Concordia Kingdom Come

On the land of Concordia—humanity’s only livable continent of the age—humanity knew of one great threat among them, save for one another.

It was a bizarre world, a world of scientific marvels, new regions of land and society, and of course, the threat of the reptilian humanoids that seemed to dominate every outlet of the media. Far gone were the days of physical continents, gigantic individual countries, and the normality of ocean travel. These days, Concordia was the only mass of land livable for human beings, an expansive continent severed into several sections of cultural preservation—the American Colony, the British Empire, the United European Union, the Eastern Regime, and more. Many years had gone by since the reptilians revealed themselves to the world, woken by the great apocalypse that left the rest of the earth devastated in its wake—and, as far as everyone knew, the situation was simply this; every human stronghold, despite their issues with one another, had one common goal. To repel the reptilian extremists that now threatened their great Concordia.

This was the known status of the world.

It was something known deeply and unquestioningly by all, everyone in society, and particularly everyone who had been affected personally. Evony and her father, Terian, were both such people in the beautiful, northern city of Starrylake, where the sun shone bright, where the summers were hot, and where trips to the beach were common all year round.

Terian was a passionate writer for a local paper in town—a smaller paper, one that some called alternative media—and Evony herself was simply different, as far as she ever cared to think of herself. She and her father both were no strangers to danger, urgency, or loss. Their original home on the outskirts of Starry County was destroyed in the 2070 attack, and thus, their family home, their yard, their tree with the tire swing and the three wooden planks nailed on for climbing, the makeshift shooting range down the mountain, and the half-built treehouse—this long-beloved home, their place of comfort and countless generational memories—it all simply disappeared in one fell swoop, for no greatly apparent reason, right alongside Evony’s own mother.

Then came the years after; both carrying grief and firsthand traumas, they moved on, now living in a government-subsidized apartment in the city. Evony felt no childhood wonder, no bliss or inspiration; she only felt empty inside. She wanted more than anything to fill the void with the things that once brought her joy, but she was no longer free to travel into the woods to shoot her gun or practice her martial arts. Now, there were facilities for everything—a range for the gun, a dojo for the martial arts, and a workplace to seize all of the rest of her time into her adulthood. Life became gray, only monotony. The bright colors of the countryside of her childhood home were a distant dream; she felt she couldn’t even see colors anymore.

She’d watched her home and everywhere else nearby it get obliterated—and she carried the scar from that day on her face. Somehow, she always thought that day should have left a deeper mark on her on the inside—but she simply felt nothing, only trudging on, and on, and on.

Then came the years of Terian Ackerman’s most prolific writing; he periodically took expeditions to meet with travelers from the reptilian society, interviewing them and featuring them in his publication. He often showed a side of the reptilian community that the mainstream media never saw; normal people, not extremists, who simply had scales and claws. It soon became commonplace for strange people to follow Terian around in the night, sulking along behind him in alleyways or waiting in the entryway of the apartment complex for him to return home. Some of these mysterious people advised him to quit working for that particular paper, and others suggested he stop writing altogether, lest he be tossed into the ocean. It soon became normal for Evony to carry her small black .25 on her everywhere she went—just in case she needed to pull that piece on yet another of her father’s stalkers.

Thus, with the horrific destruction of their home ten years ago, with the violent death of Terian’s wife, and with this troubling routine having become commonplace in the city—Evony wasn’t particularly fazed by danger anymore. It wasn’t as if she never felt any nervousness or urgency—but she usually dealt with things swiftly and pointedly, never freezing up, panicking, or running away. As far as she had determined for herself—she simply did not feel enough to fear anymore.

Terrible things were normal, and it could only be expected that more terrible things were eventually around another corner.

It was simply her destiny and reality to be an outcast as a child and even more of one as an adult, witnessing terrible things and seeking out only minor escapes from the thought of them. That was all of life, as everything was now.

The routine was to head off to the hotel and work as a janitor during first shift—periodically taking over third-shift as a security guard when the usual guy couldn’t make it there—and push through the day with Azarias Earpods impeded into her ears, wireless earphones that somehow never died. She listened to music and comedy podcasts all day while working, rarely speaking to anyone—then she would walk out and march down the sidewalk until she reached the café where she ate a late lunch, hardly speaking to anyone there, either. After this came a stop by the gun range—where she opened fire on targets for about half an hour, improving her aim and indulging in a small adrenaline rush—and then would come the walk home during sunset, wherein she would stop for cigarettes, vapes, and several forms of fruity alcohol if she got any small cravings that day.

It was easy to get cravings, too; many of the signs alongside the sidewalk shined especially bright when the sun began to go down, advertising all forms of things, cigarettes, tequilas, Zappers, video game promos, and even bot butlers, which Evony thought was strange. She didn’t understand why the ads in this neighborhood would advertise for something as expensive as a bot butler from Azarias Industries. Those things were more expensive than an actual house, and the people who lived around here couldn’t even afford rent. Anytime she would see a person being followed by a tiny round bot butler on TV, or more rarely, in real life—she always had the very same thought. It must be nice.

The city was gorgeous, despite that it wasn’t like the countryside she grew up in. The lights were so incredible at night, and the ocean stretched into forever beneath the light of the sun or the moon. Sometimes, she stopped and tried to appreciate the beauty of it all, tried to feel something a little more, but it never yielded a great deal of fruit.

There were days when she felt a touch more emotion—perhaps, if the right song came on, or the right scene unfolded on a TV show—a spark of feeling would ignite inside, and she would find herself momentarily captivated before it eventually faded again. She even questioned her own sanity at times. If not for how she remembered feeling so many things during childhood, she might even suspect that she was a psychopath.

Still—it was hard not to feel vacant inside when every single day remained the same.

And this day was no exception.

Evony awoke, walked off to work, spent her day cleaning and organizing while listening to music, clocked out, left for lunch, visited the shooting range and popped off several loud shots with her handgun, then took an early stroll home.

The late afternoon settled in as she strolled across the sidewalk, heading toward the final corner, the edge of the tall office building before she would turn left and approach her apartment complex just down the way. It looked the same as always, a gray, dull concrete building to her left, and the corner before her just around it, the sidewalk past the corner dipping into black pavement where the start of this small street began.

Somehow, even feeling nothing in the moment, she knew she would never forget rounding this corner for the final time.

She could already hear the sirens when she was back at the shooting range, and now, they were deafening. The backs of the other buildings around this block were in flames or crumbled into rubble, dark smoke clouds billowing into the sky. She knew this whole block had just been bombed.

And yet—she marched on.

Strange, how the feelings suddenly seemed to try raging back to her, now, at the worst time possible—but she forced it all down, ignored the hammering of her heart, and didn’t so much as hesitate in her stride, walking powerfully until she turned around the corner—and she faced the heart of the disaster.

There it was—down this small corner street, what remained of the apartment building where she lived, nothing standing there now, only a great pile of rubble and debris, much of it still in flames, and the civilians nearest by coated in soot, the firemen hustling to beat the flames and the police escorting people away from it all in groups.

Evony stood stock still, her smooth, black comb-over covering the scarred half of her face, merely staring, deadpan and motionless, though her heart began to thrash harder now.

Then, her gaze shifted to the right—and she spotted him, Terian Ackerman, standing alongside the other survivors, his stocky body still covered by his day coat, his glasses smeared with ashy black spots, and his expression thoroughly downtrodden and exhausted.

Still—the moment she saw him, knowing he was alive and unharmed, every feeling stopped, her pulse began to relax, and she faced the disaster again, feeling nothing at all once more.

She could expect nothing less.

It was only a matter of time before another disaster was around the corner.

One Week Later

During the time when the attacks in Starrylake were on every news outlet in the American Colony—Evony and Terian were as far away from the city as they could be now. The two were riding in a refugee truck along with other survivors of the attack, all of them on their way to their new home, the frosty southern town of Silverhollow.

Evony sat tiredly in the back of the truck alongside her father, her thoughts diminishing into a cold series of recollections, as well as a less-than-optimistic idea of what their new life in Silverhollow would be like from here on. For the remainder of the ride, she remained lost amidst a cloud of calm, quiet apathy, choosing to force every memory of Starrylake out of her mind.

Now, nothing existed except the sounds of the truck’s engine, the humps and bumps in the road, and the occasional whisper of chatter among the refugees in the back. Many of them wore grave faces, and the floor was cluttered with various bags and belongings that the refugees had scrounged together before departing their city. Starrylake was enormous and prosperous, a warmer climate than many places in Concordia, and most of these people didn’t expect to uproot so suddenly. In fact, this truck was only one of many that had recently left the north-western city, as the most recent bombings had left several folks homeless. It wasn’t only Evony’s neighborhood that was hit.

After a while, her father wrapped an arm around her, sighing deeply as the two of them rode in silence. Like Evony, her father—Terian Ackerman—had black hair, though his was just long enough to tent over his ears and the back of his neck, combed neatly and sleekly backward. He had a somewhat wide face and large brown eyes, wearing a visage that looked more intense than he likely intended, his eyes a shiny black behind his rectangular glasses, and his mouth always harboring a faint little curl. Evony, however, preferred to hide behind her hair, and she had ever since the left side of her face had been decorated with several thin, pale, and jagged little scars. Her eyes were as big and luminous as her father’s, though they sparkled the same silvery-blackish color her mother’s once had, both of her eyes locked forward in a mile-long stare.

Eventually, her gaze wandered absentmindedly to the small TV perched up behind the two front seats, playing for all of the passengers, though nobody was currently paying it much mind. Evony, however, began to stare into it, watching as the news switched from the stories about the bombings to a statement from the inventor, Osric Azarias. It showed this prolific individual sauntering down a set of wide stone stairs, wearing a black overcoat, a top hat, and a cane, merely waving at all of the cameras and adjusting the large dark goggles over his eyes, the lenses black, his eyes hidden from view. The man briefly stopped and spoke to the cameras as he walked, his voice light and melodic, and he said something about all refugees being welcomed in Silverhollow. The news footage quickly cut to a statement from the mayor, apparently named Mayor Byers, who was nodding and saying something similar.

“Nearly there, folks,” the driver called out from the front, finally breaking the silence. “Be prepared… and if you got any extra layers to thrown on, you better do it now.”

Terian and several other refugees glanced at the back of the driver seat, all of them thinking along similar lines. When Terian glimpsed down again, he saw that Evony hadn’t bothered looking away from the TV, didn’t spare the driver a look, and didn’t seem interested in what had been said.

“Not so bad,” Terian remarked, his voice deep and scratchy. He gave his daughter a gentle shake. “We’re going to Silverhollow. Your uncles are already there. We’re gonna have a better head start than most of the folks who got screwed over.”

Many of the refugees raised their heads, narrowing their eyes grimly at him.

Terian glanced between them, then gulped and cleared his throat. “No, uh… no offense.”

“Silverhollow sounds like a hell-hole,” Evony breathed, turning away from the TV and staring forward into nothingness. “It’s just some backwoods town covered in snow and ice…”

Terian, despite it being anything from his strong suit, attempted to cheer her up. “We’ve been living in the country and on the beach in the sweltering damn sun all our lives, so it’s about time for a change. You always complained about the heat anyway.”

Evony slapped her hands onto her knees irritably, turning and glaring into her father. “It’s not a vacation. We’re both out of work… everything I know just got snatched away… and I… and everything just… it’s just pointless.”

“I know how you feel,” Terian insisted, his smile fading. “But that’s why we very, very much need to focus on the positive right now.”

“What’s positive?” Evony challenged. “Name one positive thing about this.”

“Okay—you get to see your uncles again,” Terian stated. “You get to escape the heat, and you might even get to meet the founder of Azarias Industries. He lives in Silverhollow, and he owns the Silver Peaks place. You could get a job there.”

“The hell is Silver Peaks…?”

“It’s that massive fancy mansion that’s always on the news in winter… that place where all the important people gather up for a month-long convention every December. Osric Azarias hosts that whole thing. Hell, I think that’s where he just was when he popped up on the TV…”

“I thought Osric Azarias was an inventor…?”

“He is, but he lives in Silverhollow running his big Silver Peaks Lodge now. It is possible for someone to be an inventor and a business owner at the same time…”

Evony scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Smartass.”

Terian smirked and patted her on the back, and she managed a dry little laugh.

The two of them paused for a moment, and then, Evony’s mind began to wander. She turned to her father again, this time looking more curious than annoyed.

“Do you think Osric has a bunch of his own inventions in Silver Peaks?” she wondered. “Like… the robots…”

“Probably,” Terian shrugged. “But he probably still needs manpower, too. December is only a month away, and he’s gonna need employers when that convention comes around. You should see if he’s hiring.”

“What about you?” Evony asked. “How are you gonna get a job? I mean… are you gonna be able to keep doing what you did before? Somehow…?”

Terian sighed, running a hand down his face and pausing to think. “Well… every town has a newspaper, even the backwoods ones. Somebody probably has use for a writer here. And I’m gonna keep writing my own, too. Yes.”

“Yeah… but you might have to stop writing about crazy stuff if you start writing for a paper here,” Evony pointed out. “Might wanna just drop the reptillioid thing…”

Terian turned and squinted oddly at her.

“There’s a lot going on in the world,” he said in a soft, serious tone. “A lot more than they ever show on the news…”

“I don’t care,” Evony grumbled dismissively, frowning and glaring forward again.

Terian released a heavy sigh, sparing his daughter a deflated sort of look.

The truck then slowed to a full stop. Moments later, the driver popped the back doors open, allowing a gust of icy air into the vehicle. Evony and many other refugees instantly cradled themselves, shivering as the cold air of Silverhollow washed over them.

One by one, the refugees climbed out of the vehicle, collecting their bags and stepping onto the snowy curb.

Evony and Terian were the last to step out, Evony wearing her jean purse and muttering an exasperated holy crap the moment she felt the icy air here, Terian sighing and carrying only his old suitcase. They all paused, gazing past the vehicle and observing the town of Silverhollow for the first time.

Snow coated the ground as far as the eye could see; directly ahead of them and farther down the road, the town sat nestled in a wide opening between a gigantic mountain and a thick collection of snow-covered trees. The great mountain overlooked the town from the south, and the smaller mountain on the opposite side was the one covered in miles of snowy pine trees. The town itself was a small gathering of buildings that were nothing like those from Starrylake—no apartment complexes or skyscrapers in sight. To the west, they were just able to see many houses far away from the heart of town, some sitting alone amidst acres of snowy land, others perched on the mountainsides. Directly north, up the tree-covered mountain, Evony spotted the most impressive building of them all—an enormous white structure with various towers and turrets, almost like a castle. It was just barely in eyeshot, and a long narrow pathway stretched down the mountain from the castle-like building, reaching beneath an elegant archway and leading into town. The archway displayed a sign, reading in Old English letters; SILVER PEAKS.

“Those of you with nowhere to go—report to the shelter on the south side of town,” the driver instructed, giving them all a wave and heading toward the driver door of his vehicle. “Good luck to all of you.”

The refugees said their goodbyes, and the truck rolled away. In the moments after, the group of refugees began to split apart, some of them with destinations, others left with no choice but to seek out the town’s homeless shelter.

Evony and Terian remained standing on the side of the street, gazing across town and admiring the grand castle of Silver Peaks in the distance.

“Looks about right,” Terian determined, nodding at the distant castle. “Considering how eccentric the man is…”

“What?” Evony gave her father a double-take, shivering and narrowing her eyes at him.

Terian made a sideways nod. “Well, that guy… Osric… he’s a genius, but he’s also a little off his rocker, as far as I can tell. ’Course he built himself a big-ass castle to play in. Sounds about right for him.”

“Cool,” Evony grumped. “What about our place…?”

“Al and Manny got it ready for us… well, best they could at such short notice,” Terian informed. “Place is a bit dilapidated, but we’re gonna work to fix it up, if they haven’t already. Only has two bedrooms, though…”

“Where are we supposed to sleep, then?”

“They’ve got an empty basement and an empty attic. Which one do you want?”

“The attic, I guess…”

The two of them conversed as they marched away from the street, wading through the snow and kicking it aside with every step. As they headed toward the center of town, Evony stole several glimpses of the buildings in passing—a post office, Laundromat, restaurant, thrift store, and gun shop. Unlike Starrylake, the roads weren’t cluttered with traffic, occupied only by the occasional passing vehicle. Pedestrians wore thick scarves and jackets rather than the fashionable tightly-fitted shirts and shorts Evony had seen on the streets of Starrylake, and she and her father managed to pass through town after only about ten minutes of walking.

Once they left the heart of town, Terian led Evony toward an old cabin on the mountainside, just up the hill down south. The cabin appeared to be one of the older buildings of the town, and there was only one window in the front, the roof tall and pointed, coated in a fluffy canopy of snow. The front porch was elongated and rectangular with a slanted wooden roof hanging over it, and the porch overlooked the hillside and the slender winding pathway leading up to the house.Evony’s uncles, Alejandro and Manuel, owned an old green Oldsmobile that sat in the garage of the cabin, and the front door swung open the moment she and her father stepped onto the porch’s rickety wooden floor.

Terian’s brothers-in-law were both huskier than him; while Terian had an averagely stocky figure, Alejandro was even chubbier, and Manuel was the roundest and widest of the three. Both of Evony’s uncles were wearing their worn jeans and a couple of baggy shirts, Alejandro wearing an orange sports jersey and Manuel sporting a huge Hawaiian shirt. Both of them grinned, yanking Terian into a hug and laughing bombastically. Evony stood behind her father, managing a smile as she watched their reunion.

“Tirry!” Alejandro exclaimed. “It’s about damn time!”

“Hey-ey, Tirry and Evvy!” Manuel beamed. “Bring it in!”

Terian allowed his brothers-in-law to hug him, then quickly stepped back, scrunching up his face and swatting them away. “God in Heaven… you stink!”

“Yeah—that’s what happens when you work,” Alejandro snarked. “Fixed the hole in the roof, and now we’re workin’ on the bathroom floor. Get your ass in here and help.”

“I just got here,” Terian replied with a vacant laugh.

Manuel pushed past the others and trapped Evony in a bearlike embrace. Evony graciously returned the hug, instantly feeling the damp spot in his back. Her father was right; both of her uncles were drenched in sweat. The two of them used to work in construction, but after being evicted from their apartment a while back, they used their savings to purchase this property in Silverhollow—and it was lucky that they had, because without this cabin, Evony and Terian would have nowhere to go now.

“Move it. Let me in,” Terian urged, shooing his in-laws back into the house. “Evony—are you planning to help now?”

“No—you guys have fun,” Evony told her family. “I need to go look for a job.”

“’Ey—Evony—Jack at the repair shop might need another pair of hands,” Alejandro informed her. “I’m only workin’ for him part time, but he’s about to lay someone else off.”

“I don’t know anything about repairing stuff, dingleberry,” Evony snarked. “I’m gonna check on that Silver Peak place… and grab a jacket from the store. Fuckin’ freezing here…”

“Evony,” Terian uttered, stepping halfway into the house and meeting her eyes over his shoulder. “You sure you don’t wanna come inside first? At least to check out your room…?”

“No,” Evony replied, turning on her heel and waving them off. “I’ll be back later.”

At that, she marched away, hearing the front door of the new Ackerman home creak shut behind her.

As she wandered the town, hugging herself and repressing the occasional shiver, her mind drifted farther and farther from the events of the recent past. Evony’s attention was taken entirely by her surroundings—the way the icy fluff sparkled against the weak sunlight, the rural snow-tipped buildings on either side of her, and the heavenly scent of meat emitting from the nearest restaurant. This was the newest place she’d ever seen—more different from any place she’d ever known. She couldn’t say she felt a great deal of anything right now—but she had to admit, this new scenery did make her feel a tad refreshed. She was, quite literally, hundreds of miles from all of her worst memories and experiences now.

Evony made an interested expression, surveying several outfits inside the thrift store before settling on a sleek leather jacket, a black one with several studs and zippers. As of now, she only had her final paycheck from her old job, as she’d only just gotten paid before her apartment was destroyed. She’d have to make the money last, of course, but she needed some warmer clothes for this new cold environment. So, she also purchased a pair of gloves and a thick blue scarf, raveling it around herself as she walked out the door. Evony smirked, feeling much better now that she was wrapped in the warm embrace of her new scarf and jacket, adjusting the gloves on her hands and heading toward the wonderful scent of the diner.

Unlike the thrift store, the interior of the diner was a bit louder and more active; Evony strolled inside, the doors making a faint ching-a-ling, glimpsing around and noticing several things.

The diner was themed to fit the 1950s, long neon lights at the top of the walls, a large clock displayed on the wall farthest left, which was decorated with the same bright blue lighting. To the right, a 3DTV was protruding from the wall, showing a news broadcast. It was displaying footage of Osric Azarias speaking to a mob of media reporters before switching over to footage from the reporters in Starrylake, who were discussing the most recent terror attacks.

Directly ahead, there was a line at the front counter, and Evony meandered toward it without thinking, removing her attention from the 3DTV and suddenly acting out of hunger. Three girls were chattering in front of her, all of them giving the 3DTV several glances as they spoke. Evony then turned her head, following their trails of vision and listening to the ongoing news broadcast once again.

“… from the bombings, just last week,” the reporter woman was saying. “The AMF escorted the uninjured survivors out of the city directly after the attacks. The incident is believed to be the work of Alazar’s Army, the reptilian extremist group who claimed responsibility for the shooting in Harrison County two months ago. While the reptilian resistance is known to use fire-based weaponry, their attacks are still referred to as shootings by Congressman Gerald Marcus. Gerald could not be reached for comment today, but Mayor Jason Carrington made a statement only hours ago, revealing the congress’s plan to bring several new bills to light, hoping to pass more restrictive laws on traveling between the north and south and the purchasing of all weaponry in the northern region, both human firearms and reptilian weapons. More after this commercial break…”

Evony squinted at the screen as she listened. The 3DTV—a common television in today’s society, one of many inventions from Osric’s illustrious company—depicted an incredibly realistic image, first showing the street Evony used to live on, then switching to scenes of the other bomb sights before changing over to old footage of reptilian extremists from Alazar’s Army. The footage of the reptilians was much less comprehensible, popping out of the screen in fuzzy jerky motions, as most of this footage was probably captured VIA camera phone. The reptilians were the same size as humans, shaped the same as well, but their skin was noticeably thicker and harder, dark green and scaly in a way no human’s ever could be. Their heads had sharper definitions, with many blunt square or triangular features, and all reptilians had small horns growing from their foreheads. The horns were thin and black, and they usually grew backward, which reminded Evony of her father’s slicked-back hairstyle. She’d never seen a reptilian in person before, but she always found the footage of them fairly interesting. They all spoke, wore ordinary clothes, and used tools and weapons as well as any ordinary person could. Even though reptilians had lived in secret up until a few centuries ago, it seemed they were no less intelligent than human beings.

Evony sighed and faced away from the three-dimensional screen, eyeing the front counter again and inhaling a great whiff of the wonderful aromas from the kitchen. The three girls in front of her were all trading glimpses. The thinnest of the three—a girl with wavy brunet hair held back with a diamond-studded headband—wore a cold and caustic expression, poking her mouth out and huffing irritably at the 3DTV.

“Reps,” the brunet girl scowled, shaking her head.

The second girl was tiny with short blonde hair, which was considerably messier than either of her counterparts. She spun around and gave the brunet girl a surprised look.

“That’s racist,” the tiny blonde breathed.

“No—it’s not—because Reps aren’t a race,” the brunet girl snarled in response. “They’re just a bunch of animals. They’re not people.”

The third girl nodded in agreement; she was the tallest of the three, with straight brown hair tied back into a ponytail.

Evony peered past them, trying not to eavesdrop, though she couldn’t help but hear everything, as close as the girls were.

“I get what you mean, but they’re technically considered people,” the blonde murmured sheepishly, her eyes shifting warily between her two friends. “I mean… like… they’re legally considered near-human intelligence, so… they have the same rights as us, Bellura.”

The pretty brunet girl, Bellura, turned so quickly that her hair whipped aside, flying over one of her shoulders. She glared into her blonde friend as if she’d just been slapped across the face.

“They shouldn’t have the same rights as us,” Bellura snapped. “You know why? Because those things are killing random people—and they’re the reason that my father has to house a bunch of stupid worthless refugees.”

Bellura’s friends merely stared at her in response—and Evony, standing close behind them, felt a stab of anger shoot through her chest. She began leering into the back of Bellura’s head without realizing it, her hand coiling into a fist.

“Bell… they’re victims,” the blonde girl told her friend. “It’s not like they’re just gonna come here and live off of government assistance forever. They’re just regular American Colony people… just like us… and they’re gonna get regular lives and regular jobs again. It’s not like we’re taking in reptilian terrorists. What is the big deal?”

“You don’t understand, Cally,” Bellura quipped icily. “It’s their problem. Not ours. Besides, this town isn’t big enough to support all those people—and you just know most of them are gonna kick back and mooch off the government the entire time they’re here. It’s disgusting.”

“You’re disgusting,” Evony grumbled under her breath.

“But you’re assuming that,” the blonde named Cally insisted. “And you’re acting like they’re not even worth the time of day just because they lost their homes.”

“That’s because they’re not,” Bellura said firmly, her shiny hazel eyes burning into Cally, her nostrils flaring. “Some people are important, and some people aren’t. Simple as that.”

“What makes them not important?” Cally challenged, her tone suddenly rising.

Bellura rounded on her. “Hm, well, let’s see—they’re not from here, they don’t work here, and they don’t contribute here.”

“Yeah—not to mention, they’re all gonna use this bombing as an excuse not to work anymore,” the brown-haired girl finally spoke up. “Which is what makes them definably worth less than all the rest of us here.”

“Trish—you don’t even work!” Cally exclaimed, waving wildly at the brown-haired Trisha.

“I don’t have to,” Trisha replied snidely. “My parents own the biggest firearms business in the southern region, and I’m gonna inherit all of that. My work life is already planned out.”

“I thought your brother was gonna inherit it?” Cally uttered, squinting curiously at her. “He seems like he wants to…”

Trisha scoffed in the loudest and most obnoxious way that Evony had ever heard.

“That chubby piece of shit can’t run a business!” Trisha cackled. “No—my parents know which one of us is the responsible one. The Second Amendment Munitions Corporation is gonna be mine, and no one else’s.”

“Really? When was the last time you even talked to Javari?” Cally asked. “Because last time I talked to your brother, he was pretty damn sure he was gonna inherit the company.”

“You know I don’t like talking to him anymore,” Trisha grumbled coldly, swiping her ponytail back and folding her arms. “He’s running that sleazy underground club now. It’s freaking gross down there…”

Evony finally broke her glare, tearing her eyes away from Bellura and pondering on everything that the other two had said. Out of all three, Cally seemed to be the only remotely likable girl in the group.

“Okay, well… what about you?” Cally wondered, facing Bellura again.

She blinked. “What about me?”

“You don’t have a job, either,” Cally pointed out. “But you keep talking bad about all these refugees because they don’t have jobs… yet…”

“I’m the mayor’s daughter, Cally,” Bellura smiled pompously. “My job is to keep up appearances and make statements to the cameras… until I become the mayor.”

“God for-fucking-bid,” Evony growled softly.

Then—Bellura whirled around, locking eyes with Evony and making her heart skip. Trisha and Cally both stared at Evony as well, making her instantly regret opening her mouth.

“Excuse me?” Bellura snarled, cocking her head and raising her brows challengingly at her.

There was a long, tense pause, and Evony let out a deep cloud of breath, slowly shaking her head and suddenly wishing she never left the house at all.

“Nothing,” Evony uttered, swallowing her irritation. “Talking to myself.”

“You better be,” Bellura scolded, her eyes narrowing into slits. “I don’t even know you—and I know pretty much everybody in Silverhollow. Who are you?”

“Bell, come on… stop it,” Cally urged, but Bellura ignored her, fuming at Evony as she expectantly awaited an answer.

Evony’s heart began to pound with aggravation, her dark silvery eyes tracing along every inch of Bellura’s pale, beautiful face, which was dripping with offense and perturbation.

Gulping and gritting her teeth, Evony tried her best to bury her temper, forcing herself to remain composed. She’d give anything to give this spoiled brat a good punch in the mouth, but it was her first day in Silverhollow—and shattering the teeth of the mayor’s daughter would probably be a poor way to start her new life here.

“Well?” Bellura demanded. “Are you gonna answer me? Who are you?”

“I’m new in town,” Evony answered, repressing her agitation.

“Oh, really—you’re new in town, and you’re commenting on me becoming the mayor here?” Bellura hissed, inching closer and glaring daringly into Evony’s eyes. “What the hell makes you think you have the right?”

“The American Colony of Concordia was founded by our ancestors from the United States—which entails the freedom of speech throughout the colony in its entirety,” Evony stated, her voice rising. “So—I can say whatever the hell I want.”

“Just because you have the freedom to say whatever you want doesn’t mean you have the right to say whatever you want,” Bellura griped.

“That’s exactly what that means,” Evony snapped in response. “Are you stupid?”

Just then—Evony’s head jerked to the side.

An echoing slap made everyone in the diner fall silent, and Evony was left with a burning stinging sensation in her cheek.

Bellura raised her hand threateningly, as if she was about to deliver a second smack—but Evony instantly lost her temper—reaching out and clasping the girl by the throat.

Cally screamed and covered her face. Trisha’s mouth fell open, and all the other customers merely watched in shock.

Bellura began throwing her fists wildly, smacking Evony’s arm and trying to break free, but to no avail. Evony scowled at her, a million taijitsu moves flashing through her mind, but she did none of them.

Instead—she placed a foot behind Bellura’s ankle, then lunged forward and forced the girl to trip; Bellura fell to the ground, releasing a breathless whimper and clasping her neck. She flung her now messy hairs out of her face, combing it back frantically and glaring up at Evony, positively livid.

Evony blew her bangs out of her eyes, flashing a brief, cold smirk and feeling a surge of satisfaction.

Seconds later, a slow dread began to take its place; she’d hurt the mayor’s daughter, and God only knew what consequences might come from this incident. Nevertheless, Evony maintained her powerful disposition, glaring down at Bellura with a deep, searing leer.

“I don’t care who you are—or who your daddy is,” Evony glowered. “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me.”

All eyes were on Evony and Bellura now; Bellura staggered to her feet, huffing out a furious breath and advancing toward Evony again.

Then, Evony took a fighting stance.

Bellura halted mid-step.

There was a long, tense pause.

Evony kept her professional stance solid, and Bellura scanned her up and down, seeming to realize that her opponent was well-trained for these situations. She stared hesitantly into Evony’s eyes, inching forward and plastering on the nastiest expression she could muster.

“I don’t care what kind of kung-fu you know,” Bellura seethed, her eyes blazing a fiery gold. “Your stupid karate crap is not gonna help you in this town—because I have power here, and you’re not gonna get away with pissing me off.”

“Oh… is that right?” Evony breathed with a smirk. “Because I think I just did.”

Bellura loomed closer, barely an inch away from Evony, their eyes locked in a hot, angry stare.

Then, Bellura’s eyes flickered to the side, spotting the thin, jagged scarring on the side of Evony’s face.

“Watch your back,” Bellura threatened. “Ugly bitch.”

At that, Bellura shoved past Evony, bashing into her shoulder and storming out of the diner. Trisha hurried after her, sparing Evony a nasty scowl in passing. After the two of them left, Cally remained behind, releasing a cloud of breath and trading glances with Evony. Everyone else in the diner slowly began to avert their eyes, all except for Cally, who was giving Evony a somber sort of stare.