Felicity Rhyolite, or at least whatever that form was of her, was dead.

The ruckus of conflict was no more, replaced only by a sudden, eerie silence. The remnants of the mirrored vaults and reflecting alcoves now sang only to the whisper of the Telgradian’s labored breaths as he took everything in, alone. Columns of shattered glass smoldered in the wake of the nauseatingly hot remains of Felicity’s corpse. Then, Shinsou finally reeled, his Danzetsu form peeling away from him as Enpera clattered to what remained of the floor. In the cracked surface of the mirror, steamed from his breath, the gaunt Osiris watched as the jet black hair of his transformation shriveled back into his short brown bangs, and the runes that covered his body simply faded back into his skin.

It was just like that night in Radasanth, when the meteorites had laid waste to the city; the pungent odors of burning flesh and flame, but with the new sensations of retching and dizziness, pounding ears and watery eyes.

Shinsou coughed violently, but he spared himself a little ironic chuckle. His curiosity had truly gotten the better of him this time, and he wondered, as his legs gave way underneath him; was this what the Citadel did to people, with its honeyed whispers of immortality and lack of consequence?

The questions faded from his mind as the familiar blue light of the Citadel’s monks enveloped him, ready to bring him home. The world blurred into ocean blue, but Shinsou’s mind blanked with numbness. In the darkness behind his eyelids, he could see only one face.

Felicity Rhyolite.

Ragged nails dug into his palms. Teeth bit into his lips. Then, he smiled.

Sheepish from behind his soaked hair, Shinsou knew he had succumbed to the temptation. He was even more curious. That redheaded girl, the only green speck in a sea of red and blue, was unique; a beautiful blade that needed tempering and shaping into something to achieve her true potential.

Never once did the smile leave his face, until the world went black.

***

There was a rush of air, then absolute darkness. A few minutes passed before Shinsou Vaan Osiris’s golden eyes opened, peeling the oblivion of death away to reveal the frigid, cold greys of the ceiling of the Citadel’s medical wing. His limbs felt heavy and cumbersome, and as he rolled over, a monk hung over him for what seemed like an eternity.

“Welcome back. Please, do not move too much. We are still healing your wounds.”

The voice was muffled, as if spoken underwater. It was always the same with the Citadel after a fight. The Telgradian hated this part of the process the most, where the Citadel’s unique magic interfered with the brain and forced it to struggle to make sense of anything; like a hangover. He’d always look down upon himself, stunned to see there were no wounds. Checking himself twice, thrice, and once again after, it would take a few hazy minutes before Shinsou realised he was completely clean of any cuts or blood because of the Ai’Bron.

"You took some serious damage in there," The monk said, a blasé expression plastered over his face as his outstretched palms hovered inches from Shinsou’s body. "I have to say, I’m surprised.”

Osiris’s face contorted with confusion. “Why?"

"I’ve watched you a lot in here," the priest continued, in a substantially hushed tone. "You’ve killed a lot of people, and you’ve been killed before. But you’ve never come out with injuries like this." Shinsou turned his head entirely, staring the monk square in the eyes. Osiris’s mouth tightened into a smile.

“Yeah, you're not kidding. Where is she?” He asked.

The monk shook his head and sighed. “Four doors down from here. You really want to do this?”

"Oh, don’t worry, I’m not looking for round two," Shinsou responded, rising to his feet, "The girl intrigues me."

The Telgradian straightened his neck, drawing back his head before brushing down his white coat. The monk hung precariously over him, a very deep expression of worry spread over his visage. “Please don’t cause any trouble here. It is not our place to get involved in political matters, but if you're recruiting for the Brotherhood, it could be...problematic.”

"I'm not recruiting," The Telgradian continued as they exited the room together and continued down a sloping, torch-lit hallway. "But i'm interested in her personally. She took me to my limit, but that power of hers is dangerous. Inside the Citadel, sure, no problem. But out there? No, I’d like to speak to her…that’s all."

The monk sighed. “Well, just don’t do anything stupid.” He nodded, giving up on trying to convince his patient, before waddling off to other duties. Shinsou walked a few paces around the corner, to the fourth door. It was already ajar, and through it he could see the redhead, sat on the bed, directly in front of him.

Felicity’s eyes met his own through the gap, and she froze, unsure of whether he was a threat. So, he knocked politely and entered.

“How are you feeling?” He started, leaning against the wall. “I came here to congratulate you. In all my time here, no-one has ever pushed me like that. You were fierce, you were relentless and you surprised even me. But..I'm worried. You’ve got power, and you’ve got skill. What you don’t seem to have is control. What happens if you go nuts out there, in the world, like that? If you can do that to me, then what about the commoners out there?”

There was a momentary pause as Shinsou thought about how to word his thoughts. He wanted to be careful not to patronise the young girl, but needed to be concise.

“You don’t have to agree, but I might be able to help you control it. It's not just about that form, either. It’s clear to see that you are sharp, but you have more potential than I think you realise. I want to help, if I can. Sharpen you up, teach you a few things and hopefully get that form under control. What do you say, Felicity?"

With that offer, and an outstretched hand, what had started as a lesson in curiosity had left Osiris with the machinations of destiny to contend with.