Syn

I realized Cleo was right the moment I stepped through the portal. There wasn't a noticeable change, but something in the air was different. Someone was here.

I heard the snap of a branch and I followed it to just beyond the trees beside the house. "You heard that too?" I heard Paris ask me as he followed along.

"No, I'm just walking towards the woods because I like the scenery." I walked ahead, my steps long yet my body felt weaker than it ever had. Then I remembered something. And I stopped walking. "Why am I walking ahead of you? I'm not your guard."

He stopped walking too, crossing his arms. "I don't work for you anymore, remember?"

"Ah." I nodded. "Well, you're hired again. Lead the way." He deadpanned, clearly unamused and I gestured for him to go ahead. He remained frozen- annoyed too. "Should I ask you as your king or ask politely one more time?"

That thrust him into motion and he walked past me. "First thing, you are not my King. I wasn't born in the Underworld." Fair. "Second, it's okay to admit you're afraid."

"Afraid?" I mused, glancing at the cabin. It was quiet. "That's not the word I'd use." I cleared my throat. "There is just a hierarchy of importance in this world and I happen to rest far- and I mean far above you. So for the sake of the natural order...better you than me."

He scoffed, stepping into the clearing past the woods. "Shall I bring him to you, then?"

"Bring who?"

"Hmm. You are weak right now." Well. He vanished in an instant, speeding past the trees and sending leaves flying off the ground. Show off. I wasn't humble enough to feel useless despite my condition right now, but I did wish there was more I could do. Especially where Queen was concerned.

If it were up to me I'd go in now, with the clothes on my back. But the moment I did, I would become a burden to her when I was supposed to be the one to save her. We needed to be prepared. That meant restraining my impulsivity and being patient, of all things.

Just a few more— I glanced at my watch, hours. My eyes widened.

I wasn't a patient man. By far.

I used to be.

Maybe not patient. Admittedly. But I did have better self-control before I met her.

Alas, love.

My undoing yet my one salvation. She was my god. Humans had their petty religions, false deities— beacons of hope that kept them from living on and ending their miserable lives.

I had her.

If I were anyone other than who I was, I'd be considered a pagan for that.

I walked back, following along the radius of the barrier. Although I was careful not to make contact with it, my attention was glued onto the cabin. All the blinds were drawn, obscuring my vision of any area. I figured he had caught on and closed everything, but again, it was too quiet.

And Queen wasn't a quiet person. That's what made the silence so off-putting.

I should've been able to hear something. But as Paris pointed out a few moments ago, my abilities had become flawed. I focused, willing myself to hear something, anything at all. That's when I heard the scraping of a chair against the floor—

"Got him," Paris spoke, tearing my attention away from the cabin. I glanced toward him, my brow furrowing as a familiar face caught my eye.

"Cain?"

"You didn't catch me," he spoke, shrugging out of Paris's hold. "I wasn't running."

Shit. We didn't need this right now. Not when we finally had a plan in place. Cain was too temperamental to do anything but fly off the rails.

But I did keep this from him.

I braced myself, preparing for the onslaught of cussing and rage he would undoubtedly release on me. To my surprise, and even more confusion...there was nothing but a calm silence as he dusted off his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" I spoke up. He didn't reply and Paris sent me an inquisitive glance. He must've been wondering the same thing I was: what the fuck is going on?

Our probing questions were only amplified when I eyed the rest of him. He wore silk pajama bottoms with a black t-shirt like he just stumbled out of bed. His hair was a fucking mess and more alarming than anything, his shoes were missing. He was barefoot.

"Cain," I greeted him slowly, tilting my head in question. Something was off. He looked around, taking everything in as if he'd never seen such a place before and I raised a brow. It wasn't until I looked at his eyes that my composure began to slip. "Saint?"

I recognized his eyes immediately- the whites of them completely non-existent leaving a dark abyss staring back at me. He was the only one I knew with eyes like that.

He gave a single nod. "Hello, father."

I gave him a long look before crossing my arms. "Possession isn't nice," I scolded him. "Especially not with family."

He let out a scoff. "You reprimand me instead of asking how or why I'm here?"

"Oh, I'm getting to it. Don't worry." I clicked my tongue, both in disapproval and slight astonishment. The things he could already do at such a young age...it was fascinating. My thoughts began to stray to just how powerful he might one day become, but I caught myself. It didn't matter. I wasn't my father and what mattered most was his happiness. Not what he could do with his abilities.

From the moment I came into the world-- even before it, I was a weapon. An emotional one, a mental one, and above all, a physical one. There was never a moment where I wasn't used for something. I didn't understand it, so I bore it. There was never a distinction between care and exploitation, so I endured it.

My children, so long as I was alive and breathing, would never have to bear with anything. They'd never be used for anything or made less than a living being capable of making their own decisions.

That was an easy conclusion for me to reach. I didn't even have to think twice. I wondered if my mother or father ever did.

"Why are you here, Saint?" I questioned, keeping my motions stern. This was close to the furthest place from safe.

"I think you are aware of the reason." He glanced behind me to the cabin. "I sensed something was wrong...but now that I'm here I can see just how drastic the situation is. I am going in."

He took a step toward the barrier. I blocked his way and Paris grabbed his arm. "I'm not letting you go in."

He tilted his head in the direction of Paris's hand. "Did I give you permission to touch me?"

"Your father is right. It's too dangerous."

"Too dangerous..." Saint considered it before letting out a small laugh. "Too dangerous for me, yet you let my mother stay in there. Should I kill you?"

"Saint." I intervened. "We have a plan. Don't you think I want to just go in there and grab her? I've thought a million times over everything. This is the only way."

"Waiting," he reiterated. "That is the only way? Who am I speaking to right now?"

"Someone-- who for the sake of your mother, has learned that being impetuous, especially in a situation like this...isn't the way." I ran a hand through my hair. "I need her to be safe more than I need a show of dominance."

"You want patience?"

"No. I demand it."

"Well, that is a virtue I've yet to learn. I refuse."

"You refuse." I let out a huff of laughter. His rebelliousness would've amused me-- maybe even made me proud if it were under different circumstances, but it was beginning to test my patience. I was all for open conversation-- he was my son. But this was a closed discussion. I wouldn't hear anything else about it.

"I do," he said. "And with you being in the state that you are in, I'd rather not make this a physical altercation. Please step aside, and note that I am only saying 'please' because you are my father. Anyone else..." he glanced at Paris, "would be killed."

Paris only scoffed in amusement at the remark. I didn't know if it was because he underestimated Saint's abilities or because he overestimated his own.

"I'm not going to fight you, but you will not be going in there." I clasped my hands together. "And it looks like we're going to have to teach you another virtue; humility. You are powerful, but you are young."

"If it is not a risk you can take, then I will go alone."

He took a step past me and I sighed. "At least be aware of what you're walking into. I assume you know—"

"That all my magic will significantly weaken once I walk in?" He asked. "That the thing holding her captive will be notified? Or that there is a good chance I may not make it out alive? I am aware of all these things, Father. I've stood out here for ten minutes before you arrived considering these risks."

"Ten whole minutes," Paris whispered in astonishment.

"My mind works a lot quicker than yours." He shot back. "What you compute in a span of a day, I do in a tenth of a second."

Paris tilted his head, toying with him— distracting him. "Huh."

"Maybe two days for you." He sighed. "Needless to say, I've put a lot of thought into this. I'm prepared to die if need be."

"To die?" I furrowed my brows.

"Yes," he said. "I am not like you all. I am not sentient. I am a thought- a soul created from fear and sin. I will always be here in some way. If I die, I will come back in one hundred years or so. This is not my first life— maybe in a true body. But I have died and rose again- a flood, a shadow, a scream...I have been it all. I am the very core of destruction and terror. I cannot be killed. Not permanently."

I considered him for a long moment. All of this I knew, but it didn't change a thing. Destruction personified or whatever the fuck, he was our son the moment he Chucky'd out in the palace almost two years ago.

"Be that as it may..." I began. "My answer is still the same. You're our son. Even your mother wouldn't—"

"You will still have a son," he said. "My soul will just leave the body and be replaced. It is young enough that you will be able to create new memories and—"

"You are my son," I said. "Whether you're in this body...in an infant's or an old man. It's not your form that ties you to us, it's your mind, soul, and heart. As detached as you're acting, you wouldn't be here if you didn't love us as much as we love you. You wouldn't be willing to give up your life like this if you didn't care."

"I am indebted to the both of you." He caved a bit, his stubborn facade cracking. "You both took me in when I had nobody. I will forever be grateful. Let me do this for the both of you."

"You're also a child- despite everything you are," I told him. "You are indebted to nobody. We saw you and we decided- of our own volition that you would be part of our family. You're not a burden and you do not owe us your life. Get that out of your head. You may have chosen us, but we chose you first."

"I can't not do anything."

"I'm not asking you to do 'nothing'. I'm asking you to trust me. That's more than enough."

"I—"

A portal appeared, making his words fall flat as Drake and Cleo walked through- grimoire in hand. Concerned riddled her face as she took note of the scene in front of her and I sighed. Now wasn't the time for a family reunion.

"Saint?" She asked in confusion. "How—"

"Yes, yes. Let's skip the pleasantries," he said. "There are bigger issues at hand." He looked past her, focus turning to Drake as he tilted his head to the side. "And you," he spoke and I looked between them, confused. He didn't know the man. "I believe you owe my father an apology."

Drake scoffed, looking around at us in shock. "That's fucking laughable. An apology for what?"

"That, I don't know. But the guilt is practically oozing from your pores...and it reeks." He scrunched his nose in disgust. "Absolve yourself of that guilt and apologize, or I'll search your mind myself and give you something to really be sorry for."

"Wow." Drake blew out a breath. "Like father, like son, huh? Expecting an apology from everyone else, yet unable to give one where it's deserved."

I almost let myself intervene, but I was curious to see where it was going. Besides, Drake was a grown man. If he had any sense of self-preservation he'd shut the fuck up and comply.

He began to speak again when Saint didn't reply, but all that came out was a garbled noise. I eyed him curiously as a stifled scream festered in his throat and he fell backward, holding his head in pain. Cleo rushed to his side in aid when he began groaning.

Her eyes darted to mine, pleading and I shrugged my shoulders. I was enjoying the show, matter of fact. He deserved this tiny bit of pain after giving me hell these past few days. Seeing that she'd get nothing from me, she rolled her eyes and pleaded with Saint. "Stop! You know violence isn't the answer. Leave him alone. He's been helping us."

Saint sighed, shoulders slumping as he let go of the invisible hold he had on Drake. "First, violence is always the answer. And second; the drugs, and Stella. Apologize for that, now."

Drake winced, rubbing his temples. When he looked back up he shot daggers into both of our heads with his eyes before settling on Saint. "You had no fucking right to do that," he snarled.

"It's my birth-given right," Saint replied matter of factly. "Why would I be given the power to do so, if I wasn't supposed to do so? Now...apologize."

Drake scoffed, shaking his head. "You know, this is endearing in a twisted way. Your children never see your faults, maybe that's why he's so easily able to torture someone else for you. As a father, are you truly proud of that, Syn?"

Yes, I almost replied before Saint interjected and said, "It wasn't for him. Although you're to blame for him starting...he made conscious decisions to continue. That is an apology you owe to my mother and I. But you will apologize to him for the Stella girl, and for being a part of the reason my mother is now in danger."

How did he know about the drugs? I wondered, but I would've been more surprised if he didn't.

"I've explained my connection to Aiden," he replied. "And I deeply regret that I didn't know his true intentions, but any ill feelings and shame I have towards that are solely for your mother and you. As for your father, he's deserved every single thing that's happened to him."

Saint took a step toward him, clearly not satisfied with his response and I shook my head. "That's enough. It's alright." I looked at Saint. "How much do you know about what's going on?"

"I didn't know much until I looked in his head," he said, slightly more tense than before, but it quickly went away. I only noticed it as I did the same thing when I wanted to pretend everything was okay and I wasn't losing it. "I want to help, but I don't have much time. Every second I'm in a body that's not my own- the closer the Heavens are to knowing where I am. I just wanted to..."

"I know."

He nodded once. "I can't be at ease just yet." He looked up and around- no doubt hearing and seeing things we couldn't and worry began to gnaw at me.

"You need to leave. I promise I will take care of everything."

"What do you intend to do about the barrier?" He ignored me, looking at Cleo. "You have a plan."

"Oh, umm." She cleared her throat and picked up the tattered grimoire on the table. "There's a ritual here that removes any magic or spell being used in an area—" He took the book from her hands, peering silently at the page before clicking his tongue.

"You are aware that this will render however walks into the area, almost powerless..." he goaded her and she nodded. Her response must've disappointed him because he shook his head and looked at me. "Let's say she performs the spell and the barrier goes away. What then? All of you walk in, with no ability, like mere humans- about to face a creature more powerful than all of you in your current states...Is that the plan? Do you want to die?"

I didn't want to, but I would if that was the only way to get Queen out of there. He needed his mother, and I needed her alive. As selfish as it was, between Queen and I, she was the only one who'd be able to survive if one of us died. She had done it before.

He must've seen my answer from my reaction because he scoffed. "So you can die, but I cannot?" He shook his head, again seeing the answer in my expression. "You may not care what happens as long as she's safe, but..." He cleared his throat, staring at the pages as I studied him. "I'll save both of you."

"Saint," Cleo spoke up from beside him. "Your father is right, you shouldn't be here. We'll take care of it. But it's not safe for you, being here."

"With all due respect, just because you suddenly chose to be here doesn't make your assurance gospel," he said. "Do you know how many nights my mother cried because of you?"

A pained look flashed across her face and I spoke up. "Saint—" Cleo shook her head, plastering a smile on her face to silence me.

"No, no, I deserved that," she said to me. After a brief moment, she looked back at him. "I know I've wronged her. She was my best friend, but that's why I'm here. I'll do just about anything to make sure she gets back to you safely."

"So you say," he muttered, not paying her any more mind. "Then you will absorb the energy of the barrier, alone. No spell."

"W-what?" She sputtered. "There's no way I'm strong enough to do that."

"Well, you're going to have to be." He shut the book and pushed it back to her. "I'll give you a bit of dark magic to make it easier for you, but you will do it alone."

"That's a lot of energy. Couldn't that kill her?" Paris finally spoke up.

Saint nodded. "Oh, yes. More likely than not."

"Then it's not an option," I replied.

Saint sighed, running a hand through his hair before clasping his hands together. He looked a bit more unhinged than he did a few moments ago. "'Saint no, you can't risk your life. But also no, you can't offer up another solution'. Care to tell me why?" He mocked me.

If it were anyone else I would've one hundred percent agreed with him. But Cleo was family- and despite how much I selfishly could've done it, Queen would never forgive it.

"Because Cleo is our family," I said slowly, emphasizing the last word. "And we don't sacrifice family. No matter what." I could tell he didn't fully believe me from the bitter scoff he huffed out. "That includes Cain's body- which you were fully intending on sacrificing along with your life."

He looked down at himself. "Yes, the intention was there." Cleo's mouth dropped at his admission. "But to be fair—"

"Do you hear that?" Paris interrupted, stepping past us completely.

"Hear what?"

"It sounds like a fight," Drake added.

Just then, I could make out the sound of glass shattering and the sound of something hitting the ground. I could only hear bits and pieces, but if the little I could hear was that bad, this was serious.

My blood boiled just imagining the danger Queen could be in. I wanted to be patient- wait until everyone was ready. But then I heard a scream. From inside the cabin.

I stepped forward on instinct but hesitated. Something wasn't right. It sounded like Queen, but somehow more distorted- more animated. And I knew all too well what her screams truly sounded like.

It wasn't her.

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