aphmau au i whipped up

~

"GarGar," Zianna would coo with a lovely smile rested upon her pale lips, "I want you to take your little brothers to Miss Sylvana's House. Do you remember where it is?"

"Yes, mommy!" the blonde child would reply, grasping onto his younger brothers' hands. "Over the bridge and at the other side of the woods!"

"That's my boy," her gaze became soft as she kissed each child's forehead. "ZuZu, Little Pea, listen to your big brother, alright? Mommy will be back for you, I promise."

She hands Zane a vanilla envelope, sealed in red wax with their family's crest, "I want you to give this to Miss Sylvana. Can you do that?"

"I will!" he'd reply, happily taking the letter. Behind his mask, a wide grin stretched upon his face as his eyes gleamed with joy.

"Why can't I get the letter?" Garroth frowned, slightly irritated.

"You have to take care of your little brothers," Zianna explained, bending down to ruffle his hair.

"W-What about me?" the youngest Ro'meave questioned, a slight stutter in his voice.

"Make sure to keep your big brothers out of trouble. Now, hurry along and remember that mommy loves you all so much!"

"We will!" the three boys exclaimed.

Holding both their hands, Garroth began the journey down the path and out of their family's backyard, disappearing into the nearby woodland.

The trees were dense, blocking the little sunlight that hung overhead. The snow from yesterday's storm was difficult to trudge through, let alone having two younger brothers to look after. Vylad had been the most difficult, being extremely squirmy and reluctant to leave behind his mother. Garroth assumes it's because of his age—five year olds are a lot to handle.

In the distance was the trade of silence for noise. Bangs like fireworks travelled through the thin air, followed by eerily familiar screams. Feeling pressure from both his hands, Garroth flashed a reluctant smile, "Do not worry, little brothers! People are screaming because they are having fun!"

In all honesty, he hadn't known the reason for the terror that stood beyond the footprints they'd left behind in the snow. Despite being seven, turning close to eight, he was the one in charge. Their mother wasn't there—he concluded he had to be the adult here.

"Why can't we join them?" Vylad reluctantly questioned. Garroth simply laughed.

"Mommy gave us a super special mission! Don't you want to see Aphmau and Miss Sylvana?"

"I want mommy," Vylad muttered, shaking his head.

"We'll see her soon," Garroth tugged both boys further along, hastening his pace in hopes to not fall victim to nighttime's terrors. The sun sets early in winter, he recalled father telling him. He doesn't like to admit it, but he's afraid of the dark. Not only that, but they're traveling through a dense forest; it's scary at daytime nonetheless, let alone night.

"Are you sure?" Zane spoke up, voice soft as his icy orbs stared wide-eyed against the vanilla envelope. "Daddy looked scared."

"Biggest brother is always right!" Vylad argued, peaking his head towards his slightly older brother. Zane had recently turned six.

"Settle down you two."

"Yes Garroth..."

***

Garroth woke up that evening in a cold sweat.

It's a recurring nightmare—that day haunts his memory like clockwork. It's summertime now; the snow has been long gone and so has his parents. His mother hasn't returned for them like she promised, but if she had, then she's nearly two decades late.

He still remembers her face, as well as his father's, like his own reflection. Granted, his memory is a bit frazzled and blurry like a foggy mirror, but he's better off in terms of Zane. Poor Zane doesn't even remember how both of his parents looked like, which is awfully terrible.

"Zane? Are you awake?" Garroth whispers, rolling onto his side and facing his younger brother.

"Garroth, shut up, it's two in the morning," Zane groans, tossing his pillow to cover his head. His muffled voice emits from beneath the pillow, "Go back to sleep!"

"I can't," he admits, shuffling over. "I had that dream again."

The pillow topples onto the floor as Zane picks his head up from the mattress, "Again? This is the third time this week! Just let it go, already."

"Let it go?" Garroth questioned in hysterics, laughing a bit. "Let it go?"

"Look, I know how much you miss mom and dad—"

"I can't just let it go!" he exclaimed, plopping onto Zane's bed. In response, the other sat up, sitting next to him with his head slightly dropped. "They're gone and worst of all, we don't know where any of the others are. This is all my fault, I should have never acted so irrationally—"

"What's done is done," Zane interrupts. "We can't change the past, no matter how hard we try."

"The Guardian Force is after us and it's all my fault. They know we're Sorcerers! If I hadn't lost control of my powers then Lucinda wouldn't have been taken, as well as Vylad! Travis wouldn't have been shot dead! Most of all, wouldn't have gotten split up from the rest of the group and we wouldn't be sleeping in this crummy, abandoned house!"

The room shutters a bit as specs of rubble fall onto the floor like pins. Garroth pants, his head held down as muffled sobs escape his lips. Zane rubs circles into his back, teary eyed.

"And Laurence, that look of fear in his eyes the moment I was fighting to protect him," he whispers, body shaking. "It's not fair. Why does it have to be us? Why does it have to be our family?"

"Travis isn't dead, I know that for a fact," Zane argues in response. "The others will be alright, Aaron's with them."

"What about Lucinda and Vylad?"

"The Guardian Forces needed them alive, I doubt they'd kill them when being detained. Look, we can't avoid tragedy, but we can stop it. There's going to be a way, I'm sure of it."

Garroth picks up his head, wiping away his tears with his sleeve. He snickers a bit, "I've never heard you this inspirational before."

"Whatever," Zane pushes the older off his bed, "now go back to sleep."

"Good night, little brother," Garroth whispers, returning to his bed.

"Night, Garroth," the raven haired male replies.

The blond doesn't sleep for the rest of the night, but rather takes watch of the nearby windows, the shadows that crawled from underneath the door and closet, and the books and crannies that seemed to be playing with his mind. He could never be truly at peace.