The water was cold and clear, leaving an almost bitter taste upon Cyrus' tongue. Of course in that regard, the bitter taste did not simply come from the water that flowed around him as if he wasn't ever there. More so, the bitter taste was derived from the soft glow of the pale leaves, as the moonlight, no matter how gentle, let the water catch an almost iridescent glow. The flowers, as thick and vibrant as the forests had to offer, fell onto the water like thick raindrops. Floating on top aimlessly as they simply enjoyed their final hours of life.

How, bittersweet.

God, how awful the mere thought of something so special, so beautiful. Could be just as easily ruined in the mind of a festering infection, as that a swarm of locus could doom a havervest that would've been that of plenty. How sick and twisted was the mind of a man, yet not a man of age nor not of thought, could become.

To be the eldest of another, yet to be the middle of them all. How sweet it would be to cradle one smaller against a blossoming heart, yet how bitter it would be to spread the festering plague that had already taken control of their heart. And so, the smaller would be pushed towards a brighter flower, that had already blossomed and been tended too as tenderly as one would raise the pure soul of a child.

Then, simply to fade away.

Thats what they wanted.

Thats all Cyrus wanted.

He wanted to simply forget, to be forgotten. So he could leave, so he could be left in peace. They always forgot, they never cared, why prentend they did when it came to it. Why did they care whenever he stayed under for too long, why did they care when he simply wanted to be alone. To be forgotten.

Cyrus blew a soft plume of air into the sky, shards of moisture frozen when touched with the chill of the night, giving the breath a moment of life to dance among the stars, before fading. How simple it would be to simply fade away, how sweet it would be to be like that faint, brief moment of life, then to simply fade.

No struggle to clutch onto what it knew, no fight to pluck with those who created it. It knew when its time had come, and simply left. Was simply forgotten. How bittersweet, how bitter it was that such a thing could be and how such a thing could come to pass. Yet how sweet it would taste when time allowed the bitterness to mellow into that of a softer note, a softer taste that could fills one with a warmth, a final note of peace.

Yet how strong the bitter taste was upon his tongue, the cold night had only touched the frost on the leaves, but left them whole still, like a soft brush of promise that would be filled only as time came and left.

Cyrus didnt want to die, no. Death didnt scare him, but he didnt want to die. He simply wanted to be forgotten. He was unexstrodinary, he wasn't special. His siblings, each of their own nature, their own special talents, their own special flaws.

They left scars on their family that would never heal, on their father who would never forgive himself. Travis, sweet, sweet little Travis. Cyrus couldnt help the small bitter smile that played upon his lips, Travis was their father. A man of brilliance, and brutality, but of something sweet and soft underneath.

He loved them fully, for who they were and nothing more.

He let his children find their own fate, their own destiny when given time, he didnt dote or force them into anything. That would tangle the delicate web of thoughts that acted as the mind off one so young, so clueless and pure.

To let the strings of fate wrap so loosely along their limbs and pull them along, but at the same time, tighten around their throat and pull them under.

How bittersweet was the death of a child so young and so pure, like that of porcelain, but chipped and broken. To see the coils destiny had wrapped around their throat, to watch the ripples upon the surface of the pool as flowers rode them like a thunderous storm on an ocean. Amd to watch others sink with them, pulled along by their own strings.

Cyrus was tempted, Cyrus had felt the coils that had so harshly pulled at his own throat and threatened to pull him under the waves. The soft promises of a life that would simply be sweet, free from the bitter taste that rested on Cyrus' tongue. How sweet it would be, how simply and quick, and how spledorous it would feel, after all that could happen all that would happen.

Yet, he refused the allure of the thought  even as he fought for his own breath. He wouldn't leave another scar, he had yet to live out his own fate that he had yet to find. No matter how sweet the temptation laid on his mind, the bitter taste reminded him that he had yet to live.

He didn't want to die, he simply wanted to be forgotten. He let them die, he was blind enough to let the coils slip around their throats, and he couldn't find it in himself to cry when he found them hanging from those coils. Why would he? He did that to them, he didn't save them, he wasn't able to help them. It was his fault, his fault that Travis was heart broken, that he buried himself in his work.

Cyrus was the reason for those scars. To forget them, it would have to start with forgetting Cyrus. And that's what he would do. Little by little.

First, he would be forgotten by his brothers, older than he, and younger. Amil, the prized son, the one who drew the most light from the sun. His demons Aaron, who was one in the same. To be forgotten by them was as simple as anything else, simply let them forget. Makas, younger by birth and the last of the three born under the same moon, protected, scarred, he would forget Cyrus easily. After all, it was his fault his siblings were dead.

Then came the sisters, older and the same. The only one younger was embraced by the earth with scars around her throat. Faith, the one who had been born with Amil, her faith long gone as she filled the void with children she brought into a better life. She had already forgotten. Then came Savannah, his own twin, how soft she was with her delicate touch. And yet how cruel her mind could be, what she felt could only be physical as the touch as deftly trailed overs one cheek. Numb was her heart, empty and void of all love, sadness, bitter sweetness escaped her tongue, and left it bland. She was a queen now, overshadowing her brother, cruel but fair, she had the spotlight. To be forgotten was as simply as letting her slip his own mind.

Then they would no longer be one in mind, just as they had never been one in body.

Then his mother, she never truly cared for him at the start, she never did nor would she ever. What she cared from him was simply out of the primal instincts to keep him alive, he lived, and she still loved them all over him. To have her forget, would've meant she'd need to remember in the first place.

Cyrus shook his head, the thoughts, they made him bitter. He needed to clear his head, clear his mind. Taking a look into the dark sky, speckled with stars he had no names for, and a moon not quite full. He slipped into the crystal clear water, it was deep, and it was cold.

When his head sunk under he felt the chill run up his spine and force the air from his lungs, the bubbles of air freezing as soon as they left. The water rushed in, cold as frozen ice as it filled his body.

Yet he breathed.

This was the eptionomy of his genetics, of his creation. A Hybrid that nature never should've made, He wasn't pure or magestic like his siblings, he was a freak. He was a monster. His father was a siren of royal blood, his mother a demonic fae, his siblings all one or the other, Amil and Aaron demons of the same mind, Faith a fae, Savannah a pure siren and below them, came fae's of the ocean. Cyrus, he didnt know what he was.

He could breath like a siren, and had wings like a fae, yet he felt the pull of the demonic undertones pull at the strings of his mind and the threads of his heart. He was a monster, a disgrace. He didn't deserve to be remembered, to be loved. He just wanted to disappear, to fade from the narrative that his family had so carefully weaved.

But he wouldn't forget.

Travis would never forget, but Cyrus wasn't worried about him remembering. Travis knew the value of being able to disappear. He wouldn't stop them, never would, if Cyrus wanted to be forgotten, he wouldn't forget, but he wouldn't stop Cyrus from trying.

Cyrus wouldn't forget.

But then there was, Anpu. The youngest son, his youngest brother. He was so small, so pure, his eyes were s bright with hope of the world. Odd, given his name was the god of the road to death. Yet, how special it was, how special he was.

Cyrus distanced himself from the boy, tried his best to keep them away, keep them from the coils that tightened at his own throat in memeory. In fear that they would've been transferred to the child, so pure in mind, and so delicate. Like a soft flower that hard been so hard to coax into bloom.

The pool rippled at the action, and as the chill set into his bones, flowers were caught and dragged down with him. They sank, floating down past his eyes, still glistening with the moonlight, ignoring the water as they appeared to glow.

Anpu never left him alone, Anpu never let Cyrus disappear, he took care of him and Cyrus returned the favor in turn. Cyrus couldnt make Anpu forget him, he couldnt make himself forget Anpu.

Cyrus hated him.

He hated the hope the boy held, that the boy spread. He was too young to understand, he didnt know what Cyrus had done, he didn't know what he let happen. Cyrus deserved to die with them, but he was forgiven, he was forgiven by all and he hated it. They let Anpu love him fully, they let Anpu get close to him, they let Cyrus grow close to him.

He couldnt let go of that, he couldnt.

He wanted to just disappear.

But it hurt.

Oh how bittersweet the taste sat on his tongue that he could disappear, yet he found that he couldn't. How desperately he wanted to leave the family, to save them from the scars that he would bring. And yet he let his selfish ways get the best of him, it hurt too much to leave, to disappear. He had doomed them to a life of heartbreak, a life devoid of love and life, if only to feel the smallest bit himself. If only to wash away the bittersweet taste that had rested on his own tongue for years.

Selfish, how selfish he was. They didn't care about him, they didnt love him. They wanted him to disappear. But he couldnt, if only for a moment to watch the small ball of light grow, if only to let it warm the ice that had grown inside his veins.

Cyrus wasn't needed, wanted. But Anpu, Anpu was. Anpu needed to return the light that had dwindled from the spilled blood, he needed to make everything better.

Cyrus had no reason to live, his time had come and gone. He was born to make a mess of the world, just as Pandora had been made to reap the harvest of man and destroy it. But, there was hope at the bottom of that box, and Cyrus needed to be the one to nurse it into its full worth.

Cyrus raised his head above the water and coughed up the water that had filled his lungs. AIr, cold and crisp filled his water lodged lungs, it spread fine down his chest as he felt the coils tighten around his throat again, all he needed to do was sink back under, and breath.

But he couldn't, He couldnt, Anpu needed him. Travis would raise him well, would raise him into a fine man, but with the lack of a mothers touch, of a soft hand to guide him, they were lost. He needed Cyrus, and in a way, Cyrus needed him.

Cyrus was forgotten.

But that didnt mean he was done.

And oh, how bittersweet it laid on his tongue.