ODE TO THE END: A BALLAD OF BROTHERS

CHAPTER 25

MAVE

What inalienable truths exist in the word parent? What ingredients coalesce to create those that assume the role? Mave Caitlyn, Naomi's mother, no longer attempted to interpret the word. Naomi had not even been her first child, and gone were the toddling days of the sun-kissed girl and her elder brother. Those thoughts belonged to new parents and Mave was three years shy of a 20-year experience. She had been down that road before and braved the existential perils that populated the path, but said path was behind her.

To her own credit, Mave provided all of the things children needed: security, stability, and love. Her brand of affection may have been a bitter one when compared to her late husband, but she was confident that her intent was never lost on her offspring. After all, Naomi and her brother were beacons of achievement. Both were still rough around the edges, but they improved themselves with a clear understanding of what was expected of them. Mave made sure of that.

A testament to her work was, in fact, her youngest, for what girl fresh into her teens could fend for herself in the way Naomi had? Yes. Naomi understood her situation, and she accepted it with the maturity Mave instilled and silently prized. Because of her daughter, the Caitlyn Queen could commit to tasks far more consequential to the collective. The most pressing agenda for the day: The inhuman threat from a boy and his brother.

"Warden General!" called a young agent.

"Lieutenant Delen," Mave responded.

"The briefing is almost ready," said the Lieutenant. "Colonel Damien, is completing the last of his notes and the rest of the leadership is assembled, save for you."

"Very good..." Mave responded. What followed was an abbreviation of silence. Mave had been lingering in the highest hall of a decrepit building – an armory meant to house Warden weapons and personnel beyond The Divide. Her eyes had been closed as she stood in front of the unwashed windows. She had to doze whenever the opportunity was presented, however brief it may have been. Now that her aid had come to call, the Caitlyn Queen set her gaze upon the view just beyond the complex.

"Is there something wrong ma'am," inquired the lieutenant.

"It is not often that I have to venture beyond the walls," said Mave.

"I understand, Warden General." Said the lieutenant. She simply stood with Mave, silent and gazing into the slum skyline.

The Warden armory did not belong in the slums. As if the building had been plucked from the interior and dropped into the ruins, the foreign structure was washed in harsh illumination as if to consecrate the impoverished land. The high stone walls provided further assurance and the roof offered a roost for speedy aircrafts in case the need for quick extraction arose. The militant structure towered high in that ruined world as a dominating force, yet its occupants packed themselves within the perimeter as if the air beyond was toxic.

Agents took point on the grassy lawn. They were patrolling in a group size far too numerous to display anything but fear. Mave watched the young agents, their anxiety obvious to her experienced eyes. She did not think ill of their caution. A certain level of caution was required to do their duties properly, but, instead of harnessing that anxiety, Mave saw agents attempt to escape it with lackadaisical doings meant to diminish their fear. She shook her head.

Recent happenings were enough to justify their behavior - Warden agents were rarely killed and never had they been dispatched so closely together in time by a single suspect. Things were dire, but, to the Caitlyn Queen, that was precisely why she frowned upon the agents below. They dallied about the premises determined to distract themselves from reality and she scorned them for it.