Chapter 35 - Father and Son

Lazar returned first. According to Ciel, the dead soul eater would “take extra time to cut up, exoskeletons’re a pain,” so the seraph decided to make his way down the tunnels on his own. That, and he’d found himself feeling oddly unsteady. A coil of wound, nervous energy kept his posture rigid and tense, and he was eager to leave the oppressive red walls as soon as possible.

Lazar walked slowly, listening for any noises or signs of life. Somehow, the empty alcoves and the consuming silence only made him more wary. Stillness was opaque and difficult to trust.

The palace of the Light was the image of quiet elegance. The wide arches, the beams of light filtering through stained glass and narrow slits, made the space at once open and also carefully constricted. When they flew through, it was easy to think they were the only ones occupying an empty chamber.

He should’ve known something was wrong back then. Lazar walked faster.

None of the circled guardians had cast any shadows, had left any traces of movement. The burning light had erased them.

—

The moment Lazar stepped back into Cassius’s home, the difference felt as stark as ascending between realms. Those translucent, softly glowing cerulean stones were a welcome reprieve from the flat expanse of red, and Lazar’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the shift in hues.

Flat red. It brought to mind the flashes of that distant, lost week of his memory. Now that he was no longer in Elysium, he wondered if he would ever find out where that place had been.

You’ll return, he reminded himself, and he tightened his grip on his halberd, now newly cleaned with one of the extra scraps of fabric. Ciel’s words still echoed in his mind, lingering in the recesses of every passing thought.

The seraph stopped.

Up ahead, just past a bend in the road, he heard two distinct voices. He pressed his back against the stone walls and peered out just enough to see what was happening.

Past the curve, he managed to make out Leon’s short form standing with his jaw stubbornly clenched. The bags under his eyes looked even worse than they’d been on that day in the tunnels, and the fallen boy’s voice rose in volume the longer the conversation went on.

In contrast, Cassius’s voice remained perfectly calm and reassuring. He was crouched down so that he was eye level with the human, and after some more back and forth, Leon deflated, the tension leaving his shoulders, and he nodded sullenly. Whatever they’d been arguing about, the demon had clearly won.

Cassius straightened and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder, gently guiding him away. The two made to leave, but just before they did, Lazar caught Cassius’s blue eyes staring straight at him. The seraph froze on instinct. The gaze lingered for only a second before the demon turned away as well.

Soon, the two’s footsteps faded, but still the seraph didn’t move from his position. We’ll talk later, those eyes had said. And so, Lazar waited for the demon to return.

Sure enough, after several minutes had passed, Cassius appeared again in the hallway. Now that he got a better look at him, the demon looked nearly as tired as Leon did, though he hid it better. His expression remained composed, not giving anything away as he studied the seraph and took in the bloodied clothes and the soaked bandages at the crook of his neck.

Finally, after a few moments of tense silence, the demon sighed.

“I see you’ve encountered some trouble.”

“I couldn’t sleep and took a stroll through the tunnels,” Lazar admitted, bowing a little. “My apologies for not informing you.”

Cassius shook his head. “You don’t need to tell me where you are at all times, you’re not a prisoner.” He smiled wryly. “That flesh eater comes and goes as she pleases.”

His eyes landed on the wound again, and Lazar could see the demon mentally assessing the damage with the precise consideration that only someone well experienced with injuries would have. Cassius stepped closer, and Lazar stiffened, but the demon stopped just outside of range.

Cassius gave him a knowing look, then raised his left hand.

“Ah, no, it’s alright,” Lazar hurried to say, but the demon ignored him, already beginning to perform a series of rapid fire movements with stunning accuracy. His palm began to glow cerulean, and, sensing that there would be no arguing, Lazar hurried to undo the bandages to at least make the demon’s job a little easier.

Cassius’s movements stopped, and the glowing ball of light split into four streams that rippled and waved, flowing towards the seraph. Lazar watched them carefully as they hovered over the bleeding wound. Now that the bandage was off, he could better see how bad it was. In his struggle to kill the soul eater, he’d widened the cut and left its edges jagged and messy with his movement.

The first stream of blue stretched across the injury, and with three more gestures, it pulled away the dried blood and grime. The second stream began to slow the trickle of red while the third mended torn muscles and flesh. Finally, the fourth string of light stitched everything together.

The seraph had never seen healing magic performed like this, with such distinct sections. The use of essence was carefully kept to a minimum, likely on account of the Abyss’s limited amounts of it. In Elysium, this level of precision was considered unnecessary when a more powerful chant would take care of everything at once.

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With a final wave of Cassius’s hand, the light dissipated. Lazar carefully inspected the wound. The skin around it was still a bit tender, but it had been sealed completely. If the demon had more essence to work with, he wondered what he would be capable of. He could very well be on the level of Jael, Lilium, and Natalia, the three strongest healers within the guardians.

And yet, there Cassius was, still residing in the Abyss when he was clearly capable of ascending much, much higher.

“Thank you.” Lazar bowed. “I don’t know how I could possibly repay you for the kindness you’ve shown us.”

The demon shook his head. “Think nothing of it. Consider this my thanks for saving Leon.”

At the mention of the boy, the seraph frowned, his eyes darting down the hallway towards the rooms. “Is he alright?” he asked, voice quiet.

The demon’s lips thinned. “He had a nightmare, but he should be fine in the morning. If that boy is anything, it’s stubborn,” he added with a fond chuckle. “Sometimes I wonder if he’s kept his mark at bay out of sheer will. But I suppose such things are impossible.”

The mood sombered for a moment, neither of them voicing the unspoken. However slowly Leon’s mark had once spread, it was very quickly reaching its limit now.

Perhaps eager to shift the topic, Cassius’s eyes snapped to Lazar.

“Your mark hasn’t moved yet, has it?”

The seraph shook his head, and the demon hummed consideringly.

“I see, so it’s a slower fall. If that’s the case, you may very well be able to ascend in time, though it would still be extremely unlikely,” he muttered half to himself. Lazar didn’t comment, but what the demon said next made him tense.

“You and that flesh eater are leaving soon, aren’t you?”

Though his voice was light, Lazar remembered the demon by the gate. Did Cassius know the demon was still there? That he and Ciel would fight him?

“Yes,” the seraph said carefully. Those blue eyes, lit by the glow of the walls, remained flat.

“Nero.”

The demon suddenly spoke, and Lazar stiffened. His fingers clenched around the halberd, but Cassius didn’t move from his spot. He simply stood there, gaze unreadable.

“The demon by the gate. I thought you should know his name before you kill him.” His voice was quiet.

“You knew, then.”

“There’s only one realm gate, and he won’t move from that spot now that he’s seen a fallen close by. It was…unfortunate that you arrived while he was at the gate.”

Lazar considered what to say. Cassius’s expression remained largely blank, the distant look of someone caught in old memories. He didn’t seem angry, nor did he make any moves to discourage their plans.

“I don’t suppose,” the seraph began, “that you would be able to convince him to let us through?”

The demon laughed, and the harsh sound was such a stark contrast to his usually smooth and calm tone that Lazar nearly took a step back.

“Even if he still spoke to me, he wouldn’t listen. Nero despises seraphs and fallen alike.” For a moment his eyes shifted to the hallway. He smiled wryly. “As you can imagine, he wasn’t particularly…receptive to my current living arrangements.”

The demon sighed, long and weary.

“You might not believe me, but the Abyss used to be quite beautiful. We had vast, vibrant cities, and though conflict always existed between flesh eaters and soul eaters, there were strict laws and structures in place.”

He closed his eyes, and Lazar waited for the demon to continue.

“Once Elysium began banishing fallen here, the number of tears increased at an exponential rate.” That distant, hazy look returned. “One opened in the center of the capital. I can still remember it.” He ran a hand idly along the tunnel walls, tracing the grooves in the stones. “With so many tears ripping the realm apart, the survivors were forced to scatter. Many fell themselves from grief. The Abyss birthed new demons to replace those lost, but the vast majority of the demons born today have no sentience.”

Cassius shook his head. “It’s all I—all we can do to maintain any semblance of order. Very few of us from those old days remain, and many who do are like Nero. So mad with loss that they’ve forgotten everything else.” He stepped away from the translucent stones. “Unrecognizable.”

Silence fell over the hallway. Lazar stared at the demon, unsure of what to say. An apology felt insufficient, as would a condolence. At the same time, it seemed equally wrong to stand there without saying something.

Perhaps sensing his hesitation, Cassius’s wry smile returned.

“I didn’t tell you these things to guilt you, seraph. From what Leon has told me, you too are a victim of Elysium.” He chuckled. “To be frank, I admire your perseverance. Not many would dare defy the natural laws of the Cycle and Oblivion. That takes courage.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Not when he’d made the decision to ascend back up like he would an impersonal, detached objective. Not when he still couldn’t put to words how he felt about falling, about Julius. Think about what that really means, Ciel had said. He didn’t have an answer yet.

Lazar exhaled, speaking slowly. “I simply needed to… give myself a goal, after falling. To be frank, I didn’t, still haven’t, fully processed everything.”

Cassius watched him with keen eyes.

“Perhaps,” he said simply. “Even so, that is more than I can say for myself. You haven’t grown weary yet, seraph. Not like I have, and I hope you never do.”

“You—”

The demon raised a hand to cut him off. “It’s true. I’m well aware that I’m not the person I used to be. I know all the ways I’ve failed and the mistakes I’ve made beyond fixing. I’ve been tired for a very long time, and here I am now, wasting away in the Abyss, standing aside and allowing someone to kill my son.”

Lazar’s head snapped up, but the demon’s expression remained blank. Cassius gazed upwards absently as though he could see through the stone to the undulating sky above, crystalline horns gleaming in the blue light.

“The night is short; you should rest. You’ve a difficult battle ahead of you.”

The demon turned to leave, but before he could, Lazar stopped him.

“Cassius.”

The man glanced back. Grey eyes met blue, and Lazar’s voice was steady when he spoke.

“May dreams bless your sleep.”

A flash of emotion passed through Cassius’s face. For a second it looked like he might say something, but his jaw clicked shut. With a single final nod, he turned away and disappeared from view.