Ashes of Fate - Season 1
Copyright © 2015, 2016 by Cynus
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved
The Icarus Confederacy
Tristan didn't dare sleep, not with the soldiers so close by. He didn't know what their agenda was but he definitely didn't trust a single one, especially Faust. After allowing him to see Corban's body the soldiers had brought him back to the original tent where he had been held and handcuffed him to the center pole of the structure. He tested his strength against the pole and found that he could hardly budge the metal support at all. He was hopelessly trapped.
An hour passed without anyone coming to check on him, and despite his worries he found himself drifting toward sleep from sheer boredom. He did everything he could to keep himself awake, until he finally gave up and allowed himself the rest his body still desperately needed.
The voice startled him awake, and before him was an attractive boy about his age. The boy was short and skinny, with a face that was smooth and soft. Chestnut brown hair that was just long enough to curl around his ears framed his face perfectly. Though the dim light through the tent flap made it difficult for him to tell for certain, but it looked as if the boy had spent a lot of time in the sun as his tank top and khaki cargo shorts revealed much of his sun-bronzed skin.
"What?" Tristan asked in surprise, "How did you get in here?"
"Keep your voice down or they'll hear us," the boy whispered as he stepped up to Tristan while glancing over his shoulder cautiously.
"Who are you?" Tristan asked in a whisper. "What do you want?"
"My name is Jacob, Jacob Walker," the boy replied with a smile. "I'm here to rescue you."
"You don't look like you're dressed for that job description," Tristan observed with a wry smile. "I don't think I've ever seen a person wear a tank top and cargo shorts to a rescue operation."
"It's unpreventable, I'm afraid," Jacob replied with a quirky smile. "Let me try to get your locks," he went on as he grabbed the handcuffs. "Good, steel," he said with a smile. "That is exactly what I was hoping for."
To Tristan's surprise the locks fell open as if some invisible force had served as a key. As he rubbed his wrists in surprise he looked to Jacob with wide eyes and asked, "How did you do that?"
"No time to answer that question," Jacob replied. Without pausing to allow Tristan another chance at the question he continued, "We need to get moving. Is there anything sharp in here at all?"
"Not that I've seen," Tristan said with a shake of his head, though he wondered why Jacob wouldn't have carried a weapon on him if he was really here to rescue him. Still, Jacob had opened the handcuffs. There was no reason to doubt him yet. He thought about it for a moment and realized that one of the guards had left a satchel just inside the tent flap. "No…" Tristan said as his face lit up in excitement and nodded toward the pack. "There might be something in that pack over there. It belongs to one of the guards outside."
"Alright," Jacob said, "Go ahead and look through it."
"Why don't you?" Tristan asked suspiciously.
"I can't," Jacob replied with a shake of his head. "Just go do it, alright?" He added impatiently, and Tristan sighed and obliged. He went over to the satchel, doing the best he could to avoid making a sound. He rummaged through the pack as quickly as he could manage while trying to be silent, and eventually he pulled out a dirty mess kit, which included a knife. He withdrew the knife and showed it to Jacob as soon as he stood next to the boy again.
"I found this," Tristan said excitedly.
"That will have to do," Jacob replied with a satisfied nod. Meeting Tristan's eyes to show his seriousness he went on, "You're going to have to do this quickly, alright?"
"Alright," Tristan agreed with a nod, "What do you want me to do?"
"You're going to cut through the tent wall as quickly as you can," Jacob explained quickly, gesturing to the wall at the back of the tent. "Don't worry about making noise, you just need to make sure you have a hole big enough to climb through and then go for it. I'll take care of distracting the guards."
"What?" Tristan replied in alarm, "That's suicide! For you, not for me."
"Don't you worry about me," Jacob replied with an encouraging smile. "Just do it, alright?" Without another word he walked toward the front of the tent, and Tristan could have sworn that he saw Jacob pass directly through the canvas flaps without moving them aside. Deciding that his eyes were just playing tricks on him he turned to the tent wall and began cutting at it as he had been directed. There were already shouts of alarm coming from in front of the tent but he ignored them and focused on his cutting. The first gun shots were fired as he was squeezing through the hole he had made.
The shots were followed by even more, and Tristan allowed the sound to fuel his fear and adrenaline. Without looking back to see what had become of Jacob he ran straight ahead and away from the tent. The barrage of bullets continued as he made his mad dash forward, and the noise made him disoriented until he suddenly stumbled into a soldier that was coming in his direction.
"Shit!" Tristan shouted as he backed away quickly, putting his fists up as he prepared to defend himself. A shiver traveled down his spine as he looked up into the grandfatherly visage of Faust.
"Calm down kid, I'm on your side," the general replied with a smile. He thrust a large bundle of cloth into Tristan's hands and said, "Here, put this coat on, quickly."
"You… You're not Faust…" Tristan stammered as he took a better look at the man in the general's uniform. He unfolded the bundle and saw that it was a long trench coat like many of the men around camp were wearing.
Tristan quickly slid his arms into the coat as the man replied with a grin, "Nope, but I look just enough like him when I'm wearing his uniform." His eyes twinkled as he went on, "My name is Kurt, and I'm with Jacob."
"Jacob!" Tristan shouted and turned back in alarm toward the tent he had escaped from. Soldiers were shouting and running toward the area, and bullets were still being fired. He couldn't see Jacob anywhere, but the noise indicated that he was on the far side of the tent.
"He'll be alright," Kurt said as he laid a comforting hand on Tristan's shoulder and tried to guide him away.
Tristan tore his shoulder away and snapped, "What do you mean, 'he'll be alright'?" He gestured toward the action and added, "He just got shot at like fifty times!"
"Would they still be firing at him if he were already dead?" Kurt asked with a patient smile. "He'll be alright, trust me."
Tristan stared back toward the tent with uncertainty. There sure were a lot of shots still being fired, and Kurt had a point. With a sigh he turned back to Kurt and asked, "Where are we headed?"
"The edge of the camp," Kurt said as he started walking away. "That's where things are going to get really tricky."
"Alright," Tristan replied with a nervous glance back over his shoulder, "Fill me in."
Before Kurt could open his mouth a soldier rushed out at them from around a tent, heading in the direction of the conflict. He stopped and saluted when he saw Kurt and said, "General Faust! There's a disturbance at the prisoner's tent!"
"Then handle it you imbecile!" Kurt shouted gruffly, gesturing wildly back the way they had come. "Get over there and deal with it! I'll be there in less than a minute; I have a feeling this night is about to get even worse for us." The soldier saluted again and without another word he rushed off to join the action. Kurt didn't watch him go, and instead continued forward quickly, pulling Tristan along with him.
"Why did you send more people Jacob's way?" Tristan asked as soon as he was side by side with the older man. "Aren't you worried about him?"
"Not in the slightest," Kurt replied seriously. "Now come on, you heard what I just said," he added with a sense of urgency. "We have less than a minute before they start asking questions. It's time to run."
And run they did. They were passed by multiple other soldiers headed toward the action and each time they hid against the side of the nearby tents until the soldiers were gone. Tristan sensed the urgency building up in Kurt every time they were forced to hide, and started to feel it himself. By the time the trees were in sight, he was anxiously looking over his shoulder every few seconds, and he was glad when he saw the hope of escape in the forest, but then Faust stepped into view between them and the woods. Off to the side stood another soldier with his rifle trained on Kurt, and Tristan recognized him instantly as the man who had captured him in the streets of Ashburg.
"Kurt," Faust said with a bemused expression. "I thought it might be you."
"Faust…" Kurt replied, breathing heavily. "Well, this is unfortunate," he observed with a weak smile. "How did you figure it out?"
"I guessed. A disturbance at the prisoner's tent involving a boy seemingly invulnerable to bullets; a missing uniform; the fact that I ran into a soldier who said he had just seen me…" Faust answered with a shrug, "I drew the logical conclusion and came here to cut you off."
"And now you're going to shoot me?" Kurt asked with a raised eyebrow as if he didn't quite believe it. It was obvious to Tristan that the two had some sort of history, but it seemed as if Kurt's question was more of a tactic to buy them time than anything else.
"I don't think that's necessary," Faust replied with a sneer. "I have men to do that for me." He nodded to the man who glared at them from behind his rifle.
"You're the one that never misses…" Kurt said in a tone of respect. "I've heard about you."
"Trust me," the rifleman replied without moving, "the stories are all true."
"Hand over the boy, Kurt," Faust said in an impatient tone, "Or suffer the consequences."
Kurt seemed to contemplate the request for a moment, and Tristan thought that the old man might just give him up, but then he nodded slightly and stepped into position between the rifleman and Tristan, his arms folded defiantly over his chest.
The rifleman rested his finger on the trigger and waited for Faust's order, and the general smiled sadly and shook his head as he stared at Kurt. He opened his mouth and seemed to be about to give the order when Jacob rushed out from the side, an old hunting knife in his hand. He charged past the rifleman and straight toward the general who stared at him in horror.
The rifleman swiveled his aim toward Jacob and pulled the trigger just as General Faust shouted, "No don't!"
It was too late. Tristan turned away for a second as the shot rang through the air, knowing that it had just passed through Jacob's skull and unable to watch the young boy die. He heard a scream and the sound of someone falling to the ground, but when he looked back up he was startled to find that Jacob was still standing. The boy was holding the knife and glaring down at General Faust who was clutching at his shoulder, desperately trying to stem the blood flow from the gunshot wound he had just suffered.
"General!" the rifleman shouted in alarm, his eyes wide as he looked between Jacob and Faust in bewilderment. Tristan was equally surprised, and when a large blue cat that resembled a panther burst out of the tree line and pounced on the rifleman he was too shocked to even gasp. The cat tore at the rifleman's hands with its claws and bit at his throat with his sharp teeth while the rifleman fought him off with desperation.
"Good job, Jacob!" Kurt shouted as he pulled Tristan along after him toward the forest. He eyed the general as they ran past and said, "Faust, I hope you don't mind if we don't stick around." Calling back to the cat he added, "Micah, leave the soldier. We're out of time."
The cat growled one last time and jumped off of the wounded rifleman. The man fumbled with his rifle but couldn't seem to get his bloodied hands to cooperate. By the time he had it in his hands and ready to fire, Tristan and the trio that had rescued him were deep enough into the woods that they were far out of sight.
Tristan could still hear the rifleman when he let out a frustrated yell, and he knew that they were still a long way from being out of danger. "There will be soldiers on us in a heartbeat," He said when Kurt stopped at the edge of a large clearing to catch his breath. "We need to get as far away from here as we can."
"Don't worry," Kurt said with a smile, "We have a ride." As soon as the words had left Kurt's mouth Tristan could feel a light breeze stir the hairs on the back of his neck. He looked up to see a large aircraft descending quickly toward the ground, a large door on its side already beginning to open. Tristan watched it all happen in stunned silence. He had never seen an aircraft before except in books, and those were simply photographs or diagrams, and none of them had looked like this. This was something out of a science fiction novel, and looking at the strange crew that surrounded him he realized that he might be in one.
Shouting from behind them distracted him from his thoughts, and he turned back to see lights coming toward them through the trees. Soldiers from the camp were already headed their way, and they would soon be upon them.
"I'll distract them," Jacob said quickly and dashed back through the trees toward the lights. The craft landed with a thud and brought Tristan's attention back to it. Kurt pulled on his arm again toward the hatch that opened up and served as a boarding plank as well, and though he cast one more worried glance back toward Jacob he followed along readily. He could see inside the hold, where several seats lined the walls complete with seat belts, and two doors led off to other parts of the craft, one toward the front and the other toward the back. Once they were inside, the door began to close, and he looked around at the others in bewilderment. Neither of them seemed concerned at all that Jacob was still outside, and he considered asking them about it but then realized he probably wouldn't get a straight answer.
Instead he settled on a different question. "Who the hell are you guys?" he asked with a touch of impatience. Now that they appeared to be out of immediate danger it was time to get at least one answer from them.
"The Icarus Confederacy," Kurt replied with a smile and a shrug. "Sorry that we're late."
Tristan was surprised at the answer. As far as he had known the Icarus Confederacy had been defeated over a decade before. "I'm not entirely sure what to say," he said with a shake of his head.
"I think thank you would be appropriate…" growled the cat. Tristan looked at the cat as his eyes widened in surprise, unsure if his ears had played tricks on him or not.
"Did…" he stammered, "did the cat just talk?"
"Yes, the cat just did," the cat replied in a condescending tone.
"Wha-at!" Tristan yelled in fear as he backed up until his back hit the hull of the aircraft. "Are you a Wer?"
"How dare you!" The cat growled angrily as it rose to its feet, its back arched. "I ought to…"
"Ought to what, Micah?" Jacob asked from Tristan's side, drawing a surprised and fearful look from Tristan.
"Jacob, this guy just called me a Wer!" The cat growled indignantly.
"How did you get in here?" Tristan asked in surprise as he was now backing away from Jacob. He suddenly found himself in a corner of the small hold staring at them all as if they had lost their minds.
"All in good time, Tristan," Kurt replied soothingly.
"This is all crazy," Tristan whispered in disbelief, "You're all crazy."
"See?" the cat said, looking between Kurt and Jacob while gesturing at Tristan emphatically with its paw. "Now he's just being rude."
"Micah, Calm down," Kurt said soothingly to the cat as he scratched the animal behind the ears. "He's been through a lot in a very short time."
Tristan's head was beginning to throb again, and each second that passed sent another twinge of pain through his skull. "Someone has got to tell me what is going on before my head explodes," he said as he looked between the three people in the room searchingly.
The door nearest to him which led to the rear of the ship opened suddenly and a voice said, "Oh that reminds me, I wanted to take a look at that." The source of the voice stepped into the room, a bipedal tiger who was wearing a white doctor's coat. The being looked at Tristan with a toothy grin that was meant to be reassuring, but it only gained one reaction from Tristan.
"Aaaahhhh!!!" Tristan screamed as he pushed himself further into the corner. He felt his eyes roll backward as he fainted, and he saw nothing but darkness.
Even though he could no longer be heard by Tristan Micah said with a smile, "Now she is a Wer."
His eyes fluttered open, and the first thing he noticed was how bright the light was. His head didn't hurt as much as he had expected it to, but the blaring glow of the light bulbs over his head was almost enough to make him wish that he could return to unconsciousness. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the light, but it just wasn't enough. Rolling over on his side did the trick, and he was able to open his eyes slowly to take note of his surroundings.
He was in an infirmary of some sort, complete with several examination tables and large pieces of machinery he recognized as medical equipment. While he had never seen most of these devices in working order, he had come across some of them in his studies, or when raiding a hospital for medical supplies. The room was unlit except for the single lamp above his own head, but that provided him enough light to see the boundaries of the room dimly illuminated. The room was rectangular, forty feet long on the long end and twenty on the short. It had one door he could see from this angle with no indication of where it led, but it appeared to be made of metal. In fact all the walls were made of metal he realized as he looked at them more closely.
The sound of a door opening and then closing again came from behind him, and he quickly flipped himself over and rose up on one arm to search for the source of the noise. He saw a small wooden door in the wall opposite the first one, and an attractive young man was walking toward him. The man was dressed in a white lab coat and a suit and tie, and wore his black hair at a medium length, though it was parted to keep it out of his face. His features appeared to be a mixture of East Asian and Caucasian, and his green eyes sparkled with intelligence. If Tristan were to venture a guess he would put the man's age at little more than eighteen, though he had been wrong before. "I bet you're getting sick of rude awakenings," the man said as he stepped slowly toward Tristan.
"Who are you?" Tristan asked suspiciously as he sat up the rest of the way, taking extra care to avoid hitting his head on the lamp above the table he was lying on.
"My name is Peter," the man replied pleasantly. "I'm a doctor, and I thought I would take a look at your head and your hand, since it seems that bastard Faust did not prioritize your health one bit."
"Thank you…" Tristan replied slowly. He did have to admit that he was feeling better now. "Was the rest of that a dream?" he asked, shaking his head in wonder as he remembered what had happened before he had conked out. "I don't remember seeing you there."
"I was there…" Peter replied cautiously. With an unreadable expression he added, "I was the Weretiger."
"What? No way…" Tristan said in bewilderment. "You seemed awfully feminine when I saw you before. Of course I was a little distraught."
"I'm afraid that's something I cannot change," Peter replied with a helpless shrug. "I was born female, but I pass as male in my human form. The hormonal treatments that are normally used to help one transition over are rejected by my tiger blood." With a sad smile he added, "I'm stuck as a female, though I wish I didn't have to be."
"Oh," Tristan said, letting the information sink in. Though he had initially been frightened by the weretiger on the aircraft, Peter was not so difficult to talk to, and even had a calming demeanor about him. "So, you're trans?" Tristan asked, for no reason other than to clarify his understanding.
"Yeah," Peter replied defensively as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you have a problem with that?"
"No…" Tristan answered quickly and then hesitated so that he could form his next thought appropriately. With a smile to try and show that he didn't mean it as anything other than a joke he went on, "Not as long as you're going to be fixing my wounds." When Peter dropped his defensive stature Tristan asked, "Can you answer a question for me?" Peter nodded and Tristan continued quickly, "What kind of a freak show did I just join?"
"We're not a freak show, kid," Peter replied with his eyes narrowing.
"Who are you calling kid?" Tristan said defensively. "You can't be much older than me…"
"I call everyone 'kid'," Peter replied with a roll of his eyes. "You'll get used to it." Taking on the tone of a professor lecturing his students he went on, "Now to answer your question, you're in the headquarters of the Icarus Confederacy. We are a band of like-minded individuals connected by a common ideal, which is to bring peace to the world by creating it. We will stop at nothing until the North Wer Alliance ceases to persecute humans and perpetuate the cycle of hatred. You were rescued from the North Wer Alliance less than six hours ago." Peter looked at Tristan imploringly as he added, "We did you a favor; the least you could do is to avoid insulting us."
"I'm sorry. I've had a pretty stressful day," Tristan replied with a sigh. He smoothed back his hair with both hands as he thought through what had happened to him over his recent memory. There was still too much to handle in there, and the thoughts seemed to be bringing his headache back. "Honestly I don't think it's all set in yet," Tristan said honestly, and then met Peter's eyes as he added, "My brother was killed yesterday."
"Three days ago actually," Peter corrected quickly, and then winced when he saw Tristan's reaction to the fact. "Sorry," Peter said with an apologetic smile, "That probably came off as insensitive."
"It's alright…" Tristan replied in a whisper. He then smiled weakly as he went on, "I know you didn't mean it that way. So why did you rescue me?"
"You really don't know, do you?" Peter asked in surprise.
"Are you going to tell me that I'm someone important and everyone is hunting me?" Tristan asked incredulously.
"I…" Peter stammered, unsure how to answer.
The door behind Peter opened, and two middle aged men walked into the room. The first man was dressed in a button up shirt and slacks, and walked with an air of authority. He was in good physical condition, with salt and pepper hair that was neatly cut in a business style. "That's a question I think I should handle," he said as he walked up to Tristan and extended his hand for the boy to shake. "I'm afraid we weren't able to meet in the craft. My name is Hayden, and this is my partner Luke." Tristan followed Hayden's gesture to take in the sight of the other man. Luke short and slender, and he hobbled forward with the use of an ornate walking cane whose silver head resembled an angel. His hair was a dark brown with very little grey in it, and his face appeared more youthful than Hayden's, despite his infirmity. He wore black slacks like Hayden's, and a sleeveless vest over his torso, revealing his strong and toned arms. As Luke approached Tristan and extended his own hand in greeting Hayden went on to explain, "We were piloting the craft that brought you here."
"So," Tristan interjected into the silence that came after the introduction, "What am I doing here then?"
"You, Tristan James Rembrandt," Hayden said with a smile, "Are a very important person."
As soon as the name left Hayden's mouth he was reminded of Faust sneering at him the day before, and that image left a sour taste in his mouth. "That is not my name," he insisted with a snarl. "My name is Tristan Langster."
"I'm sorry, Tristan Langster," Hayden corrected himself, raising his hands in surrender. "There are some things you don't know about your past."
"And you're going to tell me?" Tristan replied angrily.
"I will if you give me a chance," Hayden answered with a hopeful expression.
"Thanks," Tristan replied dismissively as he hopped off the examination table, "but I really have to find my brother Zach. I don't believe he's dead, no matter what Faust said."
"We're already looking for him." Luke jumped in before Hayden could reply with the anger that was quickly spreading across his face. He went on insistently, "Please, let us find him for you. It's important that we keep you safe."
"Sure it is," Tristan replied sarcastically, "Because I'm wanted by the North Wer Alliance, right?"
"That's correct," Luke confirmed with a nod.
"This is the biggest piece of bullshit I've ever heard," Tristan declared testily. He went on with a dramatic wave of his hand, "I never did anything wrong. I'm not a fugitive. This is simply a major misunderstanding that ended up getting my oldest brother killed." He let his eyes meet those of all three of the people who stood in front of him as he demanded, "Let me leave."
"Why? So that you can be captured again?" Hayden replied, quivering with fury. "We risked our lives to get you out of there."
A door slammed behind Tristan, and the others looked alarmed as they gazed past him. Tristan looked over his shoulder and saw a figure approaching them, dressed in a peculiar manner the likes of which Tristan had never seen. He was dressed in a suit that seemed as if it were made entirely of rubber, as if he were about to handle something hazardous. Only his head was unobscured by the material, and his long white hair framed an ageless face that Tristan found almost haunting.
"Ethan…" Peter said, addressing the newcomer. "What are you doing?"
The man, Ethan, approached Tristan slowly, and for some reason Tristan was fixated on the man's face, unable to tear his eyes away. There was something alluring about him that made him want to see what this strange man was going to do next. As soon as Ethan stood before Tristan he looked the boy in the eyes and asked, "Who are you?"
It wasn't really a question. Tristan knew somehow that Ethan didn't expect him to answer, and he remained silent as the man's blue eyes met his own fiery gaze, like water quenching a flame Ethan's eyes managed to calm Tristan's restlessness. As Ethan removed the rubber glove from his left hand and reached out to touch Tristan's face the boy accepted the gesture without complaint.
Luke, on the other hand, showed a great deal of concern, and as Ethan's hand neared Tristan's skin Luke cried out, "Ethan, don't!"
"I'm not going to harm him, Luke…" Ethan said calmly as he turned to meet Luke's eyes. "Calm down."
Without waiting for any further reaction from Luke, Ethan placed his hand against Tristan's cheek. As soon as the contact was made, Tristan felt a jolt of electricity travel through his entire body. It was only mildly uncomfortable, and within an instant his body was used to it. Tristan felt a surge of thought in his brain, memories that he hadn't realized existed in his mind came rushing back to him like a flood, threatening to overwhelm his consciousness.
He could see that day, so long ago, when his mother had given the charge to Corban to protect him. Not Zach, him. She had told Corban that he was important, and that if he should ever fall into the hands of Skinwalker then the world would be changed forever, and not for the better.
Corban had questioned her, asking why they were sacrificing so much for someone who wasn't even blood. Tristan had looked at his brother questioningly at that point, not understanding what Corban was saying, but his mother had then answered very simply that blood did not make one family, nor did it make any life more important than any other. He would have to trust her, and do what she said, or the world would suffer.
It was then that she revealed something Tristan had buried long ago; most likely because he hadn't understood what it had meant. She called him a Phoenix, and said that many people would want to harm him because of what he was. It would be Corban's duty to make sure that no harm came to him, as any older brother should do for his younger siblings.
The surge of memories ended just as quickly as they had begun, and Tristan was left panting as Ethan withdrew his hand and replaced his glove, "What did you just do to me?" Tristan asked as he stabilized himself on the table behind him. He wasn't angry; he was too overwhelmed by what had just occurred to be angry. Instead he was filled with boundless curiosity over what he had just witnessed in his own mind.
"I just gave you your memory back," Ethan said with a sad smile that seemed foreign on his ageless face. "You're welcome."
"I…" Tristan began, but then forgot whatever he had been about to say to Ethan, and so instead he nodded to the man instead. For some reason the gesture seemed appropriate, and the man nodded in return as he accepted the gesture. Tristan tried to speak again, this time with a different thought, "So Corban and Zach really weren't my brothers?"
The thought horrified him, and he was glad when Peter immediately jumped in and said, "No one ever said that. You don't have to be related by blood to be brothers." Tristan looked up and met Peter's eyes, searching for some sign that the doctor had somehow witnessed what had occurred inside of his memories. He found nothing but sincerity in Peter's eyes, nothing to prove that the doctor was toying with his emotions or trying to manipulate him. Looking around the room he was stunned to realize that none of the people that faced him had any of those things present in their expressions.
"Is there a place I can be alone for a little while?" Tristan asked no one in particular. "I need to think about all of this."
"Of course," Ethan replied casually, meeting his eyes once more. "My home is your home, Tris…"
Tristan reeled at the nickname that only one person in his life used. Zach… Somehow Ethan knew details of his life that few people knew. Despite the man's strange demeanor that knowledge was the only thing about Ethan that had unsettled Tristan at all, and for some reason even that seemed minor.
Though he was still far from convinced about what role he had to play in this group, he was now convinced to explore what the Icarus Confederacy had to offer him. After what Ethan had done to him he was filled with questions, and he was sure to find at least some of the answers here.
Thanks for reading Ashes of Fate. I'd love to hear your thoughts, good or bad, on this chapter or any of the future. A writer cannot improve without feedback, and I hope to one day become a master of the craft. Please, share your thoughts, and I promise I'll give them the respect and consideration they deserve. You can email me at Samuel.D.Roe@gmail.com, or you can visit my author page on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Samuel.D.Roe.Cynus/?ref=bookmarks.
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