Chapter Forty-Five
Remus
I’ve always enjoyed silence. It gives me clarity and time to think without pressure.
From the moment I was taught to meditate, I used those moments whenever I could, enjoying the calm it brought to me.
It was a luxury I took for granted. The silence that once brought me comfort has become the source of my pain in these last few hours as the memories of my life have finally ceased, leaving me to think of it all.
From the largest of manipulations, like my mother wiping entire years from my mind to the smallest—her embedding intentions in me—it all came back faster than I care to process, especially with me trying to come to terms with Iris’s death.
Nausea hits me as I think of it.
Death.
Celestivine live for hundreds and even thousands of years.
Death, while still possible, was never something I thought about.
Especially since by the time it came for me, I would have lived a hundred different lifetimes.
But with Iris, death became a lingering reality over our heads.
Her life span was so short, so fragile, that in the midst of fighting a rebellion I could crush without lifting a finger, I almost lost her more than once.
The moment I realized I couldn’t live with that was the day she outsmarted me.
It was horrifying, watching her fall for a split second—watching gravity pull her down a mountainside.
It made my heart beat faster than it ever has, with a terror I’ve never experienced.
And to prevent that fear from becoming a reality, I bonded with her.
I, the most calculating being in existence, made a decision in a split second because my desperation to never lose her was so intense.
Death for Iris was something I never wanted to worry about again.
She was to live a long life by my side, exploring the world and our bond.
And as we finally took the steps on Xyrannis to begin exploring what that means, it was taken from us.
And as a result, Iris was taken from me.
“Ngh!” I grunt, hunching over at the physical pain the knowledge wrenches through me.
I’ve spent hours, if not days, replaying our last moments together in my mind.
The last words I spoke to her were so cold, so cruel, and they fed into the exact fear that she had relayed to me the night before.
I keep seeing her at that celebration with her back to me as she tried to hide her tears.
I keep reliving each moment that I felt the constant injuries on her body—injuries that I put there.
I keep reliving the moment I sensed damage inside of her, knowing that it meant she lost a life…but not even acknowledging it as important. I’m curious if Iris knew what happened herself. Was she too scared to tell me in her frightened state?
I’ll never know at this point.
All I can see is the determination in her expression as she continued to force her way into my line of vision, regardless of each twist of her bone, each crush of her body. She took everything I told her before I left to heart, fighting for me until the end. Even when I didn’t deserve it.
I pull in a deep breath, standing. As I approach the glass, it shifts from pitch black, revealing the planet beyond. Xyrannis. What I once considered my home was truly my prison.
The unknown entity that came into our star system was Kuron’s ship. He sensed my essence because it was inside Iris. Our mother, the wicked being that she is, created the rings that once covered Xyrannis to mask our essence so that our father, if ever he came looking, could not find us.
Once I matured, however, and she needed me to fight her wars, which meant I would need to travel beyond her rings, she began suppressing my essence along with Xion’s.
Once she perfected that, she brainwashed us into believing that bonding with a weaker species was bad for us as Celestivine.
But it was really because weaker beings, humans in this case, have no ability to hide, sense, or create the type of energy Celestivine do.
In other words, they radiate our essence when bonding, which is why she killed Ezra’s father once she realized Kuron could find her through him. And why she tried to kill Iris.
When she thought Iris was dead, and I was back to being her puppet, she disappeared to mask the entire star system as a precaution. She knew the moment I revealed to her that Iris was having difficulty adjusting, that it wasn’t the rings, it was my father trying to find me—find us.
I lean against the glass, pressing my forehead against it.
I slowly lift my fingertips, and it’s cool to the touch.
Iris always did this when she was longing for her freedom.
More recently, because she was excited. My legs feel weak, and I slowly sink to the ground, letting my quiet sobs rock me.
If only I could touch her—hold her one last time.
I would apologize to her over and over again. I would savor the feeling of her skin against mine, her heart beating slower than I am used to, and her soft breaths signifying her life.
I flinch when I feel a touch on my shoulder, whipping around to see Kuron standing over me.
His expression is filled with pity as he looks upon his lost son.
I remember the adoration I held for this Celestivine as a child.
I hoped night after night he would come find me and take me away from this place.
I remember the years I spent, locked in a soundless, windless void of darkness by my mother.
I begged him to come. I loved him more than anything.
I wanted to be my father. He was all I had, and my mother took that away from me as well, turning us against each other now that we are here years later.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, shoving him away.
I’m still too weak to sense anything, let alone use my power to prevent him from touching me. I am as weak as a human, unable to do anything but dwell on things which I am helpless to change.
“I didn’t think it would be this painful for you—”
“Did it never occur to you that your children loved the child their mother brought into this world?” I snap.
Silence settles between us, and I laugh bitterly, looking back to Xyrannis.
“Of course not. The first thing you did was take his life right in front of us. Right before you beat the shit out of the kids you supposedly wanted back,” I say.
“I didn’t start the fight, Remus. How was I to know what your feelings were?
You couldn’t even recognize me because Me’Rite twisted your mind so much.
How was I supposed to know that the child she had to replace both of you had a true place in your hearts, and you weren’t just slaves to her manipulations? ” he asks.
I don’t respond. In a way, I know he’s right.
But I’m not strong enough to try to avenge my brother, and he knows it.
It is why he keeps me in this room with technology that keeps me weak.
It’s the same energy I sensed when trying to pull the rod from Ezra’s body.
I can’t begin to decipher it. That way, he can come and go as he pleases, trying to convince me that he is not my enemy.
As I continue to focus on Xyrannis, I realize I feel nothing outside of rage for it.
I hate this place. It’s becoming increasingly difficult not to destroy it.
This place was never my home. Even with my memory loss, I created a home secluded and far from its civilizations.
Iris even picked up my disdain for the people when we were on Earth.
It was always a cage. I recall each and every moment my mother held me down, ignoring my screams as she wiped my mind so that I could continue to bring this wasteland a better future.
“Where are you keeping her?” I ask.
“Me’Rite will remain in a separate dimension of my making until we return. She is too dangerous to allow aboard—”
“Return?” I ask, standing.
“There is nothing left for you here, Remus. You and your sister belong among your own kind. There is so much more for you to learn and for me to teach you—Ngh!”
My body is moving before my brain can stop me from having an emotional outburst. My arm is pressed against his throat as I shove him against the window. I am still disconnected from my power, so all I can do is hold him physically as I let my anger fuel me. And he lets me.
“We have lost everything because of you two. Everything! You are much more arrogant than her if you think I will be going with you, let alone letting you take Xion after what you did,” I say through gritted teeth.
Kuron remains calm as he watches me. His eyes, though glittering with the same power our mother has, remain neutral. And after a moment, he laughs, shaking his head.
“And what will you do now? Continue your mother’s legacy? Conquer worlds for the race she abandoned and imprisoned you for? Or maybe live out your days on the world she chose for you, ignoring your birthright?” he asks.
I narrow my gaze, hating how I am as much a prisoner now as when I was under my mother’s control. I have no control over anything. I slowly release him, stepping back.
“Where is Xion?” I ask.
The last time I saw her, she was restrained with the energy beams that drain us.
When I awoke with all of my memories returned, I was in a room aboard this ship.
I don’t know what state she’s in. But I need to see her.
She is the only person through all of this who is experiencing everything that I am.
“She is still recovering,” he says.
“Take me to her,” I say.
But Kuron doesn’t move.
“She is not adapting as fast as you have, Remus. You might want to give her—”
“Do not speak to me as if you know what is better for her. I have been her brother and protector from the moment she was born. The moment! Take me to her,” I growl.
By the time we reach the room where Xion is recovering, I am exhausted.
I haven’t fed since waking up, and I am highly aware of the precautions Kuron has put in place to keep me and Xion amenable.
The room she’s restricted to is dark, and once we step inside, I feel the familiar energy similar to the room I was held in.
Both were made to hold us, and I can feel the physical change in the air as I enter, and the darkness encompasses me.
The lights slowly rise, revealing Xion. She’s on the floor, curled into a fetal position as she quietly shakes, trying to hide her tears.
I’m across the room in seconds, kneeling next to her, my hands gently pressing around her shoulders. She tenses, relaxing when she hears my voice.
“It’s me. I’m here,” I say gently.
Xion slowly lifts her head, her eyes bloodshot from her tears. She has no words for me as she shakes her head, collapsing against me. Her sobs are violent, and I can do nothing but hold onto her. I know the pain she feels.
I know it intimately.
“He’s gone, Remus. I couldn’t save Ezra,” she sob.
I squeeze her tightly. “I know. It’s okay.”
I have no words of comfort for her. I have hardly any for myself. There is no comfort to be found in this situation. She lifts her hands, and they’re trembling as she stares at them.
“She wouldn’t even let me try to protect them from what she’d done. She left the rest of them to…,” she trails off, dropping her head in her hands. I grimace as I think of the moment Iris crumpled into the ocean right before my eyes. I too was helpless to save her.
Xion suddenly lifts her gaze to mine, her eyes wide.
“Oh, Remus…I’m so sorry. I—I thought it was right, I—”
“Don’t,” I say.
It comes out harsher than I intend, but I can’t take anything else she is about to say. Not when she is as much a mess as I am. There is nothing to be done about an apology at this point. There is nothing that can fix anything that has happened. We are in no state to discuss the trauma done.
For now, we just have to live with it.
Xion looks behind me, noticing Kuron’s presence, her expression darkening as she tries to stand.
“You! How dare you show your face to us!” she hisses.
“After everything you caused, how fucking dare you!” she shouts. But she’s as weak as me, crumpling into my arms. The silence is accompanied by Xion’s slow breaths as she tries to compose herself, and when I look up, Kuron’s expression has changed as he steps closer into the room.
“It was never my intention—”
“Your intentions do not matter. You, keeping us here like this gives us everything we need to know about your intentions,” I say.
I don’t look back.
“Get out,” I say.
To my shock, he leaves and Xion’s tears intensify as she sobs about the pain that she feels.
I continue to hold her, my mind swirling with a mixture of emotions from despair to rage.
I know my memories have more in them than hers.
I don’t know what was done to her by our mother, but I do know the pain of realizing what has been taken.
That, mingled with the loss of people we trusted most in this world, is enough to drive us insane.
Or, in my case, revenge.