Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Reagan’s POV

Two colors I abhor. Red and yellow. More specifically, that of blood and gold. The sight of them causes me ire, greed, and a desire to ruin. It makes me… hungry.

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… “Mommy,” called a little boy whose azure blue eyes twinkled with unconcealed pride.

“Mommy, mommy,” he chirped excitedly, trying to obtain his mother’s attention while barely holding in the joy and marvel. In a sense, he was like a proud cub who was crying out for well-deserved praise after getting its first successful kill.

Unfortunately, being only four at the time, Reagan was too ignorant yet euphoric to understand that his mother’s unsightly expression distorted with pain and madness, bloodshot eyes without focus, and the nauseating reek of alcohol were signs to retreat. He clung to her legs affectionately while babbling in rapture, causing his words to become incoherent…

“Mommy, mommy, I do ice. Ice, ice. Teacher praised me. I, aura-” his energetic stutter halted abruptly.

The warm and tender hands which often caressed his head endearingly were now rested on his fragile neck, clutching tightly as the sharp shapely nails dug into his delicate skin.

“Mom…mommy…hurt…it hurts,” he whimpered despairingly in fear and confusion.

The little prince instinctively clasped his tiny hands on his mother’s strangling ones, clawing and struggling to break free from suffocation and pain. His tears were falling down pitifully while his formerly fair yet rosy face turned into an alarming shade of dark red. He was terrified, hurt, aggrieved, and soon breathless.

Blinking away the tears, he looked at his mother whilst desperately clutching those ruthless hands and wrists. When Aynat’s cold crazed gaze met her son’s wet azure eyes that were glistening with unshed tears,

“Why are they blue? Why?! They should have been red. Red!” She screeched hysterically.

“No… no… not red. It should be golden. From the start, they were destined to be golden. Yet, why?” Her unforgiving hands tightened, causing immense agony and torment for the little boy.

Reagan heard his mother’s hysterics yet failed to understand them straight away. When he came looking for his mother, he was the proudest little man, the youngest aura wielder, and an ice bender, but now he was nothing but a pained child crumbling apart…

What happened afterward that day seven years ago was never entirely clear to Reagan. All he remembered was begging for mercy and apologizing for being born the way he was. For having blue eyes. For failing to possess ruby ones like his legitimate half-siblings and golden ones, which caused his mother fascination and loathing at the same time. He had lost consciousness at some point and regained it back to his mother’s piercing cry and biting floor covered with unmelted ice.

…A young child with a disturbing reddish-purple bruise on his frail neck stood up, wobbling with difficulty. His muddled gaze was unfocused, trying to piece out what just had happened to him while his irregular breaths and coughs turned into misty fog, hazing his vision.

Following that heart-wrenching distressed wail of a woman, he turned his head and was greeted with a sight he could never force out of his memory. His mother’s wrists were bleeding with open wounds big and small, frosted skin black and torn, and some areas with dangling frozen flesh. And, his own tiny hands dyed red with blood…

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I detest red and golden. Her lustrous golden orbs like those of Callensos, and that blazing crimson hair burning my eyes. I wish to destroy them. Drown them in sorrow. And wash away their brilliance with despair.

“Who are you?” He asked despite being mostly certain of her identity. After all, how could she possibly be blessed with such blindingly vivid golden irises and an unassailable rein to a shadow beast if not for being a Callenso?

 

Seraphina’s POV

How… how did I come to love you that much? Happiness, to me, was being with you, and fear was losing you. When I looked into your eyes, I found myself drowning in them. I always did. At night, I would shut my eyes thinking of you. In the mornings, my eyes opened missing you. With you, I was… alive. But to you, I was…

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… “Why? Why, Reagan? What did I do wrong?” A woman whose thin silhouette shrouded in misery and anguish questioned in a pleading voice.

She sat disorderly on the chilly ground, kneeling in front of a man whose regal bearing and dignified presence contradicted heavily with the dim and pungent prison and the sinners locked inside there. Her bony torn hands, which were once yearned and desired by many to hold, were clutching the edges of the man’s trousers desperately while her alluring golden eyes were gazing at the frigid azure eyes without concealing her despair, agony, and hurt.

“Please take me away. Reagan, please. I will be good. I, I… I love you.” She wept pitifully.

Though covered with dirt, stench, and malnutrition, her glorious beauty still shone through. Her frail neck was bent submissively while her thin shoulders shook pitiably, cutting a fragile yet distinguished sight to behold. Unfortunately, the chilling blue eyes staring at the sobbing woman never once quivered with the slightest of pity or compassion and, on the contrary, seemed to burn with cruelty and satisfaction.

The man kicked the woman hard, causing breathless coughs and wrenching pain for the other. Looking at her sprawled figure spasming in pain, his pleased chuckle erupted inside the dingy cell.

“Was… was it… all… a lie?” Seraphina questioned, trying to catch her breath while lying on her side on damp ground, curling her whole body into a fetal position. Her back faced the newly crowned emperor while her hands shakily hugged her stomach.

“A lie... I never did. When I said you were someone special, someone important to me, I meant it. I had never felt emotions as strongly as I did when I first laid my eyes on you. The revulsion… bitterness… malice… and aggression. They overwhelmed me. I wished to kill you, rip you to shreds, and ruin you. However… you were already broken and ruined. There is no fun in destroying a broken toy, isn’t there? So, I put you back together piece by piece, making you whole once again.” The young emperor whispered almost endearingly, causing the curled figure to shiver uncontrollably.

Reagan left the cell after witnessing the pathetic tremble of the woman without throwing a single glance in her direction again as if she was a repugnant rotting corpse. As a result, he failed to see warm blood dyeing her hollow thighs maroon. Her frail bruised arms were clutching her abdomen tightly as the last bit of hope and affection in her perished into ashes along with the tiny life growing inside her.

“My baby…” she murmured almost inaudibly, and her breathtaking golden eyes, which once shone with adoration and warmth, chilled, leaving only regret and sprouting hatred.

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An excruciating sense of loss pierced Seraphina’s heart as her burning gaze landed on the young boy, who was standing unperturbed by the sight of a bloody mess of a mutilated body lying in front of him. Her chest was tightening in fury and sorrow, causing stifling rage and a desire to go on a slaughter spree like a rabid beast.

As if sensing Seraphina’s scorching glare, the young boy asked, breaking the suffocating stillness in the forest.

“Who are you?” His calm voice fell.

Seraphina did not heed his questioning worth answering and continued taking deep breaths, restraining her ravening urge to spill his blood. She shifted her line of sight to her only friend, princess Aine, who was retching pitifully due to the heavy stimulation the splattered organs and intestines of the dead imperial knight brought her. Seraphina dismounted her eldest brother’s proud and mighty shadow wolf in a swift effortless jump and strode towards the blond child, minding neither the spooking glint of the unsheathed swords directed towards her nor her butt-naked body that was completely drenched with her own blood.

“It was better for you to just faint like that lunatic sister of yours,” Seraphina jested with an overly childish tone while patting Aine’s tiny back rhythmically, trying to reassure and soothe her friend.

“Half, lunatic half-sister,” the little blond girl corrected stubbornly between her sharp inhales.

“I see you are faring better than I thought. Then, is it okay for me to add a few more fertilizers to your old man’s forest,” Seraphina chimed mischievously, while shifting her burning eyes toward the knights, who were diligently pointing their swords in their direction.

When she looked at her friend, there were unmistakable innocence, playfulness, and tenderness snuggled under her long curly eyelashes. However, when it came to the said knights, her eyes could not have been more bloodthirsty and menacing.

As if greatly commending the little girl’s violent suggestion, the four-eyed wolf advanced forward in a threatening predatory stance, exposing its lethal claws and unforgiving canines and fangs. Each rumble of its low yet deep growl seemed to penetrate the listeners’ chests as rough shivers run through their spines and their stomachs tightened in tension.

“Lower your swords. Sheathe them back,” the second prince commanded.

Unfortunately, in a state where their lives seemed to be hanging on the thinnest thread possible, the imperial knights did not dare to drop their weapons, not to mention stand down as ordered.

“Tsk. Tsk. Imperial knights, your ass. A bunch of cowards and losers,” Seraphina spurned aloud before taking a step forward with an obvious intention of head-on confrontation.

Regrettably, against her resolve, her wounded young body was failing her as the bleeding continued and the dizziness assaulted her unceremoniously. She stood still without charging further as her heart rate accelerated, wreaking havoc in her body, and her breathing became rapid and shallow, which evoked the memory of her lonely wretched death inside the dungeon cell.

As expected. No matter how gently he proceeded, Ysir’s bite could never be harmless. If it was any other object the wound should have stopped bleeding long ago. Seraphina contemplated while shaking her head, trying to dispel the lightheadedness.

Ysir, the horror-striking shadow wolf, engulfed the trembling red-haired girl with his enormous black furry tail, sensing her dropping body heat and low blood pressure. A soft whimper escaped its mouth, clearly displaying its worry and guilt.

“It’s okay. My body is just not used to trauma. Don’t-” her words of consolation to the sad beast halted instantly.

Seraphina’s exceptionally developed senses caught a vibration of an unfamiliar yet indefinitely intimate aura as well as the faint scent of another shadow beast. In her previous life, she was too frail due to the extended period of malnutrition and the damage accumulated in her body. Therefore, the aura she was feeling at the moment, her father’s aura, was entirely novel to her because she has never been exposed to it in fear that her fragile health could not bear it.

A delighted laughter burst from Seraphina’s tender lips as the eyes, which were dripping with cruelty not long ago, curved into bewitching crescents in joy and rapture.

“Red?” Aine called unconsciously in a soft whisper because the beaming laughter she was seeing at that moment was the first time she had ever witnessed her friend being truly joyous and unburdened. Indeed, she was confused by Seraphina’s sudden change, but that confusion was nothing compared to the relief and gratitude she felt in that instant.

The little girl dyed in crimson stared into the forest entrance with a longing gaze.

“Do you know why you should never lay a finger on a cub of a predator?” Seraphina asked with a bell-like chuckle without shifting her gaze away or addressing anyone specifically.

She waited for an answer neither from the baffled imperial knights who were questioning her sanity nor the young prince who was observing her vigilantly and continued,

“It’s because the beast of prey never abandons its child.”

The instant Seraphina’s self-dialogue with an ambiguous meaning concluded, a thundering roar of a lion erupted from the palace, reaching far and wide. Its oppression and might were like no other that it caused the already tense imperial knights to collapse into the ground and their hearts to palpitate hazardously.

Seraphina covered her ears at a lightning speed so that her sensitive eardrums were not split open from the impact. Her eyes twinkled with mischief and naught as she finally shifted her gaze back to the boy whose face was void of blood and warmth, frightened by the ear-splitting roar. His azure blue eyes widened in realization, and he met Seraphina’s provoking stare only to find undisguised disgust and belittlement in them.

Seraphina lowered her hands while scanning the disoriented knights, the unconscious wench of a princess, her dear friend, and lastly, the younger version of the man who broke her heart to million pieces. A moment ago, she halted her intended assault in caution of dropping unconscious due to heavy blood loss and overexertion. However, now, the story was different. Her father could cover the heavens with his palm, and her brothers could flatten the mountain and dry the sea, yet what was there for her, their only daughter and younger sister, to be afraid of? With them around, she could even beat the emperor himself, not to mention this self-centered snotty brat who believed the whole world owed him.

As soon as the blaring roar died, Seraphina leaped towards the aghast prince despite being well aware that this madcap stunt of hers would cost her all of the remaining stamina and the strength to hold on. To begin with, she was agile to be said otherworldly, and now, coupled with the element of surprise and the knights who had yet to find their lost souls, her attack was tour de force.

The instant the bloodied girl charged at him, the second prince unleashed his aura, freezing the fresh baby grass surrounding him. Indeed, he was capable but was too immature to realize that his conceited arrogance would become the blind arrow hitting his back. He formed a massive ice shield that was taller than his height right before Seraphina’s punch was an arm’s length away from his handsome face. As a result, when their gazes hit each other through the thick ice, Reagan had the smirk on his lips, exactly the same one he adorned when he kicked her inside that dungeon cell. A smile he had when killing their unborn baby.

The moment that damned smirk fell into Seraphina’s sight, a rage she had never felt before burst inside her chest, causing the beastly energy of nine-tailed fox inside her to surge out. Without breaking her maddened gaze away, she hit the ice wall, crumbling it apart with sheer power. And, she saw it. How that blood-boiling smirk and the scorning contempt and over-confidence in his deep azure eyes got painted with horror and disbelief before getting splattered with a beautiful shade of maroon. Against everyone’s incredulity, Seraphina’s single punch not only shattered the thick ice, but hit the boy’s face without straying or weakening from the impact.

“The disgust is MUTUAL, asshole.” Seraphina declared while looking down at the bloodied face contorted with an unnatural bent on it before the whole world swirled around and silence enveloped her.

The little girl could not tell whether the most handsomely golden eyes she saw before the darkness swallowed her were reality or her whimsical fantasy and, therefore, let a pitiful soft whimper escape her mouth.

“Daddy,” her unfathomably sweet yet vulnerable voice called out before she lost all senses, completely dropping unconscious.

As a result, she did neither see nor realize that her unbelievably adorable furry ears and silky soft tail were out for all to see and how they drooped pitiably with her whimpering call.

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