Thoughts and Insight
Ren’s first day within the castle walls was a busy one, unsurprisingly.
He was introduced to Ezil’s top three Skylo, the Lux brothers. A trio comprised of the eldest, named Toka, who wielded a polearm, the middle child, Katia, who used a bow, and the youngest, Sutka, who, despite his frail appearance, carried no weapon. All three brothers had fair skin, and light eyes, save for Sutka, who’s dark eyes seemed to absorb any light that came too close. Ren was told the three of them were all Paidi to Dikai, the goddess of judgment, as well as limbo.
Ren was also introduced to his own new comrades, the two he would be in training with under Ezil’s tutelage. The first was a tall stoic man who resembled a gargoyle, skin grey and dull, with a single scarred wing jutting from his back, named Harvey. The second was a small woodland fae, with horns made of wood and wilting flowers adorning his crown, named Basil. Their introduction was brief, as Ezil promised they’d have plenty of time to get to know one another soon enough. Ren was unsure on the two of them, as Harvey barely spoke a word, expression entirely blank and eyes hollow, while Basil seemed to be the polar opposite. Basil seemed prepared to open his chest and show anyone in the vicinity his deepest and darkest secrets at the drop of a hat.
The final introductions were with the crown prince himself, as well as with King Creon’s most trusted advisor, Novus. Novus apologized for the king’s absence, stating he had other matters to attend to. Crown Prince Anax seemed overjoyed to meet Ren, congratulating him endlessly, shaking his hand repeatedly. His smile never quite reached his eyes, however. His gaze was distant, almost sad, as he looked on in Ren’s direction. He seemed to be looking through him, at something far off, perhaps even painful.
It had been incredibly exhausting, playing the role of a kind and earnest little knightling. This was something Ren had hoped to leave in his past the night he left his home, the night he crossed over the imaginary line between the Aimatrios Kingdom and The Kingdom Of Valor. He had known all along that he wasn’t quite suited for such a lifestyle, one of pure devotion and strength, and it was proven to him that night.
All he could do was take his sister and run.
He felt himself sigh, long and drawn out, as he sat in one of the palace gardens beside Ezil. He had been lost in his thoughts for quite some time, as the two of them sat in a strange, comforting silence, enjoying the cool autumn breeze in the heat of the capital. Even now, Ezil simply glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, deciding not to comment on Ren’s thoughtful behavior. It was slightly unexpected, such a charismatic and outspoken little prince, rumored to be promiscuous and a blemish to the crown, sitting silently in the garden, watching the world lose it’s color little by little, rather than try to rip every single little detail that his claws could from Ren.
Ren found himself now closely examining Ezil, turned slightly towards him, trying to absorb every little detail that he himself could. From his chestnut colored curls, to the opaque milky white color of his eyes, all the way down to the way his dress and cloak caressed the vibrant grass. He wondered if Rowdy had ever painted him, how he would’ve gone about it. Would he have tried to capture Ezil’s odd, almost ethereal grace, or would he have instead tried to bring what lies below, buried deep in the prince’s heart, to the surface? Surely there was more to him than the rumors gave him credit for, that much had already been made quite clear. Ren had heard, quite some time ago, that one of his mothers was the previous crown princess, but she had passed away shortly after giving birth to him. He wasn’t old enough to truly remember such a thing, hopefully, but that was bound to leave scars. Ren wondered what it must have felt like, being born for such a great purpose, destined to inherit a crown, only for it to be whisked away with everything else you could ever hold dear. He wondered how such a dainty man could possibly carry so much, how he seemed to lack any kind of resentment for the world and those responsible for disgracing him, for making him so small.He so desperately wanted to pick him apart, examine all the pieces individually, compare them to one another, decipher the creature sitting beside him. But, instead, he sat there, in silent contemplation.
Ezil continued pretending not to notice.
Kaiyo was truly and utterly exhausted.
She was not suited for a life of shadows, of always keeping her head on a swivel, sleeping with one eye open. She had begun to erode, from the inside out. Her life had been all planned out, one made of gold and sunlight and endless laughter. She was supposed to have it all.
And yet, here she was, working at a local pub when she wasn’t following Nepethys’ orders, or fixing up Isaac, or cleaning up after Ren. It was an endless cycle of fixing, fixing, fixing.
Sometimes, she almost wishes her elder brother and her had never accidentally taken up the task of putting an end to Nepthys. If they had not accepted that hit, they would’ve never met him, never agreed to join him, to try to eradicate the filth in the kingdom. If they had done that, if they had taken any other path, they would’ve never met Isaac, a special type of monster even Quella didn’t even know what he could be. Life wouldn’t have been any easier, but it wouldn’t have been this. They could’ve made it, even without bloodying their hands.
Although, she supposed, their hands were bloody from the moment they were born.
None of that mattered now, though. She knew this. She had to accept things as they were, she had to live the life they’d both chosen. There was no going back.
So, she worked, and she worked, and she fixed, and she fixed.
She often wondered why the gods had chosen Nepthys, as well as her and her brother. Death, Strength, and Darkness. Even stranger still, that none had taken claim over Isaac. She had witnessed him truly lose himself in his magic twice before, and she would prefer to never witness it again. The first time, Isaac had been abducted by rogue mages. He had been bound, gagged, and stuffed in a box. Nepthys and Kaiyo had attempted to rescue him, just in time to see it. The box had fallen open, and he sat inside, motionless. His teeth tore through his mouth, his face split open to make room for the other eyes, only for them to shed crimson tears. Those who had attempted to confine him had all simultaneously dropped like flies, convulsing, screaming, sobbing, as they became nothing more than gore. Whether they tore themselves apart, or shredded from the inside out, she will never be sure. Isaac didn’t recall anything when he returned to himself, so her and Nepthys had agreed to never speak of it. However, the second time, during Rowdy’s execution, he was truly something else.
As soon as the executioner’s ax swung, the air had soured. He became gruesome and ugly, just as he had the first time, but there was emotion on that face made of nothing but mutilated flesh. Rage, grief, sadness, regret. Pain. She could feel it, too, just looking at him. Creeping under her skin in pins and needles, crawling up the back of her skull and clawing at her brain, burning her eyes and throat. She had wanted to scream with him, or maybe collapse, or maybe simply look away. The others who looked directly at him seemed to feel the same, some of them began sobbing, or quivering. In the blink of an eye, he was standing beside the two pieces of Rowdy, trying to put him back together again, in front of the entire crowd as well as the royal family. He paid the onlooking eyes no mind as he attempted to soothe the quickly cooling corpse. King Creon’s guard, Pluto Coil, made to attack Isaac, but it was as if neither his magic nor sword could truly touch him. The metal screamed and shriveled as soon as it got too close, before shattering and scattering across the makeshift stage. Sir Pluto seemed intrigued, and reached out to try and touch Isaac himself, while a single drop of blood dripped from his eye. Isaac looked up, locked eyes with the, supposed, strongest man in all of Aimatrios, and he went still. Sir Pluto did as well, before he let out a small, broken laugh. Isaac’s many eyes searched him, digesting him, as Sir Pluto slowly retracted his hand. He seemed entertained, curious. Isaac seemed to find something, slowly smirking, showing off his razor sharp fangs that didn’t quite fit right in his mouth, further tearing his lips. Sir Pluto looked almost unsettled, for a brief moment, but he didn’t have time to let his fear truly set in before Isaac spoke. It was a language Kaiyo didn’t recognize, but Sir Pluto seemed to. It was a short sentence, said in a rasp, said through blood and tears, but it was enough to cause Sir Pluto to take a step back. When he did, Isaac, as well as what remained of Rowdy, disappeared, all that remained where they had stood was the blood smeared across the stage. Sir Pluto had ordered for the creature to immediately be identified and brought to him.
Brought to him alive.
Kaiyo had never felt magic like that, something so old and deep, something rooted in such anguish. She knew nothing of Isaac’s past prior to stumbling across him one night, but she knew it must have been truly awful for him to have the scars he had. It was as if he had been opened up, torn apart, and put back together again. She told herself, if anyone endured something like that, they were bound to become something unsightly. Some individuals utilize the magic they’re born with through emotion, perhaps he has enough pain to give him such power. She didn’t want to consider the alternative.
If someone as strong as Isaac is ignored by the gods, if he becomes victim to his own heart in such a way, then perhaps the gods had abandoned him.
There was a chance he had become something beyond saving, even prior to their meeting all those years ago.
Perhaps no one and nothing could fix him.
Isaac had decided to pick up a shift at Quella’s shop. He spent his day making tea for the patrons, organizing books, and watering plants. At the end of the day, Quella gave him a card reading.
She pulled only three cards from the deck, her one good eye closed. Her deck for such readings was seemingly blank, save for a single symbol in the center. Isaac had no idea what any of them meant, and he didn’t quite understand how she could, with her only eye closed during the entire reading. He assumed it must be a paidi thing, seeing the future and stuff.
“This one is… A bit stranger than the last, Hyde. It seems as if it may be a bit… Muddled.” Quella hummed, laying the three cards out on the table. She ran her hand over them, cocking her head to the side. “It seems some secrets cannot forever be concealed, but not just yours. You’re laying in a field of them, no, wait, you’re buried in it. It’s suffocating, and heavy.” She paused, and Isaac sat quietly, not wanting to interrupt. “All things will soon come to an end, and it is best to be honest and true while you can. There are more losses fast approaching, the path ahead is going to become less clear, it is going to fork off infinitely. It’s layered on top of itself. However, no matter what path you choose, the outcome is the same.” She grimaced, licked her lips, drooped a bit. “It’s all happened before, and it will happen again. You cannot escape your destiny, cannot deny your nature. Your only true choice is to accept it. Accept it. She keeps saying that. Accept it.” She seemed almost pained, hands shaking. “Do not get lost, do not get lost in the minor details, focus on what is important…? Ah, and accept it. Of course. What, exactly, does he have to accept so badly?” Quella pulls another card. “Everything. Wonderful. That clarifies so much, and it all makes perfect sense now. Thank you.” She sighs heavily, opening her eye. She takes a moment, coming back to herself, blinking down at her hands and the cards.
“So… What I’m getting, is, basically, shit is gonna get worse and I’m gonna have to get over it…?” Isaac drawls, dragging his finger along the edge of the table, eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah, basically. Yeah.”