Sounds slowly reach me. Flashes of light attempt to break through the darkness. I hear someone saying something. I sense Pyrkagia flare at my side. Images flicker before my eyes. Casey; dirt smeared and blood stained. Casey; softly stroking her rounded belly, her smile so wide it encompasses all of her face. Casey; her Fire tangling with mine.

I know I must move. I know I must address those people watching me. I know I must be the Pyrkagia Prince I was born to be. Protect my family.

But all I can do is stare at the place where Casey had been standing, and now only the scorch mark of Aetheros’s lightning remains.

“Theo,” my cousin says at my side. “People are starting to get concerned.”

How long have I been standing here? How long have those present watched my mind and body and heart decay? How long will it take for my soul to recover?

“Theodoros,” Isadora says. Then her face appears before me. Her hair unusually dishevelled, her clothes ripped, her golden eyes narrowed; not showing an ounce of pity only rage. “Snap out of this!” she demands.

I suck in a breath and sense more than see those closest to me relax.

I stare a full minute longer at where Cassandra had last been and turn away.

More than two hundred people look on with poorly disguised interest standing on what was once Auckland City. I glance towards Pyrgos and feel a stab in the centre of my chest at what remains. The earth beneath our feet rumbles as if Cassandra is talking to Gi and the Element is replying.

But Cassandra is not here, and the rumble is only the volcanoes settling after the End of Days.

“How many have we lost?” I ask.

Isadora lets out a relieved sigh and checks something in her hand.

“Four deaths, fourteen wounded,” she reads. “That leaves…” she clears her throat softly. Isadora is not one to show emotion at the best of times, but lately, her defences have been shattered. “Seventy Pyrkagia.”

Seventy.

Seventy of my people remain. From a once thriving caste of close to one-hundred-and-twenty.

For a moment, I am simply unable to think, to move, to comprehend what Genesis has wrought. What the Alchemists have done. What my father has allowed to happen.

For a moment, the ache in my heart is for something other than the loss of my Thisavros.

I rub at my chest and swallow past the lump that has formed in my throat. Then take in those people still watching.

We are on Pyrkagia soil. But there are Nero and Aeras here. Alchemists, too. Once, this would have meant an immediate response to the threat they all presented. And as much as my hand flexes with the need to grip a sword and rend them all to pieces, Cassandra would never forgive me.

Her sacrifice was for all of us. For peace and harmony.

For balance.

“We need shelter and sustenance,” I announce.

“I’ll organise the food,” Nico offers and disappears.

“I’ll take care of the shelter,” Isadora adds.

I am left standing alone, apart from the rest. Cut off from my heart and surrounded by strangers.

“Well,” a voice drawls off to the side. “It’s a brave new world, your High-and-Mightiness.”

I sigh, then run a hand through my hair. Dust and little pieces of debris rain down all around me. I look at the ground for a second and then lift my gaze to stare Marcus right in the face.

“Why are you still here?” I demand.

“Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”

“You should be with your sister,” I respond.

“Casey can take care of herself.”

I scoff at that. Marcus just laughs.

“Have you not learned a thing, your Hoity-Toitiness?”

“I don't need this,” I mutter and start to walk away.

Marcus steps up to my side and keeps pace.

“When she was a baby,” he says, and I shake my head, dumbfounded. “She would get so mad at me if I tried to help her with a problem. It became a bit of a game. She’d try to puzzle something out, and I’d step in and solve it for her at the last second.” He laughs, shakes his own head, his face soft with memories. “Man, she could throw a wicked right hook when she was four years old.” He rubs the side of his arm with remembered pain. “So,” he says, looking at me from the corner of his eyes, “if you want to piss Casey off, then, by all means, rush on over there and help her get things sorted with the Gi. Of course,” he adds, “you’ve got your own problems.”

I follow the trajectory of his gaze and note it has landed on two members of the Pyrkagia Council. They meet my gaze resolutely and then turn away.

I pause in my steps and glance around those Pyrkagia here. There is a clear divide. More, I think, on the right side of it than not. But it still makes for a disconcerting wake-up call. And all it took was an Alchemist to shine a spotlight on a potential problem.

It chafes.

I turn and look at Cassandra’s brother. He holds my stare with an arched brow and a smirk that I want so desperately to wipe off his face.

“This does not concern you,” I murmur.

“Now see,” he drawls, “that’s where you’re wrong, your Macho-and-Moodiness. Casey has a vested interest in what happens here. I’m her representative.”

He looks pleased with himself. I scowl at him. He just smiles.

“Did she ask you to do this?” I finally demand.

“She didn’t need to; I’m her brother. You don't think I learned a thing or two growing up with Casey?” He snorts. I try not to roll my eyes. “I can give you tips if you want,” he adds and grins unrepentantly.

I realise I haven’t felt that hollow ache inside my chest for the past five minutes. Instead, a slowly simmering pit of Fire is burning at my core.

Marcus Eden is an irreverent troublemaker. But, perhaps, I concede, there is more to Cassandra’s brother than meets the eye.

“If I have to put up with you,” I announce, “then make yourself useful.”

“How?” He doesn't even question the suggestion. He wants to help.

I am momentarily taken aback. For the past few months, what has held us together has been Cassandra. Our group a ragtag lot that somehow found itself united in the face of the world’s demise. Held together by the blazing light of Aether.

I can count on one hand who I can trust in this life. Cassandra. Nico. Aktor. Dora. I realise, with what lies ahead, I may have to revise that list somewhat.

Marcus is Cassandra’s brother. An Alchemist by name only. His induction to that group of greedy, long-lived humans only through his grandfather’s betrayal. Cassandra’s grandfather is now dead. The Alchemists are in turmoil. A new leader has to be named.

But I have seen what they can become time and again. Left to their own devices, they will revert to form, I am sure of it. However, balance can only be maintained if we all believe. And cooperate.

That, I reluctantly acknowledge, includes me.

“I need a liaison with the Alchemists,” I say.

Marcus stills.

“Someone who has Cassandra’s best interests at heart.”

“I’m not sure I’m your man,” Marcus says.

“You are an Alchemist, are you not? You are Cassandra’s brother?” I wave a hand at the people milling around on Pyrgos’ hill. “Can you see anyone better?”

“I won’t go to CERN,” he says.

I stare at him. Where will Marcus Eden go when the dust has settled?

“I’m more concerned about the immediate ramifications of what has transpired,” I say. “No one appears to be keen to leave New Zealand right now. Perhaps my imminent demise is too entertaining?”

Marcus doesn’t smile at my poor attempt at humour.

I step closer to him, my eyes darting around us. Pyrkagia flares; a shield to keep my next words from any potential eavesdroppers.

“Right of Rule is a fight to the death,” I say. “My father may be crazy, but he is an Ancient. My chances are slim to none should he refuse to step down as King. Marcus,” I say, “I am cut off from my Thisavros. The sharks are circling. I need to know at least one faction is being contained. Can I trust you to do this? Can Casey?”

He looks up at me, shock making his face whiten. A slow nod of his head is the only answer I receive.

The Pyrkagia shield evaporates. Sounds seep back in. My heart is thundering.

To show such weakness to someone who was a threat mere months ago is insane.

And then I realise, as the wind whips up around our bodies and then dissipates…

The Air has ears.

I meet Marcus’s eyes, ensuring he understands what has just transpired. And then I turn away.