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Such arguments were common in the three
months after Alexander’s capture. Striker was feeling lost and alone while Matt
was nursing his damaged pride and resentment at having been cast aside by both
Alexander and the Emissaries for the task of raising an army. Twist, as ever,
was in the middle of them, acting more like Alexander than either one of them.
Their mentor and role model, the one who should have been guiding them in all
matters of the Flux for a long time to come, was gone; taken by the Flux
Hunters at the same time as his sister, Julia.
Dropping the photo to the floor, Striker
stalked from the room, trying to suppress the emotions the arguments brought to
the surface. Learning to read the echoes left in the Flux at times of intense
emotional stress often pass unnoticed by Fluxlings. The more sensitive ones
could feel some of the emotions from the echoes but during his journey, Striker
learned to tune into those echoes and let them play out in his mind.
It was tricky at first but once attuned it
became be hard to block them out. That was one echo Striker did not want to
relive.
Back in the hall, another wave of the Flux
passed through him. Instinctively, Striker turned to follow it and found
himself staring at the front door. Hovering between him and the door was
another wave of Flux forming into another humanoid shape. The purple outline
showed it to be another echo of Striker and the wave of emotion flooded into
him once more.
An overwhelming sense of loneliness and
sorrow identified it as the moment he left the safe house to begin his travels.
There were no words here as the echo stood motionless before the door.
It was the uncertainty of his decision to
leave that was holding him back. Striker remembered this clearly. Time had
shown him he wasn’t ready and the longer he stayed, the more frustrated he
became. He had to stretch his wings and learn more about the Flux and what he
could do with it. He desperately wanted Twist and Matt to go with him but Matt
would call him a coward for running away. Twist wouldn’t, but the
disappointment in her eyes would be there. Striker knew that for a fact.
A creak from above spurred the echo into
motion. It opened the door, which didn’t actually move in reality, stepped
through and quietly closed it behind him.
That should have been the end of it but the
Flux was still invading his mind. The sense of loss grew and there was an edge
of fear too. It was from his echo because Striker knew that he had instantly
become preoccupied with where to go and how to get there.
“Goodbye…”
The word took him by surprise and he
turned around again to follow the Flux to its source. Ignoring the kitchen,
Striker turns to look up the stairs and sees the echo dissipate into the air
again. It was a yellow outline. It was Twist. She was awake when he left. Was
she waiting for him to ask her to join him? Or was she hoping he wouldn’t
leave?
The third question hit him even harder;
did he even want to know the answer?
As if on autopilot, Striker climbed the
stairs to the first floor and stood on the landing with his eyes closed. He
willed for another echo to manifest, or even replay the one he had just seen
but the house remained still. Opening his eyes he could see all the doors on
this level were closed bar the study and the bathroom. A part of him wanted to
knock on Twist’s door, just in case she was still there but he picked up no
trace of her Flux other than the echo.
After a step towards the stairs to the
second floor he stopped and turned to face the study. The door was slightly
ajar but the dust on the floor told him the door hadn’t moved in months, maybe
longer.
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