Page 211 of Interion

As he watched, Kaori's father shot him a sour look, then quickly pretended he didn't exist. Zion exchanged a meaningful glance with Kaori and silently thanked her for staying put. He didn't want any more trouble, so he shifted his attention and cleared his mind.

People finally stopped arriving. Everyone looked at Zion and saluted, though only a few actually greeted him. Many knew what the general had done in the gorge, and he couldn't tell if they were more afraid now or grateful for the vengeance. Looking at everyone present, Zion wondered how many deaths it would take to achieve peace. He believed the world had a natural cycle of hatred between wars. As long as conflict existed, both sides would fight for a cause they deemed noble. Right now, he was fighting for peace, but he didn't know how much of it was truly peace or just a blind desire to strike back because he'd been struck. The general knew that wanting to maintain peace would only provoke more wars, and pain would keep being born to protect happiness. But what was the meaning of love, war, victory, or loss? In the end, it all just brought more tears. He no longer saw meaning in the battles he was fighting. After all, when he lost his men, darkness enveloped him, and when he killed the enemy, he lost a piece of his soul too.

Zion ended up alone. He heard footsteps in the distance, but at that moment, it was just him and his grief. The rain grew heavier and he looked up, watching in slow motion as the drops washed over him and soaked into his suit. Some stung his eyes, but he liked to imagine it was rain, not tears, streaming down his face. He closed his eyes and stayed there, still, just breathing.

He caught his partner's scent, but it had to be anguish playing tricks on his mind. Pain struck at the most fragile parts of his heart—of course it would send memories of her. Then suddenly, the rain stopped. He opened his eyes and instead of the gray sky, saw a yellow umbrella above his head. He looked to the side. Kyller was watching him.

“You came,” he whispered, stunned. He was afraid she was a hallucination brought on by the whirlwind of emotions.

“I thought you might need an umbrella,” she murmured, with a half-smile that didn't reach her eyes.

He composed himself, running his hands over his face and trying to hide the moisture, but he knew she'd smell the salt. Tears smelled as strong as blood. He was ashamed to be caught like this, but there was nothing he could do about it now. It was the second time she'd seen him vulnerable; apparently, he was the crybaby in the relationship and she was the strong one. Serguei had always warned him he was too soft. It was true.

He studied her—she was beautiful. Every freckle, every strand of red hair, every golden fleck in her intense eyes. His heart swelled until it nearly overflowed, and now he could finally breathe. The weight became bearable, simply because his ray of sunshine was there.

“Thank you for bringing an umbrella. You just saved me from a storm.”

Kyller looked around at the light drizzle falling on all the people pretending not to watch them.

“It doesn't look like it's going to rain much,” she murmured, staring at the cloudy sky.

She didn't understand that the storm was in the general's heart.

He gently took the umbrella from her hands, taking over the task of shielding them from the rain. It was small, so he pressed close to her.

“Thank you for coming,” he said, gently slipping his arm around Kyller. She wore a black button-down shirt tucked into a fitted black skirt that fell to her knees.

“It was nothing,” she whispered, meeting his gaze.

The droplets pattered on the yellow plastic above their heads, and Zion couldn't stop staring at those full lips painted burnt red. They were so perfectly shaped, with a slight mark cutting through them right in the center. He had to force himself to look away or he'd lose his mind.

The ceremonialist called for everyone's attention, taking his position at the stone altar, and began the ceremony. He spoke of love, death, and the compassion of the Gods. At the end, everyone prayed for the God of Life and the Goddess of Death to welcome the souls into their realm and reincarnate them in better times, when peace would reign and wars would end. Kyller stayed by Zion's side throughout the entire ceremony, and when it ended, she waited for all the family members to leave. Now that she was beside him, Zion would stay until the end. And so he did. Hours later, when the rain grew even heavier, Zion allowed himself to breathe and wipe his damp face.

“Let's go. I think I've said goodbye enough,” he announced wearily. She nodded, wiping away a few tears of her own as she watched him tenderly.

“Let's go.”

Zion transported them to the end of their block. He still didn't want to say goodbye to his partner—he felt so much better with her beside him.

The two strolled along the sidewalk, gazing at the puddles that reflected like mirrors. He looked at their reflections and could hardly believe he'd been blessed with such a beautiful partner. It was surreal to look at her face—the wide, delicate shape of it, the imperious eyebrows, the arched nose full of freckles, skin as white as the moon, making her large golden eyes stand out even more. He was afraid of getting lost in that beauty.

Kyller also seemed lost in her own thoughts as they walked slowly along the sidewalk. Her perfume left him so intoxicated that sometimes it took effort to remember how to put one foot in front of the other. Unfortunately, no matter how much he tried to delay the moment, they arrived in front of the house, and he stopped. He still wasn't ready to go inside and be shut in with her, returning to that horrible feeling of closeness and distance all at once.

She moved to enter the garden and he stayed rooted in place. She turned back and he tried to hand her the umbrella so she wouldn't get wet. Kyller ignored it and, her eyes still locked on his, asked:

“Aren't you going to come in?”

He shook his head, couldn't even remember how to use his mouth anymore. He cleared his throat, then responded in a clear voice.

“I think... I'm going to take a walk. I need to think...” He couldn't finish, because he didn't know what he'd do next anyway. He just didn't want to be near her, because he felt he'd end up rehashing everything they'd said the night before. He didn't want to make a fool of himself.

She seemed to understand, or Zion at least thought so, since he'd never been able to fully decipher his partner's mind. Kyller turned somewhat unsteadily and walked toward the door, seeming a bit sad too. To his own despair, he couldn't leave. Couldn't force himself to go. Couldn't stop looking at that stunning woman, his partner, who was walking away from him while he stood powerless. Unable to touch her, unable to be with her. Unable to chase away all the sadness and anguish he was feeling. Why did everything in his life have to be so complicated? He was exhausted. Exhausted from having to be strong all the time.

Zion heard his partner unlock the electronic door, but heard no footsteps. He focused on what was actually happening and saw her there, standing before the door, but with her eyes on him—thoughtful, indecisive, waging a battle with herself. Please, Kyller. He pleaded silently, but she turned toward the door. Zion felt himself shatter once more. He never learned. He turned aside, resuming his walk down the street, umbrella still over his head.

He hadn't taken two steps before he heard his name.

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