Page 37 of The Order: Rise of the New Empire

The kindest soul can be broken.

The most hated man can be changed.

Mankind was never meant to be just good and evil.

Perhaps that's why free will is such a dangerous thing.

Turning away, ready to dismiss the entirety of this conversation, I snap.

"And what if Xavier could be a resource?" I question, selfish wants flooding my thoughts. "What if they all could be a resource?" I question, Elyon's interest suddenly much more present.

"How so?" the man questions, crossing his arms with confusion.

"The creature. The one turned man, Mason, I heard his thoughts. He has become allies with his Shifter counterparts."

"I thought-"

"We thought wrong. It would seem any influence we had cannot beat the loyalties my companions have created. Something larger is at play here. While we make our moves, so do others. Isolating them from all of this may serve you now, but what happens when we need our reach in the places we don't even know about?" I question, a million thoughts rolling through Elyon's mind.

"Perhaps my companions are larger resources than you have decided to give them credit for," I push, hoping my way of thinking is just.

If keeping them away does not keep them safe, perhaps keeping them at arm's length will.

"And if they try and poison your mind? Try and sway your way of thinking-"

"Then you kill them," I rebuttal, forcing the words free from my throat. "Simple as that."

Still hesitant, I push the man further.

"You can hide the people I love from me and make them your weapon against me, Elyon, and defiance is all I will know. Or, you keep them close and keep them safe, and all I will know is my fealty to you."

Finally seeing a shift in the man's face, something new settles in his mind, something he has yet to show me.

Remorse.

"I suppose," he starts, sighing as he speaks. "Allowing them in might have potential benefits-"

"Allowing who in?" a new voice questions, both of us widening our eyes at the presence of someone new.

Turning on our heels, a man leans into the doorway, his dark hair perfectly pristine, his skin olive, his eyes darker than a night sky. Wearing a suit only upper leadership in the Precipice would partake in, his face is youthful, his demeanor far too ignorant to mean he has age on his side.

If it weren't for the deep red scar running down his left cheek, you'd think he was damn near perfect.

Clearly perfection means nothing in a society this vain.

"Who the fuck are you-"

"Atticus Hawthorn," Elyon says with glee, stopping me before I am able to hurl a wave of questions toward the man.

Sensing it from a mile away, the blood of the Marked runs through him, his bright white smile and malicious eyes enough to pull in any ignorant woman.

"Commander of the Precipice," Elyon clarifies.

"An ignorant power-hungry bastard,"Elyon whispers, giving some clarity to the man's off putting presence.

Extending a hand out toward Atticus, Elyon embraces the man in a grasp, being sure to squeeze the man's hand as hard as he can. Barely looking at Elyon, Atticus focusses on me, my hands fumbling to put my cloak back on.

"Elyon Morgan, I presume," Atticus smiles, extending his hand toward me. "And you're his daughter, Forest-"

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