His movement evaded indecisive boulder sizes and kept balance throughout the sloped ledges, but each obstacle slowed him more and more to the point his legs flailed, exposing his poor running stamina. So many strides brought him to the end of trees where only a lone cliff led to a low valley caving deep down, leaving him to stop sharp and face me with a worried expression.

"Why are you running?" I neared him, unsheathing and pointing my Sword at him. "There's no point, especially if you're Bonded to me." He could have used powers to stop me for all I cared.

"Justice, I'm so sorry—."

"Sorry? For what! " I barked. "Commander Hardaran ordered me to stay away from you, and you come to trail me again after I've told you several times I have no power to do anything about this!"

His silver eyes scanned the pointed sword's violet trails then stopped to my face, he raising his hands in surrender. "Justice, I'm very sorry. I am, for invading your privacy, for getting you into trouble that isn't your fault at all, for Bonding to you."

"So you did Bond to me!"

"Y-Yes, I did."

Taking in a deep breath, I shut a blink and met eyes with the Tritausen's sorry face again. "There is nothing I can do about the Elders. Nothing." And to make sure he understood, I enunciated as my Grandfather Goun would have. "No-thing. I can accept your apology if you can accept that."

"There is something you can do," he said, "But..."

"But what? There's nothing I can do and will do about this except put it in the King's hands and have you arrested now."

"You don't know, Justice. You have the potential to change this war. And if we don't act fast before the festivals, the Dictator may have the upper hand."

"Why me?" I shook my head, but interrupting the thought, I said, "I'm leaving it to the King. Your Bond let you hear our meeting about the Dictator anyway."

"If we leave it to the King, nothing will be done about it. It's his nature, and you know this. That's why I want to offer you a proposal instead."

Stopping closer, I focused the tightness in my muscles to trigger my Shol, allowing the Vorda on the sword to charge to a brighter violet ray at its edges. "The King will do what he wants, in the moment. I'm sure you're aware that Nodus 1718's on hiatus, thanks to your intrusion, meaning you can speak to the King on behalf of your tribe when I arrest you."

"I can't tell the King if I'm arrested. He wouldn't listen to someone like me."

"You don't know that. You haven't tried yet."

"He didn't listen to you when you told him what happened with the Commander."

Gripping the sword handle, recalling Commander Hardaran's raised fist at me, I jabbed the air with the sword at Jorel. "He heard the truth at least! And he'll get to see for himself the trouble that can come with his inaction!

"Please," I said one last time, "Tell the King on behalf of your tribe if you have a proposal. Submit a Nodus at least. I refuse to deal with it on my own accord any more. As Justice of the Cymerian Military Division, I declare you arrested under our—."

"Do you believe what I'm telling you about the Elders?" His stance stilled, his once surrendering hands lowered, yet he kept his defensive crouch. "Do you even care to save the Blends?"

Of course, I thought. In the moment, though, I had mixed feelings, wanting to rescue the Blends but also wanting to keep protocol, in all skeptical of prophecy to begin with. On top of dissociating with Shol Tritausen due to their notorious history for causing Shol Wars, I felt hopeless myself, knowing the King swat my concerns away with his hand. Jorel was right: the King would have dismissed even the slightest efforts.

Pulsing pain, my muscles still ached, and the sword's seams and edges became a lamp of Vorda as my glare toward Jorel on the other side purpled. "I want the truth, and the truth isn't an augury to me, even if it were true. Always, I always want to help the Blends, and I want to help the Eltreisians too. The rub is if it's with the truth or not. If we lie to each other to save ourselves, the truth will come back on us. I don't want that. No one wants that."

In silence we stood, processing the heated exchange. The Tritausen's eyes turned away from the weapon and toward the reflecting valleys behind him, and then, with a deep huff, he nodded and faced me again. "I wish I could understand, Justice. I want to do what I can to protect the Blends from the Elders as well, and yet I still want to obey my tribe. The truth is, we both want to let everyone dwell in harmony, but we come from leadership where we have to forsake this hope to keep peace between us and them. As you said, the rub is whether or not it is the truth we follow or not."

Moments, lights, spurs of wind floated across our mending views on the chilling ledge, where my thoughtful gaze on the Tritausen's yielding position relaxed to naught, while the sword's power dimmed to naught. Deep down, I wanted to help Jorel, let alone we Blends. Ri-El and her search for her family, Yaeda-En and her lost daughter Eva-En, my father, and my mother even, they all came to my mind as Jorel said this unbearable truth: we complied with those we disagreed with to keep the harmony between them and us, even if we paid the price to forsake another kind. Despite my anger, despite my duty to arrest Jorel, even if the King would have punished me for associating with the Shol again, I couldn't bring myself to strike him with the sword, to bear seeing Jorel neutralized, curled in pain again, to harbor guilty feelings for betraying him. I couldn't do it.

Relaxing, my arm loosed, lowered, so much so the sword lost all its charge and pointed to the ground instead. Able to return a look to me, Jorel remained crouched. "Justice?"

I blinked harder to hide my rolling eyes. "... What?"

He looked away again. "Nothing."

"No, no. What is it?"

Searching the woods behind me, Jorel thought up something before we traded sight of each other again. "I can't make you believe anything I say, but I can say what I believe about you. I believe you can change this situation for the better. So many Eltreisians look up to you as a sign of hope that prejudice no longer has to be. And we wait for the turning point that will bring hope to its greater fate."

"The Mitsen chose me," I shook my head in denial, seeing the wallowing clouds hanging over crests and cliffs behind Jorel. "If it weren't for that, I wouldn't be here."

"You chose this path despite what the King said, what the Cymerians said, what your father said, what your mother said."

Still pricked at he mentally invading my most vulnerable thoughts, especially on my mother, I managed to relax due to the argument's cool-down, not returning a similar glare. Sooner or later he would have had to stop reading my mind.

He continued. "And you kept pushing, even working toward equality between the Eltreisians and Tritausen alike. Your efforts showed me you can save the Blends from the Elders... and that's why I chose you. I see now you are the one, Justice. I met you for myself and saw how much determination you have for your hometown, how much you want to fix this broken society. The outcome doesn't matter; it's the effort that does."

Every word about what he thought of my determination sickened me. While he said the effort counted more than the outcome, I wasn't convinced. Whether it have been his proposal or his opinion about me, I could not get over the fact he was right: I forsook my own kind to be at peace with another. And that in itself reminded me of my own mother. How could I have reciprocated the very behavior I despised most?

"Jorel..." My mind scrambled for words. "Your words... I didn't know you thought this way about me, the fact you think I have enough determination..." As a child up, my parents taught me to say "thank you" when receiving a compliment, yet my overwhelming emotions kept my tongue tied, allowing my hopelessness in the High Counsel to simmer away and leave the begging question on the Blends' fate.

"Your encouragement means much to me," I said, "I hope I can continue to do my duty with full effort and bring equality to all in Cymel. But," I searched the sky for an answer then faced him again, "If no Blends including myself are left, then our efforts will be pointless. You coming here to help save us is the beginning of resolve, and I hope we can find our ways somehow.

"As much as I want to work with you, Jorel, and as much as I want to help for the life of me, I still have protocol to follow. The King may not hear from you directly, but I can do what I can to have you heard from the High Counsel, even if it's straight from an Elder."

"Mmm," his voice coarsened with the word "Elder," and he took a moment to think before settling. "Yes, I can get direct consensus from Great Elder Bivelelous."

Great Elder who now? I thought. "What is his rank?"

"Great Elder Bivelelous is of the fifth of ninth rank in the Eldership of Shol. Particularly he is the religious disciplinarian of our clan."

It wasn't long before I pieced together that this Great Elder Bivelelous was Great Elder Bivel, the Shol Elder Ri-El said was Jorel's grandfather. Just like how Jorel did homework on my family, I did on his. Now we were even. And for sure Jorel could have received partial, "direct consensus" from the Great Elder since he was related.

On a digressing note, it seemed Great Elder Bivel did not allow his grandson to call him "grandfather," let alone "papa" or "granddad." Even if they were related, they seemed to have a detached relationship, if not too formally tribal. Maybe it was a privilege to call my Grandfather Goun "grandfather" after all.

"Now that sounds more like a plan," I said. "Since the Dictator may attend the festivals, perhaps we can use this opportunity to have a three-way meeting. That is only if my King and the Dictator find it acceptable." Since Great Elder Bivel seemed to be a religious police for the Shol tribe, there was a chance the King and the Dictator would not have accepted him. Worst of all, Dictator Glauss could have found that opportunity to capture the Elder for research instead of negotiate. Sound protocol and ideal order would have had to put the missing pieces together.

"I can discuss it with him," Jorel said. "Even though the festivals are soon, I anticipate to hear from your King and the Dictator on it. And... I'm sorry again for putting you in such a tough spot. I don't want to have to do that to you any more than I have."

"I accept your apology, Jorel. And I want to apologize to you for refusing to properly work with you. You had good intentions for your tribe and for we Blends, and I was merely an obstacle unwilling to budge." I still didn't understand where I stood in his gift to see the future, though. "Now, let's see this through and have this meeting arranged with your Elder."

"Mm," he nodded.

In the end, it wasn't only me and Grandfather Goun meeting at the mountain's peak, for Jorel ended up coming along as well — at least in the background. Upon reaching the chest-tightening heights, relieved of the ferocious, muscle-aching trek, I was able to reach a sound conclusion for the coming debates: Cymel didn't need border security. She needed order in her society, citizen participation, and that's right, King Casudal, she didn't need isolation to build her walls.

She needed unity.