay,” his voice felt small as it left his throat; like a tear-stained kid after being comforted by their mother.
“I don't even know what to ask first,” Syn sat, tea in hand, across from Damien in his living room.
“What do you want to know?” Damien had declined when Syn offered him a drink.
“How have you been?” It was only a second before another question came spewing out, “Where have you been?”
“I've been better since I left,” Damien couldn't help the smile creeping up his cheeks, “I'm happy you got out.”
“Oh, you're happy?” Syn chuckled, “I'm ecstatic! I can't believe you're alive!”
“Me too, I guess,” Damien hadn't led the best life but it had been a life nonetheless, “-as for where I've been? I've been with Tabitha.”
“How did you guys avoid being found out?” He was literally on the edge of his seat, “I guess it helped that nobody was looking for you, huh? We all thought you guys were dead. We all saw-”
The look on Syn’s face said it all. Damien had only seen one once himself. Dia had called them TOWOs, TOWO standing for ‘The Only Way Out.’ TOWOs were warnings of what's to come. They were signs of the consequences that would be bestowed upon any member who disobeyed Dia. Tall wooden spikes with thick, square bases displaying the decaying bodies of late members were placed in the rooms of alive members at random. Sometimes the rooms were chosen but only on special occasions.
He knew if he went through with the fake suicide that the body of the clone he had killed in his place could've been used as one but he was willing to take the risk at the time. It hurt him to know it was and that Syn had seen it. The only thing he could do to settle his mind was remind himself that the past was the past and couldn't be changed.
“I'm so sorry you had to see that,” nothing could take away the fact that he had, though.
The trauma of it hung in the air even after the conversation stirred again.
“We've really been through a lot, huh?” Syn stood, glancing towards the entry to the kitchen, “let me get some more tea, I'll be back.”
“-and I'll be here,” Damien turned to his phone, pulling it out of his pocket.
“You still have a physical phone?” Syn stood with an oddly haughty gait about him, “you must be miserable, you should really get a hologram.”
Damien couldn't do much but stare blankly at the comment. It felt so out of place coming from him. Not many outside of the top 5% could afford such complicated machines and even then many didn't want to have a chip implanted in their wrists in order to access all of the same things a simple phone could. The only real advantage of a hologram was the extra pocket space that came with a digital inventory.
Most devices produced by Henry Smith’s Technology company E-Tech incorporated small amounts of magic. Henry was a rich and, more than anything, awful man. Damien firmly believed Smith found it entertaining to dangle little windows into the lives of the Elements in front of his people. The elements had a cruel monopoly over magic and its use. Nobody outside of them could access it without a device from E-Tech or an Elemential pardon.
"It's not very under the radar to have a chip implanted in me, adding me to the mere five hundred Elementians with portable holograms,” Damien scoffed, “-and even if it were safe for me I don't want one. They're all well-disguised tracking and control devices! There's no way Henry Smith can't access the people with one through the chip. This is the exact thing every dystopian novel preaches about! It's not right!”
"Don't tell me you still believe all that bullshit Dia taught about the Elements being evil people trying to use their power for evil. I mean they are disgustingly wealthy politicians so obviously they aren't the best people but they aren't evil lizard creatures either!”
"I'm not a kid, I don't believe in lizard people!” Damien would never trust an Element and couldn't believe Syn ever would, “It's not immature to recognize bad people and it's not my fault you got all cozy with them!”
"Are you talking about Pamela or Henry?” Before Damien could give an answer he was interrupted, “-Oh, no, you're talking about Kellen.”
"I'm talking about all of them!” Damien waved his hands above his head in disbelief, “and I'm definitely talking about Henry.”
"Just let me introduce you to them,” Syn spoke quickly to avoid Damien’s incoming remarks from coinciding with his, “-You don't have to actually like them but it would benefit you to meet them, I promise. You've already met Pam.”
"You're insane,” Damien stood, shoving his phone back into his pocket, “-as much as I'd love to sit here and listen to this shit for another who-knows-how-long, I think I'll be on my way.”
"You didn't come here just to berate me about the people I hang around, did you?” Syn’s voice remained clear but Damien caught sight of the shiny tears forming in his eyes, “I haven't seen you in years, I thought you were dead! You were all I had and I lost you. I've never been happier to see someone in my life, we shouldn't be fighting right now. Why are you like this?”
That question stuck in his head. It caused his ears to ring and his throat to sting as if it were decorated with a thousand irritated cuts.
Why are you like this?
The most memorable time he'd heard that was in his own voice. It had come from the clone Tabitha produced as his body double in the night they'd faked their suicides.
We all know I'm getting the better end of the deal here. What do you think will happen after you leave? Do you think you'll be happy? You won't. You're only doing this for her. You don't want her to be alone. You'd much rather be in my shoes so tell me: why are you like this? You don't want this. You shouldn't-
He hadn't let the clone continue. He'd slit its throat then and there. It was a gruesome enough scene without the wooden stake so he couldn't imagine how horrific the TOWO must've been.
“You wanted to know how me and Tabitha did it?” He lifted his chin, “she stole some of Dia’s level 8 MPs so we could create clones of ourselves and kill them. I enjoyed it.”
That was all Damien said on the topic regardless of Syn's persistent nagging.
“Here's my number,” Damien passed the ripped paper over to Syn, “-we should meet up again soon. As for now, I'm headed home.”
He left Syn with that.
