111 | hesitate; star shaped scar

A long arm was held through the bars, and a fine needle-shaped contraption pierced the lightly tanned skin, through the blue veins that were surrounded by a wisp of black.

Noah's gaze flattened and he looked at the door quietly. "This is the time that Kaden delivers my meal."

The prince that Noah had defined was a cruel, intelligent man suited to rule a Kingdom, if not for the vague air of disinterest and darkness that brewed in his elegance.

Kaden attracted a similar kind of scum; all those with nothing else in life, obsessed with the treasure they found.

But an intelligent man would not choose this moment to extract Noah's blood for whatever reason he did. Not without knowing that Kaden would come down.

"Initially, long before Kaden befriended you," said Reed impassively, examining the device as a drop of blood sat at the top of the needle. "I intended to drain you of your blood and investigate your organs."

The cruel words were spoken calmly, and similarly, Noah was unperturbed. "Why?"

"Dragons, even those blessed, live for a long time. Although your lifespan may not exceed your predecessors, it will exceed a human's."

"Everybody must die one day. Do you seek immortality?"

Reed scoffed. "I'm no exception to the cycle of life."

The door clicked at the top of the steps, and Reed's hand twisted around Noah's wrist even more firmly, more viciously. He raised the needle as if posed to stab him.

"Congratulations, dragon," whispered Reed, leaning closer as he yanked the arm, rattling Noah's chains violently. "You get to live a while longer."

The door swung open, and at the top of the steps stood Kaden, a fury blazing in his eyes.

His gaze darted to the tightly held arm, the held needle that trickled with a drop of crimson. The confusion streaked across Noah's face as if he had been told something he couldn't understand.

"What have you done?"

All Kaden saw was blinding white, and he stalked down, before his thoughts could calm, his hands were grabbing Reed and slamming the older man to the ground.

Kaden yanked Reed's collar, all his fears, all his hesitation, gone.

"What did you do to him?" seethed the man.

Reed glanced at the unbroken needle and slid it into his pocket with a free hand. Calmly, he raised his unflinching gaze. "You remember him. And you've been lying to me."

Then, softly, he continued. "Would a night in there remind you of where you stand, Kaden? I didn't lock the door the other night. Should I, this time?"

Kaden flinched as if he'd been slapped, eyes darting to the closed metal door and fear crowding his vision.

The dragon, watching, recognized it in moments, dread sitting heavy on his empty stomach. Kaden hated it, the way his body remembered the past once more, behind those locked doors.

His nails remembered what it felt like to scrap the walls until they cracked and bled.

His throat remembered what it was like to scream until his voice bled dry.

His eyes remembered the merciless darkness that refused him any salvation.

But he was no longer the same—he reminded himself pleadingly. His hands tightened around Reed's collar, drawing past it, wrapping around the throat that was thinner than he remembered.

It would be simple, Kaden felt frighteningly certain, to kill the prince where he was, squeezing the air out of that cruel body, freeing the world.

Freeing himself.

Reed did not struggle, did not order him to leave, but remained like a pliant, helpless doll on the ground, the fixed frosty stare observing him. Waiting to be killed by the killer he raised himself.

There was a sword hanging at his belt, and he did not reach for it.

Kaden's hand began to squeeze, feeling the flesh under his finger.

At the end of the day, that was what he did best.

Noah stood in his dark cell, broken chains scattered on the ground as the remainder fastened over his wrists. Why, he wondered, did he feel hopelessly frightened in this instant?

Reed's death would be a blessing that would free Kaden—why did that seem to be the wrong answer?

No, Noah exhaled slowly, that wasn't the curiosity weighing the top of his mind. Why wasn't the crown prince resisting with that frosty arrogance he always basked himself in, and why did he look so calm?

The door burst open again, ricocheting against the wall as a large figure cannon-balled down the stairs, launching himself at Kaden. He yanked Kaden away and snatched the keys hanging on Reed's belt.

"Let's go, let's go! Hurry, Kaden!" Arlo stumbled and the keys flew out of his hand, skidding into Noah's cell.

The dragon picked them up, muttering to himself indistinctly. "How much time have I bought? Is it enough?" Regardless, there was no time to hesitate. He shoved the key into the lock, twisting it open.

Arlo grabbed Kaden again, tugging him towards the door.

The three dashed up the stairs, and as they slipped through the open door, Kaden swiveled his head to the man still sprawled on the ground.

Red prints burned against his throat, and the icy gaze remained settled on him.

Arlo shoved him through the door with a startling amount of strength. As they stumbled free of the basement, a loud bang erupted from their side as if something had shattered the castle walls.

Large wings, slightly smaller but longer than Noah's, soared into the room. The dragon's gem-like eyes twinkled and Noah froze where he stood as a group of people were crudely deposited on the ground, and the dragon left as quickly as he came.

Chaos took its root from the broken rubble, sprouting across the castle grounds.

A woman with braided, frazzled hair rushed down the halls setting everything alight with fire, laughing as she ran although fear and uncertainty twisted in her forest gaze.

She stopped for a moment to hurriedly drag a maid out of one of the rooms, ushering them to safety. The flames seemed to obey her, parting at her feet as she shivered with cold, rubbing her arms.

"It's so cold!" Her words elicited odd looks from the escaping servants who took several steps away from her in fear.

Once determined that the area was empty, she continued pretending to be crazy and burning everything in her path.

Another woman shielded in tightly woven clothes that seemed to be made of a study fiber, flipped her cloak and ran against the fleeing servants.

She ran, with a startling amount of speed, up the twisting staircase and down a hallway. Her cherry gaze darted sideways, interlocking with a frosty blue, golden hair that had been mused in a scuffle.

Reed's lips flattened into a thin line, and coldness suffused Nicola's gaze as she turned away indifferently, nimbly slipping away.

Where Kaden stood, a heavy weight crudely shoved his back.

"What're you guys huddling around for? Get running! It wasn't easy to figure things out on such short notice—this is so rushed! But whatever!" Niklas shoved his two friends forward, clicking his tongue dramatically.

"Niklas." The name escaped Kaden like a breath, relief and sorrow intertwined into one word.

Niklas faltered and smiled with exasperation. "Hey, Kaden. Have you missed me?"

There was still so much to do, and Niklas had never felt so unprepared for a battle that he needed every bit of his wit and knowledge for.

The Crown Prince's sources were powerful; it was nearly impossible to dig into his affairs. Those loyal to him had immense levels of loyalty that allowed nothing to slip; not even those carrying Reed's secrets.

A particular loyal guard of Reed's that had been in a bad mood after not being appointed as his personal guard nearly killed them in the night during an investigation.

What was his name? Joseph, or something? It didn't matter.

Time would've been great, but time was a thing they often didn't have. This was the chaotic, unreliable emergency plan. In other words, it was plan 'make a mess and pray it all worked out after.'

They'd scraped together the journal entries of the experiments, although a large chunk remained missing. Failure after failure was noted down and scribbled in bleeding ink.

But one thing was made certain; that whoever took those missing pages was the culprit for the latest string of deaths.

The influx of Creatures of Distortion was a similar situation to what happened in the past, as a result of Raymond's friend's meddling with matters beyond him.

Regardless, Niklas had made many connections throughout the years, and hiding an identity was no difficult feat.

They could do this, however rushed.

They would succeed, and this time, he would fulfill that precious wish that he hadn't been able to in the past. They had to—because Niklas didn't know what would be left of him if they couldn't.

As they rushed to the back entrance, away from the raging flames that licked the walls but maintained controlled chaos, a red-haired man stood at the exit.

Leaning against a heavy sword, he lazily lifted his gaze and clicked his tongue. The actions were mocking but his expression remained solemn.

"Come on, little puppy," sighed Lux reluctantly. "I don't want to hurt you. I really don't, believe it or not."

His hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, options racing through his sharp mind. He debated it, even before he walked over, whether it was worth saving Kaden.

Worth saving Kaden Chauvet and damning his lost little brother.

He was a failure of a sibling for allowing the thought to emerge. He was meant to protect that child, and he'd already failed once. He thought about all the conversations they never had, all the laughter he'd never heard. The growth of that child he never got to see.

The sword raised in the air, weightless in Lux's trained, calloused hands. His shoulders slumped and then straightened, hesitation smoothened out.

All these theatrics, all this drama. When all he wanted was to live with his family again.

When his crimson eyes settled, he launched into an attack. His figure, wild and dangerous, soared in the air above Kaden as he raised the sword high.

As expected, both Niklas and Noah instinctively shoved Kaden out of the way—although didn't those foolish youngsters understand that Kaden Chauvet did not need, nor want one-sided saving?

That their relentless actions only drew him further away?

Lux sneered at his thinking when he was the one who tried so hard not to understand that puppy, scared of brewing fondness.

Kaden, who'd been shoved by a weaponless ex-prisoner and a man who could barely lift a sword without breaking into sweat, stared in disbelief.

"......" He stared for a split second at the fools standing before him, and planted his feet on the ground, drawing his duel daggers.

Crossing them over each other, he slammed one leg forward and blocked Lux's strike, gritting his teeth as the immense pressure surged through his limbs.

Adrenaline flashed through Lux's widening grin as he struck down again, his blows heavier with each collision.

Kaden swung his legs out and Lux leaped up high, sweeping his sword in an arc across the air. The former dropped to his knees, the dagger stabbing out and cutting a sliver of flesh along the prince's defined waist.

They exchanged a flurry of heavy blows, the sweeping distance of the sword and the sly stabs of a dagger intertwining. Despite the different weapons, neither side revealed any weakness.

A bloody waterfall dripped down Kaden's sliced sleeve, his hair chopped unevenly by an unfortunate swing.

Lux heaved, smiling wildly. "What a lovely haircut, little puppy."

Kaden fiddled with the longer side, indifferently glancing over. "It's a little uneven."

A laugh escaped Lux, and somewhere in the exchange of blows that appeared relentless and unforgiving to the untrained eye, neither moved with the intent to kill.

It was the red-haired prince who realized that fact before Kaden could acknowledge his reluctance to kill.

He couldn't forget his brother.

He couldn't forget what he had to do.

Or would he betray that sweet, lost boy, all over again?

The amusement dancing in his gaze contorted, twisting into a seething, merciless cold, and Kaden recognized it in moments. The rationalization of murder—he knew exactly at which moment a person became prepared to kill.

He, after all, specialized in twisting his thoughts into believing a temporary justification for what he did.

Only when guilt didn't plague his body, and he reminded himself of everything important, could he bring down his blade. It was hypocritical, and after the guilt would drown him in immeasurable agony.

But it was a desperate attempt at remaining sane.

Kaden tensed his body, raising his daggers in preparation to strike. Yet no matter how he tried to strip Lux of all he knew, the intent to kill wouldn't rouse.

This was a man, annoying and taunting, who remained by his side for three years. This was a man who never hid his intentions, arrogantly charging forth for the sake of his missing sibling.

Kaden's resolve cracked at the edges. Was it endless? This eternal cycle of killing, of corpses at his feet, of people who didn't deserve to die and those who did?

And by whose definition did they deserve to die?

Lux's strength faltered, but it was too late to stop his attack. Come on, little puppy, he hissed in his head as the blade came crashing down. Move. Move!

It happened in a blink. Noah's infuriated movements, standing meters away one second, and right by them the next as his body began to distort, bones jutting abnormally and cracking against his skin.

The sword sliced through his back and blood splattered onto the ground as devilish and curved wings burst through Noah's shoulders, black scales peeling over his human skin.

A thick and long tail twisted around, sweeping the trio—Holly had reemerged from her successful arson—onto his bleeding back.

In moments, the expansive wings unfurled and flapped, powerful gusts pushing through the air. Lux stumbled back in surprise, the wings knocking his sword across the ground.

Noah's body slammed against the wall, breaking through easily before he soared away into the skies.

Lux stared in bewilderment before a set of footsteps clattered behind his back, calm and elegant steps passing through the rubble.

He sighed purposely. "Well, I've failed. What a shame. They've all grown up from little brats to bigger brats over these years."

"We're running out of time."

Reed's head was tilted to the broken wall and the disappearing shadow that had flown too far to catch. His fingers curled against his palm, expression unreadable.

Lux frowned, craning his neck backward to peer at the other. "What're you talking about?"

Reed continued muttering under his breath, like a crazed man with a voice responding inside his head. There had always been something abnormal, something broken about the crown prince.

There were times his expression would fade into a ghost of indifference, empty eyes, and an empty face that told of nothing.

There were times panic would streak his forehead, knitting into his frosty glare as he began muttering ceaselessly about things Lux couldn't begin to try and understand.

The man shook his head in annoyance, leaping onto his feet easily. He spun around and grabbed Reed's shoulders forcefully.

"What is it, Prince? What do you mean we're running out of time?"

Reed's head snapped up, the daze clearing from his foggy vision. He pulled away, but Lux's grip was merciless. "...Poison can be a cure, I've said so before. I'll tell you now since I no longer have any choice."

"Tell me what?"

"I don't care how many lives or bodies that need to burn. I never did, and I never will." He lifted his chilling blue eyes to meet the burning red. "Your bloodline has a short lifespan, Prince of Narvona."

"I've long abandoned my land—"

"The King is a man with a dozen wives—because he knows, that all those that carry the royal blood, are destined to meet an early end. You're only stubbornly persisting in life because you refuse to use your Blessing—even though you won't see old age."

Lux's eyes narrowed darkly. The events of the past were still fresh to him; how his mother, the present queen, had lost the affection of the King after he was seduced by a young vixen, and how his mother was abused on the regular.

His mother had attempted to go on a trip with the King to rekindle their feelings—but he'd taken along the young woman and Lux's younger and only blood-related brother.

Lux, merely a child, had rebelled by hiding away in the palace gardens and dashing out to play with commoners. He hadn't been aware of what happened until it already did. When he returned, his mother and younger brother were not there.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks after Lux had run away, tired of the abuse, before hating himself for leaving his family behind.

He'd taken so long because he feared his punishment for fleeing, even if the King hardly cared about his existence half the time. The King had been drunk, bottles surrounding the throne as he chuckled at the young red-haired boy.

"You're too late," he said hoarsely, reeking of booze. "They're dead, boy."

Lux gritted his teeth, brushing away the aftermath. The images of his mother's bloody corpse left to rot in that secluded vacation home.

"If this is an event of mocking me for my tragic, pitiful life, let's redirect the question—"

"Those with your blood are destined to be members of the Blessed. Unstable, tethering on death from birth."

The crown prince's voice continued like a mantra, a drawl that was distant and hypnotic.

"Do you want to know how I found you, Lux Morgana? Why, of all the allies I could've chosen, I knew I could bind you?"

Reed's gaze dropped and his hands reached up, grabbing at Lux's loosely buttoned collar.

"Hey! You—"

Before the other could protest, he ripped his hand away, exposing a muscular chest.

A body riddled by scars from his youth, and beatings from his father. In the pattern of scars, one sat prominently over his heart.

To an unknowing gaze, it was merely a scar. To those knowing, it was a birthmark that followed his bloodline, as if marking its territory on those who carried his royal name.

A star-shaped scar.