Codes (Book 2)

Chapter 37: Aron

"How do you use this stuff?" I narrowed my eyes, dangling a vial of Flameheart Serum in my brother's face. 

"Mmph!" Teren protested, his reply muffled by the gag I had shoved in his mouth. Despite the fact that he and his Radical friends were vastly outnumbered, he continued trying to squirm out of the ropes that tied him to his chair. 

"Alright, alright, I'll take it off," I rolled my eyes, reaching behind his head and untying the piece of soiled cloth. "Now, talk." 

"You guys are really bad at this whole interrogation thing," Teren smirked. "I'm actually quite comfortable here. I could sit in this chair for hours." 

"We don't torture our prisoners," Rory snarled, her hand instinctively going to the hilt of her knife. "We're not the Icehearts." 

"We're not the Icehearts!" Teren said mockingly, bumping his voice up an octave. "You Flames say that all the time. Like you're trying to convince yourselves." 

"The only person we're trying to convince here is you," I sighed, crossing my arms. 

"Sir, we've discovered more of these...Radicals," an Aura warrior appeared at the door, flanked by two boys I didn't know, both with their hands already tied behind their backs. However, when I saw his third captive, my heart nearly stopped. 

"Mey," I whispered, gazing coldly at the raven haired Aura warrior. 

"Hey, Aron," she smiled cruelly. "It's so nice to see you." 

"Are you really one of them," I gestured to the six Radicals who were already tied up and seated in wooden chairs, shaking my head in disbelief. 

"Yes!" She grinned triumphantly, clearly savoring my shock and displeasure. 

"You betrayed me, and the entire FAWD!" I yelled. "We adopted you, a starving little girl off the streets of West Arabella, saving you from the slavers. We illegally taught you to fight with your Aura. We fed you, clothed you, and housed you for all sixteen years of your life! And what did that traitorous rat ever give you, huh?" I fumed, pointing at my brother. 

"He gave me time," Mey muttered, a tear rolling down her cheek. "And care. And attention. Things the busy leader of the FAWD could never spare. With you, I was always confused. I loved you and I hated you. I never quite knew what to make of you. But Teren isn't like that. He's clear cut, he makes sense. He has goals, and plans to reach them." 

As I looked at her, a quivering, young girl standing before me with her hands clasped together, my heart began to soften. 

She wasn't the enemy.

"Untie her," I ordered. 

"Sir?" The Aura warrior who had brought Mey in shot me a confused glance. 

"You heard me right. Untie her." 

"Don't you ever dream, Aron?" Mey said softly, stepping closer to me, as he loosened her bonds. "Don't you ever wonder what it would be like to live in an Empire where Rhenans can go out and build lives for themselves? A world where our hard earned money isn't stolen from us through absurdly high taxes, we aren't slaughtered for the Lessaenites' entertainment or sold into slavery, we have a voice in the government, and we're allowed to develop our Auras? Don't you ever want to chase that tantalizing ideal to the ends of Rhena and beyond?" 

"I do," I nodded. "I dream about that every day. I dream of peace, and fairness, and contentment, and three meals a day for every citizen of the Empire. The Flame lives and burns for that ideal, for those Rhenan hopes that we've kept alive for centuries. It's people like Teren who are capable of corrupting that legacy. People like him don't want equality...they want revenge." 

"I want to trust you," Mey squeezed her eyes shut. "But I don't know if I can. I don't even know who or what to believe in anymore!" She stomped her foot angrily before pushing past the Flames crowding the doorway and out of the basement. 

"I need to talk to you," Teren seethed. "In private." 

"Okay," I exhaled, unsheathing my knife and slicing through my brother's bonds. Grabbing him by the back of his worn tunic, I pulled him out of his chair before following him out the door and into the empty hallway. 

"You're right," he shook his head, casting his eyes to the floor. 

"About what?" 

"About me. I'm doing this for the throne, and Icicle Hall, and the Royal Treasury with all its priceless gems and artifacts..."

"That was quite a casual confession." 

"It wasn't a confession," he rolled his eyes. "Open your eyes, Aron. You can't say there isn't a part of you that wants to sit on the Regalion and watch those fat Lessaenite pigs cower before you, begging for mercy. You can't say you've never wanted to watch them fight for their lives in a warmatch."

I gritted my teeth, filled with guilt and shame. 

"That's true. I can't. Within every Rhenan is a small fire that's hungry for vengeance. But the difference between people like you and people like me is that we channel that energy into our fight to restore righteousness while you let that vengeance destroy your morals and turn you into a bloodthirsty monster." 

"Try saying that to me when I'm King, loser!" Teren chuckled, arrogantly strutting away. "Enjoy my Flameheart Serum!"