Scars of War (Fate & Destiny Book 1), page 37
Next stop—Hell.
Still wrapped tightly, the boy just couldn’t shake off his sister, who kept him quiet. Don’t throw your life away like this, Seraph. Don’t waste what you still have for what you’ve already lost!
The boy choked down his tears, his body shaking rapidly as he pulled himself closer to the door. But that’s just it. Without our parents, we have nothing. Nothing!
Click! They both heard the sound from the other side of the door.
LET ME GO!
Cover your eyes. DON’T LOOK!
His feet barely on the path, Seraph could only watch, helpless again and in the same shoes as his former self and sister. Two shots blasted the couch from which mother and father sat, their blood splurting out in all directions, even past the crack made from the closet door and onto young Seraph’s face. He froze, his eyes wide and inanimate, like the energy had been drained from his body.
A whimper rushed over his lip as he opened his mouth to scream. Just as he did, Melany clamped a hand over his eyes and mouth, muffling the screams the boy emitted and giving her a deep connection to the blood-curdling pain he felt. Even she turned away to hide her tears, her nostrils flaring as she did.
Why? the boy cried, still choking on his sobs, his voice still softened. WHY! Melany couldn’t answer, her own voice preoccupied with a hiccup and heavy breathing.
The Envoy turned to his assailants. Burn it down. Then they left.
After checking to make sure that the Envoys were gone, the two children burst forth from the closet, tears streaming through puffy eyes and down their red faces as they cried for their mother and father. Seraph couldn’t pry his gaze away from the memory. He shook his head, unblinking still. “This isn’t real. It can’t be!”
The demon’s words brushed against his ear. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” He ran a finger against Seraph’s cheek, noticing salty water running from his eyes. He held it to his mouth and took a taste. “Despair.” Then he ran his fingers against the boy's cheek again for another tear, this time to show Seraph. “What you’re seeing now is as real as the tears on your cheek, and I speak the truth, Seraph. These are your memories. You witnessed it yourself, didn’t you?” He paused. “Still, it would appear a little more real if you stopped blocking their faces from your vision. Don’t you want to remember your own mother’s and father’s faces? Why don’t you have a closer look? That should jog your memory!”
Seraph shook his head, standing firmly in place. “I can’t.” He cried. “I can’t look them in the eyes again!”
Threshmundir shook his head mockingly. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! But you can’t turn your gaze away either, can you? Poor thing, you don’t know what to do.
It’s just like back in the chambers when I forced you to gaze down into the bloody waters, into the primordial stew itself, only this time I’m not forcing your gaze. I don’t have to force your gaze. You seem to be doing just fine on your own!” The memory raged on.
Mother! Father! young Seraph cried, falling to his hands and knees. His tears hit the floor, little pellets that failed to wash away the stains of red from the carpets.
Blood gushed from the cracks of his mother’s mouth, her shrouded eyes no doubt strained to focus on the child beside her. She spoke with what strength she had left, her speech phasing in and out as red seeped out of her mouth. She turned to the child. Seraph? She stopped, her shock returning. She’d found her son, still by her side.
Don’t cry, okay?
Mother! The boy hiccuped, a faint smile of relief lighting his face before something went off from outside the home. The floors shook and the chandeliers rattled, a few rocking too hard to stay airborne. Furniture tipped. Young Seraph fell forward, his face knocking the ground roughly. Outside, smoke rose against the windows, a few flickers of fire flashing against the glass.
Are you okay? Seraph cried. Mother nodded weakly, her face expressionless as she stared down her death. Though her face was blank, it was obvious she was out of any proper state of mind, her eyes no doubt trailing the ceiling without direction, possibly circling about a few times. She must have caught glimpse of the man next to her as she did. I’m okay...but I wish...I could say the same for your father. Hack! Blood gushed down her mouth and she coughed uncontrollably, each rupture in her throat more violent than the last.
Young Seraph shook his head, tears streaming. You’re still okay! Quick! We have to get you out of here! But his mother’s eyes were so weak. No, the memory echoed her voice. This is as far as I go. Your father and I started this together and now we’ll go down with this together. I can’t even...feel my arms or legs anymore...huff... I’m dead weight now. And the building, it’s going up in flames. Even if I tried, I wouldn’t be able to make it out fast enough. But you, Seraph—you can still get out of here. You can still...get to safety.
The boy stood in disbelief, his shock too unnerving. Wha-what are you talking about? If Melany and I carried you, you could—!
Bleed out, Mother finished promptly. No. This isn’t my place anymore. Everything I’ve lived for is gone now, all of it but you. If you stay alive, my life won’t have been in vain. Leave me. Take your sister and run. N—ow!
The boy dug his fingers into the carpet, distraught with fear and rage and hopelessness. I can’t leave you here. I just can’t! What am I supposed to do?
There’s only one thing to do, Seraph. Live. You have to get away and continue our legacy, okay?
N—no! Seraph cried. If I leave you here, you’ll burn down with the house. Won’t that hurt?
His mother smiled, placing a hand on the boy. It doesn’t have to hurt. You don’t have to let it hurt. She reached for the murder weapon, a gun the killer had left, and pressed it into his hand. You have a merciful soul, Seraph. Now have mercy on my soul and—
Her words rang out.
Kill me.
Seraph couldn’t bear to watch his mother die again. He knew he had to do something. He had to save his mother!
“What’s this?” Threshmundir cackled. “You’re not thinking of straying from the path, are you? Don’t you remember what will happen?” He paused, watching the boy fight not the demon speaking to him but the demon inside of him. A wide grin stretched across Threshmundir’s face and he shrugged. “I suppose you don’t care at this point, now do you?”
Seraph fought back the tears streaming down his cheeks. “Mother…! No!”
The child-memory dropped the gun in shock as easily as his mother had handed it over. What? K-kill you?! That’s crazy!
Life is crazy sometimes. His mother giggled, her voice as warm as the blood palpitating out of her mouth with each pulse her heart made. You have to understand. If I don’t bleed out first, the fire will surely burn me alive. This pain is already more agonizing than I can stand. I can feel myself slipping, Seraph. I just can’t. Take. This. Pain. Any. More! So take the gun they left, and kill me!
The boy looked at the gun on the floor, then slowly reached for it. He held it in his hands. It felt cold, not warm or inviting like his mother. Not even close. Then he looked at her, not a single tear in her eyes as she urged him to hurry. The gun shook in his hands. He was unwilling to shoot as he glanced first at the gun, and then to his mother and back. His breathing felt heavy, the air suffocating. Beads of sweat dripped down his face as he shook his head in a panic.
If you go, I’ll have nothing left!
His mother shook her head. Don’t think of me as being gone forever, Seraph. Just away. Okay? The boy frowned, unable to follow. She paused for a moment, unsure how to start. Here. Let’s talk about all the things we were going to do—.
And we are still going to do, right mother?
His mother grew silent, understanding the boy was beginning to lose himself, to lose his logic. Right... And are still going to do, his mother lied. Let’s just list all those things together, okay? Like head out into the city and go exploring.
The boy nodded slowly, sniveling as he did. And we were gonna make friends, and play in the park, and then we were gonna come home and I was gonna play piano for you and father and Melany, and Zephyr was gonna have the birthday decorations ready and—he stopped, noticing his mother reaching for the gun. And—! And—! No! He pushed her hand away. Don’t, Mother! Please! I don’t want you to leave me!
It’s okay, his mother reassured. Take your time, Seraph. Okay?
The gun shook in young Seraph’s reluctant hand. But—! No. I...can’t...do it! I can’t!
Seraph, mother said, slowly placing her hand on Seraph’s and guiding the gun to her head again. Then she stared into her boy’s big blue eyes one last time, and he stared back. Don’t ever forget what I’m about to tell you. Her finger guided his along the trigger, the final touch of a loving mother.
“NO!” Seraph screamed. He knew what was about to happen.
“That’s right,” Threshmundir said. “Remember their faces. Why do you refuse to see their faces? Cut them from your memory no longer. Make your ties with them real again. Isn’t that what you want? To remember them? Seraph. Open your eyes and…”
Remember.
Remember.
Remember!
Finally, Seraph could take it no longer. A sensation rose from his feet into his legs. “Mother!”
Seeing Seraph so frantic brought joy to Threshmundir, but he kept his character. He raised his hands as if he had a gun pointed at his head. “Oh no. It would appear you’ve lost all reason and logic. Now you’re going to lose yourself in this distorted world. If only there were someone to help you.”
The memory’s conclusion was drawing to an end. Young Seraph looked into his mother’s eyes as she said her last words.
Don’t ever forget what I’m about to tell you, she said again.
I love you.
Click.
Seraph stared blankly with bloodshot eyes and fell to his knees, his body shaking violently as he hit the ground. In turn, Threshmundir’s eyes grew wide, though his smile stayed intact. He fell back at the assault of an intruder. Not Seraph, still sniveling, but someone else. The Seraph he knew had never hit so hard, so vehemently.
After smacking the ground harder than Seraph, he picked himself up. Brushing himself off, he laughed and said, “It’s about time you showed up, Greer. How’s the look treating you?” He noticed the frantic frown on Greer’s currently human face and laughed. “I’m guessing not too well?”
“What is wrong with you?” Greer shrieked, pulling Seraph back. “Seraph! Seraph, are you okay?”
Seraph stood silently, taking a few heavy breaths before wiping the tears from his eyes. “I remember their faces.” He listened quietly to the gunshot that rang out across the trial, its echoing shout followed by the uncontrollable, ear-piercing cries of a seven-year-old.
“I remember why I forgot them.”
Greer stared in disbelief for a few seconds before forcing Seraph back to his feet. Seraph nearly tripped whilst trying to regain his ground, the stability drained from his legs from the recent shock. His eyes wandered the air like a kid with ADHD, or perhaps like a personified computer that was having trouble processing so much newfound data. Repeatedly, Seraph found himself scanning the information he had gained, trying to make sense of it and of himself. Confused and a little dazed, he finally blinked back to his senses.
“Greer?” he said. Greer nodded. “I’m here now. Your guardian is here now. Everything’s fine. Everything’s okay.” Then he took Seraph by the hand, ready to lead him down the path’s last stretch. “We’re leaving now,” he said, striking a glare at Threshmundir.
Helping himself to his feet, the demon fixed his hair back into place and brushed the dirt from his outfit. Feeling the red mark against his cheek, he winced with whimsical waking, a sense of glee spurring inside him. “You hit pretty well for a—”
“Don’t finish that—!” Greer spun around, nearly ready to smack the demon off his feet again. He stopped before continuing, noticing he was only playing further into Threshmundir’s schemes the longer he stayed. He should have known what that demon was planning, to separate them, to weaken them, ironically by waving a word so blunt as power, as Contemplation Manipulation to lure them in. “Game over, Threshmundir,” Greer sighed, tugging at Seraph’s arm. “We’re leaving.”
The air grew silent. Greer could feel it, a shift in the ground, a rumbling that shook the path ever so slightly, at first subtle than more dominant in presence. Then all at once, Greer found himself stumbling as easily as Seraph had. “What the—” Greer hissed. “The memories are…”
Threshmundir clapped his hands prominently, a demonic chuckle under his breath. “You’re right about one thing, Greer. This is game over, but whether or not you make it out of here, well, that will depend on you, now won’t it?” He pointed to the path. “I hope it was worth stepping off, Seraph, to take a glimpse at their faces, at all of their faces. Curiosity may just kill the cat this time.
“Even if you only stepped a single foot off the path, you’ve acknowledged the memories as the reality that they are. But that’s not all, child. Now they’ve acknowledged you as one of their own. And now…”
Threshmundir’s mouth stretched wider than his cheeks, his eyes blazing with a fierce fire.
“Now they’re coming for you.”
Before Greer had time to realize what was happening, an arm clutched at his Seraph. “Crap,” he cried, kicking the apparition back from his sights. As the creature retreated, Greer caught a glimpse of its face, much to his dismay. “Turn away, Seraph,” Greer demanded. “This time I mean it!”
Why didn’t you do anything? the creature squealed, tears streaming down its big, blue eyes. Then it quickly changed its tone. We can still save her, Seraph. We can still save Mother. And Father too. It’s not too late!
“Cover your ears, too,” Greer commanded. Crap. Somehow, the roles have been reversed, too. Seraph is supposed to be the one commanding, but he’s... He’s not looking so well right now.
“I said, cover your ears! Don’t listen to that fake reality.” Seraph quickly obliged, a hiccup in his breath as he did. His legs shook, trembled even, as he stood too quietly to issue a command. But his face said it all. Get me out of here, Greer. Get me out of here! The expression on Seraph’s wet, slobbery face was enough of a command for him to oblige. Without hesitation, he pulled at Seraph’s jacket. The shadows came caving in, the path behind them devoured by a black, oozing mesh of glowing yellow eyes.
“Why put us through this, Threshmundir?” Greer asked, not bothering to look behind him. “What reason is there?”
Threshmundir shrugged. “There are a lot of reasons. The first one that comes to mind would have to be that I’m putting him in his place. He needs to understand the futility of his actions. He needs to understand that he doesn’t hold a candle to my power. So long as he knows he needs my guidance, he’ll never disobey. We may be on equal grounds in our deal, he may be my temporary master, so to speak, but he is my pawn, my instrument to play, my servant.
“The second thought that pops into my mind when you pose such a question should be an obvious one.” He snickered, the ooze collapsing around him as he vanished into the darkness.
Because it’s fun.
Greer grimaced, his fists clenched as he gritted his teeth. “That no good son of a—” He stopped. He could tell the ooze was gaining. The memories were coming for them, coming to take Seraph. “CRAP!”
Help me, Seraph! The memories called with wailing screeches and whirling arms that grabbed at the path, pulling it back like a red carpet. We need to find Mother and Father. We need to be whole again!
Greer nearly tripped, feeling the ground beneath them move back like a treadmill. Seraph, on the other hand, did trip, but Greer clasped a hand around his collar and pulled the boy closely behind him. “No, you don’t,” Greer shrieked, furious. “I didn’t sit for thirteen years to have you take him away from me now. I didn’t go through all this garbage to let you take him from me. You will never take him. No one will ever take him!” But the shadows continued their relentless pursuit, gaining speed on him. Sweat trickled down his human appearance as he turned to the boy, who was still zoning out. Then a light caught his glance. His eyeless eyes grew wide.
The exit, he thought. Just a little farther! He was growing tired, too tired to persist, too tired to resist the voices bouncing against the walls as the demon sighed.
Oh darn, Greer. And you were doing so well, too!
Tell me, Greer. Can you keep this up? For how long? That path certainly looks to be getting longer, doesn’t it…?
Greer paled even whiter than Seraph’s natural skin, the life draining from him. “Burn in Hell, Threshmundir.”
Tsk, tsk! The demon hissed. Now you’re starting to lose all thought and logic too? Don’t you see? I’ve been burning since Day One. Compared to what I’ve been through, everything you experience pales in comparison. You can’t possibly hold a candle, a match, even a spark to the open flames of the underworld. You may have been born there, but you can never fathom eternity.
Seraph on the other hand, well, I believe he’s a special case. At least he has an idea of just what limbo feels like. His existence knows no home, no place, no meaning without me. A game piece holds no real value outside of the game. Without someone to move him along the game board, he’s just another object lacking utility. And speaking of Seraph…
The last time he learned of his past, he begged me to rid him of his burdens, to delete them from his memories. Now he knows again. I wonder what he plans to do this time around? Will he take this matter into his own hands and seek the revenge he clung to so desperately, or will he forget you again? Will his memories find themselves back in my hands?
