Kilax played with the sharpened knife with one of his hands for mere seconds before he lifted it up, only to bring it down on the piece of meat in front of him, slicing it.

His hands and corporeal body moved gracefully, swiftly. Methodically.

His mind, however, was a vastness of utter wildness. His thoughts were untamed. The images flashing behind his open eyelids were uncontrolled. And the emotions the visions stirred inside of him were unregulated.

Kilax hated that out of his control, which was absurdly ironic, for almost everything was far away from his control, now.

As usual, his physical body continued the diurnal tasks any reasonable living being would do, while his spirit travelled between the infinite layers of worlds and foreshadows and unprecedented futures and parallels dimensions.

Kilax knew of life and death, and everything there was in between.

Kilax knew of Time.

He knew of the first whispers of the wind and the first songs of the moon, for Kilax had been one of those born from Before.

So even as he finished cutting his meat, and started preparing his utensils for the next step in his culinary routine, he saw.

In one world, a girl was hiding behind her covers on her bed while she held a flashlight in one hand and a book in the other, rebelling against her parents' orders by staying awake late into the night to read her favourite book.

In another world, far from the one where his blood ran, a beautiful winged male was befalling destruction into a village full of those of his kin, in an act of vengeance. Or what he thought was justice.

A few layers down more, a blonde female reread the words she had written on her computer as she made sure to alter the reality behind her story and turn it into a fantasy for those who wielded no magic.

Somewhere else, an angel fell from the sky. Punished and exiled, while his glorious white wings shifted to grey and then black as the wind and his sins called him to roam on Earth.

And, then, in a corner of his mind -a corner that he refused to admit was slightly bigger than he would have preferred- the future unfolded. Or, at least, a few possible futures, for it was still undecided.

Kilax studied one of the possible foretellings: a rising shadow, fallen soldiers, and a rotten crown being placed on the head of a monster.

That one was a strong possibility.

Then, his attention shifted to another one: a flower blooming in the middle of winter, and a little kid staring curiously at it. Mesmerised, even. So transfixed in the oddly plant that he could not hear the desperate cries of his mother calling for him.

Kilax's eyes closed instinctively when the image of the little kid's mother being brutally murdered played next. Yet, the kid noticed nothing, for the flower had sung and drowned out the sound of his mother's throat being slit.

His mind looked desperately for another scene from the future, one where the same creatures living on the ground did not play at being the Fates and brought destruction with their hatred and fear.

It was worryingly harder to find beauty in the future when it was always so phthartic.

But oneirataxia was even harder. Perhaps, a natural consequence to the horror of what was not real but could possibly be.

However, Kilax was used to seeing every little -and gigantic- terror the world -and worlds- had to offer, so even as millions of very probable nightmares played one after the other in a corner of his mind, he continued cooking.

It wasn't until he had finished making his salad that he saw a scene from the future of someone he knew.

And, undoubtedly, that was even worse than peering into the untaken steps of those unknown to him, for now, he bore the burden of a not-yet-happened-consequence which he was forbidden from warning.

Yes, he thought to himself, it is hard, indeed.

His thoughts spiralled as he hung onto every conceivable scenario, as he envisioned every difference that came with a distinctive decision. Sometimes it was something as unimportant as the snack someone ate in between working shifts, or the sudden -and unexplainable- urge to choose a different path to go to school. And, other times, it was a life-altering decision, that even those who played the vision could recognize, deep inside themselves, the graveness of the choice vibrating within themselves. Like a confession to a lover, or a goodbye to a loved one. Or a sacrifice.

So Kilax sang a low tune as he chopped vegetables, while his psyche searched, desperately, for a happy moment. Anything. Just a future that was not already scarred with mercilessness and hollowness.

It took him longer than he would have preferred, but he found it: It was weak as it was implausible. But it was there, happy, still. So not all hope was lost.

A baby being placed in a male's arms. He looked down at the newborn baby, strongly crying, and he began smoothly rocking the baby from side to side. Then, he murmured three words to the baby, his child, and that was enough to make them stop crying. Almost as if the child had understood their father's words. Words of love. Vows of adoration and promises of safety.

The male let out a chuckle, amazed by his kid's big, attentive eyes, with the same colourful shade as their mother. He brought the baby closer to his chest, already shielding his family from the world.

He began crying. Tears of pure, free happiness. Because they had made it, and even as the world was scarred, his child was fine. Healthy. And unimaginably loved.

Kilax allowed himself a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips. New lives being born in the eyes of so much death always astonished him. Life after death was always a delightfully thought that filled him with something close to hope.

It was also distracting. Hopefulness, that was. So he blamed it on that when it was already too late for him to detect the new presence in his kitchen.

He wished it didn't, but his magic buzzed all around him as it recognized its sibling. Wariness and energy stiffened his corporeal body, his hand tightened its hold on the knife, and his senses sharpened with the familiarity of his uninvited guest.

"Hello, Kilax" She said, her voice melodic and subreal.

He refrained from letting out a sigh, for he knew she would notice it, and looked at her over his shoulder.

She was young, her form thrumming with healthiness and out-of-this-world beauty. Her long hands were clasped in front of her, and his eyes travelled from her strong-genetic silver mane to her tanned skin and shining -and highly controlled- pine-green eyes.

"Hello,"

Her lips curve almost imperceptibly, "Is that the kind of greeting I deserve after a millenium without seeing each other?"

He shrugged, "Do not pretend you could have not visited me earlier if you had truly wanted to"

Her eyes hardened, but her expression remained contained. "And do not pretend your exile was not completely self-inflicted"

"I never have"

"You always do"

He dropped the knife on the counter and turned on his heels to face the female that had sneaked under all his wards placed around his house, and forest. "Why are you here?" He cut straight to the point. He already wanted her gone.

"I wanted to see you"

"Liar," A small frown creased her brow. He smirked, pleased with himself. "You came here because you needed to see me" He crossed his arms over his chest. "You want answers"

The female shook her head, the movement emphasising her pointy ears. "I always want to see you,"

"And how convenient for you, to suddenly wish to see me, when Mictlantecuhtli is coming" Guilt crossed her features for less than a second as she hid it behind a composed expression. "And even more convenient, when Erebus, Azrael and Erinyes are coming with him"

"I did know that, but it has nothing-"

"Do not lie!" He interrupted her, almost shouting. He took a calming breath before continuing in a calmer voice. "Death is coming for them all. I bet everyone can feel it, darkness and death looming over those chosen by Hellas, Anneith, and, of course, you. Or has anyone else joined your group of shielded warriors? Mora, perhaps?"

Her lips thinned into a flat line, and he noticed the tremble of her hands as she clasped them behind her back. "We can feel their presence, close to arrival" She confessed. "But I, nor them, can see what will happen. Not like you do" Her eyes were pleading with unspoken words.

"What about the Fates? Go ask and beg them for the future of your bloodline"

"The Fates will not speak to me. Or them. They laughed when I fell on my knees and begged for a glimpse into his -their- future"

Kilax tried not to show the surprise that her confession erupted inside of him. Nor curiosity. Instead, he said, nonchalantly. "Do you not find it ironic that those blessed by the Gods always walk too close to death? That even with the help of the Gods, Mictlantecuhtli always comes for them? Or Azrael? Or -"

"Stop, please," She begged, her voice low. "Why will you not help me? I know you care for them. You must. After all, you helped him -them- so many times. And you have loved one like them before, why cannot you help-"

"Leave" He ordered. His voice frozen as the lake in the Underworld.

"Kilax-"

"Leave!"

"Brother-"

"LEAVE"

The female shrank back. Not because of the harshness in his voice, but because she feared for those she had seen and known since birth. They stayed silent, staring furiously -and brokenly- at each other.

But she wouldn't leave.

"And do you not find it ironic," She began, instead, already trying to compose herself. "Cruel, even, to gift her Silba's knowledge when even that cannot win in the face of The Dark Siblings?" He looked away, but she insisted. "Or was that your intention?"

"That was my intention"

"Liar," She smirked. "You care for her, for them. You cannot not, for I know your heart can still feel as much as it did while she was with you"

"Mortals are as important as ants to me"

"Only you would call them mortals" She said, almost as if to herself.

"What are centuries against aeons?"

"Yet they do so much in mere centuries"

"Yes, they bring destruction and wars"

"So do we,"

"It is not quite the same"

"They are our children, it is the same"

He forced a humourless laugh to leave his lips. "They may be yours, but they are certainly not mine"

"They came to life because of all of us. They are all children of Gods. Even if I may have involved myself more than I should have with some of them" Kilax looked at the far-away expression on her face. The sorrow still etched in her features every time she spoke of him, and their descendants.

"Mortals have a name for what you just said: incest"

Her mood shifted to one of incredulous anger. "You know we are not truly related. Only those I birthed with him"

"And you should know that sarcasm is a really popular coping mechanism for mortals"

The female laughed. A real, loud laugh that made her throw her head back as her body shook. "I truly have missed you"

"How could you not?" He permitted himself to say.

The smile she wore slowly disappeared as her eyes grew distant. "I cannot bear to see them die. I must do something, anything, to help them"

"Their death is practically written in The Dark Siblings' stones, and you have known that for quite some time, so why did you bring her into this?"

"You know why. They are mates"

"And you were hoping that the mating bond would make them fornicate until they had a child that would continue your bloodline?" He was angry. Furious at the idea of an innocent kid being brought into the play of Gods for their mere intents.

"Of course not," She shook her head, ashamed. "I just- I wanted them to be happy,"

"Happy until their final days? Which, I insist, are closer than they can even imagine"

"They have suffered so much, Kilax, you know this...I just thought they deserved to be happy, even if for a little while, before death came"

His hands were in fits, "Well, your plan is not working. They are not happy, nor together. He is suffering because of the bond and her blindness, and she is barely holding on to life"

"But at least they have each other" She whispered.

"That is not enough"

"It is more than enough" The female fought back. "You know it more than I do how even the presence of those we hold in our hearts is enough to strengthen our souls"

Kilax sighed. "But they are not in each other's hearts"

"They are. Faintly, but they are there. And, with time, they will be united like one soul" She sounded convinced of her words.

"Yet, I am the one who can foresee the future. Not you"

She shot him a sad smile, "I do not need to see the future to know of their love for each other"

"You are sick," He said, disgusted.

The female nodded, absently. "I have been for quite some time. But not for bringing to soulmates together"

"Do not pretend you did it for them. You did it for you, and your selfish wishes"

Her whole face hardened with intensive fury as she stared at him. "And do not pretend that if there was one child, a result of your and your mate's love, you wouldn't do anything to protect them"

"You are not protecting them, you are hurting them"

"Pain may exist, but love will preserve"

Kilax sighed, suddenly aware that she was too far away to make her understand the seeds of her mistakes. To make her see that she was wrong, in some things.

He rubbed his temple, exhausted. Drained by the reminder of his own ghosts. He let his hand fall. "There is only one thing that may alter their future. But only theirs. Not the rest's" Her eyes widened as she came closer to him. "Their final days are already written, I cannot change that, but they...They may have a longer future"

Her hands began trembling once again. "What is it? What must I do?"

Kilax cursed himself for his weak heart. So he told her the only possible decision that would give them more time, but that wouldn't stop the others from being taken by death.

He told her everything.

- - - -  - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Hello everyone, I've never had an update schedule but I'm sorry for not updating in so long. I've been veru busy with exams, but I'll try to update more regularly from now on. 

This chapter is short and from Kilax's pov. It marks the ending of PART II - into the depths of your world, and the beginning of PART III

I hope you enjoy it !

ps: gods are not really related to mortals or immortals, but they say they are their children bc of that whole things of "we are all god's child" and so. Only a few fae are actual descendants of gods, and you already know who they are so yeah :)