Hey Guys,

I hope this Chapter finds you all safe and well.

Small disclaimer/trigger, there a panic attack depicted in this Chapter as well as mentions of paternal abuse. Obviously this is nothing new for the series, but I have been making an effort to be more aware of how the things that I write about may effect/relate to others - especially since some of my writing is inspired from personal experience, so I am personally aware of the memories embedded in some scenes.

Even so. With the current state of the world, it is important, now more than ever, to acknowledge mental health as a real issue. If you or someone you know is struggling, please reach out for help. You're not alone.

With that being said, I hope you enjoy the Chapter. Both perspectives were a little tricky to write as I felt like, for Circe, it was a small relapse in her character development, and for Obsidian, his feelings put him a little out of character to his usual. Either way, I look forward to hearing your thoughts,

As we say in New Zealand,
Kia kaha (Stay strong)
Love Daisy

_______________________________

Chapter 45 | Vanguard

*

"And if love be
m a d n e s s ,
may I never find
s a n i t y
again."

  - John Mark Green

*

CIRCE

Circe sighed, rubbing a tired hand across her eyes as she attempted to focus on the words in front of her. The candlelight opposite flickered and wavered, distorting the words further. She smoothed the pages of the book out softly, attempting to read the paragraph again.
Five minutes later she still had not reached the end of the page and heaving another sigh, she gave in, leaning over to blow out the candle with one short puff of breath.
The dim light was extinguished immediately, plunging her into a darkness that softened slowly with the ticking hand of the clock. She lay on her back with her eyes wide open before resignedly pushing the covers back so that she could emerge from her bed.

It had been a week since Obsidian had left, and although she had begrudgingly accepted there was nothing, she could do about it for the time being, that didn't make the separation any easier. She would be lying to herself if she said she wasn't furious at his choice, even as she understood why he had chosen to go alone.

Well not exactly alone.

The news that Zalas was missing too had come as a shock to everyone, not just her. The thought of the unlikely duo purposefully accompanying each other anywhere was difficult to believe. In fact, Circe still didn't believe it. Zalas must have blackmailed him somehow, she was sure.

It serves him right, had been the first thought through her head when she had discovered their departure. She had then spent the entire day venomously hoping that Zalas irritated Obsidian so much that he would just turn around and come back. But when the initial first day had blended into two, and then three, she realised that he was resolute. He would not be returning. Not until he had achieved what he had set out to do.

We were supposed to do this together, she had thought that night as she took some time to be alone with her thoughts. I promised you this time that you wouldn't be alone.

And now, a week later, it was still this thought that bothered her most. Because she had promised him. She had.

The wooden floorboards were cold beneath her bare feet as she padded lightly down the dark hall, her fingers skimming over the stained glass of the mermaid door once before pushing it ajar.
She slipped through the small gap silently, breathing herself into the room beyond.

Silence. That was what welcomed her.

His room was empty, a mere hollow shell without the presence of the Captain who normally lounged within. Her gaze fell upon the back of his chair and she imagined, fervently, that for a fleeting moment, he was sitting in it. He would lean back languidly, with eyes cast from liquid gold, to study her where she stood. She could practically feel the weight of that gaze upon her. She could picture the indolent curl of his lips as he beckoned her to him. The touch of heat, as his hands roamed wantonly across her skin.

Her eyes had closed without her permission, but they fluttered back open now. And what she saw was nothing but an empty chair. Ghosting forward, she touched the back of it, her palms flattening out across the well-worn leather. She spun it around slowly and sank into the seat, curling her knees to her chest and squeezing them tight.

Gently, the chair spun around of its own accord, as though wishing to sooth the person held within its embrace. It slowed to a gentle halt, facing the abandoned bedframe at the opposite end of the room.

Circe stared blankly for a moment at the covers, pulled neatly over the mattress, and the pillows, stacked in an orderly row. There were no shoes set at the base of the bed, no clothes strewn across the unblemished sheets, nothing to indicate that the space had, until recently, been occupied by someone other than herself.

There is something stuck in my throat, she thought, as she swelled forth from his armchair to stumble towards his bed. Upon reaching the blankets she tore them from their neatly tucked corners, throwing them up into the air where they billowed like the sails of a ship before falling haphazardly back into place. The pillows that sat, so pompous and plump, she ripped from their offending line, tossing them in a pile in the middle of the bed.

Her heart was beating with tangible ferocity as she lurched from the surrounding ruin to wrench open the adjacent wardrobe doors. For a moment she simply stared, chest heaving, at the clothes that lay within, before her hand shot forward to grab the first thing her fingers closed around, and she jerked it back out.

She discarded her own clothes with haste, fumbling into the fabric of his shirt with fervent desperation- as though she had been burning and somehow this would be the balm that would sooth her scorched flesh. It wasn't until she was sitting on the floor with the white cloth of his shirt pooling loosely around her that she recognized the old friend who had come knocking at her door. The friend whose words spoke nothing but lies and promised only betrayal.

Panic.

She had not felt this way for a long time. Not since he had died. And she realized now, as she reached out a shaking hand to snatch the corner of his sheets, so that she could pull them towards her, that she had not missed the feeling in the slightest.

But you don't need to feel this way now, she thought fiercely, because he's not dead. He lives. He lives in this room.

Does he?

The cold whisper snuck in through a gap in the blankets she had cocooned around her.

"He does," she whispered, as though by speaking the words she could use them as a barrier to banish the cruel thoughts that slithered into her mind. "He does."

Didn't you wonder how many times Cobalt had to face this very same, empty room, knowing that his brother was dead? Isn't it ironic, now you get to experience it for yourself.

"He is not dead," Circe hissed viciously, even as her breath faltered in her throat. "He promised to come back. He promised me."

And you promised you would be with him. Yet here you are.

She felt her heart squeeze painfully and gasped at the lucidity of it. "It wasn't my choice," she choked out. "I didn't want him to leave me behind."

She stumbled to her feet, but the blankets tripped her, and she fell onto the mattress, sinking into the pillows she had piled in a heap. Her heartbeat was thundering horribly loud in her ears and her lungs betrayed her, her breath escaping in short, anxious gasps.

I can't breathe, she thought wildly. The blankets she had originally welcomed now seemed sinister and they twisted around her cruelly, dragging her further down as she fought to escape. I can't breathe.

Yes, you can.

Suddenly the pressure on her chest lifted and without thinking she pulled in a deep, desperate breath through her nose. Immediately his scent filled her senses, grounding her and bringing her back to the room with a jolt.

She felt an almost desperate sense of relief as the world which had previously been spinning out of control seemed to slow, eventually halting altogether. Cautiously, she waited, with bated breath for the fluttering embrace of panic to return, but when it did not, she pawed her way free of the covers instead and emerged, red faced and sweating, into the cool air of the room beyond.

The room stared, empty and unassuming, back at her as she sat in the middle of the mess she had created and forced the hotness welling behind her eyes to scuttle back from where it had come. One traitorous tear escaped, and she wiped it away furiously.

Of course, he wasn't dead. How could she be so stupid. She looked at the state of disarray that surrounded her and felt a strong jab of self-loathing. "Weak," she muttered derisively, her hands clenching beneath Obsidian's too-long sleeves.

'No.'

This time it really was as though he had spoken. he could not help but lift her head to look towards where she expected him to be; standing at the end of the bed, looking down at her with an unfathomable gaze in his eyes, speaking the very same words he had spoken the first time the weight of her past turmoil had filled her lungs with liquid and suffocated her breath, drowning her on dry land.

'You are not weak.'

She could see him as he sat down just out of her reach, the bed dipping with his weight and bringing her just a little bit closer. She could feel the heat of his hands as he had reached for her, rough palms smoothing the discord from her brow.

'Feeling this way does not make you weak Circe. It makes you stronger. It means that you have something worth fighting for. It means you have something you do not want to lose.'

She imagined the tenderness that had lingered in the corners of his eyes and the set of his mouth.

'You taught me that. My Pirate Queen.'

Without realising it, she had been holding her breath and she released it now, the image of him vanishing as she exhaled with an ungraceful splutter. Coughing, she sucked in another breath, and then another. Air flowed in through her nose again as she fought for control, shaking the last vestiges of her panic attack from her limbs. As it fled, she felt herself truly return and she sank back down into the blankets, her body filling with mind numbing relief.

She gasped aloud then, shocked by the sudden swell of emotion in her throat. Blinking hurriedly, she managed to ward off the tears and threw one white clothed arm over her face, inhaling slowly. For a moment she lay there, gathering herself. And then her arm fell back to her side and she stared up at the ceiling, feeling vulnerable and a little shaky, as though she were a weak flame that could be snuffed out by a slight breeze.

"It's going to be okay," she said. Her voice wobbled a little, so she tried again and this time she sounded more convincing. "It's going to be okay. He has to come back so he can marry you, remember?" The idea promoted a watery grin to form on her face and she sniffed heavily, heaving herself up from her back. "If he goes back on that promise, I'll hunt him down and lock him up," she gave a weak chuckle at her own impudence before pulling the blankets back around her in a slightly more ordered fashion, "then we will see who gets left behind," the slight bitterness in her tone left a sour taste on her tongue and she glared down at his shirt, as though it had personally offended her.

You could always lock him up when he gets back, a sly voice whispered in the back of her mind, just to teach him a lesson.

"Hmpf," Circe huffed and beat the pillow in front of her a few times for good measure before pulling it to her chest and giving it a squeeze. She stared at his empty chair that sat innocently at the other end of the room. "That's not a bad idea," she murmured absentmindedly. The image of Obsidian staring out at her from behind the bars of a cell suddenly popped into her mind.

For a moment she entertained the idea, but then a thought occurred to her and she snorted, scowling heavily as she threw herself back into the nest she had created, pulling the covers tightly around her. "No," she grumbled to herself, "that wouldn't do, the beast would probably enjoy it."

She snuggled further down under the covers, her annoyance slowly waning as she settled. The scent of him enveloped her fully and she sighed, her warm breath creating a small white cloud in the cold air of the room. Beneath the floor, the ship rocked and outside she could hear the rain pick up again- it had been on and off the whole day. Now it thundered down, a soft backdrop of white noise that complemented the steady beating of her heart.

"I miss you," the confession was barely audible, even to her own ears. "Please, come home soon."

*

When Lacy woke her in the morning, Circe was relieved to find that the expression of togetherness she had been projecting for the entire week slipped easily back onto her face as though it had never cracked to begin with.

"Lacy? What is it?"

The younger girl was gentle as she roused Circe from her slumber, but her voice was urgent. If she was surprised to find the mess of blankets and pillows that Circe had piled up around herself like a fortress, then she did not show it.

"They are leaving. Your Father requested to see you before they go."

Circe rubbed her eyes tiredly, "I understand, I will be out soon." Her feet were already shifting towards the end of the bed. When Lacy didn't move, she looked towards her, feeling slightly defensive as she paused, pulling the covers back towards her in a poor attempt to hide the identity of the shirt she was currently wearing.

"What is it?"

Lacy looked at her silently before shaking her head. "No, it's nothing," she replied. But Circe could see the careful consideration in her eyes and retracted her earlier statement. She didn't give her friend enough credit- Lacy wasn't as oblivious as she thought. "I'll let you get dressed."

Circe paused and then nodded. "Thank-you." She didn't specify what for.

The door snicked shut quietly behind her friend and Circe padded back to her own room, dressing hurriedly. After a moment of indecision, she left Obsidian's shirt on, tucking the too-long ends of the white fabric guiltily into her pants and out of sight. She swung her heavy coat on over the top and buttoned it hastily. Pulling her long curls out from her collar, she abandoned any thought of brushing them, instead only pausing over her wash basin to hurriedly splash some water on her flushed cheeks.

The water was colder than expected and she inhaled sharply at the shock, lifting her eyes to peer at her own reflection in the mirror opposite. She paused for a moment, schooling her expression into one of careful control, before looking away.

When she emerged from the Captains quarters, Cobalt found her immediately.

"I heard he is leaving?" She questioned.

"Yes," he replied tersely, "he said he has recovered enough to escort Aranel back to the Air Kingdom for trial and punishment. They are to depart immediately after he has seen you."

Circe felt her heart skip a beat and the mention of Aranel's name, but she ignored her fluctuating pulse and nodded. "I understand. Where are they?"

"Top deck. Unabonan is ready to go."

The ship was busy this morning, despite the rain, but the two of them made their way through the bustle easily, ascending the stairs until her Father came into view.

Zephyr was standing by the railing, leaning over it to speak to someone below. He turned to welcome her as she approached and as she walked forward to stand beside him, she peered over the railing also.

"Unabonan," she greeted, acknowledging the Dragon who swam in the ocean beneath them, leisurely keeping pace with the ship.

Vanima, came the reply.

Circe's eyes skittered across his back to rest on the person sitting hunched at the edge of the large circular saddle the dragon wore. A far cry from the staunch, unshakable figure of arrogance she had been when Circe had last seen her, Aranel now seemed almost non-existent, as though she had folded in on herself like a wet paper doll.

Beside Aranel stood Elika, the small Air Sprite's expression blank as always. She glanced up towards Circe and jerkily nodded her head once. "Princess."

At Elika's voice, Aranel twitched, an almost imperceivably movement, but otherwise remained motionless, ignoring Circe's presence.

"Do you want to speak with her?" Zephyr's voice was soft, understanding.

Circe pulled away from the railing and gave her Father a small smile, swiftly shaking her head. "No. No I don't"

She had thought about it of course. Many, many times. Aranel had been lucid for a few days apparently, and this was not the first time the offer to speak with her had been extended to Circe. But after she had mulled it over, she realised that nothing the other woman had to say held any interest for her.

She had already heard the story. Both sides of it. Zalas had given her all of the information she needed to hear, in order to understand why Aranel had done what she had. If anything, the question she had wanted to ask about her brother, about Tobias, had been the only reason she had considered meeting with her. But then Nathaniel had woken, and they had talked, and he had given her all of the answers she had wanted to now.

All that was left in her heart now when she thought of the other woman was a hollow hatred that held no passion. And pity. Lot's of pity. Pity for Aranel, for the family that she had betrayed, for the lengths that she had gone to, for the people she had sacrificed, only to have her twisted plot for revenge backfire, and turn instead to devour her whole.

There was no undoing what had already been done. Circe knew this. And if she had learnt anything from Aranel's failures, it was that sometimes, you just needed to learn to let it go.

So instead she turned to sink into her Father's embrace, pressing her face firmly into his shoulder and counted her blessings. She had lost Tobias, but she had gained Zephyr, and while she was greedy enough to wish that she could have had both, she also acknowledged that, until a week ago, she hadn't had either of them. And in that sense, she had walked away with her cup fuller than it had been before.

"Do you have to leave?" She voiced.

Zephyr squeezed her tightly before pulling away so that he could look at her face. "Yes Circe, I am afraid that I must. We had to wait until I was back to full strength, and thanks to you that has happened sooner than I could have anticipated. It seems I owe you my gratitude once again."

"If I was smart, I wouldn't have healed you so fast," she grumbled petulantly.

He chuckled, "You do not know how pleased I am to hear you would have me stay longer."

She gazed up at him, chewing on her thoughts. She had had plenty of time to talk with her Father as he had recovered, and she was not ashamed to say that she had quickly grown extremely attached. He was just so fascinating. He seemed to know everything and every question that she had been dying to have solved ever since entering the world of the Other, he answered with practised ease.
No hiding, no pretending she wasn't old enough to understand, no hesitation.
He was completely transparent, in a way that was so strangely refreshing she wondered when she had become so accustomed to people hiding things from her.
And he had lived for so long, that the knowledge he held far proceeded any she had spoken to before. The more she listened to him, the more inconceivable it became to her that this great person was actually her Father.

And although she did not regret her childhood in the slightest- she could not help but wonder what her life might have been like if she had grown up in the light of this man's sun.

Her melancholy expression did not go unnoticed by Zephyr and he smiled ruefully down at her. "We will meet again daughter." Elegantly he lowered himself to one knee, taking one of her hands in his own, his other hand crossing over his heart. "I swear it. And remember, you can always call for me on the wind." His opalescent eyes shone with an internal light as he regarded her sincerely, "wherever you are, I will always hear you."

She nodded, swallowing thickly. "I understand."

Rising, he drew her to him again, holding her gently before pulling away. "As for Aranel, you may rest at ease. She may be family, but her crimes are extreme. She will be dealt with fairly- I will oversee her punishment personally."

"Yes," Circe replied falteringly, "I-, no," she shook her head, choosing instead to simply say, "thank-you."

"There is no need for thanks between us." Her Father looked down at her quietly.

She offered him a tight smile as her heart swelled in her chest. "Mn," she agreed.

Zephyr turned then, to acknowledge others standing quietly to the side and it was only then that Circe remembered, with a touch of embarrassment, that they were not alone. She looked at Cobalt, a little shamefaced, but the Pirate merely smiled and beckoned her over.

"Are you okay?" The question fell naturally from his lips and Circe did not try to hide from it like she might have if it had been someone else who had asked.

"Not really," she confessed, "but I will be."

He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his side briefly, dropping a rough kiss on the top of her head. "Everything is going to work out. We will catch up to them within the next few days."

"I know." She watched as Zephyr exchanged a few words with Nathaniel and Leo before turning back towards them and halting in front of Cobalt. "I need to speak to Unabonan quickly," she excused herself, pulling away from Cobalt's side to let the two men speak alone.

Nathaniel met her at the railing, glancing down at the party below. "You're sure you don't want to speak to her?" He confirmed, one eyebrow raising, "You may not get another chance."

Circe shook her head, "I'm sure. You?"

Nathaniel shrugged, but his expression was cold. "What is there to talk about?"

Circe hummed in reply. There was however, one thing she did need to say. "Unabonan," she called, speaking aloud for Nathaniel's benefit, "Thank-you, for what you did for Tobias."

The great Dragon Prince looked up at her, his white reptilian eyes unreadable as always.

I have done nothing that requires thanks, Vanima. I merely wished to right some of the wrongs between us.

Circe nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of her mouth as she pondered his words, relaying them back to Nathaniel as she thought of how to reply.

What she was referring to, was an incident that had taken place a few days ago, whereupon Circe and Nathaniel had had to have the difficult conversation about what to do with Tobias' body.

"I don't want to leave him alone again," Nathaniel had admitted to her finally, "I don't want to bury him somewhere and just leave him by himself." His hands had been shaking as she took them in her own, unable to find the words to console him, "It just doesn't seem fair."

"I understand," she had vowed quietly, and she did understand. But then what could they do?

Surprisingly, the solution had come from the last place she had expected. Upon discovering their dilemma, Unabonan had requested Tobias be brought out to the deck where the Dragon could see him.

She was not going to lie, the moment Unabonan's massive white snout had pressed onto Tobias' chest, she had been abruptly afraid the dragon was going to eat him. However, as had time passed, she had realised something else was occurring and as she approached, she could hear a soft crackling sound, as though someone were putting pressure on a thin sheet of ice.

Apparently finished, Unabonan had pulled away, allowing her and Nathaniel to inspect their brothers body.

"What did you do to him?" Nathaniel had wondered in awe, as Circe ran the tips of her fingers across the translucent, multi-faceted surface that encased Tobias' body like a second skin. She stroked her brothers glittering cheek, coming to a realisation.

"Is this ... diamond?" She had asked incredulously.

Unabonan had merely blinked at them and offered no explanation other than: He will not decay until you bury him beneath the earth. Only then will the casing dissolve.

This gift was of immeasurable importance to Circe, and to Nathaniel. Unsure of what else to say, she simply relayed this feeling to Unabonan, conveying her feelings through their mental link as well, so that her sincerity could be felt, as well as heard.

The great Dragon merely dipped his head in reply. I hope that, with your Fathers return, you will not hesitate to visit our Kingdom again in the future. You will always be welcome.

Circe smiled and voiced her amicable agreement. She could feel Anthemin in the back of her mind, listening to their conversation and knew that he missed his homeland, from time to time. Now that the issue with Aranel had been somewhat resolved, and Zalas was working on acknowledging his wrong doings, she would not be against visiting the diamond palaces again. After all, she thought as her gaze slid sideways to where Zephyr stood, her Father would be there too.

Zephyr was pulling away from Cobalt now, seemingly finished saying whatever it was he had need to convey. "Very well. It is time for us to leave." He looked at Circe resolutely, "We will meet again. Soon. Remember my words."

She nodded, raising a hand to wave as her Father stepped up into the air with effortless grace, as though he was merely ascending a flight of stairs. In the ocean below, the water churned as Unabonan's gigantic form lifted from the water, wings snapping open to power the great beast into the air. Moving through the air with ease, Zephyr flew up and over the dragon's wing, stepping onto Unabonan's scaled shoulder before looking back to wave once in reply.

Circe waved until they were gone from sight and then she sighed, falling back against Nathaniel's side. There was a strange feeling in her heart, and she was finding it difficult to place.

Nate bumped against her gently before scooping an arm around her and squeezing her in a side-ways hug. "It's been a long time since we've had to say goodbye to someone voluntarily," he observed quietly, and she hummed in agreement.

Perhaps that was what it was, this slightly unsettling taste of sadness that was missing the familiar touch of some other- uglier- emotion she had come to associate with departures. She had, she realised suddenly, become unused to saying goodbye. To staying willingly in one place while waving off a person she loved. Because she did love him, her Father. The man she had known for just under a week but felt as though she had been familiar with for a lifetime.

Circe had never been withholding of her love and her capability to love. The emotion came to her as easily as breathing, but it was never in excess, and the endless quantity she had to give did not diminish its sincerity. It had been a blessing, and a hinderance at times. But as she watched her Father disappear into the thick grey clouds above, she was abruptly thankful that she had reached this moment with her capacity for love still intact.
After everything, all of the loss, and hurt, and betrayal, if she had let it define her, if she had stood before her Father as anyone else, if she had turned him away for fear of being disappointed ... she was certain she would have regretted it.

Lacy appeared on her other side, her hand slipping into Circe's own and giving it a squeeze. She smiled appreciatively down at her friend. "Thank-you," she expressed, "for reminding me to give him a chance."

Lacy's returning smile was as bright as the sun. "You're welcome," she replied simply.

Behind them, Cobalt groaned and stretched his arms above his head, breaking the solemn atmosphere. "Well that's one less thing to worry about I suppose. Zephyr wasn't bad but thank fuck that Rat Princess is off my ship," he scowled, scrubbing at his face, his expression reminding Circe of a certain Pirate Captain. "I still think we should have killed her when we had the chance." He grumbled.

Circe couldn't help but laugh. True, watching Aranel fly away knowing that she was now someone else's problem was a massive weight off her shoulders. However, when Circe thought of the person who had taken her place ... well. She wasn't sure who was worse.

"What did Zephyr talk to you about?" She asked Cobalt curiously.

Cobalt's silver eyes glanced out at the grey sky. "Who else," he uttered grimly. "He is returning to the Air Kingdom, of course he will have to let the Queen know about Zeus. He said that he was unsure how she would react, but he is betting that once Airocei and Evangeline learn of my Father's resurrection, they will not simply sit idly by. His advice was that if we wanted to deal with Zeus ourselves, to do it before the news reaches the other Kingdoms. In this respect, Bones might have had the right idea by going ahead."

Circe drummed her fingers restlessly on the wooden railing, "Perhaps," she acquiesced. A sudden thought occurred to her and she straightened abruptly.

"What is it?" Nathaniel asked curiously.

Heading for the stairs, Circe tossed an answer back over her shoulder. "Just another person to tick off the list."

The brig of Nathaniel's ship had been vacant since his Captaincy began; however, one person had dwelled within the furthermost cell ever since they had departed from Balagar. With Aranel taking residence in Obsidian's cells, a transfer had been required in order for Circe to keep her word and now she descended the steps to the brig in order to fulfil the other part of her deal.

Stepping into the room, she greeted the guard, aware of Cobalt at her back- he had insisted on accompanying her. Thankfully, he waited at the door, allowing her to approach the cell alone. She paused in front of the bars, peering through at the prisoner held within.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Jhaer's voice was as scathing as usual, but Circe remained unaffected.

"I've come to let you know that Aranel has been dealt with. You'll be pleased to know that your name was not mentioned at all. I doubt she even remembers who you are." Circe studied Jhaer's reaction carefully. The assassin's eyes narrowed as she no doubt tried to affirm whether or not Circe was telling the truth.

"And ...?" She asked hesitatingly.

"And, I've come to tell you that when we make land next, you will be free to go."

This time Jhaer's expression showed visible signs of shock. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Circe confirmed. She raised an eyebrow, "Unless you think I am someone who goes back on my word?"

Jhaer looked at her silently.

"Well, it doesn't really matter what you think I suppose," Circe mused idly, "you won't have to see me for much longer anyway."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Jhaer asked suddenly, "And Aranel isn't just waiting out there to kill me?"

Circe looked at the other woman with hard eyes. "You don't," she said brusquely, "and to be honest, I don't really care whether or not you believe me. I simply came to tell you to prepare to leave as soon as we weigh anchor. We will supply you with provisions. I expect you will be able to find a human town somewhere, if you continue to follow the coastline."

"Very well," Jhaer said flatly, her almond eyes narrowing, "don't expect me to thank you."

"I wouldn't want your thanks even if you offered it," Circe said frostily, turning away from the assassin without further ado, "ensure that once you disembark, you do not get lost. I would hate for our paths to accidently cross again," She shot the woman a glare over her shoulder as she walked out the door, "ever."

*

Exiting out onto the deck, Circe heaved a rather large sigh of relief. Cobalt was close behind her and the pirate tugged her close, ruffling her hair as he chuckled. "Listen to you, all grown up and threatening people," he teased, "I never thought I'd see the day."

"Leave it alone," she grumbled, feeling slightly embarrassed. She wasn't feeling as collected as usual and Jhaer had gotten under her skin too easily. She was grateful to be done with the other woman for good.

"Don't be like that," Cobalt teased, "if Bones could see-"

"Circe!"

Immediately the two of them looked up at the urgent call, Cobalt's hands falling to his sides as they rushed to the railing, looking back to the other ship. Across the water, Lacy was waving frantically, having spotted Circe on deck.

"Circe, come quickly!"

"You go," Cobalt urged her, "I'll follow in a moment. Go."

She nodded firmly, leaping over the railing without a second thought. It was easy for her now, to find the previously invisible air currents and step on the ones that would lead her to the other ship. Barely a moment had passed, and she had landed on the opposite deck, her hands grasping Lacy's arms even as her feet touched down on the wood.

"Lacy, what is it?"

The other girl's eyes were wide, and she opened her mouth to speak but seemed at a loss for what to say. "There is- that is, some-one has- he's come. Come to see you," she tripped over her words in a rush to get them out.

"Who?" Circe felt her chest clench immediately as a million possibilities ran through her mind. "Who has come?"

"Me."

Circe froze, her eyes flickering to the upper deck and the sound of the familiar voice that came from the person descending the stairs.

Cerulean hair that fell past his shoulders, eyes as blue as the sea in shallow waters- there was only one name that sat on her tongue.

"Ambrose."

*

OBSIDIAN

They reached the gate to the Elven capital without consequence.

After their run in with Darius, Obsidian had not seen hide nor hair of any other rogue Shifters, but he was unable to tell whether it was due to the Lycan King's efforts or their own dumb luck.

As the gate came into view, Zalas, who had been leading the way steadily through the forest, began to slow down.

Obsidian could not remember much from the time when he had passed through this gate, his mind had been muddled with memories that were not his own. However, he remembered enough to know that some sort of incantation was normally used to reveal the gateway to outsiders. Otherwise, the traveller would simply continue onwards through the forest, unknowing of the Kingdom that lay a mere realm out of reach.

So even as Zalas held up a cautionary hand of warning, Obsidian did not need to be told to recognise that the twisted, broken archway, through which he could see a view that was starkly different to the surrounding forest, was not normal.

"Darius said that barrier had been broken," Zalas murmured, his keen eyes flickering through the arch and back, "how did he know-

"I think you'll find that there are a lot of things my Father knows that he shouldn't," Obsidian said grimly as he walked forward without hesitation to step through the archway. "Come on then." Noticing Zalas paused, he looked over his shoulder and resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the other man's cautious expression. "We aren't really going to disagree on this are we?" he said exasperatedly, "The only way he could have been more obvious about it is if he had stuck a giant sign in the ground pointing to his location."

Zalas sneered at him but followed anyway and the two of them stepped fully into the realm, halting in their tracks for a moment as they surveyed the surrounding destruction.

"Well he certainly didn't hold back," Obsidian picked his way through the torn landscape warily, leaping over large fallen tree with ease. He perched on the split trunk in order to get a better vantage point, but he needn't have worried. The destruction spread for miles, flattening the earth, and removing all obstacles that otherwise might have obstructed his vision. "There seems to be a distinct lack of bodies though."

The dome like houses that hung down from the trees had been severed at the stems, and lay scattered on the ground like overly ripe, squashed grapes that had been split down the centre.
Many of the trees themselves had been torn up straight from the soil, leaving great gouges in the ground where their roots once ran, as though they had dug in their claws with desperation.
But even though the carnage to the city was immense, Obsidian had yet to see any sign of the Elves, lying defeated amongst the ruin.

Zalas appeared beside him, his white tail whipping uneasily back and forth. "Darius mentioned that they retreated earlier on. It is possible they had already left the city by the time Zeus arrived."

"If that's the case then I can't imagine my Father would have been pleased." Obsidian replied sourly, "as far as he is concerned, the more dead Elves the better. I'm sure he would have been hoping to kill the King himself," he paused, his lips curling upwards suddenly, "pity he's already dead. I wonder if he knows?"

"I'm sure he does," Zalas uttered, sending him a scathing look which Obsidian chose to ignore. Instead he leapt down from his position and ventured further into the city.

Everywhere Obsidian looked he saw destruction. There were signs that Shifters had passed through also, but much like the Elves, the actual beasts themselves had seemed to vanish off the face of the earth. It wasn't until they reached the centre of the city and gazed upon the Elven Palace, that the enormity of the situation truly began to sink in.

The Palace was in ruins.

The colossal tree that once housed it, its endless limbs seeming to stretch into the sky itself, was decimated and torn in two. A gruesomely ugly wound split through the middle of the trunk and the great boughs had fallen with the weight, to crumple on either side, branches splintering and piercing the surrounding earth like fractured bones.

Zalas's expression was severe as he waved Obsidian away from the Palace and down an oddly familiar path. "You aren't going to like where we are headed," the Air nymph said dully.

And soon Obsidian understood why. "Fantastic," he said drily, as they stood at the base of the mountain where he had last lost his life. He sent Zalas and acrid look, "If I had known we were going to be sightseeing, I would have packed a lunch. Or wait, were you planning on having chargrilled dragon."

"If that was an attempt at humour, it was a disgusting effort," Zalas snapped, "I don't want to be here any more than you."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Obsidian replied, his voice dripping with acid, "I seem to remember you actually managed to leave this cursed rock alive last time."

"He is up there," Zalas sent him a sharp look, studiously ignoring the last part of his sentence, "if you would shut up and focus for a moment, you would be able to feel it too."

Unfortunately, Zalas was right. Obsidian had been able to feel the pulse of his Father's presence for a while now, he had simply chosen to ignore the location in the hopes that Zeus would miraculously choose to go somewhere else. "You don't have to tell me," he muttered sourly, "looks like we are going up."

Zalas let out a grunt of agreement before taking to the sky without further ado. The blast of air he used to project himself with caused the surrounding earth to fly up, forcing Obsidian to fling an arm across his eyes to protect himself.

He lowered said arm with a snarl moments later, eyeing the swiftly dissipating figure with contempt. "And yet you have the guts to call me childish?!"

Crouching low, Obsidian wasted no time in launching himself straight after Zalas, his wings snapping out to catch the updraft at the apex of his jump. The Prince quickly came back into view, Obsidian catching up to him with ease. While Zalas's air control was powerful in fights and to assist him in hovering and gliding through the air, it was not the same as truly flying so it was here that Obsidian naturally held the advantage.

In retaliation for Zalas's earlier action however, Obsidian chose not to say anything, instead flying effortlessly just out of Zalas's reach as the Air Nymph flipped, leapt, and glided swiftly up the mountainside.

While Zalas wasn't looking at him, Obsidian could feel his irritation sizzling in the space between them. Unable to resist adding fuel to the fire, Obsidian flapped his wings, nonchalantly pulling ever so slightly ahead and remaining there.

"Are you a-"

"Child?" Obsidian intercepted swiftly, "no I'm not. I'm simply better than you." Satisfied with listening to Zalas choke on his outrage, Obsidian didn't give him a chance to formulate a reply as he glided ahead, leaving the Prince behind in the rapidly gathering mist. He would catch up eventually.

The fog grew thicker before it waned, eventually dissipating near the top of the mountain. However, if Obsidian could have had a choice, he would have preferred for the view to remain shrouded. His stomach clenched involuntarily as he landed upon a sickeningly familiar outcrop, still following his Father's pulsating energy.

He glanced at the flattened stone, now long swept clean of any sign of ash, before turning his back on the memory, a muscle in his jaw jumping with tension. It would do him no good to reminisce now; a far more oppressing aura was making itself known, and it was on this person alone that he would devote his sole attention to.

With barely a sound, Zalas appeared at his back, the Prince's long white hair tangling in the light breeze. "He's here."

"I know." Obsidian glanced at their surroundings critically, his expression carefully blank.

There was no doubt in his mind that his Father was watching them, Obsidian had long since been able to sense that gaze on him through the solid wall of a ship. Sometimes, noticing and not noticing had meant the difference between life and death. He felt his heart harden as he realised the instinct had not faded the slightest in the past eleven years.

"So, you've come."

Zalas let out a low hiss of surprise at the disembodied voice that floated out from the surrounding landscape, immediately on guard.

Obsidian's eyes narrowed as he glanced around carefully. The chuckle that followed the first sentence sent a prickle of ice-cold water shooting through his veins and he tensed, forcibly suppressing any external reaction.

"I should have expected my cowardly son to bring someone else to fight his battles for him."

The derision in that voice was hideously familiar. Yet, when Obsidian finally spoke, he found that a strange calm had permeated his body, and the hatred in his tone was less than what he felt brewing darkly in his heart.
"You are mistaken Father." The title came automatically, Obsidian had never called Zeus by his name, not even when he had run a sword through his chest. Obsidian had often wondered if his Father had insisted, they call him as such so as not to forget the 'debt' of life that they owed him. Now he could hear the slight condemnation in his own voice as the title passed his lips. "I came to you on my own. This one is merely here to witness your death."

Zalas scoffed from beside him but otherwise remained strangely silent. Obsidian vaguely wondered if, now that he was faced with the man himself, he was regretting coming. But then he remembered the two dead Dragons, Aranel's limp body and Zephyr's broken limbs and retracted the thought. Even without the two former, the latter alone, plus the length of Zephyr's imprisonment would have been enough for Zalas to take action. Obsidian couldn't say he blamed him really.

"You've grown cocky, boy," the hollow voice sneered, and now the shadows to the left of them were warping and shifting, the last vestiges of fog seeming to stick to the figure that stepped through the dim light towards them, as though embracing him tenderly. "You seem to have forgotten your place."

"I don't think so," Obsidian restrained himself with difficulty. Showing emotion only lead to exploitation. And it was too early in the game for that. But he could not help but study the man as he appeared, his eyes drinking in every detail, re-familiarizing himself with a greed that he hated, but could not control.

Zeus Gold emerged from his camouflage slowly, golden eyes raging with murderous intent and his cruel mouth twisted in smile that told Obsidian his Father was enjoying this moment far too much. With his eyes roaming over features that were both strange, yet horribly familiar, Obsidian was once again grateful that Circe had not joined him to this point.

As though reading his thoughts, Zeus's lips curled up at the corners. "You look like me," he smirked, "I seem to remember you saying you'd rather die be recognisable as my son. Yet here you are, a mirror image." His Fathers eyes flickered down to the sword at his hip and the surrounding temperature dropped a few degrees before Zeus raised his head with an icy smile, "And you've even seen fit to arm yourself with my possessions," he added, his voice soft but deadly, "taking liberties aren't you?"

"I may look like you," Obsidian said stonily, his hand falling to rest on the hilt of his sword, "but Cobalt still has Mother's eyes. And even if I have to be a lost cause, as long as he remains untouched by you, that's all I need to be satisfied."

His Father's face had become devoid of all expression as soon as Obsidian had mentioned his Mother, but he knew what was coming. He knew.
So, when Zeus spoke, his tone mild, as though he were discussing something bland- like the weather- Obsidian was prepared.

"I thought I taught you, that you do not have the right ... to speak of her," his Fathers hands flexed at his sides, hands opening wide before curling back into claws, "or have those scars on your back disappeared along with your goddamn respect?" The last word was roared at him, Zeus' blank façade abruptly decaying into the face of a madman.  A vein pulsed viciously in his temple, his eyes thrumming with hatred. "I see that the first thing I need to do is re-teach you, instead of killing you," he spat out, "perhaps you'd like this new lesson taught to you with my sword that you have so snugly slung around your hip."

Obsidian forced himself to ignore his Fathers words and his eyes tightened as he instead zoned in on the golden gem, embedded in the skin of his Fathers chest. His gaze flickered to the other stone, slung loosely around his neck. The gem was blue. That meant there was one missing. The red one. The Air Kingdom stone. The one that Zephyr had told them was the eye of the Nyx.

I cannot sense the beast. Zalas was still standing silent at the side. Obsidian allowed the intrusion on his mind, knowing that their conversation would be impossible to hide otherwise.

There is only one stone missing, Obsidian's expression did not sway from his Father's face, find it. Leave him to me. He did not wait to hear the Air Sprite's reply.

Drawing the sword from its sheath, Obsidian felt the hatred that had been simmering in his heart slowly rise to the surface, burning to the very ends of his fingertips as his hands curled around the hilt of the sword.
His back straightened and he did not hesitate as he pointed the ink black blade at his Father, for the second time in his life. "There has never been anything for you to teach me," he uttered, staring unwaveringly into those deadly eyes, so like his own, "other than how to kill you. And I learnt the art of killing you, a long time ago."

*