Candle light flickered and wavered over the rocky walls, casting animated shadows that looked alive. Heavy incense filled the gloomy, smoky hall, enough to smother a regular person. The low, drawn out chanting, ever present, could be heard through the walls of nearby rooms.

Several monks stood in a semi-circle, their hoods drawn low and heads bowed. In the centre of them, Sephiaza stood, imposing and beautiful.

He approached his mother and stopped in front of her. She was taller than him, wearing her usual black bodice and silk gown. Her disgust at his unexpected presence was evident.

“Don’t look so happy to see me, Mother,” he said in a cheery tone he knew would annoy her.

Her lips curled a little more up but she kept her composure. “Vassago.”

His eyes tensed. He couldn’t remember the last time she called him son. Maybe never.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

He raised his arms. “I’m home for the summer holidays.” This brought him another of her humourless looks.

He stared at her, not backing down. The flickering light accentuated her sharp cheekbones, long dark hair framing her face. Her brows cast heavy shadows but her eyes were every present, glinting in the light.

“I know,” Vass said. “You’re going to say I have my father’s wit. But guess what, I can finally confirm that’s true.”

Her eyes flashed, a pulse of chaotic aura shimmering over her; all indiscernible. “You saw him,” she said coolly.

“Aye, we met. Different to how I imagined him.” He knew this would get a reaction from her, but to her credit she kept her composure.

“What did you say?”

Vass shrugged. “Not much. Just said hi, told him who I was, and then stabbed him and dropped him into the canal.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

She glared at him. Somewhere within her eyes he saw a gleam of triumph. “He found you. We suspected he would, after they discovered Balthiour’s notebook last night.” She paused. “Did you kill him?”

“No. Just gave him a little push.”

She continued to watch him carefully. He loved watching her stress, not knowing something.

“You’ll still see him again,” he said. “I’m pretty sure,”

“He’ll come for us. I have no doubt. Once he sees the destruction we left in their hideout.”

Vass paused. She had sent an attack on their hideout? Likely while his father came to his apartment. He maintained his casual air and said, “Great, would be nice to see him again.”

“He shouldn’t have seen you.”

“I was curious,” Vass said, shrugging. “He wasn’t quite what I thought. ‘A holy warrior who hated our kind’ you called him, but what I felt wasn’t so pure. He’s conflicted, maybe even more dark than light. You must have done some damage to him yourself, Mother.”

“He is a locust of the light,” Sephiaza spat. “Not worth you meeting, or thinking about. Forget him.”

“Not a problem,” Vass said. “He wasn’t so impressive anyway.”

He met her searching gaze with a smile. She didn’t have to know that meeting his father had spawned a powerful intrigue. After so many years of hearing her talk about him, Vass had built a great curiosity around his infamous father—the angel who created a child.

“The angels will fall this day,” Sephiaza said. “There is no doubt of that. As for the rest of the day, I want you to lay low. If you don’t want to stay in your apartment, then you will stay here.”

Vass tensed. “What? On my first Summer Solstice? No, I should be out there.”

“You will do as I say,” she said sharply. “Now is not the time for your insolence.”

“No, now is the time I should be fighting. Why did you bring me to this time if not to help you, to fight alongside you?”

“All in good time, Vassago.”

He sighed with frustration. “I don’t understand you.” I’ve never understood you, is what he wanted to say, but that would bring a torrent of vitriol from her he’d never hear the end of.

Her eyes appeared to soften, and he wondered if he was getting through to her. Then her brows tensed.

“Perhaps I should have brought you here after you had matured,” she said.

Vass’s heart raced, and he knew he couldn’t hide it from her, so he embraced his anger. “Right, when I’d be older enough to know not to listen to you. Be careful what you wish for, Mother.”

“Enough,” she said. “I tire of this. You remember where your chambers are here. Go to them. And I won’t have to send guards to watch you.”

He remained staring at her for a moment, not backing down—he had to show her that she couldn’t control him like she thought she could. If only she knew what he was capable of. If only she trusted him.

Deciding just to let her think she’d won, Vass turned and strode out of the hall, his mind racing with thoughts.