The garden scape was an unexpected sanctuary, a vibrant tapestry of nature woven into the chaotic urban sprawl. We spilled out of the car, the roar of the engine dying into an unnerving silence that amplified the frantic beating of my own heart. Lush emerald ferns unfurled their delicate fronds, their damp scent mingling with the sweet fragrance of unseen blossoms. Towering bamboo stalks swayed gently, their leaves rustling a hushed secret as sunlight filtered through the dense canopy above, dappling the ground in shifting patterns of gold and shadow. A tranquil koi pond, its surface like polished obsidian, reflected the sky, offering a fleeting illusion of peace.
Yet, no amount of natural beauty could soothe the tempest brewing within me. The echoes of the disembodied voice still scraped at my nerves, and the haunting, eyeless grin felt branded onto my retina. My mind, still reeling from the sudden flight and the chief's cryptic pronouncements, searched for an anchor, a shred of understanding in the swirling chaos.
"Why?" I finally managed to ask, my voice hoarse, barely a whisper in the sudden stillness. The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken questions. "Why are they after us? What did we do?"
The question, simple as it was, seemed to trigger a collective response. Sweet, Zara, and even Koji, who had been meticulously scanning the perimeter, turned to face me. Their expressions, once fraught with the urgency of escape, now shifted to a chilling mixture of sympathy, regret, and a profound, almost deferential fear.
"They're not after us," Zara began, her voice unusually soft, devoid of its usual playful edge.
Koji finished the sentence, his gaze uncharacteristically direct, almost pitying. "They're after you."
The words hit me like a physical blow, a sudden, sharp intake of breath that constricted my lungs. It wasn't the pain of the chief's truth-telling, but a cold, insidious dread that seeped into my bones. Me? Why me? What could I possibly have done to provoke such a relentless, shadowy pursuit? The very air seemed to thicken, pressing down on me, stealing my breath. A visceral chill snaked its way up my spine, prickling my skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth of the afternoon. My hands instinctively clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms, trying to ground myself against the rising tide of panic.
Sweet stepped forward, his eyes, usually so calm and discerning, now held a deep, troubled gravity. He moved with a measured slowness, as if approaching a skittish, wounded animal. "There's a great deal you don't know, Okonogie," he began, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seemed to vibrate through the very earth beneath my feet. "Secrets that have been kept hidden, for your protection."
My mind raced, grasping at fragments, trying to piece together the shattered mosaic of my past. The chief's words about my lineage, the painful truth-telling, the disembodied voice... it was all connected, inextricably linked to me.
Sweet continued, his gaze unwavering. "Your grandmother sent us, Okonogie. She tasked us with protecting you, with guiding you, when you finally awakened the essence of living."
Grandma. The name was a phantom limb, an ache in my heart that had never truly healed. A surge of grief, sharp and raw, tore through me. The memory of the gruesome smile, the eerie voice, the cold presence in the dome... it all coalesced into a single, terrifying conclusion.
"But... but she's dead," I whispered, the words catching in my throat, each syllable a jagged shard of pain. A single tear, hot and defiant, traced a path down my cheek, a testament to the unacknowledged wound of her absence. I remembered her gentle hands, her whispered stories, the comforting scent of her clothes. All gone. And now, this chase, this danger, was somehow tied to her, to me.
Sweet's face softened, a flicker of profound sorrow in his eyes. He didn't confirm or deny her death, but his silence, coupled with the grim set of his jaw, was confirmation enough for my fractured heart. He continued, his voice heavy with the weight of generations.
"The power you wield, Okonogie," he explained, his gaze sweeping over me, as if seeing not just me, but the immense, untamed force that simmered beneath my skin, "is not like anything else we've ever encountered. To make it even more complicated, you are from the true kings' lineage, the Okonogie's. The direct descendants of the founders of Noekyota, imbued with an ancient authority that has long been thought lost."
He paused, allowing the weight of that revelation to settle. True kings' lineage. The words felt both alien and strangely familiar, echoing the faint stirrings I'd felt while gazing at the ancient carvings in the chief's building. It was a crown placed upon a head that felt too young, too unprepared.
"And definitely," Sweet pressed on, his voice gaining a new edge of urgency, "that's why we're being pursued by everyone. Your very existence sends ripples through the hidden world. To some, you are a harbinger of good fortune, a prize to be captured, a tool to be exploited for their own gain. They seek to control that immense power, to bend the will of the ancient kings to their own ambitions."
My mind flashed back to the figures in the academy, the whispers, the unspoken judgments. Was that what they saw? A pawn? A weapon?
"To others," Sweet continued, his voice darkening, "you are a profound danger, a destabilizing force that threatens the carefully balanced order they have painstakingly built. They fear what you could become, what your power could unleash if left unchecked or, worse, if it falls into the wrong hands."
The memory of the disembodied smile returned, cold and malicious. Was that what it meant? A threat that had finally materialized?
"And now, to the world, to the countless factions and hidden societies that operate in the shadows, you are an outlaw." He searched for the right words, his brow furrowed. "A rogue element, a pariah, a marked one, a fugitive from an unspoken law. You are seen as an anomaly, a wild card that cannot be controlled, and therefore, must be eliminated or brought to heel."
Outlaw. The word resonated with a bitter truth. My life, it seemed, was destined to be one of flight, of concealment, forever on the run from forces I couldn't even name. The weight of it settled on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating.
Sweet took another deep breath, preparing for the next, perhaps most difficult, revelation. "We are all Kanjōkhö's," he explained, gesturing to himself, Zara, and Koji. "We possess Yami-ebhi, the elemental energy that flows through the world, shaping and being shaped by our emotions. Each of us, through life choices and innate disposition, masters a single emotion. Koji, for instance, channels his focus and drive through Okao Zankoku—anger, tempered into controlled aggression. Zara, her boundless spirit and protective instincts, through Yorokobi—joy, which she uses to uplift and inspire. My own Arhian—sadness, allows me to perceive vulnerabilities and connect with deeper emotional currents, guiding me in strategy."
He paused, letting the information sink in. I looked at Koji, whose intense focus now made more sense, and at Zara, whose infectious optimism often masked a fierce protectiveness. Sweet's calm demeanor, tinged with an underlying melancholy, also clicked into place. These weren't just feelings; they were powers, cultivated and honed.
Then, his gaze returned to me, and the air around us seemed to hum with an unspoken tension. "But yours, Okonogie, is different. Your Yami-ebhi... it is called Okhuomo-Gekido." He uttered the name with a reverence usually reserved for ancient, sacred texts. "It is a very rare technique, and profoundly dangerous. Unlike us, who master a single emotion given to us by life choices, you... you use all six of them."
My blood ran cold. All six? A whirlwind of internal chaos, a maelstrom of conflicting feelings, had always been my silent companion. Now, it seemed, that chaos was not just a part of me, but the very core of my power.
Sweet began to list them, each word a hammer blow to my fragile sense of self.
"Yorokobi—Joy," he said, and I felt a flicker of the simple happiness I sometimes found, a fleeting warmth that now seemed tainted.
"Arhian—Sadness," he continued, and the constant ache in my heart, the echoes of loss, resonated with a chilling clarity.
"Okao Zankoku—Anger," he stated, and I recalled the burning fury that sometimes consumed me, the raw desire to strike out against injustice, against pain.
"Kyofu—Fear," he murmured, and the icy grip that had paralyzed me countless times, the terror of the unknown, manifested itself anew.
"Kyogaku—Surprise," he added, and I remembered the sudden jolt of the unexpected, the way my world could shift in an instant.
"And Asien—Disgust," he finished, his voice a low thrum, and the revulsion I felt for deceit, for cruelty, for the ugliness of the world, twisted within me.
"When used all together," Sweet concluded, his voice barely a whisper, yet it resonated with an awful finality, "when all six emotions are actively channeled, you become directly... a Mileena."
The word hung in the air, a death knell. Mileena. The very name was synonymous with monstrous power, with destructive force, with everything the Rhines taught us to fear and fight. They were the rogue elements, the uncontrolled, the violent. They were the enemy. And now, I was one of them. The realization hit me with the force of a physical blow, knocking the wind from my lungs. My vision blurred, the vibrant garden fading into a grey haze. The irony was a bitter taste in my mouth. I had been training to fight them, to understand them, to ultimately defeat them, only to discover that I was inherently what I sought to overcome.
"And you're now what we all hate," Sweet said, his voice laced with an undeniable sorrow, "but we still have to keep you."
The words were a brutal paradox. Their hatred, their fear of what I was, yet their unwavering obligation to protect me. It was a forced loyalty, born not of affection, but of a greater, terrifying necessity. I could feel their discomfort, their carefully masked apprehension, even as they stood by me. They were bound by my grandmother's will, bound by the weight of my lineage, bound by a destiny none of us could escape. It was a responsibility they bore with a grim, weary resignation.
"Your power," Sweet clarified, his voice softening slightly, "was born from emotional fear and loneliness. All you knew was pain, but still, you found ways to settle out love for everyone you encountered, a small act of kindness. A small act of courage. It created a duality within you, a constant struggle between the darkness of your past and the light of your innate compassion."
His words painted a vivid, heartbreaking picture of my own life, a life shrouded in the shadows of abandonment, a relentless search for belonging. The years of isolation, the gnawing ache of being alone, the constant vigilance against a world that seemed to offer little comfort. Yet, through it all, there had always been that stubborn flicker of hope, that yearning for connection, that quiet capacity for love. It was a paradox, a contradiction that defined my very being.
"Your body caused this, not you," Sweet concluded, his voice imbued with a rare tenderness, an attempt to absolve me of the crushing guilt that was already beginning to take root. "The trauma, the stress, the inherent energy of your bloodline—it all coalesced, forcing these channels open. It is a biological response, an ancestral echo, not a choice you made."
But the absolution felt hollow, distant. The weight of his revelations crushed me, leaving me breathless and raw. My parents, their faces still a blur in my memory, murdered because of this power. Ryo, gone, his laughter silenced, his life brutally cut short... because of this power. My grandmother, lost to me, her fate unknown... because of this power. And now, Sweet, Zara, Koji, risking their lives, becoming outlaws themselves... all because of me.
A desperate, guttural cry escaped my lips. "How do I get rid of this?" I pleaded, my voice cracking, tears streaming unchecked down my face, blurring the vibrant hues of the garden into a watercolor of despair. I felt nauseous, sickened by the monstrous truth of my own existence. I wanted to tear it out of me, rip it from my very essence, purge myself of this horrifying burden.
Sweet opened his mouth, a compassionate response forming on his lips, but I cut him off, a torrent of raw emotion pouring out of me, unleashed and unstoppable.
"All I've brought to this world is pain and hatred!" I screamed, the words ripping from my throat, raw and ragged. My body trembled, wracked with a convulsion of grief and self-loathing. "My parents were murdered because of me! Ryo was killed because of me! Grandma is nowhere to be found, gone... all because of me!"
Each accusation was a stab to my own heart, each memory a fresh wound. The faces of those I loved, those I had lost, flashed before my eyes, their smiles, their laughter, their quiet strength, all overshadowed by the grim shadow of my own existence.
"I can't even protect the ones I love!" I sobbed, the bitter truth a searing brand on my soul. My power, meant to protect, had only brought destruction, leaving a trail of sorrow in its wake. "And now you all are in this position because of me! Running, hiding, becoming outlaws... all because of me!"
My voice rose to a crescendo, a primal scream of anguish and despair that echoed through the tranquil garden, shattering its peace. My knees buckled, and I fell to the damp earth, my hands clenching at the grass, tearing at the soil as if I could somehow dig myself out of this suffocating truth. My head bowed, my shoulders shaking violently, I buried my face in my hands, the tears gushing, hot and relentless.
"Why was I even bornnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn?!" The last word was a broken, guttural wail, torn from the deepest depths of my being, an agonizing question flung at an indifferent sky, begging for an answer that would never come. It was the desperate cry of a soul utterly shattered, burdened by a legacy it never asked for, a power it never wanted, and a fate it could no longer escape. The weight of being a Mileena, a King's Outlaw, an embodiment of both creation and destruction, was too much to bear. I felt utterly, hopelessly, broken.