Chapter 9
Mirel saw Cyprian move toward him and the room seemed to slow. Every step dragged light across the floor. Sound thinned until only breath remained. Then his arms were around him, closing tight across narrow shoulders. Black hair mixed with pale strands. Their cheeks touched.
“My brother,” he whispered.
My blood.
The room tilted around the word. Mirel felt the press of sound against his ribs, as if the air itself waited to see whether the truth would hold. He caught the faintest hitch of breath from Kylix while Moargan’s smile faltered. For a heartbeat the whole chamber belonged to that single admission.
Cyprian pulled back just enough for them to stare at each other. He smiled. “Exactly. Your blood. My blood. Our blood.”
Had he heard him?
Then Cyprian’s eyes caught the chain wrapped around Mirel’s wrists. “Why are you chained?” He looked up at Kylix. “Why is he chained?”
“Because I caught him stealing,” came the cool answer.
Cyprian frowned. “Stealing what?”
“Bread.”
Cyprian’s voice rose. “Bread? And you chained him like a dog for a loaf of bread? Had him arrested? Please don’t tell me you didn’t bring him to the prison.”
Kylix wrapped a hand around Mirel’s throat and pulled him flush against his chest. “Careful now. Unless you mean to question my integrity as Head of the Luminary.”
Cyprian huffed. “I mean to question my brother’s presence at your residence when I came over with Moargan. He was there, wasn’t he? Good Light, I should have listened to myself.”
A sudden burst of fire made the window burst. Kylix’s hand around Mirel’s throat turned to iron.
“He was arrested,” he hissed. “It is my duty as Head of the Luminary to ensure safety. I’m going to ask you once more, Cyprian, do you question my integrity?”
“Kylix.” Moargan’s tone cut in.
“No.”
Another window cracked to pieces. Fire licked against the wooden frames. Heat rolled from Kylix’s body before he could stop it, a surge too fast for breath. The air rippled, lamps flaring in answer to his pulse.
“Good Light, Kylix. I’ve never seen you like this,” Helianth cried, grabbing a cloth and slapping at the flames.
“That’s because he’s been lying,” Cyprian glowered. “You’ve been hiding him from us.”
“I was keeping him safe.”
“Safe?” Cyprian’s hand tightened on Mirel’s arm. “You kept my brother locked up and chained. You didn’t even tell me he was alive.”
“That’s because I didn’t know what he was. Not until now. Mirel isn’t very talkative.”
“...Mirel?” Cyprian’s face softened. “You were named after the light. Of course you are. Did Kylix hurt you?”
Mirel shook his head. “No.”
“My cousin wouldn’t hurt him,” Moargan bristled. “He might be a brute, but he wouldn’t hurt one of us.”
Cyprian gave a short, bitter laugh. “You know he would.”
The words hit like oil to flame. Kylix’s hand flexed, the air brightening with a low crack. Another burst of fire leapt to the walls, heat folding through the room. Chairs scraped. Someone’s cup tipped, dark coffee running across the counter. No one moved to clean it.
When Cyprian looked back at him, Mirel realized they had the same yellow-gold flare. Cyprian’s eyes filled. “Why didn’t you come sooner? Why didn’t you find me?”
The question struck like heat. Mirel’s throat closed.
Kylix’s thumb brushed the hollow beneath his jaw, small, warning.
He wanted to answer but words crowded behind his teeth, raw from disuse.
The chain rattled once, sharp as punctuation while Kylix’s thumb stayed steady.
He wished he could tell Cyprian that he had tried, that the city itself had swallowed his name before it ever reached his brother’s ears.
Mirel looked away, but a blush crept up his cheeks. He placed his hand on the one Kylix held on the chain, close to his hip. The touch made his pulse hitch. Kylix squeezed once, and Mirel pretended it was a quiet reassurance no one else could see.
“You saved us. Both of us.” More tears rolled down Cyprian’s cheeks. “And now you’re here. You’ve made me so happy.”
“M-me too, happy,” Mirel murmured. His throat felt dry. He’d never regretted giving up speech until now. In the graveyard there had been no need for words. Not until today. There were so many things he’d dreamed of telling Cyprian, how he’d longed to meet him, how much he’d missed him.
Golden lines crawled across Cyprian’s skin, bright veins lighting his arms and throat. The light spilled across the marble and glass, catching on Mirel’s pale hair while Cyprian’s breath caught and his eyes widened with wonder.
Moargan grabbed him. “Is it the Dariux, lover?”
“Yes,” Cyprian breathed. “But it’s incredible. It feels alive. Mirel’s part of it now. The network just opened to him.”
The network? Dariux? So many questions, but none came. Mirel could only stare at the glow on his brother’s skin.
“Does it hurt?” Moargan asked.
Cyprian shook his head. “No. But I can feel him. I can feel all of you.” He smiled at Mirel. “You really are here, brother. Even written on my skin. Carved into my heart. It’s good. Right. Where do you live? He can stay with us, right?”
Kylix’s fingers tightened on Mirel’s throat. His other hand closed over the smaller one that still rested on the chain. Heat pricked the air. “He lives with me.”
“With you?” Cyprian’s eyebrows shot up. “You just said you arrested him for a loaf of bread. How long is the penalty for that?”
In the corner, Vandor coughed, uncomfortable.
The man behind the stove chuckled. His eyes held the same molten light as Kylix’s, though something about him felt unsteady, as if he might break at any second.
“Guys?”
They ignored the one who’d spoken from behind the holo screen.
“He’s Cyprian’s brother,” Moargan said.
“He’s officially under arrest by the Luminary,” Kylix replied. “Therefore he falls under my lead.”
“I want him safe.” Cyprian took Mirel’s hand. “Look at that. He’s got marks on his wrists. This animal—”
“Has gifted Mirel with his Invar suit,” the man behind the stove said. He winked at Mirel. “I don’t think he intends to hurt him that badly.”
“Guys?”
“What are you trying to say?” Cyprian snapped.
“That he’s been taking good care of his prisoner.” Moargan smirked. “Perhaps—”
Cyprian waved him off. “No. I’m not going to listen to this. He is my brother. Moargan, do something.”
“What do you want me to do? Call my father? You know he doesn’t contradict his favorite cousin.”
“Guys?”
“And he has good reason. I’ve always shown nothing but loyalty to Helion’s safety,” Kylix said. Mirel could hear the triumph in his voice. He had won this round. It filled him with both fear and a strange excitement.
“Won’t you listen, for fuck’s sake!”
All heads turned toward the man behind the two holo screens. His face was drawn tight with concentration, eyes set in a scowl. “Good Light. You’re a bunch of hot-headed idiots. Come and see.”
They moved in unison.
“Look. I’ve got a signal. I think it’s from whoever hacked the east wing of the prison. Do you see that?” The screen filled with shifting shapes and colors. “It’s bouncing through three outer sectors. Whoever’s doing this is clever. They keep mirroring the coordinates.”
“What does that mean, Yure?” Helianth asked.
“That it’s almost impossible to track the origin. Here…watch.” Yure tapped his keyboard. Letters spilled across a new screen. “Someone hacked the prison’s security to free five prisoners. They infected the system with mirroring code so the signal kept bouncing until the software cracked.”
“Do you believe it’s Attica?”
“I’d like to say yes, but without proof we can’t be sure. What’s clear is that only Bekn’s section opened. East wing. The rest stayed sealed. Here—” He pressed another key, data streaming faster. “I’ve got a location. Hurry, write the coordinates before it vanishes.”
Helianth’s fingers flew across his multi-slate.
“Where?” Moargan asked.
“Factory quarter. Old district.”
“I can see the outer door,” Yure murmured, wiping sweat from his lip. “Not what’s behind it.”
“Try triangulating,” a Luminary guard said.
“Already doing it, but the address rewrites itself. Someone’s feeding false coordinates. They want us chasing ghosts. But the power draw’s real, like something alive behind that lock.”
“What kind of draw?” Kylix asked.
“It’s spiking in intervals,” Yure said. “Seventeen seconds between peaks, then a flat line, then a surge again. That is not random. That is a pulse.”
“Local or patched?”
“Patched. They hijacked municipal relays in the outer rings and bounced through two private servers in the docks. One’s listed as a textile archive. It hasn’t logged a legal user in years.”
“Ghost fronts,” Moargan said. “Classic.”
Yure nodded. “They seeded mirrors so if we cut one hop the others keep the loop alive. You’d need three teams at once to choke it.”
Kylix’s mouth thinned. “You have two.”
“I know.” Yure didn’t look up. “That’s why I’m not cutting anything yet.”
The rain of code thickened. Blocks rose and collapsed. Mirel watched color move like tide. He didn’t understand the language. He understood the rhythm. It matched the hum under his skin.
Kylix braced one hand on the counter and leaned closer to the screen. “Mask our query,” he said. “If it feels us, it’ll run.”
“I already did.” Yure’s fingers blurred. “We’re coming in under waste-management pings. Boring as dirt. With luck they ignore it.”
Helianth whistled softly. “Someone very patient built this.”
“Someone scared,” Aviel said. “You only hide like this if you think we can touch you.”
“Or if you want us to chase,” Kylix said. “Leave a door half open and watch who walks through.”
Mirel felt Kylix’s shoulder brush his. The contact was light. It fixed him to the floor. The pulses on the screen crawled along the black door, each flare catching in Kylix’s pupils like sparks held in stone.
“Seventeen,” Yure counted. “Sixteen. Fifteen.” Keys clicked. “If they show us the door again, I can ride the next spike and tag the frame. It won’t hold long.”