The Ash Rogues Chronicles: Part Two

The Ash Rogues Chronicles

World of Phantasm
Country of Amnesia

Kathena

         Kathena grasps the crack in the castle wall above her head and heaves herself up, her muscles burning pleasantly from the challenge. She plants her feet in firm footholds with ease and looks below her at her apprentice, Felix. His arms shake as he desperately clings to the wall, the sweat on his brow glistening in the light of the quarter moon.
         “How are you holding up?” Kathena asks, letting go with her right hand causally, teasing him with her ease. Felix glares at her to hide the fear in his face and looks over his shoulder at the long drop from the side of the Ash Rogues’ base on top of the mountain.
         “Fine, obviously,” Felix replies in a strained voice. “I would like if we could keep moving.” Kathena hides a smile and continues to climb up the crumbling wall.
         Every month, Base Two holds mock battles to train the Rogue apprentices, but everyone knows the games are also a chance to have lots of fun. Rogues from nearby bases come to participate in the games, making it an extravagant event that spreads all over the compound and often lasts for several hours.
         Kathena grabs a ledge above her that she knows is the perch of a gargoyle and pulls herself up, wrapping her arm around the gargoyle’s neck to swing herself up. The gargoyle is on the far corner of the compound, one level below one of the five turrets positioned around the old castle. The ledge is only four feet in width, so she climbs on top of the statue’s back to perch there, scanning the windows on either side of the castle.
         Kathena hears a groan from below as Felix comes into sight, throwing his arms over the ledge. He wiggles up onto his stomach and then grabs the gargoyle’s foot to heave himself up the rest of the way, a route much sloppier than Kathena’s. Felix sits on the edge with his legs dangling over and he leans back against the wall, gasping for air.
         “You do this…for fun?” he says in disbelief. Kathena holds back a smirk.
         “If you didn’t come for the fun and freedom, why are you here?” she asks. “Ash Rogues are strong and brave, feared by all. You don’t look very intimidating right now, flopping around like a rag doll.” Kathena loves teasing him and his pampered childhood, but she knows from the last three days of tasks and training with him that he is very determined and is actually quite clever, when he isn’t being an idiot of course.
         Kathena ignores the glare from her apprentice and leans forward to keep her voice down.
         “Okay, we need to discuss game rules,” she announces. Felix leans toward, his eyes now alert with excitement.
         “There are two teams: our team—Team Shade—and Team Blaze. Each team has five hostages from the other team,” Kathena tells Felix. “The object of the game is to rescue all of the prisoners from our team and take them to the courtyard to gather with the other rescued prisoners, but there we will still have to protect them, because they can be taken prisoner again. Regular players can be knocked unconscious, but they cannot be taken prisoners themselves. No dragons or armed combat is allowed.” At this, Felix raises his eyebrows.
         “So we aren’t allowed to fight?” he asks. Kathena can’t hold back her grin this time. “I never said that. How well can you punch?”

***

         Kathena and Felix crouch at the edge of the slanted roof of the turret, the wind tickling any skin that isn’t hidden by black clothing. An unconscious Rogue that had been a guard positioned on the roof sits tied up to the spike at the peak of the tower.
         Kathena can hear Felix’s excited breathing, which sounds almost fast enough to match the rate of his probably racing heart. His hands quiver from where they are grasping the edge of the roof and Kathena can see the tight expression on his face. Kathena smiles at him, but this time it is genuine and not teasing.
         “It’ll be fine,” she assures him in a whisper. “Just think like a Rogue and you’ll do great and have fun.” Felix looks at her out of the corner of his eye, as if he suspects she’s teasing him again. Kathena can’t tell if she imagines the small thankful smile that flashes on his face a moment later. Then Kathena takes a deep breath.
         “Okay. The other team is sure to have one of their prisoners in one of the five towers, so we’ll check this one first,” she orders. Felix nods as they lean over the edge of the roof. Kathena strains her ears over the whispering wind and she catches the sound of hushed voices below. The two of them pull themselves back up.
         “From the sounds of it, there must be at least three guards in there and there will be more outside the room,” Kathena tells him. “The prisoner will be bound, so you’ll untie them while I hold off the guards. Once the prisoner is free, we will fight off the guards and come back out the way we came. Got it?” Felix nods and they both position themselves at the very edge. Kathena holds up three fingers to count down.
         Three.
         Two.
         One.
         Kathena throws herself off the roof, twists around with her hands on the edge of the roof and swings herself through the open window. Her feet connect with the head of one of the guards, who yells and crashes to the ground, staying down. Kathena lands on top of the guard and looks up. Two other guards turn around to face her, fists at the ready. The prisoner is in the middle of the room…tied to another guard. Kathena curses to herself at the unforeseen problem and throws herself at the guards. I knew the prisoner would be tied up, but to another Rogue? How are we supposed to rescue the hostage with them attached?
         Kathena drops to the ground and slides to avoid a punch from the first guard, who is her friend Waria and slide under the legs of the other guard, Hugo. Kathena leaps to her feet just as Hugo turns around. Kathena throws a kick at his stomach, but he grabs her leg. Kathena grabs the arm holding her leg and swings herself up to wrap her arms around his neck. He lets go of her leg out of shock and she twists her body over his shoulder to pull him crashing to the ground, where he stays, groaning.
         Waria grabs her shoulder roughly and Kathena jams her elbow backward to hit her friend, but Waria was expecting that and grabs Kathena’s arm, then flips her over her shoulder. Kathena slams into the ground painfully, spots obscuring the edge of her vision. But she blinks them away and grabs Waria’s head. Kathena pulls down on Waria’s head and pulls herself up, then tugs her into a headlock.
         Waria lets out a strained laugh. “Well done, my friend,” she says. Kathena smirks and looks up to find Felix. He is standing next to the untied hostage, a proud but slightly shocked look on his face. The last guard is lying unconscious on the floor.
         “It was really quite easy to knock him out when he was tied up,” Felix tells her with a casual voice. Kathena grins at him and the hostage, who is Kathena’s friend Jasper. He grins at Waria locked in her arms.
         “Give up, do you?” Jasper teases. Waria lets out a sigh. “Fine. I submit. For now,” she adds. Kathena grins and stands up with her still in her arms.
         “Go,” Kathena nods to the window. Jasper and Felix jump out the window and drop to a ledge below. Kathena shuffles to the window and lets Waria go, shoving her away. Kathena leaps out the window before she can see her friend hit the floor.

***

         Three hours later, Kathena and her team win and all the Rogues gather in the courtyard. Though there had been a lot of rescuing and recapturing the hostages again and again, Kathena’s team had finally got all five of their imprisoned teammates to the courtyard, while the other team had succeeded in rescuing only three hostages. But everybody is laughing and joking around as they pour into the courtyard, where they stand around or perch in nearby windows. Kathena sits with Felix on top of an archway standing in the middle of the courtyard, where the former hostages are being passed around over the Rogues’ heads. Kathena laughs and is surprised to hear Felix join in, who finally looks at ease with the Rogues.
         The representative of Base Two, Robin, leaps up onto the crumbling statue in the center of the courtyard and the Rogues fall silent.
         “Congratulations to Team Shade!” Robin yells, to which the Rogues answer with screams and thumping of chests. Kathena yells and raises her fists in the air. Robin grins and she waits for the voices to die down.
         “Now, a prize hasn’t been decided on yet, so the team can choose for either—” she falters to a stop as a Rogue pulls himself up onto the statue and puts his mouth to her ear. She frowns at first as he whispers, but then a look of shock crosses her face. The Rogues all around the courtyard begin to mutter as the man goes on. Then he stops and jumps back down. Robin stands there with a tight expression before clearing her throat.
         “Drake has come from Base One,” Robin announces with some difficulty to the now dead silent courtyard. “Deputy Hexia and Griffith are dead.”

Sage

         Sage pulls on her knee-length boots and slides a knife into each of the sheaths hidden in both boots. She picks up a belt from her bed and buckles it across her chest, attaching a quiver full of arrows to her back. Sage straps an extra dagger to the harness on her chest and grabs her bow to sling over her shoulder.
         Sage looks up at herself in the small, cracked mirror on her wall, one of the few adornments of her new quarters in Base Four. Her pale blond hair, almost white in the dim light, is freshly trimmed to a pixie cut after most of her hair had burnt off. She has a new scar on her face, still red and sensitive, stretching from her right eye to her chin, one of thankfully few marks of escaping the attack at Base Three last week. She was one of twenty survivors out of eighty from the Ash Rogues of Base Three.
         Sage feels the familiar pang of loss and anger at remembering the king’s army flooding into the compound, the very mountain face crumbling away to reveal the skeleton of Sage’s home. The soldiers had poured into every corner of the refuge and the only reason Sage and the others could escape was because they were stationed on the sides of the mountain. They had fought them off for as long as they could, but they were soon over whelmed, even with help from their dragons.
         Sage shakes her head to chase away the images of the battle and pulls on a pair of gloves. I have a mission tonight and I can’t afford anything to distract me. Over the past week, the Rogues had been searching for the identities and locations of the king’s riders and just earlier this day the home of one of the riders, Ferin, was confirmed. All I have to do is spy on him and then when the chance arises…I kill him.
         Despite having gone over the thought many times before, Sage instantly fells a lump in her throat. It’s not that big of a deal, Rogues kill all the time… But the Rogues don’t know that I’ve never killed before. I joined the Rogues for freedom. I knew when I joined that they were evil and would always be evil. I just wanted a life outside of the king’s rule. But now the Rogues are just as bad and I don’t like the way this is headed, a final showdown between good and evil.
         Sage takes a deep breath. But after the attack on Base Three, I don’t know which side is good and bad. Sage sets her jaw and pulls the hood of her jacket over her head, then recites the Ash Rogue motto to chase away her unfaithful thoughts.
         “I am an Ash Rogue,” Sage says to herself. “I have risen from the ashes and been reborn. I am brave and I am free and I will be forever more.” She nods as if to confirm her words and turns toward the door of her small room. It’s too late to turn back now; I need to help my people. But do I still want to?

***

         Sage's navy blue dragon Cyril swoops down over the king’s castle in the central city of Amnesia and pulls back to land lightly on his back feet on the top of a turret, the roof groaning slightly at the new weight. The dragon clutches the peak of the roof with his claws and settles down as flat as he can, hopefully hiding himself from the views of the four watchtowers.
         Sage slips her legs out of the saddle’s harnesses and slides over Cyril’s side, landing on the roof with both feet and hands. She slides down the steep roof in a crouch to the bottom, where a foot high stonewall rings the edge. Sage pulls her hood lower over her face to keep off the chill of the night and observes her surroundings and conditions.
         The turret is on the edge of the castle and the roof of the castle lies in shadows thirty feet below. There are watchtowers on each of the four corners of the castle, the nearest on Sage’s right. But the watchtower is a good deal higher than the turret on which Sage and Cyril perch on, making it difficult to see Cyril hiding on the other side of the turret, which is also aided by the darkness of the new moon.
         A tower just below Sage’s turret by about ten feet is her target, Ferin’s sleeping quarters. A balcony on the tower’s highest level faces Sage and flickering firelight spills through the glass doors. At this angle, all she can see is an expensive looking rug on a stone floor, a desk piled with parchment and a straight-backed chair pushed back from the desk.
         Sage grabs her bow and pulls out an arrow to notch on the string. She rests the loaded bow across her knees as she crouches, waiting. From previous spy missions on Ferin, reports said that every night he goes out onto his balcony for a while, anywhere from ten minutes to an hour. That was why he is the first rider to be targeted, for he would be the easiest. So Sage sits in the dark, waiting as the minutes slip by. She intently watches the balcony doors as the firelight from the room slowly dims.
         After about forty minutes the doors finally open, causing Sage to instantly perk up and ready her bow. She lifts it up and places her fingers on the string, ready to pull back the arrow once she is done spying on him.
         The rider walks out, closing the doors behind him before walking to the edge of the balcony. Ferin clutches the stone railing and looks out at the city beyond the battlements of the castle. His amber blond hair glows in the dimming light spilling from his room. Sage’s breath catches in her throat as she looks at him. This is the man I am going to kill. She takes in Ferin’s hunched shoulders and sad expression as he looks at the city, not seeming to see it at all.
         Sage flexes her fingers nervously, her bow suddenly seeming to feel twice its weight in her hands. She lowers her bow with quickened breath, feeling panic rise in her chest. I can’t do this. I can’t kill him. But just then, the balcony doors open again and a servant walks up to Ferin. I could at least get some information. Sage reluctantly raises her bow again and watches as Ferin turns around, suddenly seeming full of energy again. The servant bows formally.
         “Sir, the men have returned from their search for your brother,” he announces and Sage can see Ferin shifting impatiently. “But they were unsuccessful. They have not found sir Felix.” Ferin instantly deflates and the weight that had been momentarily lifted from his shoulders settles itself back down.
         “Thank you, you are dismissed,” Ferin waves off the servant, who closes the doors behind him when he exits. Ferin turns around and clutches the railing again, looking down at the castle roof below so Sage can’t see the look on his face. Okay, now’s my chance. I’ve learnt all that I can, which was information that we already have. Felix is in Base Two with Kathena. There’s nothing more to do but…kill him. Sage pulls the bowstring back, but stops, her hand on the arrow shaking. Her upper lip and armpits are sweaty and she suddenly finds herself fighting the urge to throw up.
         It’s not like I haven’t been in this position before, I’ve shot people before. But I’ve only wounded, like their arms and legs. I’ve never shot to kill before. But what kind of a Rogue am I if I can’t help my people when a chance is right in front of my face? None of the others would have a problem doing this. All I have to do is let go of the bowstring.
         But Sage’s fingers feel glued to the bowstring despite the fact her arms are aching from holding it back for so long. Just do it now while he’s looking down, I won’t see his face. Her heartbeat grows faster, her breathes coming shorter. Do it now!
         Then Ferin looks up. He instantly sees Sage perching on the rooftop, a ready bow in her hand. His mouth opens to call for help and Sage lets go of the string. The arrow flies through the air with a twang, but instead of hitting his chest it plants itself in his left arm. Sage tells herself it was an accident, but deep down she knows she’s too good of a shot to make a mistake like that.
         Ferin clutches his arm and falls to his knees, but he’s smart enough not to cry out and give Sage cause to kill him. Sage swings herself off the rooftop and flips through the air to land on the balcony behind Ferin. She pulls out her dagger and presses it against his throat as she pins his arms down, trying to ignore the arrow sticking out of his left.
         “Make a sound and I’ll kill you for real this time,” Sage hisses into his ear as Cyril creeps around the turret above, ready to leap down to help her. By the way Ferin’s fingers tighten on her arm she can tell he’s seen her dragon too. But to her surprise he lets out a strangled laugh.
         “If you were going to kill me,” he chokes out through his pain, “you would have done so when I first saw you.” The words feel like a slap in the face of Sage’s logic, though the words are true and she knows it. But she feels a stabbing feeling in her heart at the thought of killing him, especially when he’s in her arms. Her head battles to kill him now but her heart says no.
         I am an Ash Rogue. I have risen out of the ashes and been reborn. I am brave and I am free and I will be forever more. But I do not call this freedom.

Ferin

         Ferin wiggles his rope bound wrists and his legs that are buckled into the sides of the dragon’s saddle. The Ash Rogue, Sage, sits in front of him, clutching the saddle with only her knees. The dragon—Ferin had heard the Rogue call him Cyril—flies fast through the cold autumn air over forests unknown to Ferin.
         What am I going to do? If the king wasn’t so worried I would become a rogue soldier and locked my dragon Fanghur away, I wouldn’t be in this mess. When Sage didn’t kill him earlier, she had taken him prisoner, announcing she would take him back to the Rogues. If she won’t kill me, the other Rogues surely will. She’s a coward, but she’s prepared to do what she must for her people. But isn’t that like me? I fought in the battle at Base Three, but I didn’t kill anyone. Ferin had felt like he knew the look in Sage’s eyes when she had refused to slit his throat and instead tied him up.
         But there is nothing Ferin can do now but wait until she unties him when they arrive. If only I had received more training. I’ve only been one of the king’s dragon riders for a few months! Now I’m going to die, just like all of the other riders that the king has been trying to train. I still don’t understand how all of them died. The Rogues didn’t know about us riders until the battle at Base Three. So there must be someone on the inside who knows the king...
         Ferin’s thoughts are interrupted when the dragon Cyril takes a quick turn, which jostles Ferin’s injured left arm, sending a bolt of pain through his arm and up into his shoulder. The nerves must be damaged. He lets out a cry that is muffled by the gag over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut to try to ignore the pain, but he can still feel the fresh blood drip down his arm. He opens his eyes to see the rag tied around his arm to pass as a crude bandage and sees that it is soaked red. He is starting to feel light headed, but he holds himself straight, refusing to become unsteady and lean on Sage. Sage looks behind her at Ferin’s arm and sees the blood. Her face tightens momentarily, but she turns back around.

***

         After another hour of flying, Cyril finally begins to descend toward a small mountain in the center of a lake. Ferin blinks away the spots that had been collecting over his vision and sees that they are headed straight towards to the lake. What is Sage thinking? Cyril dives downwards and plunges into the lake.
         The dragon crashes into the water, bubbles exploding like a storm all around them. The cold is intense and it swirls around them as Cyril tucks in his wings and kicks his legs. Ferin closes his eyes when they begin to sting and he feels them moving through the water. His lungs start to burn and Ferin curses himself for not taking a deeper breath. But before he can begin to panic, they burst out of the water into air.
         Ferin coughs through his gag and sucks in deep breaths as water streams down his sides. Once he blinks the water out of his eyes, he sees that they are in an underground room, the walls clean cut and clearly manmade. Are we inside the mountain? Torches line the walls, casting shadows over the row of guards standing in front of a large double door. Ferin looks behind them to see a pool of water in the floor they had burst up out of. When Ferin turns around, he sees one of the guards step forward and raise a loaded bow to point at Ferin’s chest.
         “If you attempt to escape,” he announces, “I will not hesitate to shoot.” Ferin nods and Sage takes that as a signal to begin working on the straps over Ferin’s legs. When she is done, she grabs the ropes around Ferin’s wrists and roughly drags him off Cyril. Ferin stumbles and falls to his knees when he hits the ground, slipping on the water since he landed unbalanced. Perfect. I look like a weakling. Ferin pulls himself to his feet and Sage pushes him forward towards the double door, water dripping off them onto the floor. There goes my chance to escape.

***

         Two guards push open a door in front of them and the two other guards holding his arms push him forward, one of them uncomfortably squeezing his injured arm. Ferin steps into the room and gasps through his gag. The room is manmade like all the others, but elaborate scenes of battle are carved into the walls. A large table sits in the middle of the room under a black chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. At the back of the chamber is a row of steps that leads to a small podium and on it a man sits in the shadows atop the most intimidating throne Ferin has ever seen. It is made of a black wood and has strips and flecks of gold imbedding randomly around it, looking like embers. The back of the throne curves up into the carved shape of two dragons hissing at each other.
         Ferin is moved to the bottom of the steps and shoved to his feet. The manacles around his hands attached to a length of chain rattle behind him as he settles done.
         “My lord Cyborius, we have brought you the rider Ferin,” announces Sage, who stands off to the left. The man sitting on the throne sits forward in his throne and for the first time Ferin can see his face. His face has never been on wanted posters, so Ferin is surprised when he sees that the man, the leader of the Rogues, looks to be in his late twenties. Shoulder length brown hair frames his face, which is riddled with old burns and scars. A black fur cloak pools off the man’s shoulders and over the arms of his throne. The man—Cyborius—squints at Ferin with interest before turning towards Sage.
         “Why have you brought him back?” the overlord demands with a cold, hard tone. “You were ordered to assassinate him, as I recall.” Sage shifts uncomfortably, her hands clasped behind her back.
         “He was vulnerable, my lord,” Sage replies with a tight voice, “and I thought that he would be more use to us alive, so we can gather more information.” She swallows nervously as she looks him in the eyes. Cyborius looks at her carefully and Ferin sees a look of comprehension cross his face. He narrows his eyes in a way Ferin thinks means ‘I’ll deal with you and your problems later’. Cyborius turns back to Ferin and waves at one of the guards. The guard on Ferin’s right pulls off his gag to hang around his neck with a yank.
         “What a pleasure it is to have you here, Ferin,” Cyborius says with a hint of pride to have on of the king’s riders in his throne room. Ferin glares at the overlord, but Ferin doesn’t feel much power behind it and he doesn’t know why. Both sides in this war are the same. Sneaking, destroying, evil people hunger for power. Neither side is in the right, not even my side. What can I choose? I can’t exactly run away from my responsibilities. Ferin is just opening his mouth to argue when the throne room door opens. Cyborius tenses and his face tightens, clearly upset about the intrusion. Ferin tries to turn his head to look behind him, but the guards on his shoves his head back down.
         “Katheana,” Cyborius greets. A woman steps around the guards to stand at their right, straight and proud but with a look of uncertainty, as though she knows she’s interrupted something important.
         “My lord,” Katheana greets, which is followed by an odd flourish and bow. “I have come to discuss the topic of my apprentice, I think he is ready to be a Rogue, but I can see you are busy.” Annoyance flashes across Cyborius’ face, but he stifles it.
         “You are correct,” Cyborius replies. “I am in the middle of something and I would appreciate it if we could discuss this later.” Katheana nods and just about to bow again when a cough sounds from behind them.
         “Thank you for your time, my lord,” someone announces with a very familiar voice and barely concealed annoyance. Ferin turns as much as he can just as the unseen figure steps forward to bow. The figure rises and makes to turn around when he freezes.
         “Felix!” Ferin gasps. What are you doing here?? His brother is unrecognizable clad in black clothes tight with new muscles under his skin. Ferin searches his brother’s face for any reason why he would have run away, why he would be here of all places.
         “Ferin!” Felix spits out with incredible venom and before Ferin can even react, Felix throws himself at his brother and his hands burst into flames.

Felix

         Felix runs down a hall, coughing at the thick, dark smoke that rolls through Base One. He pulls his shirt over his mouth and nose as he stumbles around a corner. The heat is shearing, but not as intense thanks to his fire resistance. Rogues run with him away from the fire, screaming and calling for their dragons to help, but they cannot hear them. Ferin follows close behind Felix, dragging his chains and restraints behind him.
         What was I thinking? Felix feels a surge of rage at himself. When Felix had seen Ferin in the throne room, he hadn’t known what to feel at first. He was surprised and confused to find his brother in the Rogues’ hideout, where Felix had run to escape Ferin. Then his anger had taken over and he couldn’t stop himself. He had tried to hide his fire abilities for too long and he couldn’t control the flames that had burst into life in his hands. Chaos has erupted immediately after that and resulted in the throne room catching fire. And it was spreading fast.
         Who knew Ash Rogues, rulers of dragons, would be so vulnerable to fire? Felix crashes through a crowd of Rogues.
         “We should help them,” Felix can just hear Ferin yell after him. Felix pretends he didn’t hear. You’re pushing your luck. You shouldn’t even be following me. Why did you, anyways? I did just try to kill you with fire after all. But Felix pushes his thoughts away and focuses on escaping Base One.

***

         An hour later, Felix and Ferin collapse under a tree, far from the base. Felix gasps for air and closes his eyes as he leans back against the tree trunk. It had taken them ages to find a way out then escape into the surrounding forest without Rogues following them.
         “Are you alright?” Ferin asks. Felix opens his eyes, startled at the question. We haven’t talked in weeks, what gives you the right to ask me that?
         “I’m fine,” Felix spits out, wrapping his arms around his still heaving chest. His clothes are charred and covered in soot, but he is unharmed aside from a few scrapes and bruises. Ferin on the other hand, has small burns on his face and hands and has his left arm bandaged, which Felix remembered was like that in the throne room.
         Ferin nods to Felix’s response with a slightly disappointed look on his face and looks down at the chains on wrists. He picks up a twig and pokes at the lock experimentally, making Felix snort loudly. Ferin looks at him with raised eyebrows.
         “Do you really expect to pick that lock with a twig?” Felix demands, to which Ferin shrugs. Gods have mercy, this man is useless. How did he become a rider? Felix rummages through the pockets in his pants until he finds his lock pick, which his trainer Kathena had given him just earlier today when she had proudly announced to him that she thought he was ready to become a Rogue. Felix feels a twinge in his chest when he thinks of her and how he has betrayed her. I’ll never be an Ash Rogue now. Well, I only joined to get away from Ferin. But…
         Felix scowls at the ground and shuffles over to Ferin and lifts up his brother’s hands to stick the lock pick into the manacles. He doesn’t look up as he works, twitching the pin around, though he can’t help but feel curious about Ferin’s reaction to Felix being cursed with fire abilities. Is he disgusted? Scared? Curious? Confused? But Felix’s thoughts are interrupted when the lock clicks and the manacles snap open, falling off of Ferin’s wrists to the ground with a clunk.
         Ferin mutters a thanks and Felix moves away to sit back in his spot, looking everywhere but at Ferin’s face, just where Felix wants to look. Why do I care? I doubt he even tried looking for me when I disappeared. I know he must hate me now, knowing I was with his enemy the Rogues and then trying to kill him.
         But they sit in silence as they catch their breath and check their injuries, avoiding each other’s gaze. Felix fiddles with his lock pick as the silence continues, waiting to see if Ferin will say anything. What do I do know? Ferin will go back to his precious king, but I don’t have anywhere to go back to now. I guess I’ll have to live off the streets, unless I’d rather go to prison for dealing with the Ash Rogues. These thoughts depress Felix, but he can’t think of any other way so he stands with aching legs.
         “You should go back to the city,” Felix tells Ferin while staring at the ground. Ferin stands as well, staggering slightly.
         “And you’ll come with me?” Ferin asks, startling Felix enough to finally look at his face.
         “What do you mean, go with you?” Felix sputters. Ferin blinks in confusion.
         “Well, you could come with me back to the city and I’m sure I could arrange something for you, so you don’t have to go to priso—”
         “Why do you want me to go with you?” Felix interrupts and this time his voice comes out quiet and weak. “You’ve basically ignored me for years, you become a rider for God’s sake and then I run off with the Ash Rogues, I was born cursed with deadly fire powers and I tried to kill you!” Felix’s voice rises into a shout and cracks on the last words. What, do I regret what I tried to do? Ferin’s eyes widen like he’s just had an epiphany.
         “You think I ignored you on purpose?” Ferin asks. “You think I hate you for running away and having fire powers?”
         “Well what else am I supposed to think?” Felix demands. Ferin steps toward him and Felix is confused to find he doesn’t have the urge to back away from him.
         “All I ever wanted was to be you, Felix. I never had it easy either. Sure, I got special treatment, but its not always easy being the eldest. There’s always pressure that I have to be perfect, I have to make the king happy by becoming one of his riders only because I’m heir to our family, which isn’t as poor and useless as you think!” Felix frowns at him. But his life is perfect. Why would he want to be me?
         “Felix, when you ran away, I understood why,” Ferin insists. “I realized my mistake and all I wanted was to get you back. And I don’t care that you have fire powers. I think they’re cool as Hell.” Felix bursts into laughter that is croaky from disuse. Ferin breaks into a grin that is wider than any other he has ever offered Felix before.
         A warm feeling cracks in Felix’s chest and he realizes that that feeling is happiness. He has been filling his heart with anger and hurt for so long, he has forgotten what it feels like to feel joy. Before Felix knows what is happening, he is hugging his brother and he doesn’t know who hugged whom first.
         Suddenly, there’s a crash behind them. Felix whips around and pulls out both of his knives and Ferin raises his fists. A bush in front of them rustles and someone walks out from behind it. Kathena. Felix’s heart stutters at the sight of his (former) trainer and lowers his knives. But then he notices the murderous look on her face.
         “How could you??” Kathena yells as she stomps over up to Felix and shoves him with both hands, causing Felix to stumble backwards.
         “Why? Who even are you?” Kathena bellows with immense rage and hurt. “You burnt out the entire Base One and lord Cyborius is missing!” Felix’s throat squeezes horribly and he stands staring at Kathena. What have I done?

Two Weeks Later

         The two weeks following the fire at Base One, the Ash Rogues have crumbled. Their leader Cyborius is presumed dead and the Rogues are scattered across the country. King Malik has sent attacks on Base Two and succeeded, leaving the Rogues to hide in the last seven bases. The Rogues launched an attack on the king’s city, causing mass destruction, but they lost many Rogues and dragons. Ferin has returned to the king with his brother Felix and together they have tried to reason with the king against fighting the Rogues, but to no success. The two sides are locked in a battle, Rogues for freedom and the king for order. Only one side can prevail.

Cyborius

         Cyborius sits on his blood red dragon, Titan, on the roof of the tower, watching the king’s chambers. The windows are covered, but a crack in the curtains reveals king Malik working at his desk. Cyborius draws his cloak tighter around himself to keep off the cold night air. Winter is coming soon. The cold wind cools the still fresh burns that cover his face from the fire.
         Cyborius had escaped the fire at Base One only to hide from the Rogues and the king’s soldiers, which are everywhere. He has been asking himself the same question over these past two weeks: why don’t I return to my people? He doesn’t even know if he wants to return to them. After all that has happened, Cyborius doesn’t know if he is doing the right thing, killing the king’s men just for his own freedom.
         Does something I believed in ten years ago have to be carried out until the end? I stole that first dragon egg from the king so that I could offer freedom to the outcasts and criminals of this kingdom. The crimes my people have committed over the years were to keep our organization running, keeping the option open to be free and rogue. I never meant for it to go this far, to be at war with the king over all the dragons that we stole from him. The rich would have been too privileged with them. So if I believe so strongly in this sense of justice, why don’t I want to fight for it anymore?
         But Cyborius knows that answer already. He knows he doesn’t want the Rogues to get out of hand and destroy themselves in the attempt to uproot the kingdom. So if I’m shutting down the Rogues, there is only one thing that will set them free and give them one last chance.
         Cyborius nudges Titan and his dragon slips from the rooftop onto the king’s balcony below with barely a sound. Cyborius draws his weapon, a gold hilted long sword and picks the lock of the doors. He kicks them open with a crash and enters with Titan sticking his head through the door, the only part of him that can fit. King Malik leaps from his desk in terror and grabs for a tasseled rope hanging off the wall, which would probably sound an alarm.
         Cyborius levels his sword at the king and leaps forward, cutting him off from his destination. Malik gasps and grabs a sword leaning against the wall. He opens his mouth to call for help and Cyborius slashes his sword through the air to point it at his throat.
         “Drop your weapon and shut your mouth,” Cyborius snarls and the king responds by dropping his sword to the floor with as much dignity as he can muster.
         “You’re an Ash Rogue, aren’t you?” he asks with a murderous expression. Cyborius’ mouth twitches into something like a smile under his deep hood. This is going to be fun.
         “Actually, I’m their leader,” he whispers. Malik’s eyes widen right away with something like greed.
         “So, you’ve come to me at last,” he replies, though the look fades from his face when Cyborius presses the sword point harder.
         “Can I at least see the face of my killer?” The king chokes through his new fear. Cyborius flexes his finger on his sword hilt nervously. Do I dare? Once he knows who I am… But he decides it can’t do him any harm now, he flicks his hood back with his right hand. An expression of disgust flashes across the other man’s face first from his burns, then he stutters and a look of utter shock floods his features.
         “S-son?” Malik whispers. Cyborius tightens his grip on his sword and his expression hardens. You haven’t called me that in ten years, before I ran away with that first dragon egg. You have no right to call me son anymore. I won’t let you get to me.
         “King Malik,” he replies coldly.
         “Son, you’re-you’re the leader of the Ash Rogues?” he gasps, his face pale. “Is that where you’ve been these last ten years?”
         “Yes father,” Cyborius replies calmly. “When I ran away all those years ago, I stole that dragon egg. I started the Ash Rogues. It was me who helped them steal every last one of your dragon eggs.” His voice rises steadily.
         “You threw me away for your precious dragon project for the rich,” Cyborius argues. “You never understood how I helped out the poor, or how I wanted to set up that program to redeem criminals ways. I wanted to give people freedom, to the people who were thrown away. I gave them hope. I gave them dragons!” Malik shakes his head with a bewildered expression.
         “A society of super criminals?” he states. “Of all the things you could have done son, this was what you’ve poured your life into? And now you’re here to finish the job and kill me?” Cyborius’ heart stutters. Do I want to kill him? Of course I do. I’ve come this far with the Rogues and I’m not turning back now to let the king win.
         “I have to do this, father,” Cyborius chokes on the last word, his eyes beginning to sting. “I have to care for my people. Like you were too lazy to do. With you gone, the Rogues will be free to join society again.”
         “Is that really what you want?” Malik asks, with new understanding softening his features. “Do you really want to kill me and take my place? My son, you are my heir. Would you have still taken my place if you didn’t have your Rogues behind your back?” Cyborius shakes his head to chase away his father’s reasoning. All my Rogues have been slowly turning against me. Sage. Felix. No one wants in anymore. It’s gone too far for my people. Will doing this really fix things? Will it fix things for me? But I can’t stop now. I can’t turn on my beliefs.
         “If I stop now, I’ll have no life left for me,” Cyborius growls, determined to want to finish this. “I’ve built my whole life on this and if I give up I’ll have nothing.” Malik raises his eyebrows, his eyes softer than Cyborius has ever seen.
         “You’ll have me,” he whispers. “Isn’t that why you did all of this? Isn’t that what you want?” Oh lord yes. Cyborius feels his willpower crumbling. “I know this is all because of me. All criminals are built on father issues.” Cyborius chokes, not sure if he’s crying or laughing. Malic’s face splits into a grin, a sight Cyborius didn’t know he missed until now.
         “There isn’t a moment I don’t regret losing you, son,” Malik promises with a more serious tone. “I just never knew that it was the dragon project that drove you away. I would choose to redo it all in a heartbeat, if it meant keeping you.”
         “No more battles?” Cyborius whispers.
         “No more battles.”
         Cyborius lowers his sword.

Epilogue

Thirteen Years Later

         With Cyborius happily back with his father, the Ash Rogues and their dragons returned to the king's city. King Malik welcomed them and announced that dragons would be apart of the city folks’ lives. Dragons were given to the poor to help out on farms, were used as transportation and bonded with people just for companionship and from then on the bonds between dragons and humans became as deep and loyal as that of family. The Rogues’ bases were forgotten and all the Rogues were allowed a place in the city, given a second chance to redeem their ways. Prisons were shut down and lawbreakers were helped with their issues instead of being thrown away.
         Felix and Ferin repaired their relationship as brothers and both live in their old house in the city, Ferin with his dragon Fanghur and Felix with his new dragon Kathena, named in honor of his former Rogue trainer. Sage apologized to Ferin for shooting him in the arm and the two of them are now good friends, while she became a doctor in the city. Kathena the former Rogue changed her ways and became a trainer in the king’s army, showing the soldiers moves from her years as an Ash Rogue. With all the ex-Rogues now equals with the citizens of Amnesia, they fight not with each other but now defend themselves from outside threats together. With their dragons at their sides, they light the world of Phantasm with their glory and hope, which they could never have ignited without first being reborn out of their own ashes.

Thayet

         Eleven year-old Thayet sits on top of the five-foot high wall that surrounds her backyard, flowerbeds behind her and an alleyway in front. She looks up at the clouds drifting across the sky, blending in with the dragons flying by overhead with their owners on their backs. Thayet waits for her father Ferin and her uncle Felix to come back from border patrol of the city on their dragons, so she can listen to more of their stories of the war, something that her mother isn’t pleased about, but Thayet finds them exhilarating.
         Thayet loves hearing the brave tales of her father fighting in the battle of Base Three, but even more she loves Felix’s stories of his time with the Ash Rogues, the criminal society that had been at war with the king and his people before Thayet was born. They fascinate Thayet and she plays games with Felix’s children, pretending they are Rogues, sneaking in the shadows to try surprise each other, then have mock battles on imaginary dragons. I can’t wait until I turn sixteen and I can get my own dragon.
         Something flashes across the ground on the other side of the wall, causing Thayet to jump excitedly. She slips down off the wall out of her backyard and lands in the alley that separates the backyards of the other houses and the backs of the shops ahead. Thayet sees another flicker out of the corner of her eye and turns around.
         “A dragon!” she gasps. A storm grey dragon peaks out from under a crate at the base of the wall, so small it must be barely a month old. Its yellow eyes flash in the shadows of the box, widened in fear. It must be a runaway! All dragons are assigned to a human when they hatch and raised for their labor purpose, Ferin had told Thayet, but the dragons wouldn’t be let out of training until they are young adults, timed for the time their human turns sixteen.
         Thayet gets down on her hands and knees and slowly crawls up to the dragon, who ducks further into the box. Thayet makes reassuring sounds like her father used to do when she wouldn’t come out from under her bed as a small child when she had bad dreams. She hasn’t thought about her nightmares in years, the dreams of the dragons running away from the king and she couldn’t do anything to make them stay. Thayet shakes her head, wondering if those dreams have anything to do with the future and reaches out her hand out to the dragon. The baby pokes its head out cautiously and she smiles at it, feeling the thrill of discovering an illegal dragon.
         “Its okay,” she whispers. “I won’t turn you in.” The dragon creeps out of the box, looking up at the girl with wide eyes. It slowly stretches its head out and bumps her hand. Thayet giggles and pets its head, who closes its eyes contentedly and makes a rumbling sound in its throat that resembles a cat’s purr. It climbs out and sits in front of her, locking its gaze on her eyes curiously. Thayet looks into the dragon’s eyes and sees the familiar glint of intelligence and awareness that she sees in all dragons’ eyes.
         “People know you’re smart,” Thayet whispers as she rubs the baby’s head, “but they think that you’re only capable of following orders. I know better.” She grins and the dragon blinks slowly, which she takes as an agreement. People just need to know how to understand dragons. I bet the Ash Rogues knew how, before they got power hungry.
         “People only used you dragons for power during the war,” Thayet continues. “But you dragons deserve so much more.” I wish I could do something about this. They don’t deserve to serve humans.
         “You don’t like being suppressed, do you?” Thayet muses. The dragon snorts out a wisp of smoke in answer. “We’re going to have to do something about that, you and me.” Those words spark something in Thayet’s mind that grows slowly.
         “Thayet!” She jumps at the sound of her father’s voice. “Coming father!” she calls. She looks longingly at the dragon, knowing her father would turn it in if she told him. I’ll take care of it, in secret. She mouths ‘I’ll come back’ and steps on top of the crate to climb back over the wall.
         Her father Ferin is standing in the backyard, the sun glinting off the pale scars on his face. He’s holding the hilt of his sword, looking around the yard. Ferin grins when he sees her and helps her down from the wall.
         “What were you doing, darling?” he asks, walking her to the backdoor of the house, holding her hand. “Just playing,” she replies.
         “Father?” Thayet asks after a moment’s thought. “Will there be a war again?” Ferin smiles down at her.
         “No. The Ash Rogues are finished and Amnesia is at peace with itself.” Thayet nods, but that’s not what she was asking about. Not everyone is at peace. She looks over her shoulder and sees the dragon perched on the wall and she swears that it winks at her.

The End