3-3

Koji Kotter was once again left without his daughter’s company. She had completely skipped out on work that morning, not even attempting to make herself seen. He’d always kicked himself for never being able to reel her in, but it was a problem he had always had with her and perhaps always would. But he declared that it had to stop. And it had to stop tonight.

It was already the talk of the town that a Selplian girl would be among the candidates reporting to Sachaea Academy at the top of the hill—a girl matching Reba’s description.

To the Thirteen, he hoped that it was some abstract coincidence in the Mother’s great plan that he had heard of this on a day he hadn’t seen her. For the sake of himself and the mother who bore him, he prayed that it wouldn’t turn out to be her—that she was just on another one of her strange little excursions.

A Selplian knight. The words together were so foreign that they felt like a different language entirely. It went against the All-Mother. It went against their archaea. And it went against him. He would not let this stand. Not in his home. Not for the sake of his kids. He would not have another leave and never return.

It was late. Kayleb and Krisa had long since been put to bed. The Spatial Moon was hanging at its highest point in the sky. He sat angrily in his chair, chest rising and falling slowly as he watched the door.

In the sleight of his eye, he saw the edges of the titanium statue, hands clasped around her child in the unhatched egg. He thought to ask her for guidance. But after all this time, he still could not interpret her messages, though he tried. His anger subsided a little as he looked at it in his room.

A bowl of potato soup rested on the table, cold and untouched.

Reba entered through the front door. Her eyes lazily avoided him, and he saw the hesitation in her step. He looked at the lone bowl on the table.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

Reba eyed the soup with a strangely contemptuous look. But she conjured a spoon anyway and started eating. She looked at her father, and he could only look straight at the table.

He was nervous. He didn’t know why. All the rage and self-assurance he had held were suddenly gone, and he felt… afraid.

“Your mother… she did everything in her power to provide for her kids, despite what it took out of her. We had to cross a mountain to come to a city with the space to house us. She didn’t complain. We had to feed you when there wasn’t enough food to feed ourselves. She didn’t complain. Because it wasn’t a sacrifice. Because you kids meant more to her than anything else in the world.” He sat up a bit straighter, raising his heavy eyebrows. “She spent years fighting for you, and she spent years loving you before she was taken from us.”

“I know.”

A fire flashed through Koji. “If you know, then why would you throw all of that away to try and join her and your brother in the grave?” His anger flared, the words almost stopping Reba’s heart.

For a moment, watery grief filled her eyes. “Dad… I…”

“Don’t try to deny anything,” he cut her off. “It’s the talk of the entire Scrappers’ District where you’ve been. Everyone’s asking me how you pulled that off, and I’ve nothing to tell them. They treat it as if you’ve done some great deed. But all you’ve done is put yourself and your family in greater danger. Try to deny it.”

“I won’t,” she cried out. “But I’ve done nothing wrong. The only one I’m risking is myself. And I can handle myself.”

“And what happens to us if something happens to you? You would put your siblings through that again? How many times must I say it? We are not fighters. It doesn’t matter what pretty dreams you have—our archaea is not meant for the battlefield.”

“It’s possible. Uncle Kreo fights them. We can fight them.”

“It was Kreo, then. He got you that invitation…” He sat back down, his voice quieter. “That brother of mine betrays my wishes every chance he gets.”

“Do you think Uncle Kreo is some high lord? It was Ardentia Kimble who gave me the invitation. I fought for this invitation.”

“I heard...”

“And that doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“None of it means anything if you get yourself killed.”

“And what makes you think I’m just going to go out there and die? Do you have that little faith that I can do anything besides build chains all day?”

“You are not going!” He smacked his hands on the table. “As your father, it falls on me to protect you, even from yourself. And I forbid it.”

“Don’t fool yourself. You can’t protect anyone. You were always content with that. That’s why it has to be me to protect our family instead.”

Her father wavered. The words shattered his heart. His daughter had become cruel. The kindness seemed to leave her when her mother did. But it was precisely for that reason that he had to stay strong.

“I couldn’t protect them then. But I will protect you now.” He stood firm, reached his large hands over her shoulder, and grabbed her by the shirt. She struggled desperately, but his size and strength left her helpless. After a moment’s struggle, he threw her into his room. The door he had built just for this moment slammed shut, locking behind her.

Reba beat on it with an untamed fury. “Let me out! Let me out of here!” The steel door didn’t budge, no matter how much she beat it. The room had only one exit. The small port window was too tiny for her to fit through, and thick stone walls surrounded her.

Koji pulled a chair to the front door, crossed his arms, and waited the night out. It took several long minutes before Reba’s pounding stopped. The destructive rage began to subside, giving way to the quiet of the dark room.

Reba fumbled around the room for a candle and a match, eventually lighting one. The first thing she saw was the statue of the entity, wrapped in chains, clutching an empty egg. Its smile was unnerving, and memories she didn’t want to revisit stirred. Its eyes seemed to look past the thing it held, into some realm that didn’t exist, plagued by chains.

Her satchel suddenly tripled its weight, and she threw it down on the bed. Cen crawled from the bag, and the bear raised its eyes. “How did you get in there?” Reba asked.

The bear didn’t have the human mouth to answer. But if it could, it would’ve said that it didn’t like the idea of being left alone in that creepy stack. She followed Reba and got embarrassed, feeling like a child afraid of spirits that weren’t there. The fairy flew into her bag, barely weighing a pound.

Reba shook her head, choosing to ignore the bear. It was far from her biggest concern. But she felt around in her pocket, remembering something that she had forgotten there.

The blackened rose.

In the candlelight, it appeared more mysterious. Crushed beneath her weight, the rose still held onto a thread of life, like it was sick but could be restored with the right touch.

It was something to accent the brightness of the titanium statue. She put it in its hair, remembering how ladylike her mother always seemed compared to the way Reba was now.

“What is that?” Cen said with human lips.

“My mother.”

“What?”

“Forget it.” Reba sighed, sitting on the bed next to her. “We’ve got to get out of this room.”

“I’m sorry,” Cen said. “I shouldn’t have made you come back here. It’s all my fault. I didn’t mean to make you and your father fight.” Her curse interrupted her, and the little bear cried.

Hours passed, and a reasonable plan of getting out of the house hadn’t come to mind. She was light on sleep and heavily aggravated. Her only thoughts were to make something that would smash through the walls. But that would’ve just left their house with a giant hole in it. And she knew her father would have to spend all of his remaining sina to get it fixed. But until she thought of something, the girls were trapped in the room under Reba’s father’s watch and the gaze of the statue.

The first light of the sun glimmered faintly in the distance. Dawn was approaching, and so was the meeting time at Sachaea Academy. She couldn’t wait any longer. And so the last resort became the only resort.

Kneeling before the statue, she fashioned a long-handled hammer. It took nearly half an hour, but she made sure it was perfect. She needed to break through the wall cleanly and on the first try. Otherwise, her father could respond in time to stop her. When it was finished, she hefted the mallet, its weight firm in her hands.

“Alright. Stand back, Cen.”

The wolf crouched underneath the bed, paws covering its eyes.

Just as Reba drew her swing back, the metal door frame creaked open behind her. A shadow of a small boy loomed in the candlelight—Kayleb. He looked tired, as though he had just woken from a strange dream. Rubbing his eyes, he saw his sister standing ready to destroy the house.

“What were you going to do with that?” he asked.

Reba ran to him, wrapping him in a hug and kissing his forehead. “Thirteen, thanks for you, Kayleb. Now’s my chance,” she whispered. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s asleep in front of the door. But he uses the same-shaped keys for all his locks.”

She peeked out and saw Koji slumped heavily in a metal chair. Dawn was nearly on them. If she didn’t act now, she’d miss her chance.

“Alright. I’ll be back.” In the corner of her eye, she saw Cen stealthily jump back into her bag. She tossed it over her shoulder before Kayleb could see the wolf pup inside.

“Are you really leaving?” Kayleb asked. “I heard the argument.”

She paused. “Yeah. Just for a little while. I’ll tell you everything when I get back, okay? It’ll be the craziest story you’ve ever heard. Promise.”

But Kayleb was smarter than that, despite his age. “Why does it feel like you’re not just going to simply come back?”

“That’s just Dad making you all scared. I’ll be fine.”

“But builders can’t be knights.”

“I’m not just a builder.” She smiled, nuzzling his hair, despite the puzzled resignation on his face. In the other room, she went and kissed her little sister, Krisa, while she slept.

“Listen, when I get back, I’ll have an Archas Knights shield, and you’ll never have to eat potatoes again.”

“Potatoes aren’t that bad,” Kayleb whispered.

“Not as good as basilisk skewers, I’ll tell you that.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I’ll tell you later. I’ve got to go now, okay.”

“Okay. But I want a basilisk skewer as payment for my service.”

“Deal.” She hugged him.

Then, as well as she could, she quietly opened the door just behind her father as he slept. He was always a heavy sleeper. Even though he tried his hardest to force his eyelids open, the exhaustion took him, and he was lost in a deep, dreamless sleep.

Reba inched out the door, taking one more peek at her family.

She let go of her breath once she got far enough from the door to consider herself safe. “Well, we made it, Cen.”

The cracks of dawn creased the dark sky. Reba was exhausted, having spent most of the night without sleep herself, but it was all for a good cause, she told herself. And she would return—no matter what.

But before she could start her walk toward the academy, she noticed her uncle squatting on the street near her home. He looked tired, like he was pulling the same trick as her father, but more successfully.

Reba ran to him. “I thought you were gone already. Where have you been?”

“I thought to speak with you before you left,” he replied.

Reba crossed her arms. She didn’t quite know why, but she felt a frustration toward him. “And?”

Kreo didn’t look her in the eye as he squatted on the ground. “I was afraid… I had made a mistake by encouraging you to join the Archas Knights. I want you to know that the last thing I ever wanted was to hurt your family. I’ve always been an intruder here, so… it wasn’t my place to teach you the things that I have. I just…”

Reba let go of her tension. “Is that all? It's fine. Just stand up.”

He looked at her, unsure, then did as she said. And without warning, she slipped into a hug, despite knowing how much he hated that kind of thing.

“Please don’t.”

“Too late… I wouldn’t be here without you, Uncle Kreo. I’ll make sure it’s all worth it. Don’t worry.”

Kreo held his arms back, unsure whether he was allowed to hug his own niece. But as time went on, Reba didn’t let go until, reluctantly, he hugged back.

But when he looked down behind her back, he noticed the frightened pup staring up at him in her bag. He tilted his head but had no intention of staunching the moment with words. Instead, he rested his nose in Reba’s clumpy, dirty hair, remembering the feeling of embracing another human being. He hoped what she said was true, and it would all be worth it in the end.

And for the first time in a long time, as Kreo hugged his niece goodbye…

He prayed.