Chapter Text
"A murderer?"
Aglaea nodded, "A serial killer, to be exact. One who purposely tracks unmated omegas," Phainon didn't need to look to know that the other Heirs glanced at him, "and eight cases so far, that we know of. This one works fast."
A scoff sounded from the side—from Anaxa—who, while gleefully ignoring Aglaea's summons, answered Phainon's instead, albeit begrudgingly.
Yellow-green eyes narrowed fractionally at the beta professor, "Care to add anything?" Vermin, she almost seemed to whisper.
Anaxa sneered back, "As a matter of fact, woman, I do have something to add," he crossed his arms in a show of indignation, "A serial killer going rampant killing off one of this planet's hope to ever survive, eight known and possibly more, in the most protected city, nonetheless. Hah, whatever happened to your ever-knowing threads?"
Beside him, Hyacine sighed silently. If Phainon wasn't feeling like the world is a ship being drunkenly cradled by the ocean waves, he might've joined her.
Impassive, Aglaea gazed back, "My threads can feel every nook and cranny of Okhema, yet that is where the problem stands."
Anaxa nods, as if he expected it anyway, "This killer must be luring his prey outside your range. So not only are they smart, they're calculating, patient—and most importantly, a professional. Are you sure this isn't another Chrysos Heir?"
Castorice gasped, "Professor Anaxa..! I don't think—"
Sharp aqua eyes glanced at her, "You may not think it's possible, but I live to question what most will not. And," to Phainon's hazy surprise, that piercing gaze settled on him, "If their target is an omega, we have the most important one in our grasp. It's only a matter of time."
"That won't happen." A deep voice resounds from behind Phainon.
Mydei. The sound of his voice makes Phainon's fingers twitch.
"Crown Prince Mydeimos. What makes you so sure?"
They're talking. Focus. Phainon pinched himself on the arm—in vain.
"Now that this matter has come to attention," Mydei said, "I won't leave the Deliverer's side until it's over." He can't see Mydei's face—he dare not try—but judging from the conviction in his voice, he must look like he's daring anyone to try and stop him. As if its his sacred decree as a king.
Phainon's heart mercilessly tugs at the blatant protectiveness the alpha's exuding.
A scoff. "So you're saying you are capable of protecting him then? Aglaea," A step echoed through the private bath as Anaxa stepped closer, "My suggestion--which I must say would be the best way to go about this—is to let Phainon stay here, where everyone can keep an eye on him until this whole fiasco is over."
Aglaea looked down on the scholar, silent, clearly thinking about his words for once instead of immediately refuting, flustering Phainon, who immediately tried to intervene.
"P-Professor, I don't-" He uttered, only to be met with a singular hand from the latter, evidently telling him to shut up.
Phainon lowered his head, his mind sinking deeper.
They're talking about me. They're thinking I'm a burden best left behind.
Finally, Aglaea spoke, "For once, you're making sense, Anaxa. The Flamechase Journey does not spare many, and I would rather our only omega to be within the distance of my threads. So be it, let us--"
"I can help." Phainon didn't even realize his own mouth spoke until he heard Mydei creep up beside him.
"Deliverer, look at me." Unfair. Mydei can't just order him around like that.
And yet, like a moth to a flame, he looked at him. Hard lines and sharp angles are what make up the alpha prince's handsome face, and having those amber eyes gazing at him so intensely is making heat creep up on his face. What is wrong with him? Why is he—
…Oh.
Oh.
He's in heat.
No, scratch that, he's in pre-heat, and there's approximately two or three days before his actual heat starts, or in other words, he's doomed.
He needs to finish this meeting. Fast.
Straightening up, he addressed the other Chrysos Heirs, "I may be an omega, but I can help. I can't just stay here, Professor Anaxa, Aglaea. I can be of use still."
He decided that the best eye contact to have with is with the stone pillar behind Aglaea, who he is sure must be assessing his words right now. He is sure she knows of his purpose, his destiny, he is meant to be on the front lines, their prophesized leader, as she so damningly repeats again and again.
As if responding to his thoughts, she replied, "I must repeat that this killer targets omegas, Phainon. How is letting you in on this mission beneficial?"
Benefits. Useless, he's useles—
He adjusted his arms to hide behind his back, so that his trembling fingers were away from too many prying eyes, "I can be bai-"
"No." Surprised, he glanced at Mydei, whose arms were crossed now, and glaring at him. Great.
He didn't let anything show on his face, however, "What do you mean, no?"
"Exactly what I meant, Deliverer," Mydei gave him a look as if asking if he's stupid, "You? As bait? Only an idiot would let that happen."
…Was that a jab? Phainon isn't sure.
Perhaps deciding his mini-lecture was over, Mydei fully looked at Aglaea, giving the other alpha a look, "The Deliverer can help as he says, but he will not be bait. And I will keep an eye on him while we gather more information about this killer."
Did he expect Mydei to agree with him being bait? No. Did he expect Aglaea? Yes, not out of malice, she is known to use every tool to her disposal, and Phainon was even willingly offering himself up for it, but to his surprise, Aglaea nodded at Mydei's statement, as if she was satisfied about something.
"Very well, I will first task Cipher to tail any leads from this killer, as she will be our fastest hope. Mydeimos, I trust that you'll ensure Phainon's safety?"
Phainon chimed in, sputtering, tired of others speaking for him, "I can stay safe by myself. Mydei doesn't need to accompany me."
Mydei glanced at him, the alpha's gaze something gentle and almost exasperated, as if saying 'I know you can, but let me do this for you.'
Or maybe Phainon's pre-heat is making him delusional. He's definitely losing his mind.
Why has it arrived so early? He's glad the patches on his neck hide his scent, though someone with a sharp nose might still be able to guess. As long as Phainon doesn't show anything on his face, it will surely go well.
"…will, Aglaea."
He snapped out of his daze when he felt armor graze his hand, flinching back from the unexpected contact, slow, he's so slow today. He meets the surprised gaze of Mydei, as it wasn't usual for Phainon to avoid contact with him.
Internally grimacing, he took a step back, "…What?"
Mydei looks like he wants to say something judging from the way his brows are furrowed, but he took a deep breath instead.
"Did you not hear what was said just a minute ago, deliverer? Aglaea says to transfer your quarters close to mine for now. Let's get your things." Mydei grunted, waiting for his confirmation. And what? Aglaea said what?
Him? Close to Mydei? When he's this close to his heat?
Bad idea.
He took a long moment to answer, which was now evidently starting to irritate the alpha, so before he can even open his mouth, Phainon turned and walked away.
"Wh—?! Where the hell are you going?!"
Far, far away from you, Phainon thought, resolute in his decision.
So what if he's in heat? He can help. He will get this killer once and for all, show them to Aglaea like a piece of trophy, then lock himself in his room before his heat can even actually start. He can, and he will.
He ignores the sound of armored footsteps following close behind him, the spicy temptation of amber trailing.