Chapter Forty-Three
Remus
One year since his mother left
I hate this place. It isn’t my home. It’s filled with primitive beings who obsess over my mother. They just don’t know how powerful my father is—how quickly he could wipe out their way of life if it pleased him.
I shift my attention from my mother to another Leviathan who shows up to leave more of the flowers of this world on the footsteps of her altar.
They see her as a goddess, and I understand why.
In the time we’ve been here, she has changed their way of life for the better.
She’s improved their language, introduced them to technology and education, all while doing simple parlor tricks to win their favor.
She has used her power to heal their sick and make their crops grow.
She’s even gone as far as creating her own landmasses.
She has truly ingratiated herself as part of this culture, and she has subjected my sister to it, as well.
Xion came along shortly after our arrival.
She is fascinated by every little thing she sees here, unaware of the true home she came from.
My mother keeps saying that my father was evil and wanted to be rid of us, but I don’t believe her.
Why would he tell me he was going to see me after the conversion?
Why would he lie about that? Why would he promise to teach me conversion once he returned?
And as much as I try to remember his face, it escapes me.
As does our home. I just know that it exists. But I can’t describe it any longer.
Xion’s cries of excitement pull me from my thoughts.
She’s crawling to the flowers on the altar, her fingers gripping them in excitement.
I hate the curiosity I see on her face. There’s nothing special about this place, especially some damn flowers.
I quickly stand from my place, moving across the marble, snatching it from her.
Shock appears on her face as she looks at me, tears beginning to form.
“No. Do not touch these—agh!” I cry out as my body is thrown back by an invisible force. My mother stands over me, her eyes narrowed. She bends to my height, ripping the flower from my grasp. She looks at the damaged petal, her eyes glowing as she restores it.
“What do you think you are doing?” she asks. She’s speaking to me in this native language, and I hate it.
“This isn’t our—Agh!” I cry out as the air around me grows heavy, my mother using her power to hold me down.
“We do not speak in that tongue here,” she snaps, her anger at me speaking in the Celestivine language terrifying. Tears form in my eyes, and I let them fall as I try to remain patient, as my father wanted me to.
“I want to go home,” I say.
“This is your home,” she snaps.
I narrow my gaze.
“This is not my home!” I shout, my frustration mounting to uncontrollable levels. It feels physical as it swirls around inside of me, needing some way to release. I need something more than this waste and everything it supplies. The air, the people, the language—it’s all toxic to me.
My mother’s eyes widen slightly at my outburst, and I suddenly feel the weight of her power release.
She continues to watch me in shock as I stumble to my feet, and I shift my attention past her to the sky.
I don’t know where we are, or how we got here.
I don’t know how to return home. I am trapped here, barely able to cling to memories of my life before.
I can see my mother warring with herself as she takes a step toward me, hesitancy at the forefront.
“Remus—”
I choke on a sob, whipping away from my mother to run away.
From her, the altar, from the hundreds of weak Leviathan who constantly surround us, vying for favor.
I hear my mother calling after me, but I ignore it, running as fast as I can.
I don’t know where I’m going, and it doesn’t occur to me that I’ve run far beyond the city limits until I stumble over a root, tripping over my feet as I fall off the cliff’s edge.
My stomach dips, and panic washes over me as I fall.
Instead of memories or my home to comfort my plunge, the world rushes by me in a flurry, wind whipping past my ears until I crash into the ground, and everything goes dark.
I jolt awake, the night sky partially hidden by the trees arching over me. I try to breathe in, but my breath hitches as blood gurgles past my lips. It takes me a moment to understand the excruciating pain I am in. I can’t move my legs, and my back feels like mush beneath me.
I can’t speak, I can’t call out, I can barely groan.
“Ngh—Hck!” Tears spill over, dripping past my temples into my hair.
I want to go home. I want my father, I want Celise, I want my bed, and the gardens in the palace.
I want to be surrounded by my people, not these…
weaker beings. But I am stuck. I can’t go anywhere without my mother’s approval.
Even in our time here, she keeps me under constant watch, forcing me to see this as my home, trying to manipulate me into accepting that this always was.
“Remus…” I tense as a small whisper flits over my mind. It’s my father. I know it is. He’s found me.
“Fa—hck! Fa—Mngh!” I can’t respond. But I hear it…I know it’s there.
My tears intensify. And with that intensity, so do the emotions coursing through me.
I don’t know what to do as my father reaches out to me.
I may have been a prodigy, but there are still things I don’t know how to do.
I was only beginning to learn how to make contact with things that aren’t physical.
Right now, I am still a physical being, as proven by the injuries that might be the death of me.
I hear a loud wheezing, and I realize it is me.
I’m suffocating—choking on my own blood.
But as I sit on the cusp of death, I am suddenly aware of things that eluded me before.
The coursing of my blood, the beat of my heart, the pump of my veins…
I can feel each of them. It goes beyond that, I realize.
The ground beneath me has a pulse—everything has a pulse.
My breathing becomes choking and I can no longer inhale. I’m dying. My eyes are wide as I stare into the night sky at the unfamiliar constellations. I don’t feel fear as I float near the edge of life and death, however. I feel…euphoric.
I focus on the pulse that isn’t mine, and the more I focus, the more it feels like a physical presence that I can touch. I close my eyes, focusing on it until I am pulling it into me—anything to stop this pain.
It isn’t much, but it works. Though the pain is excruciating, it dilutes just a fraction. I need more…I need…life.
My father taught me consumption at a young age. He wanted me to be able to mature as a Celestivine sooner than anyone before me. And while I learned the basics, we were still practicing on smaller things—like plant life. He never warned me how thrilling it was to take lives of living beings.
The world is vivid, shining around me in more ways than one as I walk through the society my mother built for herself.
It disgusts me, the trail of lifeless Leviathan bodies, proof of how pathetic these beings are as a whole.
One touch from me, and their lives end as easily and swiftly as the wind. It’s laughable.
And as more run from me, I continue that laughter.
The terror in their eyes as they scream for my mother to protect them is pathetic.
I can feel everything around me. The air, the pulse of life, the ocean in the distance.
I can feel it all. Even the planet’s life…
I can feel it. My wounds have not only been healed, but I have somehow given myself more energy—more power than I thought possible.
I laugh in excitement, speaking in the Celestivine language.
“Run, hide, and pray to your Aureon that I do not find you! I will consume everything!” I shout.
I flinch as a pulse I’ve never felt before suddenly appears. It’s powerful, and it’s hostile. And as I turn to follow it, it pulls me from the haze that overtook me.
My mother stands over me, a look of horror mingled with fear on her expression as she looks from me to the bodies I’ve left in my wake.
“What have you done?” she murmurs.
I tense as I feel a heavy weight pulse over me. I try to fight it, but I can’t. It’s too powerful for me. My mother looks back to me, her expression shifting to concern for the first time since she took me from my home.
Tears well up in my eyes, spilling over.
“I want to go home, Mommy…please,” I sob.
She furrows her brow, looking up at the sky. I note that her eyes glitter slightly.
“Remus…this is your home. This has always been your home. Is this how you treat the people who took you in?” she asks.
I narrow my gaze, stepping back.
“This is not my home. These are not my…” I trail off, no longer able to voice what my people even are. My mother watches me with a strange expression, and I flinch when I feel a tickle in my mind.
“This…isn’t my home, mom,” I say. It’s all I can say. It’s all I can cling to. She slowly reaches for me, and I let her, enjoying the physical contact for the first time in months. Her touch is soft as she caresses my cheek, wiping my tears.
She releases a soft sigh, her expression chilling.
“This has been stressful for you, hasn’t it? It’s awakened you far too soon,” she says.
Her touch slowly grows increasingly uncomfortable. It feels…draining.
“Mom…?” I murmur.
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. It’s to soothe me.
“It’s okay, Remus,” she says.
My body feels heavier, and I stumble, my legs slowly giving out as I collapse.
But she doesn’t catch me. She lets me fall to my knees.
It takes me a moment to realize the world around me is darkening.
It creeps around me, clinging to every piece of my body.
And as my mother removes her touch from my face, I notice the glimmer in her eyes.
They glow with power as she locks me away.
“Mom…please…I want to go home,” I murmur. I barely have the energy to speak. The darkness is physical as it clings to my clothes, covering me until I can no longer see my fingers digging into the dirt. I’m terrified as the eerie darkness consumes me.
“Please…no,” I say as the darkness continues to creep in.
I look at my mother one last time, hoping for at least a gentle expression.
But I see nothing in her eyes. Nothing but determined hatred.
My mother offers me no words of comfort as the darkness consumes me.
My mind slowly goes blank, and I can’t even remember why I was so sad in the first place.
It consumes me, until I can’t even see my mother’s face any longer.
I am alone in this crushing darkness. It encompasses me, becoming a part of me until I can’t think of anything else. I have nothing else in my mind. I barely know who I am. There is nothing anymore.
Only silence.