Six Years Later

If Caz was sure about one thing, he was tired of pancakes.

He picked at them on his plate, unable to bring the fork to his mouth. Maybe it was just that he didn't like Tuesdays. Yet that didn't seem fair to Tuesday. No, his dislike of pancakes was purely his fault.

"Not hungry?"

Caz lifted his attention from his plate. Alaban had taken the seat across from him. The lean albino boy had also brought a plate of pancakes, yet didn't seem keen on eating them.

"No," Caz answered, pushing his plate away. "Not really."

Alaban sighed. "You see, I really don't know what to say in these situations. I'd acknowledge that we're both not hungry because of the whole anniversary thing, but what would be the point? You're just going to say, why bring it up? Yeah, it pains us both. But I also can't think of anything else to say right now."

Caz glanced at Jacira, the white tigress sitting at Alaban's side. The boy gently scratched the quiet feline behind the ears. "To this day, I'm surprised your Spirit is a tiger and not something like... I don't know, a canary," Caz muttered.

The other boy shrugged. "Spirits don't always match their human counterparts. I mean, does yours?"

"Hmph," Caz scoffed. "Fair point."

The Spirit in question curled up around his leg. A smokey mass with two bright, glowing red eyes. Thats all that Maelor was. Right now, Maelor had gathered himself together into the form of something resembling a fox. A very dark, shadowy fox.

"It's easy to be taciturn when half your conversations go unheard," Maelor pointed out. The Spirit's voice in his mind was as scattered as Maelor's atoms; bouncing around and echoing. "For all we know, Jacira's a chatterbox."

Caz mentally chuckled. "Yes, it's certainly hard to play the alluring quiet type when everyone's that way."

Maelor's eyes flashed. "We've still got an advantage. I'm by far the most handsome Spirit here."

Alaban twiddled his fork on his plate. "So... Are we still on for tonight? After the memorial?"

Caz nodded subtly, suddenly conscious of all of the other students breakfasting in the dining hall. "It'd help if you told me what we were doing."

The pale boy gave up on his pancakes and settled for stroking his Spirit. "Just trust me."

Caz sighed. "So long as it doesn't get us kicked out. That's happened far too many times already."

Alaban huffed. "And who's fault was that? Mr. I'm gonna go off and change the world?" He shook his head. "Not like it matters that much. They're kicking you out in a few days anyway."

What few bites of pancake he'd eaten turned sour in his stomach. "Don't remind me." He picked up his plate and stood. "I'll see you at the memorial." With that, he turned and quit the table.

Alaban called after him. "Caz- I'm sorry man I didn't mean- Caz!"

Caz only kept walking. He'd had enough talking for one day.

---

Caz was tired of pancakes, but candles were an entirely different realm.

He held the fat candle in his lap, trying his best to avoid looking at it. The only problem with that was he couldn't see where the hot wax was dripping down. His hands burned, yet he didn't care. He'd rather burn than look at the flame.

The cold stone bench chilled through his dark pants, and the night air cut right through his thin gray shirt and brown jacket. He kept his head down, but he was well aware of the ocean of students around him, all holding candles like his own. Rows upon rows of stone benches in the middle of the woods led to a massive stone tablet.

On it, more names than he could count.

Before the stone stood the Archon of the school. In his shriveled hands, he held a scroll that dipped nearly to the nettle-scattered ground. "House Phoenix," the Archon declared.

From amidst the ocean, a girl about his age with fiery red hair stood. She walked to the memorial stone, and set her candle before it, adding to the long line of candles burning before the names of the Silenced. The girl returned to her seat.

"House Basilisk."

A lanky boy rose and repeated the process.

"House Dragon."

No one stood.

Caz muttered under his breath. "This ceremony is pointless."

The Archon continued. "House Wraith."

Alaban whispered, "It's almost over."

"House Pegasus."

"How can you possibly know that? They aren't going in order," Caz argued.

"House Raven."

Caz's blood ran cold.

Alaban shrugged. "You should go."

Caz didn't move. "Why don't you this time."

The albino shook his head. "I stand for Drowyn."

He grumbled, and stood. He carried his candle down the long aisle of people, a glowing sea of faces cast in amber light.

Up close to the wall, he could read the names.

He knew from past years exactly where they were. Rhys'. Indrani's. Their parents. Right at the top, towards the right. As he stood before the tablet, his eyes fixated on that spot. On their names.

Indrani. That beautiful, copper skin. Silky black hair. Warm amber eyes.

Caz forced himself to bend down and place the candle.

He knew that somewhere in the vast expanse of names, his own family was there. Somewhere. Caz had spent countless hours scanning the tablet for them. Yet it was impossible to tell. He had no idea what Maelor was. No one did. Without the House name, his parents could be any of hundreds.

He turned away from the tablet.

Remembering the Silenced was respectful.

But finding them was his goal.

At least, it used to be.

---

"Al, where are we going? Alaban!"

Caz's complaints went ignored. The pale boy continued to duck and weave around the rubble of the half-collapsed building. Caz, with his considerably broader and taller frame, struggled to keep up. Alaban was able to squeeze himself through places that took Caz several embarrassing minutes.

"Alaban, the school's gonna see we're gone soon. Where are you taking me?"

"You'll see!" Alaban called back.

Caz groaned. "You're usually so talkative. Why can't you be loud and obnoxious when I want you to be? Why can't people ever just be consistent?"

"Just keep talking!"

"Why?"

"Just do!"
Caz halted. "Then perhaps it's time I practice my stoic silence."

Alaban paused and rolled his eyes. "Oh stop being such a child. The more noise we make the less likely she'll be to blow our heads off." With that, Alaban disappeared through another crumbling hole in a wall, forcing Caz to follow.

The further they went, the more a sound began to echo from ahead. Less a sound, and more of a harsh, continuous noise.

Music?

He moved closer and found his answer.

Bad music.

Indeed, a terrible, harsh rock blasted out from a cracked-open door at the end of the dark hallway. Light poured out of the room, as harsh as the music.

"Who the heck tries to hide and blasts awful music at the same time? How haven't they been found?"

Alaban shrugged. "There's a reason she's encased herself in the basement of an abandoned hotel."

Caz narrowed his eyes. "She?"

Alaban gestured to follow. "You remember all those years of plotting, trying to find a way to get Indrani and Rhys back?"
A cold sense filled his belly. "Don't. I've given up on that, Alaban. Those were the dreams of a hopeful boy who thought he could change the world. I've grown up."

Alaban grabbed his arm. "Please, Caz. Give it one more chance. I think I've finally found a way--"

Caz tore his arm away. "I'm tired of this. Don't tempt me, Al. I don't want hope. There's no way of getting her back-- of getting them back."

The pale boy crossed his arms, then flung them out again. "Fine, fine. But can you at least go in? So she won't think I was lying about the strong determined brother I've been bragging about?"

He scoffed. "I think if I go any nearer, my ears are gonna explode."

All of the sarcasm dropped from Alaban's face. "Please, just go. You won't be around to give me an 18th birthday present. So give me this."

That struck Caz right in the gut. Before he could let the feeling sink in, he grumbled and pushed past Alaban. "Fine. But I'm not staying long enough to be missed back at the school."

Opening that door was a surreal experience.

A plethora of lights. None of them soft, all scattered about what must have been an office at some point. A spacious one, with a large dark sofa and a record player. The source of the awful noise.

And there, sitting on the redwood desk, her back to Caz, sat a woman in a long dark coat.

"Hey, uh, I'm supposed to talk to you," Caz yelled above the music.

One moment, she was staring at the record player.

The next, she had a pistol aimed between his eyes.