CHAPTER TWO
Present
Demeter Plaza always teemed with life. The convergence of history and innovation was palpable here. While old buildings stood regal with modern augmentations that barely altered their classical charm, the newer additions to the city, transparent towers of glass and responsive metal, captured the reflections of a past that existed long before I did.
Winding pathways illuminated with sleek, ambient lighting led to myriad stalls. The chatter of enthusiastic vendors peddling, and the gentle hums of tech-displays, combined with the sizzling and bubbling sounds from the food stalls created an orchestra of urban life.
"The skewers from FusionFire smell divine . Should we grab some?" Ophelia asked, her gaze fixed on the stall's sign. It glowed in fiery orange and electric blue neon above the serving window, flickering like a dancing flame.
Inside the stall, state-of-the-art cooking gadgets and equipment hummed and whirred, producing dishes that looked like they belonged in a five-star restaurant rather than a plaza stall. Robotic arms moved about, plating dishes, while the cooks monitored the fusion process and added final touches.
"You said that about the sushi, too. This is why you're not supposed to go shopping hungry," I joked.
"You know how I feel about food. I could eat now, then again, and again at dinner."
I looked at the line and shook my head. It was already midday. "Let's grab some my next day off. Mom needs this sauce."
"What about Ezra?"
I diverted my attention to a little girl flying a dragon kite. "What about him?"
"I don't know. You two haven't seen each other in a while, right?"
"It hasn't been that long."
I wasn't going to tell her how he had me bent over four days ago. The memory was as vivid as the hideous décor inside the motel room we'd met in.
I'd been more focused on the vintage comforter than Ezra fucking me. I wasn't sure he'd noticed.
Ophelia glanced over with a slight frown. "Are you two okay?"
I lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I think we were better off as friends."
"I hate to be right, but I called it. Your relationship hasn't changed that much, only the label. Oh, and the sex. Now he gets sex."
I laughed and shook my head. She wasn't wrong. When it came to Ezra, I found my feelings in a state of flux more often than not. He had been a constant in my life since I was seventeen. I'd just gone from living in seclusion to a more prominent area of Antheia. He'd befriended me during my first week at Haven's Crest Academy and helped me adjust. He'd been a pillar of support and understanding ever since.
Did I love him as more than that?
Sadly, I didn't think so.
I valued his friendship more than words could convey.
He was handsome, reminiscent of a modern-day Byronic hero. I laughed every time we were together, and he never made me feel as if he'd grown tired of me. But it was as if we were both actors in a play, continuing our roles even though the script had become old and worn. A few days before we met in that motel room and became a tangle of limbs, I'd tried to break it off.
The memory resurfaced, slicing through the haze of recent events.
We were in the park, Nixon Gardens to be exact, under the very tree where we became something more than friends. Ezra had sat across from me, looking somewhat disheveled, a stark contrast to his usual put-together self.
"Ezra," I began, my voice soft, "I've been thinking...maybe we'd be better off just as friends."
He looked up, his eyes blue eyes searching mine, trying to decipher if I was joking.
When he realized I was sincere, a mix of confusion and hurt clouded his expression. "Kore, are you serious?"
I nodded. "I think maybe what we have is more about friendship and less about…all the other stuff."
He scoffed, trying to keep his emotions in check. "So, you want to downgrade our relationship? Just throw away everything we've been through?"
I didn't understand what he meant by that. Our relationship was smooth sailing, easy and tame. We hadn't been through anything particularly life altering. "This isn't throwing anything away. It's about recognizing where we truly stand," I tried to reason.
His voice had cracked, and he'd shifted closer. "You want to be with someone else, don't you?"
I remember withholding a sigh, somewhat offended that this was the first conclusion he'd come to. "There is no one else, Ezra. I wouldn't do that to you."
His eyes brimmed with tears, taking me off guard. Ezra was strong-willed and seldom displayed vulnerability. "Kore, I can't... I can't just go back to being friends. Not after everything."
There it was again, his alluding that we'd gone through some dire trials and tribulations together. I didn't know where that was coming from. We weren't each other's firsts, no matter how many times he liked to think or pretend we were. That claim belonged to a former Redpeak Raptor we'd gone to the academy with.
His toned physique evident even beneath the team jersey was the first thing I'd noticed, followed by a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was relentless, his flirtations persistent and undeterred. There'd never been any real emotional connection between us. No shared dreams or whispered secrets. It was his charm and sheer persistence that wore me down. He became my first, and later, for some inexplicable reason, second and third.
Last I'd heard, he had moved to live with his father in Elysium, the esteemed sector 1. I hoped he was doing well. As for me and Ezra, I was beginning to see we viewed our relationship very differently.
"Ezra..." I'd hesitated, searching for the right words, "I'm sorry. I never intended to hurt you."
He swiped away a tear that threatened to fall. "Can you think about this a little longer? I can't imagine my life without you. And not just as a friend."
At that moment, my resolve wavered. The emotional turmoil in front of me, coupled with my intrinsic urge to avoid conflict, pushed me into a corner. After sleeping together again, he'd fallen under the impression everything was okay.
"I don't know what to do," I sighed, my thoughts returning to the present.
"You do whatever is going to make you happy. Don't stay with him if he doesn't," Ophelia replied, linking her arm through mine.
"Look at you being the voice of reason."
"I have my moments of wisdom."
We continued walking, heading back to where I'd parked. Amalthea padded alongside us silently, ears alert and her vigilant eyes scanning our surroundings. At the plaza's heart, the fountain's water cascaded in orchestrated patterns. The inviting aroma of freshly cooked delicacies wafted around us, FusionFire's one of the most prominent.
It was a tantalizing blend of the familiar and the exotic. They boasted dishes from different parts of the world, but with a twist, merging flavors that traditionally wouldn't go together. The skewers emitted smoky fragrances and were drizzled with a luminescent sauce that sparkled. Pastas were upgraded with edible metallic glitters, and drinks bubbled and smoked with the addition of dry ice and flavored vapors. I could have gone for one of their combos myself, but if we didn't get this sauce home soon so Mom could cook, there would be no dinner later.
I half listened to my sister tell me about some new store opening at AstraMall, mentally going over the list of things I still needed to do before my afternoon shift tomorrow. My thoughts were interrupted when Amalthea growled softly, her gaze fixed intently on a figure approaching us.
" Tykho," I commanded quietly, stroking the top of her fluffy white head.
Ophelia shifted closer to me as an Emissary, dressed in a tailored black suit with a golden dragon pin—the Maelstrom family emblem—on his lapel, stepped into our path, blocking our advance with an air of authority.
"If you ladies would kindly follow me," he requested, his tone courteous but firm.
Ophelia, ever the protective one, replied before I could. "Is there some sort of problem, Sir?"
His gaze, sharp yet unreadable, assessed us for a moment. "Mr. Maelstrom would like a word."
Ophelia and I exchanged a quick, worried glance.
"It won't take long," the Emissary added.
Drawing a deep breath, I thought carefully about how to respond. Pissing one of these men off could have dire consequences. "Thank you for delivering the message, but we're in a bit of a hurry."
There was a moment's pause, the silent weight of his gaze pressing on us. "Very well," he said, stepping aside.
As we hurried away, the weight of the Emissary's gaze on my back was palpable. It felt like cold fingers tracing an invisible line down my spine.
I had encountered Emissaries before. They were the eyes and ears of the Triad Four that allowed themselves to be seen, unlike the leaders of the Cabals. They never let things go easily and were generally a pain in the ass, especially when they were on a mission. He'd allowed us to pass without any insistence.
I looked sideways at Ophelia, whose brows were furrowed in confusion, likely pondering the same anomaly. As we distanced ourselves, I couldn't help but sneak a glance back. I spotted him then, near a fleet of luxury vehicles on the far side of the plaza.
Riven Maelstrom.
A formidable figure in his own right, he stood surrounded by a small entourage. They were met by members of Antheia's sector council, and even from a distance, the gravity of their conversation was clear, as was his aura of authority. He wasn't paying us any attention now, but he'd clearly noticed our presence here.
Feeling a twist in my stomach, my mind raced back to that fateful night in the woods years ago.
I involuntarily scanned the group for any sign of his younger brother. To my relief, he wasn't present. Even after all this time, the memory of our encounter and the revelations that followed were as clear as yesterday. I'd never told anyone about it except for Grandma, and she was no longer around to advise or give her thoughts on what just happened. There was no way a Maelstrom wanted to speak with us just for the hell of it. For that same reason, one wouldn't have let us go if they felt the matter was urgent.
I kept my thoughts to myself, not wanting to alarm Ophelia, silently making a mental note to be on my guard. The Maelstroms and anyone associated with them were a web of intrigue and power plays. I had no intention of allowing me or my sister to be caught in their snares.
The gentle simmer of sauce mingled with the rhythmic chop of vegetables, filling the kitchen with a comforting cadence. As Ophelia finely grated a block of parmesan, I busied myself slicing fresh basil. Our mother expertly moved between the stove and the counter, layering sheets of pasta. Amid the culinary ballet, Amalthea lay in a corner, contentedly gnawing on a meaty bone, her ears perking up occasionally whenever Ophelia's voice rose in excitement.
"And then this Emissary came right up to us," Ophelia explained, her tone hovering between amusement and incredulity. "But you know what was surprising? Riven himself was there and…" She trailed off and seemed to consider her words, "He's gorgeous, to put it mildly. The screens do him no justice."
"Riven Maelstrom?" Our mother stopped what she was doing, her gaze sharp and questioning . Her voice held an unmistakable edge, and her usually calm demeanor shifted to one of blatant unease.
Ophelia nodded slowly, picking up on our mother's sudden change in mood. "Yeah, him."
Mom's expression darkened further. "You need to be careful. Both of you," she warned, a hint of panic creeping into her voice. "Stay away from the plaza, at least for some time."
Ophelia looked confused by the warning but wisely didn't argue. The seriousness in Mom's voice was not lost on either of us. I got the feeling her alarm ran deeper than our chance encounter. I caught her eyes darting toward a faded photograph of grandma on the fridge. Her smiling face, now faded with time, reminded me of the void she left behind.
I missed her more than I often allowed myself to admit. She'd returned the day after I'd gone out to search for her with Amalthea at her side and then disappeared again shortly before our move from the secluded cabin to Antheia, the second sector of Nixon City. Understandably, Mom had become a little prickly on certain topics of conversation ever since.
Ophelia changed the subject, and I focused on the task in front of me, my mind beginning to wander.
Everything had been so new and overwhelming when we left our cabin. The bustling pace of the city, the advanced technology, the myriad faces—it was a stark contrast to how I'd lived for half my life.
The memory of the man in the woods, with his imposing presence and intense eyes, was still fresh in my mind. I knew he was associated with the Triad, but the truth of his identity was something I learned much later, and it wasn't from me seeking it out. One day, a propaganda reel had come on our Vistaview—a sleek, holographic television. His face had been unmistakably familiar. Realizing he was none other than the heir of the formidable Maelstrom family had been shocking. Their notoriety was no secret. The Triad Four were deities to the loyalists of not just Nixon City but across the nation.
Riven's sudden interest, after so many uneventful years, was unsettling. I'd done my best to put that eerie night in the woods behind me. With Grandma gone, the secret was mine alone.
It was something we agreed never to speak about. I made her a promise I wouldn't ever reveal my run-in with him. After the incident, Grandma, having noticed my rattled state, pulled me aside. She had a way of seeing through me, of understanding things I hadn't voiced. When I recounted the tale, she listened with an inscrutable expression, then whispered words that have stayed with me since. I didn't understand it fully then, and I still didn't now, but I trusted Grandma's wisdom.
Surely the two couldn't be related, though. Too much time had gone by—seven, eight years at least. If this was by some slim chance the Maelstroms' attempt to let us know they were watching us, to what end? Why? The weight of unanswered questions bore down on me, wrapping my heart in unease for the remainder of the evening.