At the acceleration of his heart, Kirios rushed from the entrance hall, throughout the grounds, his speed knocking over ornaments and fripperies as he went. How had these last fourteen years come to this?
After struggling with his anger he had finally settled into his life as Galen’s man, hunting supernatural predators. It hadn’t taken him long to fall easily into the way of life, to make friends into family, for Galen to become like a father. It had taken thirty years to unbend towards Eneas. And now… now sixty years on and Eneas was like a brother. How could it be possible that he had betrayed Galen, betrayed them all? In truth, Kirios would say it had all begun fourteen years before when Galen had fallen in love with a human girl, Kleisthenes. They had married, had children. She had been completely aware of who and what they all were, and that their children would have magikal gifts. For the closest of them, they had been comfortable in her presence. There had been others, however, who had a difficult time with Kleisthenes. Kirios blanched remembering his friend, a vampyre, who had confessed to be dreaming of Kleisthenes each night, dreaming of drinking her blood until his obsession was sated. Sadly, he could not be counseled through it, and when he attacked her it was Kirios who had saved her, and Kirios who had been chosen to execute his friend. Soon after, the household of supernaturals began to dwindle, until only Eneas and Kirios remained among the magiks and faeries. Only a few years after the incident, Galen had come to Kirios in confidence, revealing fears that his wife was having an affair. Kirios could not believe it of Kleisthenes, but had promised to investigate Galen’s suspicions. He felt sick as the vision of her lovely figure posed so elegantly in her bedchamber flashed before his eyes, blood soaking the bed coverings, a gaping hole in her chest where her heart had been savagely cut out. They found Kleisthenes murdered the very day after Galen had come to him. The household had been devastated, Kirios also, but he had gladly assumed the task he and Eneas were charged with – to find the culprit and bring him to Galen alive.
For a number of days the trail had been cold, until one evening Galen’s eldest daughter came to Kirios’ room with Kleisthenes’ journal. Parthenia had claimed she knew who had murdered her mother and urged Kirios to read the pages.
Eneas.
He had been the one carrying on the affair with Kleisthenes… it was fair to assume he had been the one to silence her. Kirios had made Parthenia promise not to tell anyone until he had found Eneas and the truth out for himself. It had been this very night Kirios had set out to catch up with him where he was questioning townspeople. But Kirios was dragged back to the house by a messenger with urgent news.
Parthenia.
Hades, Eneas! Kirios crashed into the bedchamber with hopes of finding the journal pieces. He stopped abruptly, instantly sensing his room had been disturbed. That’s when he felt the cold press of the blade to his throat and the heat of the lykan at his back.
“Brother,” he pleaded in Kirios’ ear. “You have to understand.”
“Understand what?” Kirios bit out, his entire being trembling with rage and desolation. “That you would kill me to cover your crime?”
“I made a mistake, brother. She wasn’t even worth it. I can’t lose Galen. He’s like my father, he is all I have ever known.”
“And yet you took what was most precious to him.”
Eneas growled, spittle flecking the side of Kirios’ face, “She seduced me! It wasn’t my fault.”
“Ye gods, what has become of you, Eneas, that you would blame a hapless human for your own folly?”
“Hers also.”
“Yes. But she is gone and with her, an innocent child by your hand.”
Eneas held still, seeming to have stopped breathing altogether. And then… “This can only end with your death, brother. I am truly sorry.”
Before the blade could pierce his skin, Kirios whirled as if a tornado, took the blade from Eneas’ hand and plunged it into his black heart.
His blood soaked Kirios’ hands and tears his face.
Seven nights later
His prison was cold and solitary. Like his heart, he snorted. Bitterness threatened to overwhelm Kirios but he held true. This was not his fault. Who knew Galen was a poisoned dagger biding its time before plunging its blade into the hearts of those he had sought to befriend. The beginning of a war was brewing and it had only been but a few days. After he had sought out Galen with his evidence of Eneas’ treachery, Galen had gone mad, almost as if he had been taken over by the gods themselves. What had once been a magik of, yes, mercurial moods, was now a magik of molten violence who held a deep hostility towards lykans and vampyres. He threw Kirios in prison (an act of mercy, ha!) and was already enlisting faeries into espionage, searching for powerful communities of vampyres and lykans that he and his remaining children could destroy.
“Kirios.”
He blinked in surprise to see Agamemnon towering over his na**d form in the prison cell. “Agamemnon?” he breathed. “W-w-what are you doing here?”
The magik’s mouth twisted. “Freeing you.”
“Why? Galen?”
He shook his head. “He doesn’t know I am here. I’m getting you out of here and then I’m leaving. I want no part in this mad man’s war.” At that he reached out and touched Kirios, his magik flowing over him until he was clothed. Kirios barely had time to nod his thanks before the magik grabbed hold of his hand and the world whirled past them with sickening speed. The sound of crashing water met his ears, the invigorating scent of salty ocean cleansing his dirt-filled nose and waking his numb senses. He blinked. They stood on the dark shore, the sea just a black mass before them.
“This is where I leave you, friend.” Agamemnon handed him a clay bowl. The liquid was a little coagulated but Kirios almost wept with relief.
Blood.
“I don’t know how to thank you, my dear friend.”
“Just stay alive and out of Galen’s path.”
And then he was gone.