A Hero's Lament | ONC 2023

Disenchantment

Varying accounts stormed Bicker, celebrating Asmodeus' intervention or expressing concern for his safety. Along main roads neighbouring the Gemini Plaza, MMPD officers struggled to barricade irate crowds reacting to Morris Cane's demands and the sinkhole cover-up. Chewing his forefinger, battling the urge to pick up his phone and clear his confusion, discouraged by the black eye incident, Kelvin Shellman's heart palpitated.

High above chaos, Tristan's eyes snapped open at the crowd's clamour, garbled instructions blasting from loudhailers, rolling thunder and police sirens. Lighting flashed through concrete maws overhead. He had hurtled through a neighbouring skyscraper's top three floors. Every bone ached, his head throbbed and vision blurred. Stroking his face, wincing at cuts and bruises, he realized the heart-shaped visor had been lost.

Sleeping laptops, lights left on and personal belongings scattered across desks suggested a hasty evacuation. No tactical squad members emerged. Only a lone figure stood over the dazed guardian. A tattered hood concealed facial features, ragged robes billowed; manicured fingers clasped a crimson straight sword.

"Nhâg?" croaked Tristan, shaking off disorientation.

"Tristan Travis, sorrowful wanderer. A profoundly ironic name, considering your mother's past, the meaning of her own name and the path you have chosen," replied a female voice with cold indifference.

"Alya?" Tristan's eyes widened.

Casting off her robes and hood, the dark-haired beauty extended her hand. Kajal underlined large eyes, no blush tinged olive cheeks this time but a conservative grin adorned full lips. A fitted bodysuit, black and crimson, betrayed preparedness for combat.

Tristan clasped Alya's hand and hauled himself up. Unsteady on his feet, battling for words, he grimaced, struggling to comprehend the meaning behind her icy gaze.

"You... you're one of the Night Templars?" blurted Tristan at last.

"I am," responded Alya, examining her nails. "Regrettably, the time has come to carry out my duties. It's nothing personal."

"Wait, Alya! Please! I... I've been so worried about you! At least let me know how you escaped Morris Cane! What drove you to follow Nhâg, an enemy of this city's guardians?! I... I love..." Tristan cried out earnestly, bewilderment clouding his face.

Frosty laughter rippled before Alya spoke. "You hardly know anything about me so that's impossible. Very well, I'll entertain your questions in exchange for cooperation. Keep in mind that the storm below provides an excellent means for a graceful exit."

"C-can't make any promises but I'll hear what you have to say," choked Tristan.

"Fair enough. Please... just be reasonable," sighed Alya, lowering her gaze to the floor. "I escaped Cane during your first encounter. Possessing no knowledge of my skills or agenda, he locked me in my room, providing a simple exit through the window. Once free, I stood ready to ensure your survival. Fortunately, the paramedics and police drove the assailants away instead."

By now, Tristan stood strong and upright. "Why remain in hiding? Why allow me to believe Morris Cane still held you captive?"

A rueful smile flickered across Alya's lips. "Duty. Since Keyboard Warrior's rise to notoriety, I had been assigned to watch you. Accepting your date enabled closer observation but the Cash-Strapped Bank heist thwarted me. Later, Cane's plans to break you as a means to commandeer the city proved a blessing in disguise rather than another hindrance. The dire circumstances allowed me to truly assess the content of your character, a necessity after your actions against William Intel."

"Duty... I see..." muttered Tristan to himself with downcast eyes.

"My relationship with Nhâg began shortly after my parents' deaths. Resorting to kidnapping and extortion to his settle financial woes, my father got himself killed while Comet retrieved the hostage, Holly Harvey, her little sister..." Shame and sorrow clouded Alya's features and tinged her voice.