"You know," she said gently, breaking the heavy silence, "we never caught your name."
The boy glanced back, his face still carrying traces of their earlier confrontation. "Oh, uh, it's Dilan."
"Where are you from, Dilan?" Neiva's voice carried genuine interest, trying to put him at ease.
"Voltera," he replied quietly, ducking under a low-hanging branch.
Sol's usual confident smile softened with memory. "Voltera... I used to vacation there with my family, back when things were simpler."
"It got hit pretty bad in the attack," Dilan said, his shoulders hunching slightly.
Angelo's jaw tightened as he stepped over a fallen log. "Makes sense – it's closer to the border than even Novaria." His eyes darkened with memories of smoke and screaming. "Those terrorists planted sleeper cells in most major cities, though they left smaller towns alone. Even border places like Ashford." An image flashed through his mind – a man in a coat that looked like frozen black flames, promising revenge.
They walked in silence after that, each lost in their own thoughts until music drifted through the trees – the unmistakable sound of a radio fighting static. As they drew closer, the familiar melody of Joe Blackstorm's "Eternal Light" grew clearer, its hopeful lyrics floating on the afternoon breeze:
"We are the light that never fades
A flame that darkness cannot break..."
The song led them to a small clearing where a young girl lay bundled in blankets on a threadbare mattress, a damp cloth pressed to her forehead. Her eyes flickered open as they approached.
"Mom..." she called weakly, "Dilan's back..."
A tired-looking woman turned toward them, her face lined with worry. "There you are! Where have you been?" She fixed Dilan with a stern look that couldn't quite hide her exhaustion. "Your father's down at the river – you know he could use your water powers to help with fishing."
"Mom, I already told you!" Dilan's voice cracked with frustration. "Everyone's fishing there! There's nothing left! I went to town to... to..." He trailed off, unable to finish.
His mother finally noticed the strangers behind him, her expression shifting from confusion to concern. "What did you do? Who are these people?" Her hand reached protectively toward her sick daughter. "Are you in trouble again?"
Dilan shifted his weight from foot to foot, but before he could answer, Angelo stepped forward. His usual intimidating presence softened somehow as he spoke: "Your son was asking for help. We were the only ones willing to listen."
Both Dilan and Neiva stared at Angelo in surprise – it wasn't exactly how things had happened, but something in his voice made arguing feel impossible.
"Oh!" Relief washed over the mother's face. "Well then, Dilan, aren't you going to introduce your new friends?"
"I... don't really know them," Dilan admitted awkwardly. "He called himself the Angel of Death. Says he used to be a cop in Novaria."
Angelo looked away, clearly uncomfortable with that introduction. Sol and Neiva exchanged amused glances, but everyone fell silent as the sick girl's weak voice rose from her blankets, singing softly:
"They call him death's messenger
Walking sacred ground
Where mortal laws surrender
And sinners can be found
His mercy is a blessing..."
Her voice faded mid-verse, she most likely ran out of strength... or perhaps it was something else?
Their mother's smile carried bittersweet warmth. "Don't mind her – she's been listening to Joe Blackstorm non-stop since missing his concert. Those new songs really caught on."
"Eternal Light's practically become our national anthem, hasn't it?" Neiva said softly. "People need that hope right now."
Through their mental link, Red's voice carried his usual mischief: "Funny thing is, rock boy's probably rich enough to solve this whole camping crisis himself."
Angelo's eyes suddenly lit up. "Wait a minute..." A plan began forming in his mind, drawing confused looks from everyone around him.
"You can't possibly be thinking..." Blue's scholarly doubt rippled through their connection.
"Oh yes I am," Angelo thought back with growing certainty.
"Joe could help these people," he said out loud. "He pulled off that massive concert in less than a week – he's got resources."
Dilan and his mother exchanged skeptical looks. "You want some singer to help us?" Dilan asked, clearly doubting Angelo's sanity.
"That's brilliant!" Neiva practically bounced with excitement.
Sol ran a hand through his silver-white hair. "I feel like I'm missing something here. What makes you think this is actually a viable idea?"
"You'll see," Angelo reached for his phone, then froze. "Oh... right. Dead battery."
"Well," Dilan's mother offered hesitantly, "we do have a small generator if you'd like to use it."
Minutes later, Angelo's phone hummed back to life. He scrolled through his contacts while everyone gathered around, holding their breath between rings. Finally, a familiar voice filled the clearing:
"Yo Angel!" Joe's trademark confidence crackled through the speaker. "Didn't think you'd be calling so soon. Been thinking about those tips I gave you?"
Sol, Dilan, and his mother stared at the phone in disbelief. Even the sick girl turned her head to listen better, wonder replacing exhaustion in her eyes.
"No way..." Dilan breathed, suddenly seeing the Angel of Death in a whole new light.
Angelo shifted his weight uncomfortably, all too aware of the eyes watching him. "Yeah, thanks for those tips..." He quickly changed the subject, not wanting to discuss personal matters in front of everyone. "Listen, I need a favor."
"The Angel of Death himself asking little old me for help?" Joe's theatrical gasp crackled through the speaker. "Never thought I'd see the day!"
Angelo could practically see Joe's trademark grin through the phone. "Come on, everyone knows your name. I'm just Novarian urban legend." He noticed Dilan and his mother exchange meaningful looks at that.
"Speaking of legend," Joe's voice brightened, "is Blood Red around?"
"He's... busy." Angelo rubbed the back of his neck. "And seriously? You're still calling him that? Pretty cheesy, even for a rock star."
"Your face is cheesy!" Red's voice exploded through their mental link.
Angelo rolled his eyes. "We have the same face."
"...I stand by what I said," Red replied with complete seriousness, actually making Angelo do a mental double-take.
Joe's laugh brought him back to the conversation. "Hey, I call it like I see it. After what he did to those terrorists? Still gives me chills just thinking about it."
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"Eheheh," Red's satisfaction rippled through their shared consciousness.
"That's why I'm writing a song about it. Actually a whole album about our little skirmish there," Joe continued excitedly. "'Novarian Twilight' – pretty cool name, right? Got your song in there too."
Everyone but Neiva turned to stare at Angelo with new understanding. Dilan's eyes went wide as he remembered the glowing wings, the way Angelo had descended like something from another world. "Wait... 'Wings of Judgment' is about you?!"
Sol's gaze snapped between Dilan and Angelo, pieces clicking into place.
"Oho, who's that?" Joe's voice dripped amusement. "Got an audience, Angel?"
Angelo ran a hand down his face. "We're getting off track. Look, it's actually related to why I called. I'm in Pinekeep, and things here are... rough."
"Pine-what now?" Joe asked. "Never heard of it."
"It's in..." Angelo turned to Sol. "What's this forest called again?"
"More like a jungle," Red muttered internally.
"Dawnbreak Forest," Sol supplied, still processing everything he was learning about his mysterious companion.
"Where's that?" Joe repeated.
Angelo pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just open a map or something!"
"Haha, alright, alright!" Joe's laughter filled the clearing. "What's the situation?"
Angelo's expression hardened as he looked around at the makeshift camp. "People are fleeing their homes near the border, scared of more attacks. With war coming..." He gestured at their surroundings even though Joe couldn't see it. "The town's overwhelmed, bunch of refugees. We've got sick kids with no food, no medicine. It's bad."
"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Joe's innocent tone fooled no one.
"Drop the act, rock boy." Angelo started pacing, his free hand cutting through the air. "You're rich, you're famous – you've got money, resources, connections. We both know you could help these people."
"Ah, but haven't you heard?" Joe's voice turned playful. "Rich people are assholes. We hate spending money."
Dilan's mother winced at his language, shooting a worried look at her children.
"Right." Angelo stopped pacing to stare at the phone. "That's why you joined the Triple A. Because you really need that monthly paycheck and vacation deals."
"Ha! Maybe you are smarter than you look." Joe's grin was audible. "Or is that Blue talking?"
"I was thinking the same thing!" Sol chimed in, earning a glare from Angelo and a mental "Ha ha!" from Red.
Joe's voice softened slightly. "Want to know a secret? I only joined the Triple A for song inspiration. Like our little dance with those fire and ice brothers."
"Bullshit." Angelo's snort made Dilan's mother wince again. "If that were true, you wouldn't throw free concerts. Face it – you've got a soft spot."
Joe's warm chuckle filled the clearing. "Okay, okay, how's this: I help these people and you keep that theory to yourself. Deal?"
"Deal!" Angelo jumped on the offer.
"Hold up there, Angel." Joe's cocky attitude was back. "It's not that simple."
Angelo slumped against a nearby tree. "Of course not. What else?"
"Let's call it a trade – you scratch my back, I scratch yours."
"...What could you possibly need from me?"
"Remember when I mentioned my two childhood friends?"
Angelo frowned, trying to recall. "Vaguely..."
"Well, one of them's this brainy dude – real scientist type. He was researching some special water or something. Don't ask me for the nerdy details."
Everyone in the clearing shared confused looks as Joe's strange tale began to unfold. What could Joe Blackstorm, famous rock star, want with scientific water research? And more importantly – what did it have to do with helping these refugees?
Angelo ran a hand through his hair, trying not to show his growing frustration. "And what does any of this have to do with me?"
"Here's the thing," Joe's voice carried real feeling now, dropping its usual showman's flair. "Someone really wanted that research shut down. It got tied up in court for years until they finally won. Now my friend's out of work."
Angelo started pacing again, dead leaves crunching under his boots. "I still don't see how this ties back to me."
"You know," Joe's confidence hadn't wavered, "when I was writing that song about you, I did some digging. Does the name Albert Goldstein ring any bells?"
Red's voice sparked through their mental link: "The old man?"
"I believe I understand the professor's relevance," Blue added carefully.
Angelo stopped mid-step. "Yeah, I know Albert. What's he got to do with anything?"
"He knows Albert Goldstein?" Sol whispered to Neiva, who quickly pressed a finger to her lips, urging him to listen.
"Oh, I think you more than know him." Joe's grin was practically audible. "He did that whole research project about you, right? I figured since you two are so close, maybe you could help my friend land a job with him. He'd be over the moon!"
Angelo leaned against a nearby tree, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone's attention. "I... I could probably set up a meeting. But I can't promise anything about a job."
"That's fine by me." Joe sounded like a cat who'd caught a particularly tasty mouse. "Let's call that part one of you repaying my help."
"Part one?" Angelo straightened. "What's part two?"
"Hmm." Joe paused dramatically. "Haven't thought of that yet."
Sol couldn't help smiling at Joe's playful tone, which only earned him another glare from Angelo.
"Then why even mention a second part?" Angelo demanded into the phone.
Joe's laugh rang through the speaker. "Let's just say you'll owe me one, okay?"
Angelo tilted his head back against the tree trunk, staring up at the patches of sky visible through the leaves. "Fine, whatever. Will you help these people or not?"
"Yeah, I'll help. Just send me the location and I'll get something set up for the refugees."
A small smirk tugged at Angelo's lips. "Don't forget my part two as well."
"Oh?" Joe's amusement was clear. "What's that?"
Angelo glanced at Dilan's sister, still wrapped in her blankets. "You have to come perform here. Just a small show."
Dilan's sister's eyes went wide as tears began rolling down her cheeks. Her mother squeezed her hand, sharing a look of pure joy.
"Ha! Only because you asked." Joe was definitely grinning now. "But I'm opening with 'Wings of Judgment' – let everyone know who set this whole thing up."
"Of course you are." Angelo couldn't quite hide his own smile. "Thanks, rock star. I mean it."
"Hey, you saved my behind back then. Least I could do." Joe's voice turned sly. "Besides, now you owe me one. Better make it count!"
Just as Angelo was about to end the call, Blue's voice cut through their mental link with unusual urgency: "Wait! Tell him I want to meet his friend first. I need to assess his scientific capabilities before we waste the professor's time."
"That's really not necessary," Angelo thought back.
"It is absolutely essential!" Blue's scholarly tone carried real emotion. "If you don't tell him, I swear I will be less cooperative than Red. Do not test me on this."
"Whoa, this really isn't like you." Angelo's mental voice carried surprise. "Fine, if it's that important..."
"Thank you," Blue replied with dignified satisfaction.
"Hold up," Angelo said quickly as Joe was saying goodbye. "Blue wants to meet your friend first – says he needs to check his qualifications before involving Albert. I know it sounds weird, but he's really insisting..."
"Fair, fair," Joe didn't miss a beat. "I'll send his contact info once I give him a heads up. Set something up whenever you want."
"Thanks. See you around, rock star."
"Don't worry – once I finish the new song, I'll make sure Blood Red gets first listen!" Joe's enthusiasm filled the clearing one last time before the call ended.
Angelo lowered the phone, suddenly aware of everyone staring at him. The afternoon sun filtering through the trees painted shifting patterns across their amazed faces as they tried to process what they'd just witnessed – the Angel of Death calling in a favor from Joe Blackstorm himself. Sometimes, Angelo reflected, reality was stranger than any urban legend.
The afternoon shadows had grown longer as Neiva looked at the sick girl wrapped in blankets. "Wait," she said softly, bringing everyone's attention back to the immediate problem. "This doesn't help them right now. They need food today."
Sol and Angelo exchanged glances before both stared at the ground, lost in thought. Dilan shifted uncomfortably beside his mother, neither wanting to ask for more help but unable to hide their worry.
"I know!" Neiva brightened, then hesitated, suddenly self-conscious. "We still have food... we could share what we have..."
Sol ran a hand through his silver-white hair. "We've got enough to share, but we can't wait around for Joe to show up with more supplies. We need to leave tomorrow."
"Is there another town between here and where we're going?" Angelo asked, already doing mental calculations.
"Pretty sure there is," Sol replied, pulling out his wrinkled map.
Angelo nodded, decision made. "Then we'll manage. Worst case, we can hunt – being Aurons makes that easy enough."
"Y-yeah, we'll manage." Neiva's voice wobbled slightly at the thought of eating whatever they might catch.
"Oh no, we couldn't possibly—" Dilan's mother started to protest, but Sol cut her off with a playful grin.
"Better accept the help," he said, throwing Angelo a wink. "You wouldn't want to make the Angel of Death angry, would you?"
Angelo looked away, clearly embarrassed, but his actions spoke louder than words. Orange light erupted around him like a gentle flame, transforming into his evolved state. Wings of pure energy spread from his shoulders, glowing like captured sunlight.
"Whoa..." Dilan breathed as glowing tendrils wrapped carefully around Neiva and Sol, ready to carry them.
"We'll be back soon with food," Angelo promised. Through their mental link, he reached out to his duplicates: "Red, Blue, forget the charging hunt – it's getting late. Maybe they'll let us plug in here."
"Understood," Blue replied properly while Red grumbled, "Complete waste of my fucking time."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of activity as they gathered food from their travel bags. Neiva sorted through their supplies with careful consideration, making sure to include things that would help the sick girl. Sol contributed his share with his usual dramatic flair, somehow making it feel like a celebration instead of charity.
When they finally finished, Dilan walked them partway back to their camp. His earlier fear of the Angel of Death had transformed into something else – maybe not quite friendship, but definitely respect. "Hey!" he called after them. "I'll pay you back someday, I swear!"
The words caught Angelo off guard, but a small smile tugged at his lips. This was why he did what he did – not just punishing the wicked, but helping others choose a better path. Those who wouldn't change... well, they met a different side of the Angel of Death.
Later that night, they sat around their own campfire, the flames painting warm patterns across tired but satisfied faces. Stars peeked through gaps in the forest canopy while crickets added their song to the evening peace. Despite everything - the refugees, the coming war, the mysteries still waiting to be solved – they'd managed to make one small corner of the world a little better.