Then I saw it. The telltale signs of a boy who wanted nothing more than his mother's love. The shallow trembling of his lips, the slight watering of his eyes.
"Why is it that I look exactly like Styxx and yet I'm unnatural while he is not? I don't understand why I'm a monster. I don't feel like one to me."
I couldn't explain it to him, for I, unlike the others, had never seen the difference myself. How I wished Acheron knew the mother I did.
But they all called him a monster.
I saw only a little boy. A small child who wanted nothing more than to be accepted by a family that wanted to disown him. Why couldn't my parents look at him and see what a kind, gentle soul he was? Quiet and respectful, he never sought to harm anyone or anything. We played together and we laughed. Most of all, I held him while he cried.
I took his little hand into mine. A soft hand. A boy's hand. There was no malice in it. No murder.
Acheron had always been a tender child. While Styxx sought to whine and complain over every minor thing, to take my toys and those of any other child near him, Acheron had sought only to make peace. To comfort those around him.
He seemed older than a child of seven. There were times when he seemed even older than I.
His eyes were strange. Their silver, swirling color betrayed the birthright that linked him to the gods. But surely that should make him special not horrendous.
I offered him a smile that I hoped would ease some of his pain. "One day, Acheron, the world will know just what a special boy you are. The day will come when no one will fear you. You shall see."
I moved to hug him, but he pulled back. He was used to people hurting him and even though he knew I wouldn't, he was still reluctant to accept my comfort.
As I stood, the door to my sitting room opened. A large number of guards came inside.
Scared of the sight, I stepped back not knowing what they wanted. Acheron clenched his small fists in the skirt of my blue gown as he huddled behind my right leg.
My father and uncle walked through the men until they stood before me. The two of them were virtually identical in looks. They had the same blue eyes, the same wavy blond hair and fair skin. Though my uncle was three years younger than my father, one would never guess to look at them. They could easily pass as twins.
"I told you he would be with her," my father said to Uncle Estes. "He's corrupting her again."
"Don't worry," Estes said. "I shall take care of the matter. You'll never again have to worry about him."
"What do you mean?" I asked, terrified of their dire tone. Did they intend to kill Acheron?
"Never you mind," my father snapped at me. I'd never heard such a harsh tone from him before. It made my blood run cold.
He grabbed Acheron and shoved him toward my uncle.
Acheron looked panicked. He reached for me, but my uncle took him roughly by his arm and jerked him away.
"Ryssa!" Acheron called.
"No!" I shouted, trying to help him.
My father pulled me back and held me. "He is going to a better place."
"Where?"
"Atlantis."
I watched in horror as Acheron was taken away, screaming for me to save him.
Atlantis was a long way from here. Too far, and up until a very short time ago, we'd been at war with them. I'd heard nothing but terrible things about that place and everyone who lived there.
I looked up at my father, sobbing. "He'll be afraid."
"His kind are never afraid."
Acheron's screams and pleas denied those words.