Chapter 75 I Care
The silence broke like glass. A murmur spread across the hall as the guests blinked themselves back into awareness, their shoulders twitching, their gazes darting about like startled prey. Champagne spilled, cutlery clattered, and an ocean of confused whispers flooded the ballroom.
“What… what just happened?” a man asked, pressing trembling fingers against his temples.
Another woman clutched her pearls, her voice cracking. “I can’t… I can’t rember. Was I asleep? No… I was talking—no, I was chanting…”
The atmosphere turned heavy with fear, panic rising like smoke in the room. Then one sharp voice cut through the confusion.
“It’s him!”
Dozens of eyes locked onto . Recognition burned there, feeding panic into terror. Faces I knew from politicians, magnates, and various celebrities turned pale. Soon, screams followed.
“Eclipse!”
“The monster of Markend!”
“God, sobody stop him!”
I felt their terror crawling over my skin, every thread of empathy twisting in my chest. They were nothing but a storm of scattered emotions now from fear, hatred, and revulsion. I no longer belonged here, I realized.
Without a word, I stepped backward into the windowpane. The glass trembled against , then gave way as I phased through it. The shrieks from inside blended with the howl of the wind.
And then I fell.
The city stretched beneath , a jagged sprawl of towers, smoke, and neon. For a mont, I let gravity take , the weightlessness cleansing, almost freeing. I was almost tempted to end it right there. But I couldn’t.
There had to be a reason why I’m alive.
“I’m going to find it.”
Why do I live?
…
..
.
A week passed.
Ti blurred, but I hadn’t died. I hadn’t even slowed down. I kept moving through alleys, shadows, and naless rooms, a phantom in my own city. Sothing in had shifted that night in Estrella Alta. Hall’s death, the truth of Crow’s illusions, and the screaming faces of people who now only saw as a monster… It all hollowed out.
I wasn’t different physically. My strength, my powers, and my reflexes. They all remained. Even my Empathic powers that I thought to be temporary. A piece of Onyx and Silver lived within . But my mind, my perspective, and the fragile tether of what I once was… that was gone.
I was a changed man.
Not better. Not worse. Just sothing else entirely.
The bench felt cool beneath as I settled into it, the wood worn down by countless strangers who had sat here before. Around , life went on without pause as families walked along the pronade, joggers passed by with their earbuds in, and the chatter of children blended with the rush of the tide. Nobody minded , and I preferred it that way.
I leaned back, watching as the sun dipped slowly toward the horizon. The ocean reflected its light in rippling shards, painting the beach in hues of gold and crimson. For the first ti in a while, Markend looked calm. The riots had burned out, the city had exhaled, and even if it was only temporary, the chaos I had stirred had settled into silence.
News of Hall’s death spread like fire. His identity as Crow had been revealed, unmasked before the entire city. People called it justice. Others called it proof that corruption reached deeper than anyone dared admit. I had done my due diligence. Exposing Hall, the SRC, the Vanguard’s fractures… all of it. Even Sunstrider, once hailed as the city’s radiant hero, was rembered now with suspicion and unease. His true nature lingered like a scar on the public’s conscience. Heroes were not always heroes. So were just better liars.
It had been grueso work, but I knew where to look.
I felt my empathic powers acting up. It began with a soft pulse of disappointnt, and then sadness. A small thread tugged at , fragile and untainted. I turned my head and saw a little girl pulling a cart, the plastic wheels rattling against the pavent. Boxes of cookies stacked neatly inside, untouched.
She stopped in front of , her tiny hands still gripping the cart’s handle. “Mister, do you want so?” she asked, her voice shy, yet hopeful.
Her emotions reached clearer than her words. She hadn’t sold a single box, and she was too young to wear failure on her sleeve. I reached into the inside of my suit, fingers brushing against a folded bill. I pulled out a hundred mark note and handed it to her.
Her eyes widened, and joy replaced the sorrow I’d felt monts ago. She dug into her cart and pulled out two boxes. “You can have two!” she said, her smile too bright for this world.
Before I could respond, a woman rushed over, worry etched across her face. She grabbed the girl gently by the shoulder. “Sorry, sir. Let’s go, Leslie. Don’t just talk to strangers like that…” Her eyes flicked over , uneasy. “…he seems dangerous.”
The girl frowned but obeyed, the brightness fading as quickly as it ca. The mother led her away, their footsteps soft against the boards of the pronade.
I glanced down at the cookies in my lap, the red sunset washing over the box. I tore the seal and opened it, the faint sll of sugar rising as the waves rolled in.
The horizon burned as the sun sank lower, and I watched it in contemplation.
“So… boring.”
From the threads I had spun, I could taste the emotions bleeding off the crowd that passed by. So were mundane, routine drifts of boredom, fatigue, or fleeting contentnt. Others carried spikes of agitation from argunts simring, excitent over so small win, even the quiet buzz of lust tucked under polite faces. It was all noise to , an endless orchestra I couldn’t turn off.
I finished the entire box of cookies without realizing it, chewing through the last crumbs as the horizon darkened. Dusk crept across the city like a bruise, painting the streets in shades of violet and amber. I rose from the bench and started walking again, the remaining box of cookies tucked under my arm while I ate lazily from it.
It should have been impossible. A highly wanted man, a figure whispered about in headlines and warrants, strolling openly in the city he had scarred. They called a murderer, a phantom, and a terrorist, yet here I was, wandering among them like I was just another face. I wasn’t even wearing the mask anymore.
That was the point.
It was the combined application of my intangibility and empathic ratings. Phasing light was still beyond , too sharp, too insistent; invisibility was out of reach. And truthfully, I doubted my power would ever develop in that direction. But I didn’t need to vanish from sight. I only needed to blur.
The trick wasn’t in the eyes but in the heart. With my empathic threads woven carefully, I could distort the emotional perception people had of . Their minds would fill in the blanks with whatever face seed forgettable or convenient. They would imagine as the most generic man in the crowd, or conjure a stranger they would never recall minutes later. Recognition beca impossible, because in their minds, there was nothing worth rembering.
I stopped in front of a tailor shop, the glow of its lamps spilling onto the pavent. The glass reflected my borrowed disguise back at . A drab young man stared out of the window, his suit wrinkled, his fedora tilting too far forward, as unremarkable as dust. I let the reflection fade behind as I walked on, the city buzzing quietly around my blurred presence.
By the ti I stopped, I stood before a small ho.
I phased through the wall, my body slipping inside what used to be an abandoned ho. The air was stale, carrying dust and the faint sll of old wood. Crow had once used this place as a safe house, a forgotten den tucked between rows of decaying apartnts. Now it was sothing else entirely. It had beco hers.
The woman I cherished lay asleep on the couch, the flickering glow of the TV painting her in pale blues and grays. Her chest rose and fell in the steady rhythm of exhaustion. I stood there longer than I should have, watching her. Onyx. Silver. But no… she wasn’t either of them anymore. She was sothing else, soone else. And yet, to , she was still… her.
The television droned on in the background.
“…recovery efforts continue across Markend after the tragic revelations surrounding Michael Hall, also known as Crow. Officials confirm dozens of compromised officials have stepped down amid the scandal. The SRC and the Vanguard are facing one of the largest audits in recent history, their credibility severely damaged. Citizens demand reform as investigations deepen. The Council of City-States has issued statents promising tighter oversight and stricter protocols for cape activity…”
I found the remote and clicked it off, silencing the broadcast. The room fell into a heavy quiet, only the soft hum of the fridge and her steady breathing filling the space. I walked closer and placed the half-eaten box of cookies on the table.
She shifted in her sleep, murmuring sothing I couldn’t quite catch.
I grabbed the sheets draped over the armrest and gently pulled them across her body. She curled into the warmth, unaware of standing there. My hand lingered for a mont longer than I should have, then withdrew. I bent down and pressed my lips to her forehead, a whisper of a kiss. The kind you give when you know it may be the last.
From under my suit jacket, I pulled out the manila envelope. It was thick with papers, maps, and a carefully assembled truth. I placed it beside the box of cookies and then set my fedora over it, as if the gesture could sohow make it feel more like a gift than a burden.
I stood over her, conflicted. I wished I could leave her more… money, safety, stability. But money would only draw suspicion, and the SRC would track every mark. I had already burned too much to risk her trail being exposed. And Markend… Markend was no longer safe for . Not even with my powers. The Council had decided to bear down with everything they had. After the chaos I’d stirred, I couldn’t stay here.
The thought of taking her with crossed my mind, and for a second, I almost convinced myself it would work. She probably still had her powers, and from a purely utilitarian perspective, she could be useful. But she wasn’t a tool. She wasn’t soone to be bent to purpose. She wasn’t just a stranger either.
Because I cared for her. That was why I was doing this.
I turned toward the door, my chest tightening as though every step away was tearing sothing from .
My voice ca out low and hoarse, breaking against the silence of the room.
“Maybe one day you’ll hate enough to forget . But until then… at least know that I never stopped caring.”
And then I left.
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