Styzia darkened with nightfall. Gradually, the chaos grew still. The girls finally ran out of things to talk and laugh about, and the noise from their room died down to emptiness. Xigon was always the last one to sleep each night if he slept at all. He sat on the floor and watched the flames flicker and dance within his lantern.

As he gazed into the soft orange glow, his breathing slowed, and his tensed muscles relaxed. He let his mind grow still, like the surface of a pond on a windless day. Smooth as a mirror. Xigon extended his hand over the spilled light. Its shadow spread over the floor like immense claws.

Then, like a breeze across the water, something disturbed his calm. The heat of another life wafted over him like smoke. Xigon looked up. Everyone's heat was unique, and he always knew who was on the other side of his door. "Come in, Qila."

The old woman opened his door and let herself in. She looked down at his lantern. "Sorry, were you meditating?"

Xigon adjusted his goggles. "I was, but I'm sure you have more pressing matters." He shifted onto his knees and winced.

Qila cocked her head. "Nothing so pressing it can't wait."

Xigon laughed. "You never come to me this late for pleasantries alone."

Qila sat down across from him. She stretched her arms and sighed. "All right, then. I could use some advice."

Xigon raised his eyebrows. "Advice? On what?"

She crossed her legs. "How is it that you never seem to worry?"

"I do worry," he said. "You know I do."

Qila looked down at the lantern, then up to meet Xigon's eyes. "How do you keep it silent, then?"

"Silence isn't the virtue you think it is," said Xigon. "Tell me, what's bothering you?"

Qila averted her gaze. "It's you."

Xigon thought carefully about his next words. "Rather strange, then, that you would come to me for advice."

"Who else?" Qila reached out and put her hand on his shoulder. "Regardless of how I feel, the fact remains that you are my only equal."

Xigon took a deep breath and fought the urge to recoil. "Anything in particular, then?"

"Kolo," she said. "I like her fine, but I don't understand. Why her?" She let go of him. "Her telekinesis is handy, but I don't understand what makes her stand out in your mind, to the point that we went through all that mess to bring her into our walls."

Xigon touched his goggles. "Tell me, Qila. Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"What?" Qila stood up. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I know you've wanted to," said Xigon. "You've told me as much yourself. And if we're equals as you claim, you are entirely capable of taking my life. So why not?" He saw her face twist in anger and couldn't help but smile at the nerve he'd struck.

"Your smile," she replied. "Your damned smile. It reminds me of the Iron God before we lost him. There's so much of you in him and I can't blind myself to it no matter how much I try."

Xigon nodded. "I see him too, and I see him through Kolo. Her life burns the same hue." He blinked. "I suppose I can't prove it to you."

Qila bit her lip. "No, I'll never understand what you see. I'll never understand anything about you. Just like the Iron God."

He ran a hand through his sleek black hair, then picked himself up off the floor. Electrifying pain rushed down his spine and nearly knocked his legs out from under him. He took a few unsteady steps forward. Qila reached to grab his arm. Xigon refused her support and caught himself against the wall instead. He turned and glared at her. "Spare me your pity. It's pointless."

She came up and put her hand on his back. "Take better care of yourself, then. I hate watching you suffer."

He straightened himself and winced. "Who said I was suffering?" He leaned his side against the wall. The fire in his nerves subsided. "I think you're just ashamed of me."

"That I am," Qila scoffed. "You could have been so much more, if not for our mistakes back then."

"They weren't our mistakes, Qila." Xigon pointed a finger at her. "They were your deliberate actions. Never forget that."

"Do you hate me for it?" Qila asked.

Xigon shook his head. "No, I've hated you from the start. You're the only one worthy of my hatred." He let out a joyless chuckle. "Never forget, though. We have an image to maintain. An image and a vision."

Qila took his hand for a second and squeezed it. "And that much, I can give you." She released her grip and walked toward the door. "Now get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

When she was gone, Xigon wiped his hand on his coat and sat back down with his lantern. The pain in his lower half was so intense that he shuddered and broke into a heavy sweat. He threw his coat off and balled his hands into fists. Somehow, whether she knew it or not, Qila had a way of making him hurt more.

Xigon lay down on the floor. The lantern's light spilled over his face. He let the flame busy his eyes while he focused inward to give himself relief. He found where his own heat tied up and burned. Old wounds from a war he wanted to be done fighting.

His eyelids grew heavy. Xigon surrendered to a black and dreamless sleep.

Barely ten minutes passed before he woke again, invigorated to the point of mania. He took a deep breath in, let his eyes snap open, and pushed himself up on his hands and knees. A few minutes were all he ever needed.

Filled with fresh determination, Xigon rose to his feet. One foot in front of the other, slow but steady, he walked to his desk. He grabbed the back of his chair, rested a moment, then crossed the room. He took deep breaths, kept his power focused so the pain couldn't touch him, and paced slow circles around his study.

Others might have thought it strange, pitiful even, but Xigon was not sorry. He was not ashamed. He only wished the ones who sniveled their performative condolences could see what he was made of.

Xigon went and picked up his sword. It was a massive two-hander, as long as most humans were tall. He focused on his heartbeat for a second. It was steady and strong. Xigon pulled the blade from its scabbard and turned to brandish it in front of the mirror.

He went through a few motions, watched his reflection follow him, then touched the tip of his sword to the mirror's surface. He glared into his reflection's brilliant red eyes and felt a tingle around his neck and shoulders. His warriors had told him that was the sensation they had whenever he looked at them. He addressed his reflection like a student. "Red is a terrible color. You of all people should know that."

He shifted his eyes from red to a more human-looking brown.

"Better," said Xigon. "We too stand upon the mortal world."

He heard a lightningfisher's wail outside. It shook the walls even from a distance. Xigon set his sword down and grabbed his horn. He went to the window, unlocked it, and threw it open. Yayaba was a speck in the sky above. He raised the horn to his lips and gave it a long blast.

She returned his call and spun down from the clouds. Before hitting the landing outside his window, she caught herself with a thunderclap of her immense wings. Her webbed and clawed feet thudded onto the stone. She folded her wings and leaned into them like another pair of legs. Her finned tail lashed behind her like a whip. The sails along her back stood erect.

"Yayaba!" He yelled to get her attention.

Her head swung around to face him. It was streamlined and elegant, with sweeping horns and eyes that shifted between a pearly white and the Ferash Therall's red. Static electricity crackled between her needle-like teeth. She warbled a greeting.

Xigon leaned on the windowsill. "Anything to report?"

Her head tilted to one side.

"About the three I asked you to keep your eye on," said Xigon.

Yayaba's claws scratched along the stone with a sound that made Xigon's teeth hurt. Then she spoke. "Yes. They know." Her voice was a thunderous growl. She could mimic human speech fairly well, but she only ever spoke to him and Qila. "They know Kolo is with us."

"We'll need to be ready to intervene," said Xigon. "By force if necessary."

Yayaba ground her fangs together. Sparks flew. "Only three, and only one experienced. What are you afraid of, Master?"

"I'm not afraid." A cold wind blew in his face. Goosebumps prickled up his arms. "I do, however, plan ahead. There's a strong chance they'll come to us, and they might not come by themselves." He looked out at the sky. From up on Styzia's mountain, the world looked tiny. "I'm relying on you, Yaya. Tell me everything new that develops, no matter how small it might seem. Only you have the eyes and ears to observe from up high."

Yayaba took a deep breath in and let it out with a thrum. "I know."

"Come on, aren't you proud?" He shivered as an icy gust blew through the open window. "I wouldn't trust this to anyone else."

She growled at him.

"Something wrong?" Xigon asked.

She bowed. "A criticism, if I may, Master."

"I'm listening," he said. "Speak as you will."

"You started this when you sought after Kolo. You littered the ground with corpses when you trusted the hunt to Azvalath." Yayaba's eyes flashed bright red. "Any rats that follow, they swarm in to pick at your leavings."

The smallest tinge of anger prickled over Xigon. He kept it quiet and returned the bow. "I owe it to all of us, then, to make sure those rats don't take any of our own." He met her gaze. "I'm still relying on you. I can't stop a heart I can't see."

The lightningfisher turned around, then threw her head up and released a jolt of electricity. It cracked across the sky like a white-hot whip. Without another word, she leaped off the landing and took to the clouds again.

Xigon watched her dark wings vanish into the horizon, then closed and locked his window again. The study was dark, too dark – his lantern had gone out. He sank to the floor and brushed his fingertips against the glass. It was still hot to the touch.

He let himself feel the anger, then. It boiled his blood. He would not only stop the hearts of anyone who dared to harm his children. No, he would rip their hearts from their chests with his bare hands. What was another scar among thousands?

[9] Xigon: Disturbance

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