Milo looked down at the note in his hand once more.

Target: Io

Location: Wyvern, Westerland

Objective: Elimination

He searched for the man's face in his mind and found him: middle aged, blond, tall, grey eyes, and a crooked nose as if it had been broken. He smiled, there was something very relaxing about seeing that face and to believe that someone else carried the fate of the world on their shoulders: not he.

"Why would they want Io dead?"

Vito's question didn't really register at first. He was too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

Qumo shook his head, "Who knows? The Council have always played by their own rules to keep their lands safe..."

Annie huffed, as if it was an understatement. For the first time in a long while, Milo looked closely at the girl, trying to see who she was behind her facade. He had dismissed her completely since he had left her in that tavern. Now when he looked, he saw a deep sadness in her eyes.

"So, who's this Io guy, do we have two on our hands now, or are one of you fake," Vigilante said, looking at him, completely serious, but there was a hint of laughter in her voice. He couldn't be sure though.

"I'm not Io," he answered, forcefully enough to convince himself that his words were true.

"Ah yes, this is very interesting. I would very much like to see this person. I believe that I will leave in the morning. You should come Vito, and any of you others are of course welcome to join us," Qumo said, seemingly in a good mood. He was beaming and gesturing enough to effectively disguise his Gaian heritage.

Milo didn't know what to answer, he had no real reason to go, but he was still a bit curious. Some part of him also needed to know more. He wanted see this Io with his own eyes, making sure that this relief was real. He still heard whispers in his mind, and although he refused to listen, they grew stronger and stronger. However, he didn't believe what the old N'aian had said, it couldn't be true. He wasn't Io, but he had to know for sure, had to know so that he could leave all this nonsense behind him.

"I won't be coming with you," Vigilante said, breaking the silence.

"Good," he answered hurriedly. He didn't want her anywhere near. He could see her raise her eyebrows in response.

"So you're going?" she asked mockingly, and he replied before he had time to think it through.

"Yes"

"Then I've changed my mind. I'm coming with you, I won't miss out on all the fun. Can't wait to see two Io in one room."

This time he was sure that she was laughing at him. He shot her a glare, but his heart wasn't in it. He was constantly annoyed with her, but he couldn't stay angry and he couldn't force himself to dislike her. Not when those deep brown eyes met his.

"Good," Qumo said, obviously pleased with having two assassins as travel companions. Milo did wonder over that matter. Qumo should have been a little less welcoming in his opinion. People in general avoided assassins, only seeking them out for very special occasions. This N'aian acted very strange in comparison.

"I'm not coming with you."

All eyes turned towards Annie as she spoke. She looked decisive, eyes hard but expression neutral. Milo looked briefly at Vito, he wondered how the young man would react to the news. He had seemed quite taken with the girl. Vito blinked a couple of times, as if not really understanding what was happening. However, the young man didn't reveal anything more. He just stood there looking at Annie with sad eyes. Milo stole a brief look at Vigilante. She didn't seem to care in the least. Qumo on the other hand looked down at Annie with a very paternal expression.

"Dear girl, are you sure?" the old N'aian said in a mild tone.

"Yes, I'm back where I belong. I should never have left Bankor."

Ouch, that must have hurt, he thought, looking back at Vito, and yes, there was a new kind of pain in those cloud colored eyes.

-----

Vito stood silent, observing the girl before him. His stomach had tied itself up at her first statement, but her second one had struck something else inside of him. It felt like a physical blow. He looked into her eyes: they were so cold, like she truly didn't care.

He didn't know when he had started to feel like this, perhaps already that first day, when he met her in the tavern cowered under the domineering matron. She had met his white eyes, and she hadn't shied away, she hadn't seemed afraid. Then he had almost lost himself in her green brilliant ones. Looking back it felt as something he had dreamt rather than experienced.

During their travels together he had felt alive, alive and aware of something else than all those crying voices in his head. All those voices of souls that had left the land of the living, the souls on their way between the worlds. He heard them now, he couldn't block them out. He was tired. He didn't want to care about her anymore, not if she didn't show the slightest care about him in return. He wouldn't pine, he wouldn't let himself. He couldn't really take a broken heart, so a shattered one would be even worse.

He tore his eyes from her and looked away, he saw the dead body inside the hallway and heard the man's angry voice in his head. The man had been tricked, tricked into trusting her. Vito shook his head, no, he would never trust Vigilante. He knew the man had left with the help of her hands, and he knew that she would do it again. He had hoped that she would stay behind when they continued to Wyvern, but no, she would come while Annie would stay, staying and keeping a piece of his heart although she wouldn't know of it.

He didn't want to meet her eyes again so he turned his side to them all, gazing out at the streets and darkened windows. He would be glad to leave this place.

-----

Surprisingly, there had been no tears at their departure. Vigilante thought that the two lovebirds would be desperately sad to see the other one go, but no. Vito had been a very sad sight for a while, but Annie... she couldn't really read that woman at all. Well, if they didn't dare acknowledge their feelings then why should she help them. To be honest she was quite glad to be rid of the girl. 

They had traveled for a few days, scampering about the countryside, and during this time she became increasingly amused by the interplay between Qumo and Milo. They were talking of everything except the thing Qumo wanted to talk about. She had to give it to him, he was a very patient N'aian, and a very smart one too. He spoke of his own history, while weaving in little parts about Io. He told them stories she hadn't heard before, but that Milo seemed to know quite well. She wondered if Qumo was tricking him into remembering. However, she didn't think that Milo would be persuaded to believe he was someone else than the Nyx he had always been. He needed to see some proof, something real, something that he could feel and touch. At least that was what she would have wanted.

She didn't know if he was Io, but something told her that there was a possibility at least. The way he hated the notion made it even more believable. If he had truly known that he wasn't, if he had been completely without doubt, then he wouldn't have reacted the way he did.

She remembered feeling something when he ran away from the N'aian settlement, she believed it was what they call pity. She had understood him. Who would want to be responsible for the fate of the world? Those sad and angry eyes of his...they hadn't looked like that when she had met him the first time. That time he didn't seem to remember.

"Why did you kill that man?"

Vigilante turned and saw Vito's accusing stare bore into her.

"Which one?" she asked, and she could hear the nastiness in her voice that she always got when she raised her defenses.

"The man who brought the letter, why did you have to kill him?"

"I didn't," she replied, and saw his eyes grow even colder. She had never met with this kind of mistrust and hate before. She had never been so close to someone who disliked her before. She had stayed away from such things, and now she was a bit unprepared.

"You didn't...but you did it anyway. You're evil Vigilante."

The words penetrated her inner shield, and she almost choked as they hit her heart. Yes, she killed, yes she was a murderer, but she had never admitted to herself that she was evil. With evil came intent, intent to destroy. Perhaps she was evil, she had intent, she had intent to avenge the murders of her family. Nevertheless, the word made her feel a little awkward, she didn't like it, she didn't want to be considered evil.

"You two are alone for two seconds, and it's back to this again? Can't you just leave each other alone?"

Milo's voice seethed with irritation and resignation. It wasn't the first time he had stepped in to break them apart. She wondered why he did it. She met his eyes and couldn't look away. They were green like the forest around them, suddenly so warm, and worn.

"I'm sorry Milo"

She didn't know why she said it. She had nothing to be sorry for. Perhaps it was just that she didn't want to irritate him like this. She liked to irritate him when she was in a good mood, when she was in control of herself. Now she wasn't. Vito had been perforating her self-esteem little by little, telling her that she was heartless, and now evil.

She drew back from them, slowing her horse a little to escape the crowd. She zoned out, thinking of how it all started. They had lived such a happy life, safe within their mansion. Her mother had been one of those ladies that looked cold and daunting when others came to visit, but who brightened up when she was alone with her children. They had been four in total; she, Luna and their two older brothers, Jonah and Davide.

They had died in the night, but not in silence, not silence but terrible agony as their bodies were maimed before the light died in their eyes. She had fled, she had left them, and now she was alone.

She had seen her mother and father, crying desperately in front of their aggressors while three children bled to death upstairs. They had begged for the Council to spare their lives, spare their children's lives, but they didn't listen. She had seen their white night clothes turning red as the blood poured out of their slit throats. They had died in less pain than their children.

She saw the scene painted in vivid colors before her. She could still smell the men's sweat, mingled with the familiar scents of her home. She had got away through her secret passage, the one which the servants' children used when they sneaked out in the evenings. They had shown her, and that had saved her life.

That first night out on the streets had been the hardest, after that she had learned of the tricks and trades, and she had become their leader, the leader of the street children. She had been twelve, and they had been afraid of her, afraid of her ruthlessness. The Spider had picked her up when she was thirteen, and after that she had lived the life he had given her.

"Vigilante..."

So soft, he said it so soft. She looked into Milo's eyes, where did that kindness come from? What had she done to deserve that?

"Vigilante, I do not believe that you are evil."

She almost cried then, and he squeezed her hand softly.