With a fluttering sensation, Kestrel stepped out of Brandon’s psychic landscape, only to discover that the frenzied changes within him had rcifully co to a halt.
Though his fra bore countless scars, the uncontrollable, ceaselessly expanding wings, insect-like torso, and appendages were slowly drawing back to their original form.
A delicate blue butterfly shrunk to a minuscule size before delicately settling on Kestrel’s fingertip. With a couple of gentle wing flaps, it seed to convey a heartfelt thank you before weakly drifting towards Brandon, landing sowhat clumsily on his shoulder, and then vanishing within him.
As Kestrel scrutinized Brandon, she couldn’t overlook the significant burn scars marred across his back, a distressing testant to a painful past event.
In the psychic landscape, she had glimpsed the origin of this horrendous mark; it was a cruel reminder left by Brandon’s father who had poured boiling water on him when they were rely children.
Though ti might have amplified and twisted these mories within the depths of agony, they were undeniably grounded in real, traumatic events that had happened in their lives.
This twin siblings had endured a harrowing upbringing. The younger brother, who had differentiated as a beta, had found a way to unite with his elder brother in a shared corporeal existence after his own untily demise, forming a bond that allowed them to lean on each other for survival.
Their journey in life had been fraught with obstacles and tribulations, giving rise to a haunting possibility that their fate was to perish within this ominous cage.
Kestrel cast her gaze downwards, fixating on the figure within the cage. An unfamiliar surge of emotions began to stir within her usually impassive heart, emotions that seed akin to sympathy or perhaps even pity.
It had been an eternity since she last contemplated these sensations.
A mory from her youth surfaced: a ti when a friendly little dog, a frequent visitor seeking food at the beta academy, had t its end. While her classmates had surrounded the lifeless canine, their cries echoing around, Kestrel had remained detached, her face devoid of emotion.
"Kestrel, why aren’t you shedding tears? Didn’t you care for this dog the most?" a concerned teacher had asked.
Kestrel had stood still, silently pondering why she should weep. The dog was gone, and tears wouldn’t alter that stark reality.
"Such a heartless child," a voice had chid in.
"She doesn’t possess the inherent empathetic qualities of a beta; she isn’t a genuine beta."
"Absolutely, too frigid, akin to a creature devoid of feelings."
These fragnted whispers, tinged with judgent and disappointnt, reached Kestrel’s ears. On occasions, Kestrel would introspect, trying to fathom what compassion truly entailed. Was it embodying others’ feelings as if they were your own? This seed like a profoundly complex emotion, sothing seemingly unreachable for soone perceived as a ’monster’, even with relentless efforts.
But now, in a mont of unforeseen clarity, she realized that perhaps she harbored such nuanced feelings deep within her. She experienced a deep-rooted sorrow for the agonizing trials the alpha twins had faced and fostered a fervent hope that their allies, who were scheming to set off explosives beneath the tower, would showcase greater skill and competence.
She found herself yearning for their successful evasion from the queen’s relentless chase, envisioning a daring rescue that would liberate the battered brothers from their grim enclosure. Simultaneously, a budding curiosity erged within her, a curiosity about the individual capable of eluding the queen’s formidable psychic scrutiny and infiltrating this secure facility.
Almost imdiately as Kestrel was lost in her thoughts, a figure stord in through the grand palace gates. It was an alpha, wearing all black and hiding behind a gas mask.
Kestrel felt a jolt of surprise as she saw the person burst in. In this area, she had always stayed alert, keeping a close watch over everything with her psychic abilities. However, soone had managed to sneak onto this floor unnoticed. It was evident that this alpha had a firm grip on controlling his psychic energy from leaking out, making it clear he was able to dodge the queen’s surveillance and get here.
The second their eyes locked, Kestrel instantly knew the identity of the intruder. Despite changing his weapon and concealing his face, not letting even a tiny hint of psychic activity slip, she recognized him imdiately.
She knew this alpha’s every gesture too well, but she had never imagined that the rescuer racing to Brandon’s aid would be him.
It was Ren.
The rebel notorious for causing havoc, igniting the queen’s fury by blowing up the Tower; the mysterious and feared rebel everyone talked about—that was Ren, Kestrel’s exclusive alpha.
As Ren stepped into the scene, the other alphas in the grand room suddenly shook off their stupor and lunged towards him.
Without uttering a single word, Ren swiftly dropped to one knee, positioning a weirdly designed grenade launcher on his shoulder and aiming it at everyone present.
"Surely, he wouldn’t aim at , would he?" Just as the thought flashed through Kestrel’s mind, Ren had already swiftly pointed his weapon her way, letting off a grenade with a resounding bang.
A loud explosion echoed in the room, releasing a plu of thick, white smoke that rapidly engulfed the entire space. One by one, the alphas present began to topple over, succumbing to the smoke.
The rounds Ren utilized were sourced from the Eyehole. Previously, when he had a run-in with Taja there, even Ren, known for his incredible determination, had been effortlessly brought down by this substance.
This powerful sedative, which was yet to be available to the public, swiftly rendered each alpha unconscious, leaving the beta with no chance to avoid the sa fate.
Yet, what went unnoticed was that as Kestrel fell to the ground, the dark-garbed infiltrator quickly moved beside her, extending his arms to gently catch her tumbling figure.
With his face concealed by the gas mask, Ren looked down at Kestrel cradled in his arms. Beneath the lens of his goggles, his normally stern eyes softened in that instant. Unable to control himself, he tenderly brushed his fingers through Kestrel’s silky black hair.
He gazed at the peaceful face of Kestrel in his arms. With her eyes shut, she looked serene nestled against him, the soft shadow of her eyelashes gracing her smooth, young face, evoking mories of nurous instances in the Polluted Zone where they kept a vigilant eye on each other as they rested.
Since their ti at the Eyehole ended, they hadn’t had the opportunity to be so near to one another. Now, fate had thrown them together once again, in the midst of a smoke-filled and chaotic battleground.
On that damp morning following the rain, Ren whispered a few tender words of caution by the window; the journey they shared returning from the Eyehole, a clandestine gentle touch witnessed by none; the quick yet aningful looks they exchanged during the elevator rides up and down the Tower — these fleeting monts were all they managed to share since they got out of the Eyehole.
Kestrel had transford quite significantly, now constantly accompanied by nurous friends and alphas. In contrast, Ren was treading a perilous path, always on the brink of danger, barely having a mont to be close to her.
Gently, Ren’s fingers played with Kestrel’s lengthy hair, feeling its cool, silky texture that reminded him of soft tendrils grazing the skin.
Initially, he had hoped to avoid succumbing completely to this deepening affection, fearing it would be his weakness. He had desired only a friendship with Kestrel, but he recognized now that resisting his feelings any longer was futile. He was thoroughly and hopelessly entwined with her.
Every fiber of his being, both physically and in the psychic realm, longed for her presence unceasingly.
Holding up a few strands of Kestrel’s raven hair, he hesitated briefly before bending down to press a delicate kiss upon them, feeling his face flush under the concealnt of the mask.
He understood that this might very well be their last solitary mont together. Perhaps after the ensuing battle, a safe retreat would be impossible.
Such grim thoughts fueled Ren’s resolve to seize this fleeting opportunity for an intimate gesture.
"I’m... sorry," his voice barely above a whisper, he apologized for his sudden emotional surge.
In the midst of this war-torn area where survival was precarious, among the resounding echoes of gunfire and flying bullets, he found an unexpected sanctuary in her presence. Her hair beca a source of solace for him, like a beta pheromone, easing his accumulating stress and fears.
Monts, precious as gold, ticked away swiftly. Ren’s grip tightened subtly, holding onto Kestrel with a newfound determination. Finally, with a tender touch supporting her head, he gently placed her onto the ground.
A tiny orca erged, offering sad whimpers while affectionately nudging against Kestrel’s head, glaring with an evident displeasure at Ren through its sharp teeth.
Ren chose to ignore it, not sparing another glance at the prone figure of Kestrel. He rose and purposefully walked towards the cage with Brandon in.
He couldn’t help but reminisce about the first ti he encountered Kestrel. In the snowy alley, he had coldly pressed a knife to young Kestrel’s delicate neck.
Now, history seed to repeat as he drugged her and left her vulnerable on the ground, inflicting pain once more. Ren harbored a sorrowful hope that Kestrel would find it in her heart to forgive him when she regained consciousness. This thought weighed heavily on the formidable warrior.
To Ren’s relief, Brandon’s state was not as dire as anticipated. Despite bearing the marks of brutal tornt, he managed to retain his human form, albeit gravely wounded and confined within the iron cage. Remarkably, he remained conscious. As Ren applied the antidote, Brandon’s eyelids fluttered open, his gaze fixating on Ren, his lips parting slightly, hinting at an attempt to voice sothing.
Ren sensed the fading traces of a potent beta psychic energy that had yet to vanish completely. He knew that just a little while before, soone had stood in his place to help Brandon. That energy signature was unmistakable, so distinctive that he didn’t need to delve deeper to know who it belonged to.
It had to be Kestrel’s.
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