Plumes of smoke reached into the grey skies outside the Grand Cathedral of Eros in the Broca Ward. The evangelical Symmetrists gathered around the blazing wreckage of a cargo truck, whispering prayers with their ceremonial blindfolds tightly gripped to their flesh; the effigy of their savior loomed above in bronze excellence—a figure stripped of its eyes, ears, and nose with a smile sewn shut. Immaculate, yet flawed.
The CCPD's lead detective, Willard Cambridge, was the first on the scene. Known by many as the "Sweet Tooth Cop", an epithet bestowed upon him for his overindulgence in chocolate, specifically while on active duty. Despite this, he maintained a slender frame and relatively healthy skin, a mystery that eluded even the brightest of his peers. His shaven visage peered at the flames from the tinted window of the driver's seat. The silhouette of Eros calling to him in silence, her guiding touch, some say, but he had little faith.
He exited his cruiser and approached the wreckage, brushing shoulders with the Symmetrists and stepping over sheets of metal and broken cobblestones. The garden housing the mother of perception was completely demolished, but luckily, she had been spared any damage, though the flames still threatened her perfection.
"Where is the fire department, Detective!? Douse this blasphemous blaze!" a local deacon urged.
"Calm down, will you?" said a nonchalant Cambridge, unwrapping a bar of chocolate. "It's all preordained." He wiped the sugar from his lips as Eros stared down at him with hollow eyes, the blaring horns of his approaching colleagues silencing the concerned Symmetrists.
The fire department extinguished the flame within seconds of arriving, allowing Cambridge to inspect the vehicle and its driver. It was a large semi with a sturdy transport container, designed to endure the prolonged heat; two knocks on its exterior gave a muffled response, an indication that it was full of something heavy. In the driver's seat sat the charred culprit, their face melded with the steering wheel. Gruesome but expected, nothing of noticeable import on the person. After slipping on a pair of black leather gloves, Cambridge separated the face from the wheel, revealing the intact logo on the shirt: V.S.T., the acronym for Valicar Shipping and Trade.
He wrapped around the vehicle a second time, the logo nowhere to be found. Perhaps the truck contained stolen goods, and the driver was a disgruntled employee looking to screw over the conglomerate that served as the figurehead of Cloud City, or maybe a heist gone wrong, leading to a crash. These possibilities were of no interest to Cambridge; he was usually content to leave these things to his colleagues. But tonight felt… different. He looked up at Eros, her visage obscured by the dissipating smoke, and for a moment, he saw the face of his beloved.
"Crowbar!" he shouted. An older deputy obliged, but was relieved by Cambridge's partner, Detective Sherbert Mary, a short woman with orange hair and a face full of freckles, whom Cambridge would often refer to as "Sherry".
"You left me at the precinct with all the paperwork, AGAIN!" Mary shouted, shoving the crowbar into Cambridge's chest.
"You love paperwork, Sherry—"
"MARY!"
"...relax, here have some chocolate," he said, quickly swiping the crowbar and leaving her with the half-finished treat.
"How…how did you make it to forty-one…"
"Clean livin'," he replied, plunging the crowbar into the cargo container.
"The crash is what's important. Why are you searching the container?" Mary asked, snacking on the chocolate.
"Because the container is the cause of the crash. Late at night, after business hours, with zero traffic in the founders' district, he crashes. The skid marks show signs of speeding, meaning he was either in a hurry or under the influence of something."
"Alcohol?" Mary suggested.
"No, something stronger, judging by how he collided with our savior's statue here, he had to be pretty dazed."
"Sounds like Phantasia. There's been a spike in collisions since that stuff hit the streets.
The grizzled detective finally managed to pry open the container, and what began as a negligent crash would soon spiral into the largest case that summer. Mary was in shock, a product of her inexperience. Despite her resolute attitude, she was still green, working primarily on missing persons in her first year.
The other officers joined them, their flashlights revealing short glimpses of the horror, small hands and short legs, none of which could be older than ten. The cops could not help but recoil; some distracted themselves with crowd control while others prayed to their bronze deity. Cambridge appeared to be the only one unfazed by the discovery; he did not wince, he did not look away, he refused to allow himself even a moment of relief. With a heavy step, he was swallowed by the darkness inside. By this time, the crowd of onlookers and Symmetrists had doubled as he exited the container, cradling in his arms a frail child—starved but breathing.
The citizens kneeled in reverence to the Effigy of Eros, praying into their hands, thanking their goddess for bestowing Cambridge with the blessing of sight. This angered the sugar-crazed detective, but he would never allow the people to see that; it would be misplaced. Like the Oculytes, he too wore a cloth over his eyes once, but when it was removed, reality became inverted, and what was now sour could no longer be sweet. Mary raced ahead of him and opened the door to the police cruiser. The two placed the boy inside; he did not speak a word.
"Sherry, the chocolate."
She pulled the nearly-finished bar from her coat pocket and handed it to him, her hands still trembling. Cambridge peeled back the wrapping, revealing the silky smooth surface before snapping it in two. The boy's weakened arm motioned towards the aroma, instinctively. His dry lips split as he opened for a bite, moistened by the flow of tears to follow, and with a quivering smile, a single word escaped his emaciated form.
"Sweet."
***
The city returned to normal in the weeks following the Valicar cargo incident. The Cloud City news omitted the specifics, and much like the rain that drenched the streets that day, the story inevitably dried up. The grey clouds that gave the city its namesake dispersed, making room for a rare but welcome appearance from the sun. The Oculytes referred to these moments as the hours of gratitude; the fruit born from their life of penance. What was given must also be returned.
Below the evening's amber glow, at the center of the city, the students of Cloud Academy were in their final hour of studies before the start of summer vacation. In class A-701, Student Body President Aliceria Valicar gave her closing statement for the year.
"...and with the coming of summer, we mustn't forget our core values, be it within these walls, or out on the streets of our illustrious city; we represent our families and the future of Cloud City."
Though her words were the basic rhetoric of the academy, echoed ad nauseam, when passing through the lips of a Valicar, all manner of speech was treated as royal decree. This girl of crimson hair and porcelain skin was the sole heiress of one of the founding families. Her height may cast only a small shadow, but the stature of her title loomed over all. She stood at the head of the class, holding the attention of not only the students but even her teacher.
"Now, with only half an hour remaining, I would like to go around the room and hear from you all. With senior year on the rise, what are your plans as we charge into adulthood?"
Many shared similar answers, studying abroad, big family vacations, and jobs forced on them by their parents. But when it came time for the next girl to share, Aliceria was not pleased with her inattentiveness. The distracted teen leaned on the desk of another, dressed casually in black compression shorts and a blue varsity jacket, emphatically mashing the buttons on her game console as she muttered obscenities. The drowsy boy next to her tugged on the delinquent's brown bob-cut, which rewarded him with her ire, but before she could blurt out a single word, Aliceria stood over her with the choking fury of a serpent.
"Ignoring the daughter of Alister Valicar? Feel sorry for her parents," said a fellow peer.
The class sat in anticipation of the wrath to be unleashed; a public display of defiance against such royalty was surely grounds for exile, maybe even execution by firing squad. The carefree girl raised her head from the blinding game console, her brown eyes tracing up and down at the class president, stopping right at her chest level, subduing the crimson serpent with a single blow to her dignity, "Your nips are pokin'."
"Wha—?! I-I-I…Ahhhh!" Aliceria shrieked as she crumbled into a ball, pulling her Presidential blazer over her head, a black jacket with golden clouds emblazoned around the lower half.
"MIKA!" another boy shouted. "How dare you! Low-class trash such as yourself would not even be allowed entry into this institution if not for the charitable work of our esteemed class president!"
"SILENCE!" Mika shouted back at him as she jumped onto the adjacent desk. "You wanna know what I'll be doing this summer, class prez…?"
The students rushed to Aliceria's side like knights to a queen, defending her against the scourge of the impudent teen. With a mischievous grin, Mika pointed down at them, "...VANQUISHING DEMONS!"
"Ehhh!?" the class let out collectively.
Amid her rebellious declaration, a hand squeezed her ankle. It was the boy whose desk her dirty sneakers were currently occupying.
"Mika…" his sleepy head rose from the cold surface, revealing a face as pale as the sick, but green eyes that shimmered a leafy-green hue. Startled, Mika tripped and fell onto the boy's lap, and after a heavy yawn from him, their eyes met.
"...You're too loud," he said exhaustedly.
Aliceria brushed her protectors to the side, coming in between the two students and slapping the emerald-eyed boy across the cheek.
"Pffft-HAHAHA!" Mika laughed uncontrollably, falling onto the floor.
"Ow! What did I do?" the boy rubbed the inflamed handprint.
"Mika, I'm used to," the dignified President shouted. "But YOU of all people, Zoi? Sleeping in class! Lemme guess, after Klaus drove me home last night, you two stayed up ALL NIGHT finishing the rushed & serious trilogy without me!"
The class watched with gaping incredulity as the three bantered amongst themselves as if they were the only ones in the room. Most students were yet to be acquainted with this side of Aliceria, one devoid of noble atmosphere and eloquence. The illuminating veil of status dimmed, and her throne collapsed, revealing a normal girl dressed in the same cloud-patterned uniform as any other.
The final bell rang abruptly, resounding throughout the white halls with a gleeful chime; summer was finally here. As the students hurried to gather their things, Aliceria's commanding tone returned, freezing them in place, once again—even the teacher.
"We are not dismissed until EVERYONE has finished sharing their summer plans. Zoi, that means you.
The room turned to the frail boy. With each passing second, he could feel their gaze sinking into his skin. The wallflower was usually reluctant to speak whenever given the center of attention, but that was when he felt it again—that impulse that surged from within. It condensed into a pressure that would form on his back, like a pair of hands nudging him forward, and with a heavy step, and his hand over his heart, he declared his life's ambition to his peers.
"I-Im… going to spend my summer at the Garden of Eros… studying thanatosa-helianthus, or y'know the death's crawl… one day… I'm going to cure Ocular-Umbrosis!"
***
On the first day of summer, the air was about as warm as it could be in a city where the sun visits about as often as an estranged relative. There was always a mugginess associated with the heat at this time of year that distinguished natives from tourists. Those who spent their lives raised in the city seldom commented on the uncomfortable weather, while visitors tugged on their sticky clothes and constantly wiped at sweaty arms. The many buildings of Cloud City sported industrial fans positioned at key points throughout the districts to stabilize airflow, but much older parts of the city, such as Wernicke, lacked such comforts.
Zoi and Mika leaned against the hot gate of the Valicar estate, awaiting Aliceria. The wide shadow of the castle-like structure kept them cool, but Mika grew impatient with the princess's tardiness, a sentiment Zoi could not help but chuckle at as he admired the garden from behind golden bars. Usually, the two of them were welcomed inside, but the sheen of the onyx limousine parked in front of them meant that someone of importance was visiting, and Alister Valicar was a very private man.
With a loud buzz, the gate slid open, and an assortment of Wernicke goons followed in a pack led by a man in a white business suit. He carried in his hand a small device with a needle attachment, the kind used for tattooing someone; a single drop of something red dangled off the point. The group chuckled as they opened the passenger door and the white-suit man stepped inside. Zoi locked eyes with him for a moment before darting to the left, but during that brief exchange, the man's features burned into his retinas. Jet-black hair over sharp eyes that were even darker, and beneath his right eye, written in bold font, was a V-shaped tattoo. The observant boy recalled seeing such markings on men appearing in the news—it was the brand of Varghanza gang affiliates. A sudden chill rolled over his shoulders as the limo drove away from the manor; Aliceria appeared shortly after. She was dressed in her summer intern attire, a white button shirt paired with a black business skirt and ruby shades, incongruent with Zoi's gardening apron and Mika's tan cargo shorts and black tank top.
"ALL THAT TIME JUST TO DRESS LIKE A TEACHER!" Mika shouted irritably.
"Dress for the job you want, they say," Aliceria replied, twirling into a curtsy. "Speaking of which, what are you going to be up to while Zoi and I are busy with our internships?"
"Pfft… prolly hit the arcade—ow!" She winced from Aliceria pinching her elbow.
"No, no, no, no! You are not wasting ANOTHER summer 'vanquishing demons' or loitering at the arcade. We're almost adults, Mika. You need to start taking your life more seriously! Right Zoi? Zoi…?"
The green-eyed boy was already halfway down the street, a habitual reaction whenever Aliceria and Mika bickered. They caught up to him at the crosswalk, Aliceria staring daggers into the side of his head.
"Uh, Zoi!"
"Hm? Oh, hey, what's up?"
"Well, for starters, you didn't comment on my outfit, and two, what are we going to do about this one?" she pointed at Mika's captive arm.
"Oh, um… she can come work with me. Ms. Swallow is always looking for help with the garden."
"Pfft, Swallow…" Mika snickered.
"Grow up," Aliceria shoved.
"Make meeee!"
The two proceeded to argue again as the light turned red and Zoi crossed the street. Their first stop was Valicar Shipping and Trade, the largest global delivery service in the country, where Aliceria will be working under the direct tutelage of her father. With a hug, she bid her two friends farewell and good luck on their summer ambitions. Twenty minutes after their departure, the two arrived at the Olfactist Garden of Eros in Viewing district. Olfaction was a branch of Holy Symmetry concerned with nature. Taking in the verdance of Eros' blessing and applying natural remedies found in plants to treat all manner of disease. If Zoi wished to one day cure Ocular-Umbrosis, he thought it best to understand the plant associated with the disease: Thanatosa-Helianthus.
"Well, this is me," he told Mika as traffic zipped by them in the background.
"Why do you wanna study a stupid flower? To cure death? It just happens and always will," Mika said, trying to convince him of the futility.
"It's more than that, and you know it."
"What, your mom? It's like Klaus is always sayin' you gotta let that go—"
"J-Just Stop it! Just because you're okay with wasting your life, doesn't mean I'm okay with wasting mine…"
The two stood in silence as the cacophony of life played around them. The herd of people passing by on their cellphones, the impatient horns of vehicles stuck in traffic, and the laughter of children in a nearby park, uninhibited by the anvil that is life's transience, and the encroaching responsibilities of adulthood. Mika followed that laughter, turning away from Zoi without a word, the boy taking a step towards her in apology, but ultimately decided not to. He pushed open the garden doors, ready to begin his studies.