Page 18 of The Order: Rise of the New Empire

The word "daughter" in association with me and him, is tremendously hard to stomach,

Leaders from varying hubs surround the table. New Haven's isolation from its neighboring developments has never been more prominent.

Blocking out the varying voices carrying through the minds of all around me, the sound of a rapid heartbeat touches my ears. The once quiet silence I savored is now stowed away by the noise pounding in my ears.

More recently, it seems as if I can never escape the sound of my own heartbeat.

Hazed with the presence of their Veils, all of the eyes of those around us take on varying colors, each wide with judgment.

“We have heard of the conformity in New Haven, as well as your misfortunes. Tell us how your authority in one of Sanctum's other hubs is more beneficial than, say, a clean-blooded individual," the old man snaps, taking the lead in this interrogation.

“They would kill us on sight if they had their way.”I snap, watching Elyon's mouth curl into a smile.

“Tread carefully young one.”

“We hit a bump, yes, but New Haven has one of the highest production qualities of produce in this part of the continent.”

Scoffing at the comment, the old man laughs.

"Production value alone is not enough. Tell us how you have dealt with the Revolutionists in your hub, as well as your Marked."

Revolutionists? Here?

Perhaps my cause did not die with my memories.

Cutting off Elyon before he can speak, I snap.

“We kill them, simple as that. The less Marked, the better. Though slow, we have managed to begin weening the Revolutionists out of the city. The next step is hitting the compounds. I’m sure you have your fair share of compounds surrounding your city.”

"You're killing your own kind? How much can we trust that ideology?"

Craning my attention to one of the Marked servants stationed by the double doors to the space, their painful thoughts swarm me, their lids heavy with the presence of dread. Looking over the numerous runes coating their skin, their eyes slightly widen, my only gesture a small nod of my head.

"I'm sorry."

Flipping up my wrist, the metal of their necklace wraps around their throat, violently tearing through their skin. Their scream is stifled by the pain radiating through their body. Watching their eyes roll into the back of their skull as they thrash, the metal slices through their skin, ripping until there is no more resistance left to give. Hearing the sound of the metal flying through the air, the warm, wet feeling of blood collides with my palm. The red drips down my wrist as Elyon and I glare at the necklace dangling in my hand. Watching the Marked's head fall away from their shoulders, the body crumples to the floor. The room becomes consumed in silence.

Gravitating the necklace toward my mouth, I lick the blood clean from the chain, moving aside my cloak to wrap the chain around my belt, settling it next to the dozens of powerless neuro chips strapped to my waist. Sitting as still as they possibly can, all of those ready to mock me seconds ago grow silent. Each one of them takes their time to observe the dozens of trophies I have collected while helping Elyon rid our streets of the Marked.

"Our Marked's neuro chips," I sigh, running my finger over each lifeless spindle, giving them all a chance to look at the kill count plastered to my side.

Elyon hides his smile with his hands, finally registering the power play I have offered up to this table of rich elites.

"I'd say you are more than capable of trusting that ideology," I snap toward the old man. Any confidence he had in his words quickly fades away.

Feeling the creeping presence of nausea swarm my stomach at the taste of the Marked's blood, I keep on the facade of my cold face, digging my nails into my legs the moment I begin to taste bile.

More recently, stomaching blood has become a task. What once gave me an abundance of power now only satiates me for a few days. My body is drained no matter how much fuel I give it.

Taking a stand from his seated position, Elyon takes over the conversation. The clear sign of unsettlement after my actions has started to settle in my expression.

The last thing he wants is for either of us to show weakness.

“Seems we have a common need to reestablish order and get rid of our filthy Marked running through our cities," Elyon smiles. "So, are you as eager for an alliance as we are?" Elyon questions. The old man warily rises to his feet.

Cautiously approaching Elyon with unnerved and paced steps, the man holds his own. The malicious smiles of his peers are now petrified frowns.

"I think, Mr. Morgan, we do indeed have a vested interest," the man says, his name formulating in my mind.

---